Team Trans-Stan Express

A REVIEW. Northern Morocco.

After the immigration drama at Tangier we drove East along the Northern Morocco coastline to our spectacular wild camping spot on a clifftop overlooking the local villages.

1. The boys relax as the sun rises, preparing for a day pushing South.

2. Our camping spot in the morning sun.

3. Screeching South across the plains!

THE END.

Thank you all so much for following along, this really is the end now we’ve rumbled through all the DSLR content. We’ve raised an amazing £1,367 for and thank you all for your help.

You’ve seen all these photos before, but now they’re in Black and White for extra nostalgia.

We hope you enjoy them. For now we’ll have to wait to see you in the next adventure x

A REVIEW. DAY -2 - The realisation

These snaps are taken the day after we arrive in Eschweiler, West Germany, where the real Trans-Stan Express saga began. Initially battling a blocked idling jet in the carburettor we stumbled upon .e.coyote._ and who completely saved our trip, firstly by unblocking the jet so the car can idle without turning off!

10 minutes after fixing this the distributor packed in, causing the car to shut off as it warmed up. Diagnosing this was nigh on impossible as we ran through every possible item it could have been. After .karmel spend the entire day on German public transport and spoke in broken A Level German to several garages a spare rotor arm was sourced for our spare distributor. This has been bulletproof since leaving Eschweiler and continues to prove its worth on Stan.

DAY 20 - Disaster Strikes

Ok I’ll cut to the chase here. Yesterday we were making great time to hit the German border routing all through Spain and most of France. At 10pm with 2 hours to go, 2,500km into our mammoth 3,500km mission to Junktown, we notice our internal garages failing.

Pulling in to a service station we figure the alternator has packed in. 20 hours to the finish line, the clock is ticking.

cunningly asks the Gendarmerie if they can help - within 20 minutes we have a recovery truck taking us away. Setting us back a cool €220 (funnily enough nobody will offer European breakdown cover for a 1990 Polo) we’re dumped in a scrapyard after explaining we can fix it ourselves and don’t have time to wait for a garage to fix it on Monday!

Left to run wild in the scrapyard we set to work tearing apart cars to scope out alternators similar to Stan’s. In the middle of the night this feels somewhat like the start of a horror movie, walking around dark, dank warehouses filled with bits of dead car.

Burning the midnight oil (or the last of Harry’s head torch battery), we try to dit two alternators, but to no avail, with a lack of charge and alignment striking us down. At 3:30am, 5 hours after commencing repairs, we call it a night, the realisation that Junktown is slipping away from us settling in.

We can only hope that the next day looks favourably upon us.