The Tempest Two are back again, this time on two wheels. Take a read and take their lead...

Almost every man in their life has dreamt the same dream, the open road ahead of them, the wind whistling through their hair, and the roar of a motorbike as they drive into the sunset. An idyllic scene for sure, but a far-fetched fantasy only obtainable by the Beckham's of this world, or is it?

Earlier this year, we decided to try and make a childhood dream a reality, and prove the system wrong. With zero motorbiking experience, we would look to mount two of the most rugged and impressive motorbikes on the market, and ride them from London to the Sahara Desert, to a boutique festival, Beyond Sahara, in under two weeks.

Arrogant, not possible and stupid

Our journey began in the glamorous setting of a Welwyn Garden City motorcycle centre. We had only nine days from our first lesson, to actually learn and pass both modules of the test, and a few days after that we would be leaving for The Sahara. The look on our instructors face when we disclosed this information, summed up perfectly how most people viewed this endeavour; arrogant, not possible, and stupid.


We would typically spend 5/6 hours a day on the bikes, and doing our best to stop regularly to enjoy the surroundings, and hastily eat a Fori bar and take on some water (often, our only options for food was petrol stations, so the Fori bars were a total god-send!). We would regularly have to manoeuvre our way through herds of goats, and shield our eyes from the occasional sandstorm, but loved every second we spent in Morocco.

What we did not anticipate was the importance of the people we met along the way. From the manager of a vineyard in Spain, to a cafe owner (who let us eat for free when we were told they didn't take card) in Moroccan desert. We were often overwhelmed by the kindest of people who had very little, yet were happy to give as much as they could. This is what adventure is all about, the people you meet and stories you gain. Reaching the summit, or crossing the finish-line is often seen as the best part, but the value is often in the journey.


After starting in a cold, rainy London, we found ourselves in the Moroccan town of Merzougha. Before us was an image we had seen countless times on Google when researching the trip. Towering orange dunes, shining in the intense desert sun, for as far as the eye could see. Our two Triumph’s had taken us across continents, and had never faltered once. We had started as novice riders, and arrived not experts, but confident riders with a library of memories, and a newly realised passion for motorbikes.

We road the Tigers through a sandy back-road, and left them with a local hotel-owner. Their shift was up for the time-being, as our road tyres were no match (nor was our skills as riders!) for the steep sand-dunes, and our ferocious machines were to replaced by the docile camel for a few hours at least. Our destination was reached, and the two-days of relaxation were welcome, but we soon found ourselves talking about the ride over beers, and sure enough, looking forward to getting back behind the bars. With bodies rested, we turned the bikes around, and set our Google Maps to London, the journey home was ahead of us, and we couldn't wait for what it may have in store.


Our ultimate goal for this trip was not just reaching a destination, but to show people that you don’t have to be an experienced rider to take on a trip such as ours. Many people are intimidated by long-rides, unknown roads and dodgy boarder crossings. Adventure bikes are often labelled for the older rider, but this is not the case. We are two young guys, with no experience or credentials to call upon, and we have just returned from one of the most enjoyable two weeks of our lives. If there is one-thing to take from this journal, that is to forget pre-conceptions of what you are capable of, and start planning your dream-ride, because its only a dream until you make it happen.