An in-depth look at the many preparations and modifications needed to cross the Sahara in a classic car...
If someone said to you that they were going to drive to The Gambia, you might start by looking at a map before realising that this is no small undertaking. You would quickly notice that mainland Africa’s smallest country is located a considerable way down its West coast and that to reach it from the UK you have to cross the whole of France, Spain, Morocco, Mauritania and most of Senegal. Upon closer inspection you would find out that this journey involves traversing the Sahara desert, crossing the disputed territory of Western Sahara, facing fuel shortages in Mauritania and driving through a minefield in no-man’s-land, all of which would have to be done again on the return journey, while coping with the searing heat of the desert, the stubbornness of border officials and the vast distances between desert settlements.
Then you might assume that they had found a car well prepared for this sort of undertaking: a 4×4 with a powerful engine, high ground clearance, winches, long-range fuel tanks and plenty of luggage space? That would be far too easy. Cue the comedy jingle and cut to the faded grey 1962 Morris Minor in the corner of the car park, barely large enough to fit the four of us, even without luggage and spare parts. This unassuming family saloon was to undertake the most demanding task in its life, which would require serious modifications in order to cope with all that Africa could throw at it.
However, all that could be managed before we left was the relocation of the spare wheel to make more space in the boot, and some slightly longer rear suspension shackles to stop the axle from sitting on its bump-stops when fully loaded, and some extra driving lights. The rest of my budget was spent on essentials such as new tyres to replace the worryingly old and worn out previous set and a front suspension rebuild to reduce the chance of the wheels falling off at an inconvenient moment. On top of this I was still doing major suspension work up until the day before we left Fes.
Evidently, this was to be a real test of 1960s British engineering, with four grown men, a boot full of spare parts, tools and fuel and a roof rack full of luggage, there isn’t much more we could ask of my poor old car. Not having loaded her up with everything until the day we departed, it was all very much untested and it was with a certain amount of trepidation that we were to set off into the unknown.