30 degree heat

Saturday night in Slovakia paddock

The amazing weather has continued and it is 1000 hours, on Monday, when we get to the circuit to collect the truck and drive to the Hungaroring, in Hungary. One truck has had problems with the clutch. Before he can move, he has to bleed the air which is accumulating in the system. A major irritation and no clear evidence of what is causing it.
A big problem happened for us the night before. When we had just arrived at the hotel, we got a phone call, asking us to move the truck from the back of the garage. There was a motorcycle track day scheduled for the Monday morning and they needed the space in the paddock. This meant driving 45km to the circuit to move the truck and then drive 45km back. All of this at 2100 hours. NOT GOOD.
The paddock is mayhem when we arrive and we have to ask people to move vehicles out of the way before we can leave.

I take the decision to try to take a shorter route into Hungary, rather than going back to Bratislava and then joining the motorway. On the way, we have to stop at a service station near Medvedov to get our money back from the Slovakian  toll box. This takes us 45 minutes. This toll system is new for the Slovakians and it is in need of some severe changes. It is crazy to have to wait so long and if you have other people, doing the same in front of you, this time will only increase. We think that it may be helpful if we keep them for a possible return trip next year. But after talking to a German driver, we find out that if the box is inactive for 6 months, you have to rent a new one for another 50 euros.

IT,S JUST ANOTHER WAY FOR GOVERNMENTS TO GET MORE MONEY FROM YOU.

We start driving again and cross a very narrow bridge over the River Danube, and into Hungary. And guess what..............???????  Yes, we have to buy more tax for the truck. The powers that be dictate that we can buy tax for 1 day, 10 days or 1 month. Absolutely nothing in between. The "Matrica Vignette" office is very small, made of wood and has a service entrance about 1 metre from the floor. I have to bend down to talk to her. She doesn,t speak good English and my Hungarian is non existent. We write vehicle registration numbers on pieces of paper. Tell her that we need 10 days vignette and 71 euros later, we are totally legal and can continue our journey to the Hungaroring. Slovakia could learn a lesson from this method of payment. No silly, electronic box. Just a piece of paper. Once our vehicle registration number is entered in the system, we are good to go. The cameras that are situated on the roads can detect who we are. SIMPLES !!!!!!!!!

I hear that some trucks have been stopped by the Slovakian and Hungarian police but after some time, everyone is free to continue their journey. Why do police officers stop vehicles, from other countries. Especially when they can see your vehicle registration but they do not speak your language. It just seems so futile and pointless. They can,t talk to you and vice versa. VERY BIZARRE.

We head into Gyor, take a short turn to the left and head towards the M19 and the M1 towards Budapest. Chance to fill up with some diesel, get a coffee and get moving again.

212311 florints = lots of euros

Just as we are about to leave the services, several race trucks thunder past and give their truck horns a good blast. The motorway section around Budapest has been under construction for several years. It still resembles a very big building site and we saw not a single construction worker. Is this due to a lack of money or because of the May Day holiday? The circuit is very badly signposted. You only see a sign when you are 200 metres from the exit from the motorway. BLINK... and you will miss it.

The only sign for the Hungaroring

 We were expecting to just park the trucks, away from the garages. But obviously there is little or no testing at the circuit this week so it doesn,t matter if we park in the paddock.

Trucks arriving in Hungary

Do I know you?

We park up, get in a car to the hotel and we treat ourselves to a beer on a scorching hot, Budapest day.
Job done.

TAX,TAX,and more TAX

I get bored very easily. When I am not a truckie, time can pass very ,very slowly. But after yet another Morocco experience, my free time was absolute bliss. I have been in contact with almost everybody and I have heard so many things concerning the last race. Suffice to say, we are all glad that is over.

So now we have to head towards a relatively new and for us, an unvisited circuit. Slovakia Ring is in the middle of nowhere. Or so it seems. As you drive across an almost flat area of countryside, 40km east of Bratislava. The large, open spaces, show all the signs of the old Communist collective farm methods. Vast areas of very fertile land with only a few hedges and trees separating them. The odd village appears but the old Tannoy systems still hang from village street lights. These were used to broadcast the Communist propaganda to the Party faithful and the downtrodden citizens. The roads are not very smooth and you get the impression that a covering of winter snow would make the drive a little less bumpy. Modern styles mix with the drab, grey buildings of times gone by. Slowly but surely, democracy and "westernization" have taken over.
 

Dutch wind power

Pride of Rotterdam ferry

An overnight ferry crossing to Holland is the start of a journey that will bring motor sport to the masses, and money to the governments.  We leave the ferry and after 5km, we have to stop to buy our Benelux truck tax. It costs 8 Euros for the day. On into Germany and yet more road tax must be purchased. A slightly more complicated system now takes over. You are meant to specify which road number you come into the country on. As we are also due an overnight stop in Germany, we also have to specify which motorway junction we exit from when we stop. Likewise, when we depart the next morning, we have to specify where we join the motorway and which road we finally leave the country before entering Austria. Now we are subject to using the Austrian Go-Box. This is an electronic device which we bought a few years ago, and we only have to make sure that we have enough pre-paid credit installed,to cover our journey along the Austrian motorways. Finally , we reach Slovakia. And yet more tolls. I had checked on the Internet and I thought that we could just pay a transit toll. We had only a short distance to go on the Slovakian motorways before reaching the circuit. But the Slovakian government wants money!!!! We stop at the border and after an hours wait, we have now had to purchase, yet another, electronic toll device.They stopped selling transit tickets in March 2012. This looks positively archaic, with its cigarette lighter socket power supply. That will be another 100 euros. THANKYOU.

Slovakia box, Austrian box, Benelux ticket, German tickets.

 TAX,TAX,TAX,TAX. MONEY, MONEY, MONEY.

Dutch road work sign

Driving through Austria, we see some amusing signs for the roadworks. It certainly puts a smile on my face. The roadworks do not slow us down for long and the journey across to Slovakia has been very good. We have made very good time and we arrive at the Slovakia Ring at 1900 hours.

You see some strange sights when you drive through all of these different countries including neon signs for gentleman's clubs and a very, very, very big chair.

There is also time to enjoy the beauty of the River Danube. We make the most of it as when we are driving around the Bratislava ring road, the River Danube justs looks brown and dirty compared to when we crossed over it earlier in the day.

Once we had turned off the Bratislava ring road, it is a very slow and quite bumpy road that leads to the Slovakiaring. Situated in the middle of nowhere, a newly built circuit appears as we turn left off the E572.

Problems??????????

Asimple job becomes very difficult

Once we had washed the truck and parked up, I had chance to talk with the other truckies. It appears that 3 trucks sustained damage to to the lack of decent ferry ramp facilities between Morocco and Spain. The team who had tyre troubles that I mentioned, previously, somehow managed to keep going until finally the tyre blew out. Unfortunately, this also damaged the air suspension control. Work was still being done to the truck in Slovakia while the garages were being set up.

Slovakiaring is very new, a nice big paddock area and an excellent cafe/restaurant. But is there any need to write "PIT LANE" and "PIT WALL", every 3 metres. Do they think we are stupid or had somebody bought a stencil set and wanted to get maximum use of it?

Anyway.I think that all of the teams are happy to be here. Hopefully, the crowds will come and add to the glorious weather that we are promised for the race.

Are these real shells inside the tank??

A few people made good photographic use of the army tanks which were being stored behind a building at the circuit. I do not know if we were allowed to go inside one the tanks but we did.

Truckie Treats

TRUCKIE TREATS......This is the name that is given to the supply of food, carried in the race trucks to each circuit we visit.

Walking through the various teams garages today, I was shocked by the many varieties of sweets and crisps and other snack food. One job of the truckies. in a lot of teams, is to go shopping for mechanics and set up crew. So when everyone starts to turn up at the circuit, before any catering facilities are available, or fresh fruit can be purchased, you can at least eat something. Truckies try to cater for the ever changing needs of these younger guys. We are asked to buy this, or buy that but we just never seem to be able to please.

Few things irritate me more than this asinine practice of manufacturing food that’s “fun to eat” and which is designed with the sole intent of helping ineffectual parents coerce their damned offspring into consuming a meal.

In my day we ate because we were hungry – not because our snacks bore a passing resemblance to Scooby Doo or as an excuse to sculpt a cheese string into a mozzarella Rastafarian.
Food wasn’t meant to be some damned form of interactive play – it was meant to provide sustenance and we considered ourselves lucky if a few scraps found their way into our garage.
They turn their nose up at any food that doesn’t have a narrative, a downloadable theme song and come in a minimum of 14 distinctive fun-filled shapes.

Why the hell do we need to bribe damned young people into doing something that keeps them alive? I’m pretty sure that after 72 hours locked in a darkened garage without Haribo and Pringles even the most pugnacious of the little miscreants would see the light and happily chew on my training shoes.

What’s next? Colourising their oxygen as an incentive for them to breathe?

And it’s not just the pandering I object to. I’m no expert but if you ask me, making food “fun” is the primary reason behind so many young mechanics struggle to get under cars and are and causing a "girthquake", everytime they move towards a toolbox. They’ve been raised to believe that eating is part game, part entertainment and all around cure for boredom.

In my view, young mechanics would be wise to put away fizzy cola bottles and chupa cup lollies, get themselves some backbone and adopt the mantra used by my parents:

“You’ll eat what I put in front of you and you’ll damned well like it.”

As a team, we’d be healthier, happier and better off for it.

And the truckies would not be given such a big list of "THINGS THAT WE WILL NOT EAT".

Me entienden......Do you understand me?

I have added Google Translate to my blog. It is a "machine translation". It will not be perfect. But it might help some readers.

Morocco pictures

the road around Rabat

climbing into the port

Despite a very long journey from Spain on a ferry, we have finally got home and I have never been so happy. The weather was terrible and the crossing took much longer than expected because of the rough sea. There was a lot of people being sick on the boat and we also had to have a helicopter come and air lift someone who had broken their leg when the boat was being tossed around. I have had some pictures that I wanted to post and now I have a good internet connection, here they are.

Lukoil truckie in a hurry

Early days before Morocco race

 

Two shipping agents in the parking area, before we go to the scanner

The "officials" decide how you join the queue for the scanner. Would you trust them????????

This is worth more than gold. Proof that you have been through the scanner

Morocco Part 2

secure parking outside the port

My early start is delayed by half an hour due to problems at the hotel when I try to check out. The desk clerk is seriously lacking in common sense and keeps wanting me to sign for drinks that I haven,t had. This is not a good start for what will later become a nightmare.

Once again I am helping two teams by showing the way out of Marrakech and to the port and so I can help with the different languages. The journey starts with the rain in Marrakech, making my nice, clean truck very dirty. But, as the hours pass, the weather gets better. A quick fuel stop and the Hungarian team spot a problem with a trailer tyre. The tyre has caught against a kerb and has started to split. The wire inside has started to come out through the rubber. A replacement in Morocco is out of the question so he has to hope it will stay in one piece until we get to Spain. We make good time to Tangiers port and are surprised to see teams who left much,much earlier than us, waiting in the parking area outside the port.

SECURE PARKING OUTSIDE THE PORT......Our shipping carnets had been collected,the day before, and passed to customs for clearance and we were told to give our arrival time at the port so that we could be processed as we arrived. This now looked like our shipping agent was just being lazy and they waiting for everyone to turn up and process us all together. I was glad that I made the decision not to arrive early or I would be as unhappy as they were. A old man greets us in the parking area and asks who our shipping agent is. He has no I.D. badge and we are reluctant to give out this information. We have paid a lot of money to this shipping company and do not expect them to "contract out" the business to someone else. But, an hour later, we are given a piece of paper by him authorising us to go down to another parking area inside the port. The man then asks for money, team caps or anything else in return for his "services" which we all decline to do.

SECURE PARKING INSIDE THE PORT......Once we have all moved to this parking area, we continue to wait for another 2 hours before our carnets are handed back to us. One teams carnet is missing and we are not given a card which allows us to queue for the truck, x-ray scanner. We can only wait until the missing carnet and the cards appear. Another hour is lost! Despite high fences and some security, we watch as 3 stowaways enter the parking area and try to get under the trailers before being chased off by the different truckies.

Waiting to go through to the scanner

THE X-RAY SCANNER......A 4 lane queue of trucks sits waiting to be called through to the 2 scanners. A system of "totally random selection" now happens. It does not matter who was there first, you can only hope you get called forward by an "official" and his "Moroccan hand wave". You can then join yet another queue before trying to turn the truck to the left and line up in front of the building where the scanners are located. The space is very tight and considering the port is so large, I cannot understand why so little room is allowed to manoeuvre a 16 metre long truck. More waiting just makes us all a little more tired and demoralised. Once through the scanner, you then park up in a very random manner and wait for a ticket that proves you completed this part of the process. Some teams are forced to join the queue again and go back through the scanner. Luckily, I am not one of them.
A search on the Internet and also talking to people has revealed that the EU has imposed this scanner process on the Moroccan authorities, to help with free trade to Spain. Where a race truck comes into this trade agreement, I do not know?
Scanner ticket in hand, we start to move back down in front or the trucks waiting to join the scanner queue. If you can imagine a figure of 8 pattern, this is how the trucks are moved around this very confined space. Everybody just seems to be in everyone else,s way. It is a totally ridiculous system and I think a child could have designed it in a better way. We now move towards some waiting police and customs people who seem to spend more time shouting, hand waving and paying no real attention to the job in hand. We are sat behind a Spanish team who seem to have a problem with some incorrectly written numbers on their scanner ticket. As I am now blocking the queue for the scanner, a policeman waves us around the Spanish and this is also confirmed by our shipping agent who has been shepherding the trucks through. I let out a sigh of relief as I finally leave this mayhem behind and start to drive the 2km to the ship departure lanes.
I TOLD YOU THIS PORT WAS NOT SMALL.

plenty of time for tea and coffee

We pass a final police checkpoint, our scanner ticket has a bar code which is scanned and we are finally free to wait for the next available boat out of this hell hole.








THE DEPARTURE LANES......One race truck after another starts to line up at Quay 6, as we were asked to do. Unfortunately this is wrong, so later, we will all have to move again to Quay 7. Moroccan efficiency!!!!!! We all stand around waiting for the boat. Everyone has a story to tell of how the day has progressed and we are all tired, fed up and desperate to get out of here. When the trucks have to move to Quay 7, I loose my place and end up behind everyone else. This simple factor will signal yet another problem for us.
From out of the darkness, a ship arrives and starts unloading its cargo of trucks, cars and vans onto Moroccan territory. We wait and wait and after 1 hour, the boat finally starts to load up for the journey back to Spain. Some trucks are suffering badly with ground clearance problems and bits of wood and rope are put underneath the trailer wheels to help raise them up. I have not had chance to talk with everyone to ascertain if any trucks were damaged when being loaded. I will update you in my next blog post.
We are the last to go on to the boat. As I move forward, one of the security man with a dog, walks around the truck. The dog starts barking. A stowaway has climbed under my truck and is laying on top of the trailer wheel axles. If he had stayed there,he would have been crushed to death. When the truck is not running, the air suspension would have slowly dropped down as the truck was parked on the boat. I do not know what these people expect to do when they arrive as illegal immigrants in Spain. Do they think that they will get a job, money or anything else? Or is Morocco such a bad place that anything is better than staying there? In previous years of WTCC, some truckies have witnessed these people being beaten and even shot by the police. It is not something that we in the Western world ,can comprehend.
We are finally waved forward and two policemen ask to see our passports. We are then shouted at because we have not had our passports stamped with an exit date.
Remember the policeman and shipping agent who waved us around the Spanish truck? THAT,S WHERE WE SHOULD HAVE GOT OUR PASSPORTS STAMPED. A man from the company who operates the boat, Baleria Lines, offers to drive us quickly to the police to get this stamp in our passports. The police shout at him and walk away. We put our head in our hands and watch the police head towards the comfort of their police hut. Their rudeness is totally unnecessary and makes me hate them and the country they represent.

HOW DIFFICULT CAN IT BE TO LEAVE THIS BLOODY PLACE.

My job helps provide entertainment, employment and brings money to Morocco. I am not a criminal but I am made to feel like one.

THE DEPARTURE LANES, PART 2......We can see other truckies looking down from the back of the boat at us. They do not know why we have been refused but are powerless to help. The doors of the boat close and we stare at each other in total dismay. I leave the truck and talk to the man from Baleria and he says that he will drive us up to the police post. We can get our passports stamped but we will have to wait for the next boat which is at 0500 hours the next day. The man from Baleria explains the situation to the police. Today is 16th  April and because the next boat is due on the 17th  April, he will not stamp the passports! I start to complain but I am ushered away by the Baleria man. He knows how the police work and I am making the situation worse. On the drive back to the truck he explains how difficult it is for the boat companies to operate this service between Spain and Morocco. If the Moroccan authorities delay the passengers, the boats will continue to sail half empty. How can the boat companies make money when conditions like this are forced upon them?
We sit in the truck and try to get some sleep before we can go back the next day and complete the passport process.
0400 hours and we are woken up and told to take a shuttle bus back to the police office. When we get there, the same policeman from earlier that night, takes only seconds to rubber stamp our passports. Another case of Moroccan efficiency! It takes another 30 minutes of waiting on the bus before we drive back to the truck. We are concerned that we will miss this boat. There are only 8 cars and vans to be loaded and our truck. Luckily, the man from Baleria waits for our return. One more check for stowaways and we drive on. We are massively relieved and my hair has gone a little bit more grey. I am now a 3 times veteran of WTCC in Morocco and I have had enough.ALGECIRAS......A perfect sunrise over the Rock of Gibraltar goes unnoticed by both of us. The relief at having finally left Morocco blinds us to the beauty of life. Moving slowly out of the boat and towards the Spanish police, we are greeted with a friendly "Ola", a quick check again for any stowaways and we are FREE. But maybe not......
I try to go through Spanish customs without getting our carnet stamped. In my limited Spanish, I say what a beautiful day it is and where we are going but he knows his job too well and knows that I must wait for customs. I am not trying to break the law by avoiding this process as our carnets are only temporary and we can get them stamped at a later date. I am only trying to bend the rules to make my life a little bit easier. We still have a long journey back through Europe and we are keen to get going. One of the teams has managed to get through customs the night before. He got lost in the port when he came off the boat, but he just got waved through when he arrived at Spanish customs. I call him on his mobile and tell him that he has to turn around and come back because the Spanish customs need to do all the paperwork together. He believes me at first but I can not keep up my joke for long. Finally I tell him not to worry. I am glad he is away from Morocco and heading home.
We find a parking place inside the port and walk across to the Spanish shipping agents who will help us complete the customs process. Soon, some of the other team truckies start to appear and our story of the previous night is told over, and over again. It is 1300 hours before we are all finally clear of customs and we can go our separate ways. Some trucks are on a boat from Tangiers to Genoa, Italy while the rest of us will drive up through Spain. Some teams are keen to get their cars back to the workshops before the next race, while others will drive straight to Slovakia for the next race.

MY THOUGHTS ON MOROCCO......I have no desire to return to Morocco. I have tried using different shipping agents to help my our journey through this corrupt port system and each of them has had its problems. My 3 visits there have all been very traumatising. I resent being treated with contempt when I have done nothing wrong. I do not like the uncertainty of the police and customs processes. I cannot condone the bribery and corruption that myself and others have seen with our own eyes. Tangiers Med 2 port still has major problems that need to change. The security aspect is slightly better but is far from good. I do not like being offered to buy drugs or have my money changed back to Euros by people who should not even be in a secure area.

THINGS NEED TO CHANGE.

History has shown that a country needs good leadership. If the authorities are corrupt, how can it expect to set a good example to its citizens. And for people like us who are forced to go to these countries and work, it makes our life bloody difficult. A group of us were sat outside a cafe in Algeciras, waiting to clear customs, when a man came up to us and asked where he could find the office of the boat company to buy a ticket to Morocco. Everyone spoke at the same time and said to him, "YOU DON'T WANT TO GO THERE". And that will be our reply to anyone in future, even if it is just for a holiday.
If anyone reading this is Moroccan or thinks this blog has racist overtones, it is not my intention and I apologise. I have only told the story as it has happened.
I think that the King of Morocco,s son, who helped organise this race, needs to direct his attentions towards making the country a better and safer place for its people. Allowing a motor sport event does very little to help the people, like the stowaways around the port. They are desperate to leave their homeland because it can offer them nothing. Race teams coming to this country only serve to provide more money to the corrupt authorities, not the Moroccan citizens.

I would like to thank all the WTCC truckies for all their help and information during this trip. Special thanks also to "Moisty"(Virtuosi), Pete(Super Nova) and Rob(LED Screen Hire)


A new circuit for WTCC awaits us in Slovakia. Thank goodness we dont have to drive there via Morocco!

Morocco Part 1

My friend Lambert, has woken up early to take me to the airport. I arrive at Heathrow on a cold English morning, only 5 degree Celsius. Next stop will be Madrid and then a quick change of plane to Valencia. A 15 minute taxi ride later and I am at the circuit to collect our truck. Valencia circuit charges us over 170 euros to leave it in secure parking since the last race. But, it is still a cheap option for us and it is in a safe place. I have to leave the other driver, who will help me take the truck to Morocco, after his luggage gets lost by the airline.
 

parking permit

When I arrive at the circuit,one of the German truckies is sat in his truck, with a very sad face. He arrived a few hours before me but he is going no where as his truck has a flat battery and nobody at the circuit can help. As the trucks have 24 volt electrics, you need to jump start it from another truck. A car will just not do. We connect the jump leads to my truck and a look of relief appears on his face. I joke that he must pay me 50 euros as a recovery fee.
Unfortunately for him, the next morning, he needs my help again. The truck needs yet another jumpstart. But once he starts driving, the alternator will have plenty of time to recharge the batteries.

As I write this, I am still waiting for my 2x50 euros recovery charge !!

Road to Algeciras

Three of the WTCC trucks set off for the port of Algeciras, in southern Spain, which is a 9 hour journey. We have to leave at this time to ensure that we are clear of the Valencia area due to a truck ban on the roads, caused by the Easter holiday. After an hour of driving, my friend gets a call from the airline to say that his bag is now in Valencia. There is no way we can turn back, so arrangements are made to have it sent to Marrakesh. I do offer to give him a new pair of socks as compensation.

Parked up in Algeciras port

We cant use this boat as we are still waiting to clear customs.

We arrive in time to go to the office of our shipping agent who will help us clear Spanish customs. After waiting a few hours, we are told that everything is okay and we will be on the 2100 hours boat to Tangiers. It is 2030 hours now.None of us were expecting to leave tonight and the thought of having to spend the night in the trucks, in Tangier port, is not want we really want. We now have half an hour to get back to the truck parking area and drive into the departure lanes for the ferry. A very old boat awaits us and once on board, we have to complete immigration cards and have our passports checked by the police on the boat.
The whole system for getting a truck from Spain to Morocco is not as simple as making a booking on the internet, or from a ticketing office. It seems that you have to clear customs first, then get issued a ticket to get on the boat, and then you have to wait until there is space for your truck on whichever boat is due to leave next. This means that you could be waiting for up to a day. Depending how many trucks ahve been given a ticket. How the shipping companies can operate like this, I do not know?

It is dark when we finally roll down the loading ramp of the ferry, onto Tangiers Med 2 port area. The truckies are glad that this part of the journey is over. As we need to complete Moroccan customs and the offices are now shut, a night in the trucks is our only choice. And at least the new port area seems better than the old one.
A cool but dry morning in Morocco gives me chance to see what I couldn't see in the dark.

NOW HOW CAN I START TO DESCRIBE TANGIERS MED 2 ????????????

Tangiers Med port

It is certainly big and surrounded by steep hills and at least 3 security fences. It has a few small cafeterias and toilet blocks. The cafes only take Moroccan money,no euros allowed, the menus are only in Arabic, and the toilets have all been stripped of their seats and working mechanisms so you cannot flush them. The toilets are a real last resort unless you absolutely and positively need to use them. I went to four different toilet blocks, both male and female, and not one of them worked !! Maybe it is a good thing that we cannot buy any food.

Need to use the toilet Sir? Forget it.....

Abandoned van in Tangiers port

Plenty of parking space is one thing that Tangier port does have. Even though some of the spaces are occupied by broken down or abandoned vehicles, that the owners have long forgotten about recovering. As for the port security, it is definitely better than the old port. But the approximately 3 metre high fence around the inner port seems to be under constant "attack" by the many groups of children and adults that are desperate to stow away on a truck and be carried over to Spain, hopefully for a better life than they have in their own country. These people will have no passports and will be dealt with as illegal immigrants if they are caught entering Spain. What fate awaits them, I do not know.
These people have already penetrated the outer port fence which is much higher and topped off with barbed wire. The smaller, inner port fence, is definitely not an obstacle for them. They hang around the railway track that runs inside the port and spend their days trying to jump the small fence, while the security men and dog patrols are not looking. We witnessed one "attack" which lasted for 2 hours. People dive under the trucks and play "hide and seek" with the security. Some of them seem to be known by the security staff as we witnessed quite normal conversations taking place through the fence. These people are desperate and we can hear their shouts for food and money.
On our return trip back to Spain, we will be checking under our trucks again, the same as we had to do in the old port.                             

Stowaways inside the parking area, hide from security

Waiting for their chance !!

Port security with potential stowaway behind the fence.

More stowaways are confronted.

I also see a few faces of some "shipping agents" that I remember from my previous races in Morocco and they are not people that I would wish to deal with again. This year, we are using a bigger and more trustworthy company, to help us with the tiresome legalities of customs clearance.  I cannot see what process happens next but I am pretty certain that it does not mean taking your place in a queue and waiting for your turn. I will leave you to make up your own minds of how this is done !
Many calls are made to our shipping agents in Morocco and eventually they arrive to collect our carnets and present them to the customs officials.
How we manage to talk and communicate is quite funny. This group of truckies is made up of 4 different nationalities and languages. Somehow, we all try to speak something and make ourselves understood. We certainly have plenty of time whilst we stand around. Everyone has taken the sensible precaution of bringing some food. This is generously shared amongst us. Our truck has a generator so the microwave oven can be used we can supply the other truckies with tea and coffee while we wait, and wait, and wait, and wait a little bit more. Patience is a virtue !

Our carnets are returned to us.

Early afternoon, and our carnets are returned to us. But for one unlucky team, a clerical error by the Spanish shipping agents means that they are refused customs clearance and must wait until this is sorted out. Another 4 hours, stuck in the port, awaits them. We all feel very sorry for them but can do nothing to help. It is not something that you want good friends to endure, especially through no fault of their own. We say goodbye and have to follow the shipping agents vehicle as we go through 2 checkpoints in the port. These men at the checkpoints, certainly try to  look very "official", but do not really check anything. We continue to follow our agents vehicle while much hand waving is done by these fluorescent jacketed "officials".

Our agent runs towards an "official" in his fluorescent vest while another "official", stands in his box.

I have joked with the other truckies, many times, about what I have called the "Moroccan Wave". The "officials" seem to perform this in a very random manner, using their hands, usually in opposing directions from the other "official" and is very, very confusing. It can involve a simple, small flick of the wrist. Or can be a complete movement of the arm. While one guy waves you in one direction, the other guy will wave you in a totally opposite direction, or signal you to halt. This will continue for a short time before they either agree, disagree, or they get moved aside by a bloody big truck! I would love to make a video of all these "officials" hand movements, piece them all together, put some music to it and post it on Youtube. I am sure it would be a big hit.

The final police checkpoint

Finally we reach a set of big,stone archways. This seems to be the actual Moroccan police checkpoint. I can see no paperwork being shown to him by our shipping agent, only a conversation and we are finally free to leave.
Or so we think !!!!!!

Around the corner and halfway up a hill, an "official" has slowed a line of trucks to a slow crawl for absolutely no reason. Our agent is forced to jump out of his car, run up the road, and then comes back to us and tells us to just drive around him. And guess what the "official" does? He waves us on ! Climbing up the hill, away from the port, our agent stops his car, and we say thank you as we pass him and urge our trucks up an almost never ending hill, up and away from Tangiers Med 2.

The never ending hill as we leave the port

I feel like I have aged 5 years after yet another trip,getting into Morocco. Why does something, that in other countries, that we visit, have to be such a monumental task. All I want to do is do my job. Hopefully helping provide some entertainment that will benefit the country hosting the many races around the world.

The almost 700km drive to Marrakesh is bliss compared to the 0km that I did in the port. I get an SMS from the Hungarian drivers asking me to slow down so that they can catch up with me. The climb up the long hill and the traffic, has meant that they have been left far behind. This is their first time in Morocco and I have helped them from Valencia, through Algeciras port and Tangiers, I do not have to keep them close behind me and I tell them to follow the motorway signs to Rabat, then Casablanca and finally Marrakesh. You do not have to turn off this road at all and if you cant read a road sign, then you need to get a different job.
It is dark when we stop at the last toll booth before Marrakesh and all the trucks are all together again. To reach the circuit on the other side of Marrakesh means that we have to drive through the centre of the town. Big, red signs show that no trucks are allowed through the centre, but we drive on through, past police traffic controls as they DO realise that we are here to entertain their people and a small relaxing of the law is not going to upset anyone.

Motorway maintenance !

Can I have a lift please?

Due to the race being in April, it is my first chance to see the countryside looking so green. On previous trips, it has always been sun baked and not very nice to look. But some things do not change, and that is the many people and animals that you see on the side of the busy motorway. People stand by the side of the road, trying to hitch a ride to where ever whilst the many sheep, horses,donkeys,goats and even cows, help save the Moroccan highways agency money, by keeping the grass nice and short.

Pit road wall signs

The following morning, the trucks are washed and the unloading of equipment starts again. Slowly over the next few days, the activity will increase. Tents and buildings will be put up, and the paddock will start coming to life.
In my mind, I can only think that I still have to make the return journey back to Spain.

I have not included my usual total kilometres travelled by the teams, to get to Morocco. This is due to the fact that many trucks have remained in Spain after the Valencia race. But we are still using up lots and lots of diesel. Ensuring that the many holes in the earths ozone layer continue to expand.
WTCC brings you Real Racing, Real Cars.
And a very good sun tan as well !

Temporary garages take shape

Wednesday morning in the paddock

Wednesday morning in the pit lane