Day 4 - Tarifa (rest day)

All the teams have now arrived and daylight reveals the trials and tribulations that crews have already been through. The rest day is intended for planning,  repacking, buying ferry tickets for Morrocco for the morrow and any last minute repairs or preparations to be made to the cars.

                          

                                    

There have been breakdowns and electrical failures, one crew had fallen asleep at the wheel with the cruise control on and scraped down the motorway central reservation barriers at 70 mph before they were rudely awakened, another have the exact opposite problem to us in that their heater is jammed on hot and they can't turn it off, but the biggest story is the 3 car pile-up that happened to three teams running in convoy on the Paris ring road - the front car braked, the rear car skidded and slammed into the back of Banjul Baby (a little Lancia Y10 fire) pushing them smack into the back of the front car. Despite it looking like the event was over for them before it had even started, all cars started again and they decided to crack on.

 
Banjul Baby is by far the worst off with both front and rear caved in and under any other circumstances would no doubt be a write-off. But Bob is made of sterner stuff and Banjul Baby is soon stripped down so that he can assess the damage. It looks serious as the body, chassis and suspension have all been damaged. Even though there are plenty of willing hands available it still takes most of the day, but with breathtaking ingenuity, limited tools and the use of empty tuna and pineapple cans, bits of wood, lump hammer, gaffer tape, brute force and a tow rope hooked to the body and attached to another car which is then driven forwards, Banjul Baby is slowly beaten, pulled and cajoled back into shape.

We take a trip down to Tarifa port which is the southernmost point in Spain and the narrowest point across the Straits of Gibraltar - you can almost reach out and touch Africa. Tarifa is also the dividing point between the Atlanic and the Mediterranean, standing on the narrow breakwater there are only a few feet between the crashing Atlanic rollers on one side and the calmer Mediterranean waters on the other.

We have a cheap but delicious late lunch of mussels cooked in wine, seafood paella and stong Spanish coffee at a quayside cafe, sitting outside and basking in the warm sunshine. "We don't usually have weather like this in January." says the waiter.

Tomorrow, Africa.