A personal diary of a solo
bicycle journey in southern
Dec 15th 2005
– Jan 04th 2006
Text and photos ©Mike Hayes 2006
Trip
Notes:
Start/End:
Route: A
rough plan to ride south over the High Atlas and Anti-Atlas finishing on a
beach somewhere in the south…..
Distance: not
as much as planned…..
Tip: click images for bigger image.
The Koutoubia Mosque,
Contents
Introduction – the ‘what’!
Day 1: Marrakesh - planning, what planning?!
Day 2: Marrakesh to
Ouirgane – puncture proof tyres, yeah right!
Day 3: Ouirgane
to…… Ouirgane! – a slow day, ahhh!
Day 4: Ouirgane to
Tizi’n Test – how high?!
Day 5: Tizi’n
Test to Taroudant – downhill all the way.
Day 6: Taroudant
– it’s not supposed to rain!
Day 7: Taroudant to Igherm
– gravity sucks!
Day 8: Igherm
– trapped!
Day 9: Igherm to
Tafraoute – escape to central heating.
Day 10: Tafraoute to
Oumesnate – just fab.
Day 11: Tafraoute to
… Tafroute - this wasn’t supposed to happen!
Day 12: Tafraoute to
Col du Kerdous – kasbah living.
Day 13: Col du Kerdous
to Tiznit – bye bye mountains!
Day 14: Tiznit to
Mirleft – stormy, an understatement!
Day 15: Mirleft
– chilling (and chilly) by the beach
Day 16: Mirleft
– fish and chips, nearly.
Day 17: Marrakesh
– a premature end
Day 18: Marrakesh
– coffee and shopping
Day 19: Marrakesh
– no more mint tea, please!
Day 20: Marrakesh
– time to reflect, and a bit of trading.
Day 21: Marrakesh/England – excess baggage(?) & sh*t coffee!
The following is my
own personal diary from a solo trip I made by bicycle around
This, my second visit
to
Note that this
introduction is the only part of the journal that I am writing after the trip
it describes, the rest of the content that follows is transcribed directly from
my hand-written journal with no changes other than to remove some of the more
personal stuff that I have no wish to air publically (though a suitable bribe
might do it if you're desperately interested....)!
Enjoy!
I know I won’t be setting off into the wilds of Morocco on my bike
‘till tomorrow but I need an excuse to sit for ages in the sun at this café
so what better way than kicking off my diary for this, my latest cycling
adventure. Besides, it was late when the flight got in yesterday and I wanted a
lie-in; the cycling can wait! Besides, if I had started out today I would have
missed “Bob the Builder” in Arabic on the telly this morning, such
outstanding culture we Brits export around the world! Empire-building queen Vic
would have approved…..
Heathrow with the bike yesterday was pretty uneventful, my cheap BA ticket
had a pretty tiny baggage allowance so it was nice that they didn’t
bother to weigh my bike – that could have been expensive. Getting my bike
through the drugs and explosives check was a comedy though, the poor guy at the
oversize baggage portal was a newbie and didn’t have a clue what he was
doing when it came to anything more challenging than a small suitcase.
Shame arrival in Marrakesh wasn’t quite so easy, the going rate for a
cab into town from the airport is 100Dh (about 7 quid) but whether it had
anything to do the late hour or not I was b***ered if I could persuade a cabbie
to take me and the bike for anything less than 200. Ho hum, the need for my bed
took precedence in the end and I gave in, wasn’t so bad – got
chatting about cycling to the driver, turned out he was holding a racing
license for the Moroccan cycling federation – amazing, it’s not
exactly a high profile sport here. I later found out that there is indeed a
Tour du Maroc, a 2-week long stage race. Sounds like fun!
My hotel for 2 nights is a typically dull-but-comfy identikit modern place,
but that’s what you get for booking at last minute close to Christmas. On
the plus side it’s spotless, has a buffet breakfast (so I can
surreptitiously fill my panniers tomorrow before setting off….), and is close
to the Djemaa el Fna, supermarket and bank next door. Ideal. They didn’t even raise an eyebrow as I
wedged my (currently spotless) bike in the lift up to my room. Wonder if
they’ll be so forgiving when I return filthy dirty and smelling of the
desert (camel crap…. or is that dromedary dung…?) after 3 weeks on
the road……?
It’s great to be back in 
I’m on my second coffee now, got a really thick head this morning and
I can’t even blame jetlag (there isn’t any). It’s funny to be
back in the very same café I spent my first morning in
I had thought about planning my trip a bit while sitting here…. I
have my map with me but as usual I’m failing miserably in that respect.
The only real decision I’ve made for tomorrow is the road I’m
taking out of town…. It goes south east, straight towards Asni and the
wall of the
Later: well, back in my nice-but-dull room after a fun afternoon
re-acquainting myself with the souks followed by dinner in the Djemaa el Fna
which was…. an utterly forgettable couscous, so I won’t go back to
that stall on my return…. Perhaps I should have had the boiled
sheep’s head after all. This evening I’ve done enough faffing
around with my gear in the name of getting ready such that I feel able to sleep
though I’m scared silly about tomorrow, as I always am on the first day
before setting off into the unknown on my bike!
Good night!
16 December, Day 2:
Brilliant start today, buffet
breakfasts and cyclists were just made for each other (well, for this
particular cyclist anyway)! I no longer get embarrassed by the incredulous
looks from hotel staff and other diners
as the piles of food rapidly disappear into a deceptively skinny body (and,
ahem, into my bag… supplies for the road and all that!). The only downside is that the French legacy
means it’s a so-called continental breakfast – baguettes, jam,
cheese and hardboiled eggs. Some fruit and cereal would be nice though they are
cooking fresh the little pancakes that seem to be a Moroccan specialty –
nice with honey. The tea and coffee though is bloody awful, the fresh-squeezed
orange juice barely compensates for it!
After breakfast the hotel staff at reception fell about laughing as I
gingerly wheeled a fully loaded bike backwards and vertically upended on the
rear wheel out of the hotel lift… an operation even I thought would be
difficult but I execute without a hitch! It was fun riding my bike with
panniers down the carpeted corridors upstairs beforehand…. When no-one
was looking of course!
Nervous as a cat I wheeled my bike out into the chaos of a
Navigation out of the city proved refreshingly easy with the help of a
friendly copper on one confusing intersection and I had a lovely note of encouragement
as a local guy cycling to work gave me a pat on the back and a hearty
“bon voyage!” as he passed.
I found it pretty hard going for the first couple of hours, mentally and
physically….. The road south out of the city is monumentally dull as it first
departs the scruffy outskirts of the city and then makes its way across the
plain towards the mountains. Pretty much dead straight & just ever so
slightly uphill – you wouldn’t notice in a car but on a bike
it’s just enough to hurt and make you wonder what’s wrong with your
legs as it appears flat. The surface is rough enough to be annoying and the
surrounding plain is just grey, stony waste….. mind-numbing. Not even a
scruffy village or two to break the monotony! Nearly forgot to mention the
headwind as well….. ! The only thing that keeps me going is the sight of
the high Atlas in front of me with snow-capped peaks gleaming in the sunshine.
It’s a major relief when I reach the foothills and the road starts to
weave and climb properly, the scenery gets interesting too.
My first stop on the road is the
Divine retribution for the tea came pretty quickly in the form of my second
puncture of the day. This time I had company for it though, local youths
cycling home from school had been my escort for a few km – a captive
cycle-tourist makes great practice for their English, which is pretty good!
I had planned to try and
get as far as Ijoukak today in order to get a good crack at the Tizi’n
Test but once on the road I realise that would be a very long day, and now
after all the mucking about with punctures and tea I revise my plans to stop at
Ouirgane. I’m not one for being a slave to a guide book but seeing as
I’m going that way, and that Lonely Planet makes it sounds like a lovely
little village I decide to terminate my day there. All of a sudden, knowing I
only have another 20km or so to ride and that I’ll have plenty of hours
of daylight to explore when I arrive, I start messing about and really enjoying
my ride after the monotony of the plains.
When I do arrive it turns out that Ouirgane is so small it couldn’t
even be described as a one-horse town, perhaps one-pony would be a better
description. It is pretty though and in a lovely setting. Even the coppers at
the police checkpoint (they’re everywhere in
A few other guests turn up later, the first couple (English, Hugh &
Sheila) meet my criteria of “jolly nice people” straight away by a)
being here for some walking, b) being completely unpretentious, and c) sharing
their tea and sticky cream buns! The other couple demonstrate how wrong first
impressions can be – young Londoners they turn up looking like
they’ve stepped right off Oxford street… and hence a little too
trendy for back-country Morocco….. but it turns out they’re also
super-nice and the five of us have a great evening – huddled round a
roaring log fire in Hugh and Sheila’s suite (I haven’t got
one… shame, the temperature plummeted this evening!) sharing travel
stories, and later enjoying a fabulous rabbit tagine from the guesthouse
kitchen. Yum. Fab bread too.... I do the typical hungry cyclist thing and
‘vacuum up’ everything left over by my more normal (non-cycling)
companions!
Glad I have my sleeping bag to curl up in, it’s absolutely frigid
this evening and although my room is well equipped with blankets and portable
heater (which, by the state of it, looks rather dangerous….) it’s
not the same as having your own goose-down cocoon!
17 December, Day 3: Ouirgane to…… Ouirgane! (36km)
I had plans today, big ones involving 160km on the bike and crossing the
Tizi’nTest at 2100m… but as usual my plans rapidly go out the
window. It would have required an early start, so yesterday I’d requested
breakfast at 7:30am… “no problem” apparently… except it
was and by 8.30am the staff were still sleeping. I’m very
‘brekkie-oriented’ as friends well know and I didn’t feel
particularly enthusiastic about tackling a big day in the mountains on an empty
stomach. Well, that’s my excuse anyway. Instead I kick back, relax, swipe
a couple of incredibly fragrant oranges off the trees in the garden (frost on
the ground this morning!) and enjoy a leisurely breakfast at 9am with the
others. I also manage to convince myself (quite successfully) that I’m still
tired and stressed from work, I’m on holiday, and various other excuses
so decide to just explore the local area today on my bike. The surrounding
valleys are quite beautiful – so I do exactly that and thoroughly enjoy
it. It also means I get to spend another fab evening in good company, munching
oranges and talking by a roaring log fire. Hugh and Sheila are interesting characters, they both have a
major love affair with
I cycled back down the road to Marrakech a few km’s during the
afternoon, to Asni. Its pure luck that it’s market day so I pick up
fruit, veg and dried fruits (energy!)in the bustling melee, where naturally
I’m ‘found’ by a “tuareg” chap who has
{apparently, just like the guy yesterday....} fallen on hard times and just
happens to have some silver Berber jewellery for sale… he’s a nice
guy though so after I’ve stocked up on fresh stuff at the market we enjoy
a leisurely mint tea at a nearby café. This time however I do buy a lovely
silver bracelet from him – it’ll be handy as a belated Christmas
gift on my return home and isn’t too bulky or heavy to carry on the bike
over the next few hundred km. I still let him pay for the tea
though…… Scored a bonus on the return trip too – found a bike
shop so I’m able to replace my spare inner tube, peace of mind for the
coming days in the middle of nowhere!
Back in Ouirgane the local shop has become something of a hangout for the 5
westerners staying in the village, we each seem to be making multiple trips
across the dirt ‘plaza’ for yet more
biscuits/bread/chocolate/cake/milk/water* etc (*delete as appropriate!). The
shopkeeper is particularly bemused when I rock up on my bike on return from Asni
and tell him that tomorrow I’m riding all the way to Taroudant…
Once again the temperature plummeted come nightfall and I retire early
determined that tomorrow I really will endure the pain of the next 80km of
climbing to the top of the Tizi’n Test….. and a further 80km after
that to the next town likely to have accommodation.
18 December, Day 4: Ouirgane to Tizi’n Test (82km)
Wake up early… and a bit hungry so have a pre-breakfast snack
(huddled in front of the heater) of bread (toasted over the heater…),
tuna, bananas and oranges (OK, I was very hungry…) before packing up my
gear.
I also now know why the guys are so reluctant to get out of bed early to
provide breakfast, at 7.30am. I do get breakfast but it’s absolutely
bloody frigid….. (the air temperature, not the breakfast!) inside as well
as out. There’s no sun yet to take the frost off everything and the fire
in the dining area has gone out…. So I eat breakfast with my gloves and
get jam all over them… ah well, worst case I can suck the sugars out of
the fabric when I run out of energy on the climb…. hehehe! It was worth
staying for breakfast though for fresh pancakes and proper, freshly ground
coffee (luxury!).
At 8am I rolled away from Ouirgane in the early morning sunshine full of
trepidation for the climbing ahead and not knowing if I’d find a place to
stay in the next 160km. The first couple of hours were lovely, the road weaving
and rolling its way through a steep mountain valley – following the
course of the river. Bloody freezing though as the road happens to be on the
eastern side of the valley and hence won’t get any warmth until around
midday when the sun moves above the surrounding peaks. It’s also
satisfying to note that I’m also climbing steadily without too much
pain… that is unless the laws of physics have changed since yesterday and
rivers no longer flow downhill… 
The road is really rather peaceful, especially this early. Just single
vehicle width with a reasonable surface. The only hazards I encounter in the
first couple of hours are a couple of “enthusiastically aggressive”
dogs and a bunch of stone throwing brats. A well aimed rock deterred the first,
I suppose I should have done the same to the second but I’m too nice for
that… instead they were called off by a couple of adults just around the
next bend. Bit of a shame really, generally the kids are really nice but I
guess here they do see some tourists…. The standard
‘greeting’ for a passing foreigner goes “un stylo, un stylo, un stylo…..” and if no pen is
forthcoming it changes to “un
dirham, un dirham, un dirham….” And if that is unsuccessful
they either give a dirty look, or in this case….. chuck stones….
(or try and shove a stick through your spokes).
By 10.30am I’m at Ijoukak, a sizeable ‘village’ situated
on a riverside plain where the valley opens out. The view from the road into
town is stunning, the surrounding area is heavily cultivated and terraced and I
can now see the snow-covered high peaks ahead, towards which I’m
climbing, forming an incredible backdrop to the ubiquitous mosque
minaret….. It would be really nice to stop here for a while… but there’s
a long way to go so I pull in at the first shop I come to and buy hot bread and
water (the water was cold, only the bread was hot….!) and promptly ride
off again clutching a whole loaf of bread in my hand and munching away as I
ride….. much to the bemusement of the locals I pass.
It’s olive harvest time here at the moment, the groves surrounding
the town are bustling with activity as I ride on through the surrounding
farmland. Back in Ouirgane, Hugh, whose French is far better than mine, had
found out that olive harvesting is one of the highest risk occupations in
Morocco… the branches of the trees are very weak so it’s the job of
all the small, light people to go up into the trees and shake the olives into
waiting blankets below…. quite often followed by themselves as a branch
gives way. The list of injuries every year is quite substantial…. Broken
limbs, necks, backs etc etc. Could be the one part of the world where being a
fat bloke is good for your health… you wouldn’t be expected to
climb trees!
The road started to climb pretty rapidly a few km’s after Ijoukak,
but spirits are really good, everyone I pass in the little communities has a
cheery greeting for me. It gets pretty toasty warm too as I move into sunlight,
it’s welcome for a bit as my fingers and toes thaw out… but then
gets really warm with the sustained effort…. The brief periods of
deep-freeze as the road moves back into shadow on the hairpins are almost
welcome. Amost!
When I really start to overheat I stop to remove my thermal “lycra
arms and legs” and stuff some dates inside of me. A little white car
coming down the mountain pulls up to make sure I’m OK (westerners on
bikes seem to be something of a rarity around here…!)… a voice
call’s out “g’day, you
alright mate!?”… it’s a pair of Australian blokes in
their rental car! I’m fine but it’s funny to have a chat. They
think I’m totally mad cycling up here… I know I still have a lot of
climbing to do but I go ahead and ask a really silly question… “is
it far to the top?” to which the half-laughing predictable reply is
“you must be bloody joking,
it’s miles up there…..!”. I get caught out too as absent
mindedly I take a little jar of chamois cream out of my seatpack to deal with a
bit of chafing “behind” and get caught with my hand down the back
of my shorts – “Oi !! is that
Vaseline for yer arse… you’ll bloody need that!!”.
Hehehe, good fun. Scrounge some water off them and then crack on towards the
top…..
The roadside has km markers on the climb, same as in the mountains of
Europe – in
The climb is a real classic as it approaches the last 15km or so to the top
– the narrow road winding its tortuous way around the steepening
mountainside with stupendous views back down the valley I’ve travelled
up. I’m too busy enjoying the scene to notice the effort…much.
The top of the climb wasn’t very ‘fair’, the road reaches
a crest and I figured I’d done it especially when a local guy in a pickup
coming the other way gave me a great cheer…. But it’s not,
it’s a false summit and I think I can see the true summit seemingly miles
away. Bugger. The next couple of km is slightly downhill and I begrudge every
meter of it, I’m losing my hard-won altitude only to have to climb back
up again. Finally reach the summit at about 1:45pm… it’s 80km from
Ouirgane, nearly all of it uphill, I’m rather happy to be at the top!
There’s a breeze-block café, the usual fossils and tagines for sale and
not a lot else though the proprietor clearly thinks I’m some sort of
superhuman for having cycled up there… I decide there’s nothing
wrong with letting him continue to enjoy his illusion! I do have a celebratory
mint tea from him but decline the food, I’m not really hungry and
it’s still 80km to Taroudant so rather than fill up on oily stuff, and
waste too much time, I just sit and quietly stuff dates, bread and biscuits
from my panniers, after putting all my arms, legs and jacket back on - it’s freezing at the top!
Set off again just after 2pm, 100 metres from the café the road rounds a
bend and an absolutely mind-bending view opens up to the south! I’m
perched right on the edge of the, Atlas Mountains, from here the mountainside
(and the road, yippee!) plummets 2000 metres to the plain of the
From here the (now downhill!) road turned to loose dirt and pebbles, little
bit tricky, especially on the hairpins with no barriers or run-off margins and
a 2km drop-off. It’s not too difficult on the bike but I’d hate to
be caught up here in bad weather and I can understand why it apparently freaks
visitors out in their rental cars or the local buses! The Australian guys this
morning mentioned a little tea-stop at the 1800m mark on this side of the
mountain, run apparently by a super-friendly multi-lingual Berber chap….
I’d made a resolution to stop there as it sounded nice and opened up the
possibility of being able to spend the night up here instead of killing myself
trying to get to Taroudant before dark.
Sure enough, perched on a hairpin with stunning views down the mountain is
the “Sunset Café”! Appropriate name I guess seeing as it faces
west, and what the place lacks in luxury the owner, Ahmet, more than makes up
for in warmth. I can’t imagine he sees many people at this time of year
so a nutcase turning up on a bicycle is quite an event! He has a basic room I
can have too, it’s rustic in the extreme with animal skin on the floor
and freezing cold but the view is simply incredible. Decide to stay, dump my
gear and proceed to eat my way through a mountain of biscuits with tea while
Ahmet prepares the best “Berber Omelette” I’ve ever tasted!
Hunger satisfied (for the time being anyway) we get talking, he’s
been up here for 10 years though has family in a village at the bottom of the
mountain, they bring supplies up and occasionally he swaps with his brother so
can have time at home. Turns out he has a huge pile of photographs of his
family and of visitors from around the world…. so I put my
‘politely interested’ face on while inwardly thinking “gawd,
I’d rather just go and sleep” but he’s as good as gold and
only shows me the best while drifting off into a reverie of his own memories,
leaving me to go and sort my gear out and investigate the washing
facilities….
I’m contemplating an ice cold bucket of water when Ahmet shows up
with a bucket of piping hot water he’s heated on his stove for me…
how nice! Retreat to the washroom (read “smelly pit toilet with a dim 12v
light bulb”) where my slippery bar of soap promptly pops out of my hand
and disappears down the hole…. There’s no way I’m even going
to attempt to retrieve it! Don’t mind too much, sweat and road dust
doesn’t really need soap, just being slightly cleaner makes me feel like
a million dollars… ready for more tea and biscuits now!
There’s no electricity as such up here but there are solar panels on
the roof charging a car battery which drives a couple of inadequate bulbs,
there’s also a half-built wind-generator lying outside – it looks
pretty new so I imagine it will get finished rather than turn into a
perpetually unfinished project.
Sunset is epic. I’m not normally one for getting romantic over
sunsets but from up here and with the enormous views it really is something
special….. just like the night sky once it’s properly dark –
the air is crystal clear and dry so it’s a classic “big sky”
crowded with stars. Bone chillingly cold though so the rest of the evening is
spent in retreat round a log fire eating a super veg tagine and talking about
pretty much everything current – politics, religion – you name it.
Ahmet is a pretty switched on guy. It’s easy to get in some quality
criticism of mister George Bush too, he seems to be subject to extreme dislike
globally. Good.
Just one last thing – I can’t help noticing the lighting
arrangements this evening - typically “Moroccan”… the gas lamp
is simply a propane bottle with a tall u-shaped piece of copper pipe jammed in
the valve, flattened at the free end with a wick bound on with wire. Health and
Safety rules…!! Bed early feeling happier than I have done for a long
time.
19 December, Day 5: Tizi’n Test to Taroudant (86km)
Kind of reluctant to drag myself out my sleeping bag this morning, as I
write the sun hasn’t poked it’s head over the mountains yet so the
air is frigid, I’ve got the promise of a cold start too, the first 20km
are all downhill so no chance to get warm pedalling. Breakfast is bread, warmed
over a gas flame, filled with sardines in chilli sauce and lots of instant
coffee. At 8.30am I say my farewells and take off down the mountain wrapped up
in waterproofs (it’s not raining but the wind-chill is nasty) and my down
gilet, it does feel a bit odd to be riding a bike while dressed up looking like
the Michelin Man but I’d rather than freeze my nuts off for the next 45
mins or so.
The descent is superb (aside from the cold), the road surface is pretty
good, views… well, I already mentioned those yesterday I think, and
it’s fun getting into a rhythm round the hairpins. There are no foothills
tapering out from the high mountains which simply feels wrong, never before
have I have literally ridden straight down from one of the highest mountains in
a range and literally rolled out onto a
plain. The Atlas really does stop here just like a wall, albeit a very big,
snowy wall….! It’s lovely and warm on the valley bottom, pretty
dull in the scenic stakes but the road continues to go gently downhill, with a
tailwind (hooray!) for the next 60 km or so all the way to Taroudant.
There’s bugger all to write about for this bit, it was pretty dull
– just a few dusty one-street towns, kids on bikes trying to race me,
endless orange groves and not a lot else. The only saving grace is that the
wind and gradient mean I get to Taroudant in record time (for a fully loaded
touring bike) and it’s not long before I’m installed in a relatively
nice room at the Hotel Tiout, and my bike is similarly comfortably installed in
the laundry shed outside under the watchful eye of a giggling maid! I only chose this hotel
because apparently it has that cyclist’s favourite – a cheap but
good buffet breakfast….. nothing to do with the hot shower, honest!
On the face of it Taroudant doesn’t look anything special, it’s
a warm and dusty town surrounded by many km of fortified walls. It does feel
like an outpost town in a way and for this reason I like it. It’s devoid
of sights as such but the souk is pretty interesting and low key and the street
life is typically Moroccan without any tourist influence which makes it a top
place to explore in my mind. Only exception to the no-tourist rule seems to be
one or two coaches on day trips from Agadir that disgorge their cargos of fat,
badly dressed Germans (and, errrm, English) into the main square for an hour or
two of “authentic Morocco” before whisking them back to the
sterility of a resort hotel. Cheap and tasty grub here too, a decent lunchtime
feed of chickpeas, vegetable stew, bread and tea sets me back a mere 9 dirham
at a little “hole in the wall” place with a happily grinning chef
behind his big steaming pots out front! The rest of my afternoon is given over
to eating oranges, exploring the town, drinking tea, eating more oranges and
generally trying to chill out. Did I mention the oranges… all those
orange groves I passed on my bike are producing some wonderful fruit and dirt
cheap too. By sundown the sun is covered by an ominous looking layer of high
cloud but it gives a bit of atmosphere to the scene I stumble across of an
informal football match taking place on a patch of bare ground alongside an
austere, crumbling section of city walls…. It doesn’t look so good
for the weather outlook though.
I never do myself any favours really by cycling 90km and then spending the
rest of the day running around looking at things when really it might be a good
idea to rest my legs… But I think I’ll stay here tomorrow anyway to
enjoy the town, feeling lazy and I kind of fancy the attractions of a haircut,
good food, getting laundry done and so on, though in my mind I’m really
just putting off the effort of having to regain all my lost altitude by riding
back up into the Anti-Atlas! I also need to get myself properly “cashed
up” with dirham before heading off into the back of beyond.
I did half-heartedly pack my gear last night in case I woke up feeling all
fresh and motivated…. But I didn’t, instead I’m looking
forward to a leisurely breakfast and getting to know the town!
Spend my morning photographing the street life in and around the vegetable
market, the vendors and locals here seem quite happy with the camera which is
nice, I guess because it’s not a tourist destination. The fresh squeezed
orange juice from the sellers in the square is expectedly tasty, and cheaper
than
I guess the key factors you need to know are:
·
it’s very very good for your skin
·
it’s ground from nuts collected from goat turds
·
it’s rather labour intensive, 20hrs of work for
1 litre of oil
·
it’s good for eating….
So there you go, that stuff I’m putting on my face and in my food came
out of a goat’s backside…. Just as an aside, locally they mix the
Amlou (the paste after grinding) with honey to spread on bread –
it’s incredibly tasty, just don’t think about the goats!
The Co-op has tons of stuff on offer, it’s all fixed price and quite
expensive but at least here I know it’s genuine and my money will go
straight to the right people. Apparently because it is expensive anyway
there’s a lot of fake stuff for sale as Argan on the streets, especially
when there’s tourists around….. It also means my
‘guide’ has no vested interest in a commission or similar, in fact
afterwards we chat a bit and agree to meet for tea later. Nice guy. As to what
I bought – just pure oil for my skin.
As for the rest of my day – well aside from wandering the souks,
chatting to various locals, stuffing my face with figs and dates and burning some
film in my camera only two other things of note happened… The first was
my haircut, much needed and a great cut, and the guy who cut it was proof that
the stereotypical hairdresser is the same all over the world…. i.e. just
a bit, how shall I put it… of a fairy if you see what I mean. Only
difference between my Moroccan barber and his
The other significant event was that it started to rain…. Pi** it
down in fact. The cloud had been getting thicker all day. I felt the first
drops about 2.30pm, by 7pm the streets were flooded… wet feet walking
back to the hotel after dinner! Spent the rest of the evening in the
hotel’s street level tea-salon watching the rain, eating chocolate from
the little shop opposite and drinking….. for a change….. tea!
Proper tea though, not the sickly sweet mint stuff – a real “Thé
English” as it’s popularly known. Good old Lipton, found all over
the world except, strangely enough, the shelves of any of my local supermarkets
in
Today has also been a good chance to bash off a few emails to the folks at
home, let them know what I’m up to – though negotiating the
knackered French/Arabic keyboards in the internet café is a painful process for
my QWERTY-conditioned fingers!
Hope the rain stops before I set off tomorrow for the lofty heights of the
Anti-Atlas…
21 December, Day 7: Taroudant to Igherm (89km)
6.30am… wake up to the sound of rain hammering down outside and my
heart sinks…. Spent an unusually long time in the hot shower this morning
trying to corral the fragments of my motivation left shattered after waking up
to the cacophony of raindrops! Breakfast sorted me out though… typically
enormous with loads of coffee! Motivation returned in spades as I stuffed my
gear into panniers, retrieved my bike from its cosy home next to the
industrial-sized washing machine across the yard and sealed myself into
raingear…. Just one more obstacle to my departure presented
itself…. The guy who ‘watches’ the parking area for guests
cars wants his due for ‘guarding my bike’ despite the fact that
it’s been locked away out of sight for the last two days… oh well,
in the interests of international cyclist relations I cave-in easily and give
him his fee of 20dh… negotiated down from 40 on the basis that my bike
has two wheels, not four….!
Rolled out of town around 8am, wheels splashing through the flooded
streets. Conditions are such that it feels very odd to be riding through what,
on arrival, was a dusty, desert town surrounded by a typically desiccated
landscape.
The first few kilometres
are simply backtracking the way I came in, which aside from being rather dull
isn’t much fun as the wind is now in my face and I also receive firm
confirmation from my protesting legs that the road I travelled into town from
the Tizi’nTest is indeed slightly downhill…. I’m crawling
back up it at a measly 18km/hr.
My latest plan, developed last night, is to ride East to Igherm high into
the Anti-Atlas before, in the coming days, heading North then East again to
reach the oases of the
My Michelin map says there’s a tiny road that turns off this main
road about 8km from Taroudant and eventually joins up with the road to Igherm
(there’s only one road going East!)… and sure enough, 8km out
there’s a right turn – must be it so off I go spirits much higher
now I’m away from that dull drag from Taroudant! The next few km hints at
a promise of interesting riding to come – the road is nice and twisty and
about 90% dirt (with very large puddles) so no chance to get bored. Despite
carrying a full load I still whip past locals negotiating the broken sections
on their boneshakers… though I’m having my bones shaken too and if
Murphy and his law have been translated into Arabic I wouldn’t be
surprised if something breaks…. Though I abused my bike far more in the
Himalayas there weren’t any people around to be embarrassed in front of!
The promise of interesting riding evaporates pretty quickly when I reach
the easterly road I want… for the next 2 hours it’s just a slog
– dead straight, slightly uphill (again!) with enough of a cross-headwind
to make life difficult. To add to the ‘misery’ there’s not
even anything to look at, there’s nothing but barren scrub all around as
far as the eye can see… which isn’t very far because the drizzle is
so thick! The only thing I can see that isn’t a stone or scrubby little bush
is the Anti-Atlas rising up in front of me… I can’t wait to reach
the mountains where things are bound to be more stimulating. To get there
though I have to keep going dead straight – I can see the ribbon of road
gently stretching up ahead without even the merest hint of a wiggle. Bugger.
Most cyclists moan when the road starts to climb proper hills…. but not
this one (‘they’ always
said I was a bit odd…..), it’s blessed relief when all of a sudden
I’m in the mountains, there’s a proper gradient, bends and stuff to
look at, even if it is just more rock! The rain has eased too so I give it 20
minutes further riding to see if it’s just a brief pause before stopping
to strip my now sweaty raingear off… but of course when I do stop, and
pack all my gear away it returns with the very first pedal stroke….
It’s not hard to decide I’d rather be wet now though, I’m
sheltered from the wind and working hard so stay warm in just a windproof top
and knee-warmers. A couple of passing trucks (in fact the only passing things
I’ve seen so far today) slowed down and their drivers yell encouragement,
clearly they think I’m some kind of super-human cycling god riding up
here….. can’t say I blame them hehehehe!!
The climbing is pretty monotonous for an hour or two but about 11am I reach a typically windswept and scruffy
village clinging to a mountain ridge….there’s one shop I can
see… so with a couple of dodgy looking kids trailing me I roll up to
re-supply… but he’s got no bread or water, instead I’m
directed 20yds further to what looks like a crumbling concrete shed with a very
faded coke sign painted on the wall… doesn’t look promising inside
either… dark and nothing but hundreds of bottles of lurid orange fizzy
stuff stacked against the walls. The old boy sitting inside though is much
friendlier than the kids outside (and the weather) and he sorts me out with
some still-warm bread to munch and a water bottle refill.
The next few km lull me into a false sense of security because even though
I have a strong headwind the road ahead looks vaguely flat/rolling with no
significant climbing, stupidly I think I’m doing really well and have got
the worst of the day over……..
To cut a long story slightly less long – the next few hours turned into
a major endurance test as the headwind increased to gale-force, I ascended into
the low, wet cloud-base and the road started to climb again… relentlessly
as it wound it’s tortuous way round barren, windswept peaks and through
tiny, remote settlements (what a place to live, I shall moan about Cornish
winters no more!). It went on for hours and every time I thought I’d
cracked the latest climb the noise of a truck on an un-noticed hairpin high
above me would bring me almost to tears (and swearing loudly)! The landscape
was pretty epic though (when I could see it), tortured volcanic escarpments and
summits separated by barren rocky plains – quite the place to go riding a
bicycle… on your own… in a storm… in winter….. (hmmmm,
maybe I do need to see a ‘head doctor’)!
I was literally on my last legs, mentally as much as physically by the time
I passed a milestone saying “Igherm 2km”… at last! By now
I’d been reduced to a pathetic crawl of around 6km flat-out because of
the wind, with hailstones and icy rain periodically stinging my face. My
happiness at only 2km to go was tempered slightly (well, lots – the air
was blue, luckily only my bike to hear it) when the edge of the village
appeared out of the swirling cloud… 2km above me! More uphill grovelling,
bugger.
The first straggly bit of settlement was not inspiring, the sign said
“Igherm” but the only sign of life amongst the straggly settlement
with it’s one and only café (closed and shuttered!) was the open blue
door of a telephone office…. My heart was rapidly sinking by this stage
as there wasn’t any obvious place to stay or get food… Closer
investigation of the teleboutique though brought a very warm welcome from a
group of local women, all wrapped in stunning blue silk dress (veiled of course)
huddled around a charcoal brazier. They made room for me and for the next 20
mins I warmed my hands over the charcoal and made the best use of my French to
have a conversation… and failed miserably, the cold, fatigue and almost 8
hours of effort had thoroughly addled my brain! It was seriously heart-warming
as a foreigner to be made so welcome by the women with not a local male in
sight, maybe the traditional Muslim taboo is slightly tempered up here by the
harshness of life. My lasting memory of this encounter though will be their
eyes, with covered faces the eyes become the centre of attention…. They
were sparkling eyes, full of laughter……
Despite the refusal of my
brain to cooperate they did manage to get clear that this place with the Igherm
signpost, logically, wasn’t Igherm at all…!.The real Igherm was
another kilometre or so along the road and yes, there was an open café there
with room to stay! My legs felt slightly better at this news but failed again
when I eventually stumbled into an open café with a very, very loud TV (showing
a bad spaghetti western) and collapsed in an exhausted heap! My arrival seemed
to provide some amusement for the locals, wrapped in their wool cloaks, huddled in front of the TV, the owner
appeared eventually to tell me that he was closed (!) and that he had no rooms
available despite the sign outside saying quite the opposite….. So,
directed back out into the muddy, gritty, deserted, derelict, storm-swept, ice
cold main street (I’m trying to think of as many suitable words to
describe the place as possible...) and round a corner 100 metres up the
road…. To find a regular metropolis (well, compared to anything else
I’ve seen today!) where there’s another café, a couple of trucks,
some locals standing around, wrapped up against the cold and a couple of
beaten-up old Grand Taxis. I’ve arrived! Fate started smiling for a
change, this café is really quite nice (it’s all relative) and equally as
packed with an equally loud TV as the last one… except the owner is a
super guy who shows me a tidy little box room for 50dh and carries my panniers
upstairs for me while I negotiate my bike, to the bemusement of the locals,
through the packed café and up the same windy staircase at the back. It gets
better too…. There’s a doorway near my room with a rough sign on it
saying “douche chaud, 6dh” (hot shower)…. I couldn’t have
been happier if I’d won the lottery!
First priority though is food, my legs are like jelly so a quick change
into just about every item of dry clothing I own (it’s cold in here) and
downstairs for the hungry cyclist routine…. Coffee, biscuits, bread, lentil
stew, bread, meat stew, bread, chickpea and vegetable stew … and more
bread followed by tea! A good start to my ‘tab’!
The highlight of my day…. the
shower, it was ace, gas-powered and boiling hot – I can forgive the
cigarette butts in the sink outside for that! The shower and the food saw me
sufficiently restored to wrap up take a walk round the village… it
didn’t take long, aside from the weather the place consisted of a muddy
street, a couple of forlorn looking shops in a covered “souk”
selling the usual oranges, carrots, biscuits (and chocolate, thankfully!) etc,
owners huddled collectively around flaming braziers, and a sort of makeshift
tent/market stall with an old guy selling piles of dates…. Good enough,
lucky I like oranges and dates…
The rest of the afternoon and evening was a blur…. Mostly spent
eating chocolate and oranges while huddled in my sleeping bag in my room at a
balmy 5 degs C indoors, or downstairs in the café watching al Jazeera and
eating yet more, all in the interests of recovery you understand, tomorrow
could be an equally hard day of riding… though I hope not.…!
In bed by 7pm accompanied by the sound of the storm raging outside my metal
shutters (which appear to be permanently fixed shut).
22 December, Day 8: Igherm (0km)
6.30am: It’s 2 degs C in my room when I wake up…. and
depressingly, after a night spent listening to it, the weather is still raging
outside as every so often a squall howls it’s way down the street,
rattling shutters and increasing the intensity of rain and ice pellets on my
shutters. Drat.
My legs are still feeling pretty dead after yesterday’s efforts too
so when I got up I left just about all my enthusiasm for riding behind, tucked
up in the bottom of my sleeping bag I think…! Still, I’m supposed
to be a tough cyclist explorer type so I went through the motions of dressing
for the weather and wander downstairs for breakfast and to ponder whether I can
really find the motivation to ride over 100km today, i.e. the distance to the
next nearest town in any direction…. As it turned out after a drawn-out
breakfast of coffee, bread, jam and eggs spent staring at the desolate scene
outside I decide that conditions are just too dangerous to ride a long way in
this terrain and altitude, heck the wind is gale force, it’s snowing
mixed with rain, visibility is about 30 metres and I fear the chances of
finding shelter along the way are pretty much zero. That was handy, my
conscience is clear as it’s no longer a question of motivation but rather
one of common sense. Excellent, I’m getting much better these days at
finding justification for a day off! My day suddenly became something to look
forward to, though what I’ll do with myself for another 24hrs in this
place is another matter….!! At least Dooudi, the café owner, is happy to
have me hanging around, drinking his coffee and enjoying his food, of which I
imagine I’ll be consuming lots.
It’s very much a ‘bloke’s place’ this café, just
like all such places out in the sticks. The locals are certainly friendly but
I’m not sure I’d bring a gal here! By 8am the café is full of
locals, wrapped up in their cloaks staring at the TV like rows of shrouded
corpses except every so often one moves
to light a cigarette or take a sip of tea. The place pretty much stayed that
way right through the day, even when the call for prayer goes out – I
guess the “ever so slightly warmer than outside” café is attractive
enough to make the effort of leaving just too great!
10am: venture outside into the storm for a better look around the village…
same result as yesterday though I found a little shop tucked away that had
candles for sale so I grabbed a box to see if they can make even a degree of
two of difference to the temperature in my room. Even if they don’t
they’ll be handy this evening when the electricity is flicking on and off
like it did last night. Also picked up a few sheets of scrappy paper so I can
fill time writing a couple of proper letters to best friends. A sad reflection
I suppose on modern life that the only opportunity I seem to have time to write
a proper, old-fashioned letter is when I’m stranded in the middle of
nowhere with nothing to do….
It’s so much more satisfying, and meaningful, than a quick email
bashed out in a hasty few seconds. The shopkeeper is a jolly chap and falls
about laughing when I tell him that I might as well be on holiday in Igherm as
back home in
Later on while sitting, head down, scribbling in a corner of the café, on
my umpteenth café au lait (Nescafe + milk!) I hear an English accent… a
group of 4 people have emerged from the storm and are ordering tea…
company! Doesn’t take me long to gate-crash their tea break and in fact
they’re glad to see a new face too with interesting stories to tell.
They’re all on a guided trekking holiday with Exodus, and like me have
been trapped here by the weather – apparently the rivers are too swollen
from the rain for their mules to cross and the high altitude paths simply too
hazardous in the ice and wind. Unlike me they’re camping, and
they’re welcome to it I think, so I cruelly tempt them with tales of the
hot shower upstairs! They’re a really nice bunch, lots of interesting
stories to tell from past travels but, like the locals, they seem pretty
impressed that I’m mucking about here alone on a bike… I’m
well practised at modesty though… so it’s “nothing
really”…
They’re certainly a friendlier bunch than the cargo of French
tourists that a passing tour coach disgorged for a quick lunch stop in a
private dining room upstairs. It was interesting to watch the reaction of the
locals as this lot minced in wearing their flash gear and moaning about the
cold, moaning about the toilet, moaning about everything in fact. I really felt
for Dooudi as their behaviour was overall pretty rude. They didn’t stay
long, just long enough to eat food they’d brought with them and sweep out
again on their way to the next resort stop…
Spend my afternoon watching the snow, poring over my map, drinking tea and
planning and replanning a rough trip schedule. With this weather, unscheduled
stop and the difficult terrain I think I’ll be pushed to get out east to
Zagora without flogging myself to death and while still enjoying the trip, so
it looks like it’ll have to be the opposite direction, i.e. south, with
the next stop being Tafraoute. The area is supposed to be lovely down there so
it might be a good place to spend Christmas with a couple of days to do some
exploring locally by foot and bike. It’s not a difficult decision to make
really – although it’s over 100km away through the same difficult
terrain, the wind will be generally at my tail and there’s a net
elevation loss of about 800m! Easy….
Not a lot else happened today, I ventured out again for chocolate (Moroccan
chocolate is actually OK, not exactly Green & Blacks standard but it does
the job!), had another shower to warm up, I’m wearing everything I have
and I’ve been cold all day – the humidity is a real killer with no
heat to warm things up in the café other than a load of bodies glued to the TV!
Crawled into my sleeping bag really early, not much else to do except watch
the candles and scribble my journal while listening to the storm outside which
is still going full tilt…. At least I’m rested now and motivation
to get out of here whatever the weather is sufficiently high that I’m
looking forward to the morning, whatever it brings I’m hitting the
road…
23 December, Day 9: Igherm to Tafraoute (102km)
7.30am: I ask you dear diary, how is it that a bloody dog can do what dogs
do all day and still have the energy to wander all over the place barking
it’s head off all night? If a human tried to do the same they’d
have knackered vocal cords well before even simple fatigue became an issue.
Sodding animal, I spent much of the night just praying for someone to throw a
rock at it… I wasn’t about to go downstairs and out into the storm
though – a) because the weather was (and still is) horrible, and b) because
it was just too cold to even contemplate leaving my sleeping bag for anything
less than the café burning to the ground…..which would at least provide
some heat (and a pee of course).
Anyway – back to this morning – I’d thought I’d pen
a quick entry before braving the elements on the next stage of my
journey….
First thought on getting up today was “well, bu**er me if it
isn’t colder than yesterday”, it was snowing outside while I sat
shivering eating breakfast…. A slab of chocolate soon fixed that though!
As well as the chocolate breakfast was a real exercise in fuelling this
morning… lots of café au lait, a loaf of bread with cheese and jam, 2
eggs, 4 oranges and a banana. Yum, Dooudi was staggered, hungry cyclists are an
alien breed round here in think! I could have kept eating but that would have
been plain gluttony….!
I have to pack now, the
next entry in here will, inshallah,
be this evening in Tafraoute… or somewhere else that I’d rather not
be, especially if the weather is like this…..!
7.30pm: Well, given that I’m writing this while tucked up in
Tafraoute’s best hotel all nice and warm, then something must have gone
right today…! I wasn’t going to stay here but after a long day in
the saddle, weather still playing games, still cold, and with Christmas coming
up all my resolutions caved in immediately as I passed a sign on the road into
town advertising hot water and central heating (!!) at the best hotel in
town…. Must be getting soft in my ‘old’ age (well, less-young
then)! It was quite the adventure getting here though…..
By 8am I was all packed and ready, wrapped in multiple layers of clothing
in a waterproof shell. I also discovered that I could just about wedge my
cycling helmet on top of my windstopper fleece hat, looks silly but then the
rest of me didn’t exactly look stylish. Winter cycling always was a bit of
a fancy dress party…. I’m feeling particularly clever though as I
have an additional intermediate layer of waterproofing on my hands – the
thin polythene gloves I swiped from a petrol station at home for working on my
bike do excellent duty over my glove liners, inside my outer gloves, to keep
the cold and wet out.
Before lugging all my gear down, I popped down to the bar to settle up my
‘tab’… with no idea what I owed I left it Dooudi to spring a
number on me. He hadn’t written anything down with his helper they spent
a few minutes with their heads together and came up with a grand total
of…… 330dh! I’d expected more given that included the
showers, room and vast quantities of food and drink! Brilliant place….
mental note to stick a recommendation on the Lonely Planet forum. With the bill
out the way Dooudi springs an unwanted dilemma on me… he can’t
quite believe I intend riding to Tafraoute in this weather and tells me that
today there is a truck going to Tafraoute and I could catch a ride on
that…… Arrrgh, that’s the last thing I wanted to hear…
I took a whole 5 minutes to decide that I would rather ride the whole way, heck
– that’s the point of this adventure really, besides I like a
challenge! With that little hic out the way I lugged the bike down while Dooudi
brought all the panniers. A quick photo session outside the café at
Dooudi’s request (me with bike, Dooudi with bike, me with Dooudi etc
etc!), farewells were said and I rolled off with some trepidation down the
desolate main street with ice pellets stinging my face and the wind howling
round the buildings….!
The route to Tafraoute backtracked a couple of km to the straggle of houses
where I warmed my hands on the journey here before turning sharply south and,
surprise(!) steeply uphill, towards Tafraoute. I’ve only covered 5km and
am just getting used to the idea of riding in such miserable conditions when
the first little ‘adventure’ of the day occurs…. I’m
spotted by a pack of 9 or 10 stray dogs on a nearby hillside… oh shit.
Still going uphill so even at maximum effort I’m not exactly quick and
the buggers have gone absolutely nuts at the sight of me and are on a course
carefully calculated to meet mine about 500m down the road, they’re
gaining rather rapidly on me too….. I managed to pick up one rock without
stopping but I doubt it’ll do much good so I give it everything in a
sprint for the next hairpin which would get me out of sight…. On the
point of throwing up with the effort I just make it and it all goes quiet
behind me – seems “out of sight out of mind” really does
apply! A little more relaxed now but with regular glances behind I carry
on… the next hairpin though brings me back into view of the pack who are
now just mooching about on the road way behind me…. The distance
isn’t enough though, one of them spots the blue rainjacket and
they’re off again, gaining rapidly…. Turned my lungs inside out
getting out of sight again and just about made it but this time keep hammering
to get as much distance between us before I pop into view again. The same drama
was repeated one more time before I finally crested the climb and was able to
get my speed up to 60km/hr on the gentle descent that followed…. Phew.
The rock stayed wedged on top of my front pannier where I can easily reach it
for the rest of the day!
The weather was pretty nasty all morning, the wind though
‘fresh’ is generally a cross or tailwind so not too bad, I only
have a nasty ‘hitting a brick wall’ experience on the occasions
that a switchback brings me dead into wind. As the morning went on the cloud
came right down so although I had no views to enjoy the atmosphere was truly
awesome as the road snaked it’s way between brooding peaks and past
scruffy little villages tucked into hillside niches. By about 11am the snow and
ice pellets had turned completely to rain, being wet already it was a relief
not to have to deal with stinging ice on my face. The general trend of the road
is clearly down hill too judging by the steadily reduced accumulations of snow
at the edges, and my average speed which isn’t too shabby for the
terrain, especially compared to my grovel to Igherm a couple of days ago! I
seem to be making good time but the cold and damp with wind-chill is really
getting through to me, feet aren’t too bad with SealSkinz socks over coolmax
cycling socks but it’s my hands that are the problem. I must look pretty
silly riding down the road alternately swinging one arm then the other to send
the blood back into my fingers…… Not that it matters, I’ve
only seen one vehicle so far (and they gave me some ‘comedy
encouragement’ mimed through the windscreen as they passed!).
Just one more canine encounter before mid-day, this time approaching a
village there’s a dog walking in the road with someone I assume to be
it’s owner… predictably the dog goes for me as I sweep past as
quickly as possible but this time the mere sight of the rock in my hand stops
it dead in it’s tracks. Haha….
The only other event this morning was when I stopped briefly to fiddle with
my gears by the roadside. A scruffy old camper van with Dutch plates rolled up
to see if I was OK (I was). Nice of them, coming from Tafraoute they
immediately felt sorry for me and offered hot tea and biscuits…. Not
wanting to stop here, getting cold, too long though I decline and just blag some
water instead. It felt good to meet some friendly faces on this lonely stretch
though having learned my lesson on the Tizi’nTest I don’t ask them
how far and how hard the road is to Tafraoute!!
By 12:15pm I’ve made great time with 61km covered so when I roll into
the most sizeable village so far (shadowed by a great, dark, glistening wet
peak) and spot a little café (possibly the only one on this route) it’s
an easy decision to stop for tea. The village is called Ait Abdallah though I
only know that because it’s actually considered significant enough to
appear as a dot on my Michelin map! My arrival causes a bit of stir, seems the
sight of a foreigner, dripping wet, wrapped in Gore-Tex and riding a bicycle is
not a common thing round here – what must be almost the entire population
of the village rapidly materialize and try to follow me into the tiny
café… it’s like the London Underground at rush hour ‘till the
proprietor kicks them out…. So they crowd round my bike instead!
Tea and bread is ordered and I sit down at the only table with 3 locals,
one of them is an old guy in a grey djellaba who appears to speak passable
German, Spanish and English as well as French and Arabic…. Quite a
surprise out here. The other two are pretty much mute with nothing more than
laughter as I wrestle with wet gloves trying to pull them off cold,
unresponsive hands. It’s nice encounter, I share my tea and bread, drag
out the old “Moroccan Whisky” line as I pour, which gets plenty of
laughs, and manage to get my hands functional again. Only a brief stop though,
not wanting to get cold so 15 minutes later I retrieve my bike from the crowd,
seal up the raingear again and….. the sun comes out!!
…..Not for very long
though and the rain comes back while I plod with heavy legs (thanks to the
stop) up the hill out of the village. It’s not all bad, a few km further on
a hazy sun does make a reappearance and looks set to stay so at last I strip
down to more sensible “spring conditions” riding gear! The effect
of the hazy sunlight glistening on the dark flanks of sheer, wet cliffs is
fantastic, especially as the cloud is still swirling around the peaks.
I’d love to be able to “roll the view up” and take it home
with me!
With just 20km to go (according to the not-always accurate) milestones I
have what I hope is one last major climb for the day up to the Tizi'n Tarakatine.
Nothing for it but to find the granny gear and settle into a steady rhythm and
get used to climbing for an hour or two. It’s not a particularly
interesting climb, not much to look except an unhappy looking road-crew at
about the midpoint putting in a junction
with a currently non-existent road leading somewhere else. They look happier
with smiles though as I pass, I’m probably the only distraction
they’ve seen all day. Things were a little more exciting near the
top… a pack of dogs loped down the hillside and crossed the road about
300 metres ahead of me, luckily I’m downwind and none of them spots me as
they leave the road and then traverse parallel behind a low rock outcrop that
unfortunately I’ll be riding past in about 10 seconds… Rock in
hand, adrenalin pumping and ready for an
attack I keep my head low behind the rocks and pray they don’t re-appear
close to the road…. They don’t but it’s not until I round the
summit bend, hidden in a rock cutting,
that I stop and get my breathe back. Not a good place to stop though, the red
mud on the verges is like glue and my bike instantly gains a few kg as it
sticks to everything, and when rolling again the tyres, carrying great clods of
the stuff, shed gobbets of it which stick to everything else not already plastered.
How nice.
Dark thoughts are instantly banished though as the road exists the cutting
and takes a sharp left-hander to avoid going off the edge of a massive
precipice at the head of an enormous valley (the Ameln) stretching away as far
as I can see (well, until the clouds obscure the view anyway) with the huge,
red massif of Jebel Lekst (the map again!) dropping almost sheer to form the
north-east side of the valley. It must be at least a 1500 metre wall…!
It’s hard not to salivate at the thought of the next few km of riding
– the road plunges down the valley headwall and continues steadily
downhill far, far below me. With a bit of luck there is no nasty climb back out
of the valley lurking in the clouds ahead and it really is downhill the rest of
the way…!
The first part of the descent is wickedly fast on a good surface, but the
air is very damp and the sun disappeared a while ago so it’s also bloody
cold! 10 quick km later and I’m still going downhill, albeit only gently
as the narrow road rolls it’s way along the valley floor past tiny
villages and lush palmeries and fields clinging to the lower slopes. Bit warmer
too down here even though it starts drizzling again. It’s not long before
I pass the sign mentioned at the start and though bustling the wet, dripping
town centre I arrive in is not enough to distract me from my bee-line towards
the kasbah-lookalike hotel perched on a
small hill above the town…. It’s not a particularly
characterful joint but right now as I write I couldn’t care less - it’s warm, clean, water is hot,
I’ve got proper pillows and blankets (!!), the view from my terrace is
stunning and my bike is sheltering on the courtyard terrace right outside my
room. Oh yes, only £16/night too…
It looks like I might be the only guest, the place looks to have loads of
rooms but is eerily quiet and the cleaners/porters are sitting around with
nothing to do. Must admit I do feel out of place, the fawning doorman is a nice
old character though in his jam-jar glasses and jaunty knitted bobble hat! I’d hate to be here alone at Christmas,
was hoping for some people to meet in the bar and there was an awful lot of
keys hanging up behind the front desk when I arrived…... The guy who
checked me in though tells me that they have lots of bookings… for
tomorrow (Christmas Eve) and that no, I shouldn’t worry about the fact I
walked mud and water all over the carpets when I arrived!
Having had a brief recce before going in search of dinner (the omelette
wasn’t a patch on Ahmet’s a few days ago!) the town of Tafraoute
doesn’t look too special on first impressions but then it’s early
evening when I explore, it’s wet, muddy, getting dark and I’m super
tired. I’ve learnt from experience that nowhere looks good under those
circumstances… I’ll look again tomorrow.
24 December, Day 10: Tafraoute to Oumesnate & Return (23km)
Very weird breakfast experience this morning…. A vast dining room
with white linen (that had seen better days!) and stunning views of the
mountains, complete with white-jacketed staff… and I was the only person
eating… I had my every request tended to. Not bad, I’m not sure
though if the rate included breakfast, I can’t imagine it’s
cheap….. ooops! If it’s not included then this could turn out to be
the most expensive bread I’ve ever tasted – best to eat loads then!
Good filter coffee though!
It rained again this morning though it didn’t last long and by the
time I’d picked up some fruit, had coffee and found a place to send some
emails in town the sun had made it’s first appearance in days –
wonderful! With the sun came my motivation to get on my bike and do some
exploring so it was off back up the Ameln valley to the pretty little
It was lovely ride to get there, a few km up the road (the way I’d
come yesterday) before leaving the highway’ to negotiate a tight, muddy
and rutted dirt track through various straggly villages to get to the lower
slopes of Jebel Lekst where Oumesnate is situated. The traditional Berber
houses are built up the cliffs, I imagine to preserve the better, flatter land
in the valley floor for cultivation. They make quite a sight. A collection of
colourful hand-painted signs pointing to the ‘Traditional House’
make sure I don’t get lost…!
A greeting is yelled down
to me from a terrace above as I park my bike next to three others already
there… they look like rough rental mountainbikes judging by the frayed
cables, soft tyres and knackered saddles… it turns out I arrived just
behind a French couple and their silent
son who doesn’t say a word yet is a constant lurking presence in the
corner with his eyeballs permanently glued to the LCD on a little digital
camera… come to think of it, he looked a bit weird too! His parents were
approachable enough but when it came to paying a small
‘consideration’ at the end (it’s left up to you but a minimum
of 10dh/person is considered reasonable) they tried to fob the owner’s
son off with just 10dh (65p!) for all them after what had been a terrific personal
‘tour’. Bloody French tourists.…
The place itself was fascinating, the owner’s son is a lovely guy who
speaks fluent French and English and he really does know what he’s
talking about. The house itself is amazing, completely traditional in
it’s construction and layout and because it’s still a family home
it has the feel and look of a properly lived in place rather than a sterile
museum exhibit. Being serious – I learnt an awful lot about the
traditional Berber way of life and the objects and tools that supported (and
still support) that existence. Good stuff.
I bumped into the French family again out on the ‘main road’,
the father (well, I’m assuming the strange lad is his offspring) had a
flat rear tyre – good old rental machines! Being a nice bloke and in the interests of cross-channel
relations I sorted it out for him and set him on his way.
I had planned then to ride back up to the top of the pass I crossed
yesterday for a picnic lunch while enjoying the view, this time free of rain
clouds… but tired legs, the long climb and the desire to just relax in
town got the better of me within a couple of km so I did the sensible thing and
rocketed back to town and a decent lunch. Yum.
I did have plans to wash my bike this afternoon – it’s pretty
well lagged with the dirt of the last few days and is caked with red
clay… in the end I couldn’t be bothered so just knocked the worst
of the dried mud off and left it in a ‘tidy little pile’ on the
otherwise spotless white terrace….. I was bothered though to sort out the
creaking in one of the pedal bearings where some water got in the other day, it
was driving me nuts!
Evening – well, being Christmas Eve a really good dinner was called
for, so for the first time this trip I followed a Lonely Planet recommendation
and found myself in the Restaurant Marrakesh, a homely little family-run place
with blue check table cloths, staff and a Bollywood epic on the TV where I
ordered bread, Harira (a Moroccan spicy bean/lentil soup) and chicken couscous.
Amused myself while waiting for the food by twisting my tongue around some
Arabic with the lad working as a waiter….. and successfully (eventually!)
managed to get it across that I wanted a little dish of olive oil on it’s
own to dip my bread into… it took a while…! As usual in these
places the local English is far better than the visitors Arabic.
A young Czech couple arrived at the table next to mine so we got chatting.
They’re the first Eastern Europeans I’ve met in
Getting back to the hotel was interesting, in a display of chronic muppetry
I had left my head-torch in the hotel – it never occurred to me that a
night-time scramble back up a pitch black rocky hillside to the hotel might be
a bit difficult without any light…. Well it was! Fortuitously though I
scared the living daylights out of 3 English girls in the same predicament
(invisible in the dark!)… I guess not so fortuitous for them but it was
for me as they turned out to be terrific company and good conversation –
two of them on assignments teaching English in
Tomorrow is Christmas Day, my plan is to get on the bike and have a nice
day out exploring the gorges and palmeries to the south of Tafraoute before
returning for dinner and drinks with my new-found friends…
25 December, Day 11: Tafraoute to ………. (0km)
Things like this aren’t supposed to happen on Christmas Day… it
seems the chicken I had last night was a bit of a rogue… bugger. I was up
at midnight with what felt like a sandbag or two in my stomach and feeling
quite (read “very”) ill…. I popped one of my ‘emergency
antibiotics’ and tried to get comfortable while swearing quietly and
waiting for something to give – ‘top or bottom’ ….. or
both!
Nothing did give in the end (might have been better if it had) and a second
antibiotic in the morning gave the impression of having stopped things getting
worse – i.e. no fever. It took all my effort to drag myself out of bed
though come morning, feeling very weak and sick…. Being Christmas and a
sunny one at that there was no way I was going to waste it even if my plans to
go riding needed substantial revision… Similarly I was not about to miss
breakfast even if it might not have been the most appealing thought. I did feel
a bit better after managing to eat some bread and honey with weak tea –
though it was real effort of willpower not to simply collapse in a heap in bed
and stay there! Made the most of all-due sympathy from the English girls though
who were on their way out in a jeep to explore the very same gorges I’d
planned to cycle to today… tempted to hitch along but for a change
common-sense took over and I elected to stay put and rest – sort of. My
own particular flavour of resting involved a {slow} walk the few km along a
track through lovely peaceful palmeries to a nearby village. The main reason
for doing this as a tourist is all the rocks nearby that were painted blue and
red by some French artist guy a few years back… Apparently it’s a
very popular attraction but to be honest I prefer my rocks “au
naturel”, big blue and red rocks don’t meet my definition of
worthwhile art, so I skip the rocks and instead scramble up one of the nearby
pink-granite peaks for a look around.
It was a tough climb in my considerably weakened state (sympathy
please…!) but well worth it for the opportunity to stretch out on a large
boulder, surveying a vast, barren mountain wilderness to the north (I think)
and the palmerie, village and more wilderness to the south (my view east and
west was blocked by more big piles of pink granite…). The peace and
stillness of the desert was astounding, a terrific place just “to
be”. No sun as such but being bright, mild and dry there are far worse places to spend Christmas
day! A real effort of willpower was required to drag myself back down to the
track and back to Tafraoute – it took a good couple of hours to find the
motivation to leave my fantastic viewpoint. Picked up more fruit and fresh
bread for a late lunch and some sticky sweet goodies (Christmas and all that)
on my way back into town. All in all, quite an acceptable way to spend
Christmas morning I think given the circumstances!
The rest of the day was just as relaxed… in bed ‘till
mid-afternoon feeling absolutely knackered before then spending a good quality
few hours with one of the local traders drinking large quantities of tea,
talking, and gently haggling over a lovely and very large antique kilim. It was
one of those rugs that really appealed to something deep down inside of me.
I’ve seen hundreds of carpets and similar rugs but none have appealed.
It’s always like this when I’m looking at fabrics –
eventually I come across something that, without conscious thought or analysis,
strikes a strong chord within me…. When that happens I invariably buy
it….. To my mind it’s never a good idea to go looking for stuff,
just like love, they say, (though what would I know about that….!!) it
can’t be forced. Neither is it a good idea to go shopping in a tourist
centre – aside from the inevitably higher prices an item has so much meaning
to me if it comes from a small place along the way, purely by chance, and from
someone worth remembering. Every time I look at this kilim in future it will
remind me of Christmas afternoon drinking tea in a pretty little village called
Tafraoute… as opposed to a hassled, high-pressure experienced with
hardened traders in, say, Marrakesh. Paid 2000dh in the end (about £125!) for
something worth £800-900 in the
As far as getting it home goes… well, I’m not about to go riding
up and down mountains and across deserts with a bloody great carpet rolled up
on the back of my bike so instead I’ll meet Said at the post office first
thing tomorrow on the bike on my way out of town and entrust it to the Moroccan
mail system…
There’s only one ‘public’ internet connection in
Tafraoute and that is intermittent at best, but having spent so much time (and
money) messing about in his shop Said gave me free rein on his own connected
PC. It’s an ADSL connection no less…. But the PC itself can barely
keep up, it’s possibly more of an antique than my kilim…..!
It’s a great chance to email home though and say Happy Christmas to
everyone – I imagine they’ll already be well into the 2nd
or 3rd bottle of bubbly!
The plan for tomorrow is a short day as I doubt I’ll be at full
strength, luckily I can split the journey to Tiznit about halfway – there
is a hotel, all on it’s own, on top of the Col du Kerdous about 50km from
Tafraoute. It’s rather a posh 4-star joint in a restored palace/kasbah
with apparently stunning views. Normal rates are way out of my reach but before
leaving Said alone I get him to call the place on his mobile and wangle me a
good price (there is no other place to stay between here and Tiznit)…
eventually we work out a deal that includes dinner, bed and breakfast for
400dh… instead of the 900dh it would normally cost without dinner! They
must be quiet at this time of year!
Quiet evening spent
drinking expensive-but-welcome gin and tonics back at the hotel bar with the
English girls while watching the sunset colours on the mountains… They
had a fab time at the gorges and had no hesitation in reminding me what a
wonderful place I’d missed! Such is life, I’ll just have to come
back one day! Still feeling very dodgy this evening, can’t blame the
drinks though – they were obligatory.
It’s been a nice Christmas (even with the food poisoning) –
just simple enjoyment and relaxation and of course 25th December in
Morocco is just “business as usual” – very refreshing to be
away from all the materialism and bullshit that seems to go on in the UK at
this time of year! Just me, my bike and my carpet… hehehe!
26 December, Day 12: Tafraoute to
Lovely to get up this morning knowing I only have a short ride today
especially as I still feel a little ‘fragile’, I can afford to mess
around and have a relaxed time. My 3 nights at the hotel cost 1011Dh… bit
more than I planned but it was worth it for the heating and hot water! The guy
at the front desk had forgotten to add on my laundry bill (my other bit of Christmas
indulgence - clean clothes!) so I didn’t remind him……
Before leaving main priority to was to get my kilim in the mail so legged
it down the hill and met Said at the post office at 8:30am…. Eventual
cost was 350dh (about £24) which seemed pricey at the time but on reflection,
given the thing weighed a bundle of Kg, is pretty cheap…. Just hope it
arrives in the UK OK – I imagine it’ll get caught in the UK Customs
“radar” and I’ll be stung for a wedge of fees and
taxes… {*post trip note: I
didn’t in the end, it arrived after just a couple of weeks with no
additional fees. Looks fab on my floor!}. With that out of the way Said
insisted I join him for tea before leaving town – I couldn’t
possibly refuse, he’s such a nice guy so I agree to stop by on my bike as
I’m leaving.
Leaving the hotel was a bit of hoot – only because I left at the same
time as a coach load of {mostly fat} very odd looking Germans on a package tour
– high amusement value in their garish clothes, silly sunglasses and
wrestling with their overweight wheelie-bags! I often wonder what the locals
think of them…. Probably the same they think of me except I’m a
silly twit on a bicycle rather than in a bus…
I found Said outside his shop, sitting under an orange tree on an old bus
seat covered with a rug - very ‘in character’! Reminder to self -
must get one of these bus seats for my flat back home – dead comfy and
I’m in need of a sofa! Said sends a lad off to fetch tea before turning
his attention to my bike – he’s very taken with it and is a bit of
a bicycle fan himself – he has a small fleet of well-worn mountain bikes
for rent and also deals with local arrangements for Exodus mountain-biking tour
groups when they come this way. I give him a bit of free publicity – a
photo of him with my bicycle and an Exodus brochure “discreetly”
lying on the seat beside him…! The tea was terrific, we chatted a while,
set the world to rights and all that until about 10am (I think) I rolled out of
town on the road towards Tiznit in some warm sunshine….
The first few km were an ideal warm-up for weakened legs, it’s narrow
but well surfaced and winds it’s way gently along the flat through lush
palmeries and pink villages nestled under the surrounding mountains –
which also happen to be pink! I enjoy this bit particularly as I have no time
pressures, a bed for this evening is assured and it’s not very far away
so I use the opportunity to take a load of photos, look around and generally
trundle along effortlessly… until the road inevitably starts to climb
that is! The rest of the ride was pretty typical for the mountains – lots
of ups, downs, twisty bits and terrific scenery though it’s obvious
I’m getting near the ‘end’ of the Anti-Atlas as the landscape
is just less ‘epic’ in nature and a little more intimate with more
cultivation, villages and traffic… (though still very quiet) For the
first time this trip too there are a fair number of big European camper vans
(“camper bloody leviathans” might be more appropriate term…)
on the road – I guess it’s because it’s now proper holiday
season and I’m getting closer to the coast. They are invariably driven by
fat retirees (That’s not a slur, just an observation, some of my friends
are fat retirees too… hehehehe!) mostly from
Arrived up at the Col du Kerdous around 2pm, it’s not that high
really at about 1000m but the situation of the hotel is quite stunning –
it’s perched pretty-much on top of the last col of the mountains with a
steep drop away to the low foothills and plains beyond. It’s not too
surprising that, based on an afternoon’s observation, that loads of
passing tour buses stop-off here to allow their assorted collections of
passengers a few minutes to look at the view, or as most of ‘em seem to
do – wander aimlessly for 30 minutes around looking bored stiff.
The hotel itself is quite something to look at, a restored kasbah complete
with turrets and battlements. It’s equally impressive inside too –
all dark wood and polished antiques – I feel very guilty staying here, it
just doesn’t go with my carefully cultivated image as a rugged
adventurer…. Hehehehe! The place is empty when I check-in, and the
promise of full board at less than half the normal room-only rate is kept. I
don’t think they get too many cyclists coming through here though judging
by the looks from the staff as I lug my dusty self and gear up the stairs.
Meanwhile my bike gets locked in the storeroom along with all the crates of
beer and wine… not a bad place to spend the night!
There’s bugger all to do up here for the rest of the afternoon except
scramble up the peak behind the hotel and watch the sun set over the mountains.
Treat myself to beer in the bar afterwards simply to be able to enjoy the
rather plush surroundings of low Moroccan couches and mountains of cushions.
It’s not long before the only other guests appear – another weird
French family – why do I keep bumping into strange French out here…
where did all the ‘normal’ ones go? Maybe I’m being unfair
and just labelling them because they refused to even acknowledge my presence
when I said hello…. Surely I can’t smell that bad – I did
shower after my bike ride! Ah well, leave ‘em to it!
Dinner was pretty good, just a little ‘heavy’ –
I’ll burn it off tomorrow – thank heaven the first few km’s
look downhill! Set menu so I didn’t get a say (except for extra bread
– which was hot) unfortunately. The soup was something white and
anonymous but tasted OK, the main course in contrast was brilliant – a
tagine of kefta (meatballs) with egg and tomato – really good for a cold
evening though my still-dodgy stomach did protest a little at the abuse! Could
have done with some fresh fruit and veg as well to offset the richness….
Only other thing of note before crawling off to bed was a bottle of predictably
overpriced water… I knew there was a good reason I don’t make a
habit of staying in swanky hotels!
27
December, Day 13:
Woke up this morning to the depressing sound of a truck splashing through
what sounded suspiciously like rain on a very wet road.... almost scared to
look out the window in case it's true... It is true as it happens and just to
add to it the visibility is approximately "bugger all" meters.
I'd gone to bed feeling really bad last night, like I was coming down with
flu or something but this morning it's come to nothing so must have just been
very very tired, something that 10 1/2 hours in bed seems to have sorted out!
Shower this morning was amazing too, the water up here is a funny colour but it
was hot and powerful. I am enjoying this 'un-budget' lifestyle for a change, I
could write a guidebook to the best hotel showers in
The place I'm staying is a first-class example of Moroccan 'shabby-chic',
it's a 4-star place and beautifully decorated, yet look a little closer and the
electrical sockets are falling out of the walls, door locks are wonky, towels
are thread-bare and everything is all a little well-worn and wobbly. I like it,
makes me feel at home, I'm not normally at ease in nice hotels.
I'm writing at 8am, just before I leave I have to mention breakfast (seeing
as breakfast plays such a big role in my life!).... it was fab, piles of hot,
crusty bread, cake, yoghurt, cheese, jam, gallons of excellent coffee and hot
milk - perfect for a cyclist with a breakfast fixation and almost worth the
room price in it's own right (my guidebook will have to be "Best Showers
and Breakfasts" I think...).
It still looks wet and very foggy outside so I'm about to seal myself once
again into full weather gear for the descent of the mountain and my exit from
the Anti-Atlas.... I'll check-in later and let you know how I got on!
8pm.... Tiznit! It's been a thoroughly pleasant day on the bike, pretty
unspectacular - just 'nice'. I'm ensconced in a terrific little guesthouse just
inside the walls of the old medina, Hotel des Touristes. Full of character, the
owner is a friendly, soft spoken guy
with excellent English, and in total contrast to my 4*experience this place is
only 70dh and has a free hot shower. Excellent!
The ride down here was lovely, just a bit boring for the last 10km or so.
It didn't take long to drop out of the cloud hugging the Col du Kerdous, quite
a spectacular descent actually with tendrils of cloud winding around the
mountainside and the low foothills stretching away below. Things warmed up too
lower down, I certainly gave some amusement to a family loading a pickup nearby
when I stopped to strip off all the heavy weather gear.... I wondered if they
thought I'd be going 'all the way' as I peeled off legwarmers as well....
On the descent I stopped to take a quick snapshot of my final view out of
the Anti-Atlas.... as soon as I had the camera out a strangely mute youth
materialized on the hillside from nowhere, stood in front of my camera without
saying a word and gestured he wanted his picture taken... he had one of the
least animated faces I've ever encountered and once the shutter had fired just
stood staring blankly at me like I was from the moon... though I guess by local
standards I'm probably the oddity!
The next few km were spectacular - generally downhill on a new surface
through a rugged, red gorge - in the sunshine! Reminded me a bit of southern
The scene opened out then for the final 30km onto a vast dirt plain fringed
by low hills to the North and South and the wall of the Anti-Atlas receding
behind me in the East. Lots more tourist traffic down here too - I think this is
a popular route from Agadir and now that Christmas is out of the way the
European hordes have started to arrive. Arrival on the outskirts of Tiznit
after a dull trundle across the plain was typically underwhelming - the
traveller is greeted by the predictable collection of breeze-block development,
new industry and garbage that seems common to all towns out here... but the
heart of the town entered through a gate in the ancient medina wall is nice.
Already knowing where I planned to stay (having read about it) I made a
beeline for the guesthouse but still managed to 'collect' an unwanted guide
(cheeky bugger) as I rolled across the plaza who tried to blag his way to a
commission from the guesthouse owner for 'introducing me'... he failed...
miserably!
I was here early, before mid-day, thanks to the generally downhill flavour
of the ride this morning so after a quick shower it was off the market for
bread, fruit, salad and other good things for lunch before kicking back in the
sun with a couple of locals outside a cafe. It's the first warm place this trip
- the 25 degs heat feels magic, it's an effort to move (eventually) to go and
explore the souks.
Tiznit's medina and souk is lovely, very low key on the face of it but it
seems a friendly place and the architecture is very colourful, the afternoon is
spent wandering, eating oranges and practising my French on the locals.
Tourists are notable by their absence though I did spot a German tour group
near a section of the city walls at sunset - no doubt to collect the 'postcard
photo' before being whisked back to their identikit hotel in Agadir...... At
least I think they were German based on the large waistlines and terrible
fashion-sense... The only downside I've found is that the locals are very
camera-phobic, still, I have to respect that so instead I take pictures of the
interesting details and colourful doorways (and the various collections of
bicycles in evidence... couldn't help it!).
Cold out this evening which, I guess, is my excuse for sitting in here writing
my journal though I have looked into buses to Marrakesh (thinking ahead to the
end of the week)... the departures are invariably anti-social and all arrive in
Marrakesh around 2am... so sod that, it'll be more marginally more pleasant to
ride the long, dull coastal strip to Agadir and get a bus from there... but
first I go to Mirleft......
28 December, Day 14: Tiznit to Mirleft (55km)
Today was
supposed to have been an easy day.... but, as seems to be becoming a theme on
this trip, it wasn't... I'm actually writing this on the 29th Dec
because last night I was too tired to bother.
The day started off in the same form as the last week or so... i.e it was
piddling down with rain when I got up and was still doing so as I shuffled
across the freezing cold plaza at 8am to a cafe in search of a couple of
glasses of hot coffee. Some promising blue patches were showing through though
and it had eased to a fairly benign 'English drizzle' (or 'pluie Anglais'...)
by the time I rolled out of town half an hour later (they were very small
coffees!) on flooded streets - the water doesn't appear to drain well here.
The ride started off OK, a moderate crosswind coming up from the south and
quite bright. As got closer to the coast however things turned ominously black ahead
and a stunning rainbow to my left
heralded the arrival of a torrential downpour - just had time to get into my
raingear (again... it's supposed to be desert down here, it's just not fair!).
Honestly for the next two hours the rain was heavier than anything I've ever
cycled in as storm after storm swept in off the
The riding became devastatingly hard, my legs were already empty from
having been sick (it hit me harder than I thought), the headwind was just nasty
and the winding, rolling road which would have been lovely with good legs was
just plain knackering. I really was on my last legs and feeling quite ill with
fatigue when I reached Mirleft, though the sun came out as I arrived. Having
moaned about it though it was still a good ride, just thinking about the
silliness of it all kept me going... in pouring rain riding down the coast of
Africa with the vastness of the Sahara to my left and the equally vast Atlantic
to my right. Tried to eat lunch but my stomach just didn't want to know and I
ended up spending much of the rest of the afternoon curled up in bed in a
lovely little place run by a sparky expat French woman. Quite a surprise to
find such a nice joint in a scruffy little village out back 'o' beyond,
especially one happy to have my bike living inside, it's currently 'nesting' in
a little alcove right by the restaurant kitchen – I’m installed at
the Atlas hotel.... all bright colours and rustic style with a super rooftop terrace (for when it's not
raining) and a restaurant downstairs.
Dying for a "The English" and some sweet junk (biscuits) I
dragged myself downstairs about 4pm only to bump into Tony, the Dutch guy I'd
met in Tiznit who spends 4 months every winter in
A word on Mirleft, the guidebooks I've seen rave about the place but in
reality it's just a scruffy little village with
a dirt mainstreet that turns to ankle-deep mud when it rains... it is
friendly and it is quiet though so gets my vote. I guess it just didn't rain
when the writers visited.....
Writing at mid-day, it's sunny, warm and I've got a plate of home-cut chips
("french fries" for the benefit of my Canadian friends....) drenched
in salt and vinegar with lashings of ketchup in front of me up on the roof of
the Atlas. Heaven. The chips are all my stomach could really face today after I
got up feeling absolutely exhausted despite a good 13hr sleep! I think the days
of cycling with a barely functional stomach from Tafraoute have finally caught
up with me! Still, the original 'plan', if there ever was one, was to come down
this way for a few days R 'n R on the beach anyway.
The beach here is ace, I
wandered down after breakfast. It looks very much like
6pm - well, after a day of wandering and chilling I have to say that
Mirleft is a most excellent little place. Scruffy in a nice, characterful way
with friendly folk and a total of 6 super beaches to choose from (though I
can't be bothered to look at them all!). There are a couple of 'faux Tuareg'
merchants (complete with Adidas trainers and jeans poking from beneath their
indigo robes...) in the mainstreet selling various trinkets from rugs laid on
the ground. It's all very low key though and quite fun to go talk to them. I
did in the end feel a bit guilty refusing all their trade and buy an
indigo-dyed turban if only for it's fabulous colouring though it does look
quite funky on me! The price rapidly came down from his initial 150dh to
40dh.......
This would be a great place to come and escape from work for a week of
relaxation, maybe do some surfing or walking. It's only a few hours by Grand
Taxi from Agadir and the airport. The only downside to that would be having to
share an aeroplane with a bunch of package holiday folk from home in their
overpowering perfume/aftershave and clanking gold chains - not as bad as flying
to Malaga (for Bendidorm) though.
It's a shame my gut is having a rebellion, the food here at the Atlas looks
and smells amazing... maybe tomorrow I'll be able to cope so for me tonight
it's back to the bananas, bread and crackers... and chocolate!
So, that was the sum total of my day.... quite an achievement for me to
slow down to a pedestrian pace of life and I must say I enjoyed every second of
it. Just as well the sun came out....!
Sunshine again and not a cloud in the sky, it was definitely a good move
coming down here for a few days. Can tell it's mid-winter though, the breeze
coming in off the ocean has a distinct edge to it.
By mid-day I've done absolutely bugger all, perfect. My stomach is still
far from perfect though I can live with that - it still seems to be able to
cope with the excellent coffee from downstairs and I'm planning another pile of
chips for lunch. Funny how you end up craving food from your childhood/home
when you have a dodgy tummy. Couldn't face a great oily tagine right now! I
would give my left arm (my right is my red-wine drinking wine so keeping that)
for slabs of hot buttered toast with Marmite... wonder if it's possible to get
Marmite in Marrakesh.... can get most other things it seems (snake testicles,
grasshoppers eyeballs etc....).
There's an intermittent
ADSL internet connection in town so I've been able to catch up with some emails
to the folk back home... except my folk aren't home, they buggered off to
A couple of English girls turned up here last night, it's been nice to have
some company up on the terrace. They travelled down from
Still weak this evening, I guess my stomach just can't absorb enough
calories to keep me going. Ho hum. There's worse places to be off-colour....
like
Benedict, the french owner of the Atlas has been terrific, aside from just
being really nice she only charged me 300dh for the 3 nights B&B, meals and
lots of tea... felt a bit sorry for me I think....!
31 December, Day 17:
New Year's Eve and this evening I'm back in
Crawling out of bed this morning in Mirleft was hard, especially at 6am
after a sleepless night. Cornflakes (I found a packet collecting dust in a dark
recess of one of the shops!) and yoghurt with fruit for breakfast helped a bit
and by 7am, after tripping over the night staff sleeping in the restaurant, I
was pedalling my way in the pre-dawn gloom (and cold) to find a Grands Taxi to
Tiznit. Luck on my side this morning - one was waiting with 5 people already
aboard so after stuffing my bike unceremoniously in the boot of the old
Mercedes (well, half the bike anyway - it was a saloon) I was on my way to
Tiznit. It didn't take long to find another taxi for the 100km trip from there
to Agadir, bike again dangling half-out of the boot with a few rags for
padding. Having made the journey by car I'm quite happy not to have cycled it -
it was a chronically dull piece of highway and the approach to Agadir looked no
fun at all on a bicycle. Can't tell if my bike collected any scrapes from the
journey, it's too filthy to be able to tell!
With typical Moroccan logic
the Grands Taxi station is situated miles from the bus station so there was
nothing for it but to hop on my bike and do the sensible thing when lost... ask
a policeman (and another policeman, a businessman in the street and a road sweeper...)
to find my way to the bus station... which after 6km of dodging traffic turned
out not to look like a bus station at all - it's just a regular street with a
few offices that buses pull up in front of. CTM run the best buses in Morocco
apparently so it's a CTM ticket I buy, the next departure being 11am which gave
time for a bad coffee in a tacky 'American cafe' (whatever that is meant to
be... perhaps it's the loud TV showing MTV and overdone Coca-cola promotion)
followed by a miniscule but tasty ice-cream from the shop next door.
The bus was great - totally in the 21st century, fast, spotless and on
time... it would put National Express back home to shame. I tipped the guy at
the baggage check-in a decent amount just to make sure my bike would be looked
after...! It must have taken a hammering on the rough roads to
The High Atlas peaks I cycled through a couple of weeks ago looked
fantastic from the bus, all the bad weather had given them a fresh coating of
snow which was now gleaming in the bright sunshine. Luck was on my side I guess
- if I'd left
Arrival in
7.30pm, scrubbed and shaved I wander into the heart of the medina for
dinner at one of the stalls on the Djemaa el Fna... the place is absolutely
buzzing - the locals celebrate New Year too so the atmosphere is electric. All
the little food stalls are decked out with decorations and everybody is
grinning. The nice thing is... they don't seem to need alcohol to be able to
enjoy it. I did have second thoughts about whether I should have stayed in
Mirleft for tonight - they were planning a good party tonight with an entire
sheep slaughtered for the spit, but on the other hand I'm still pretty tired,
the atmosphere in the city is great and by 10pm I'm sad to admit that I'm
crawling into bed absolutely exhausted. At least I'll start 2006 refreshed from
a decent night sleep with just a few days exploring and relaxing in the madhouse of
Just a little footnote, I have a lovely room here by the way - 5th floor so
well up and away from any party noise going on down below and I have my own
terrace with table and chairs - facing south for the sun though unlikely I'll
much time out there - the air is still cold, even
at the height of the afternoon and the chairs have a bit of coating of city
grime...!
Good Night and Bon Anee!
First day of a new year, it
has to be better than the last one - 2005 was bloody awful for various reasons,
my worst ever I think. I'm off to a good start though for 2006. It's 7pm as I
write this and I'm whacked from a most excellent day wandering the souks with
my camera (again... I'll never get bored in there) and taking some out to
actually visit some sights - the Saadien
Tombs and Palace al Badia (look it up if you're interested, I’m too lazy
to write about it here!). They were very pleasant, not so much for the history
(though I'm not so ignorant as not to appreciate it) but for the
architecture.... and the shelter from the cold morning wind, the sunshine was
lovely out of the breeze. Think I must have been a cat in a previous life given
my penchant for curling up in warm places. It was freezing earlier though as I
started my day with a couple of coffees in a cafe on the Djemaa el Fna.
In reality the Palace al Badia is pretty much just a big old crumbling ruin
but it very peaceful and the storcks nesting on the walls, bills clacking away,
are an interesting sight.
This evening I discovered a stall on the square (it's too fiddly to keep writing
'Djemaa el Fna'...!) selling cups of a very spicy cinnamon tea (Hunja) from a
polished brass urn. Very warming, it's taken with a sort of moist and crumbly
spice-cake - bit like ginger cake back home but more dense and with more of a
'kick'. Really tasty, I shall be back here every evening I think - the vendor
is a friendly chap, it seems that most of the tourists out and about are not
keen to try the stuff so instead I get to prop myself against his cart with the
locals. I know a few basic words of Arabic but get caught out big time when an
old guy in his djellaba, drinking his spice tea hears me ask for a top-up in
Arabic.... all of a sudden his face is transformed with a big grin and he reels
off a whole succession of questions in fast and unintelligible Arabic.... I
really struggle & have to resort to silly grins and gestures - but no
matter, seems just those few words have broken the ice that seems to 'coat' the
locals where interaction with visitors is concerned and even the tea vendor is
grinning with me. Good fun.
With the sun sinking behind the Koutubia Mosque it was time to choose a
cart to eat at, the food in the square is pretty good, well excellent actually
given it’s so cheap and the atmosphere and selection is unbeatable.
Tonight it was brochettes at one cart followed by spiced lentils and fresh
bread from another rounded off with delicious fried squid and salad from yet
another. Chased that lot down with a couple of charcoal-grilled corn on the cob
from another cart near Bab Doukkala on my way back to the hotel.
This evening I have mixed feelings about these solo trips.... I'm very
tired and never feel good when that's the case though I do wonder if the
'loneliness of the long distance bike traveller' (sounds romantic...) is a good
thing that I want much more of.... it's a shame I have no friends willing or
able to escape on these adventures with me. On the other hand when travelling
alone I invariably meet loads of locals and other travellers to share time
with. Being here in the city though is different - a big city can be a lonely
place whereas in a tiny village you're never alone. No doubt a decent night
sleep will sort me out mentally!
Just another day of wandering with my camera, it's a terrific place for
street photography. I'm a bit disappointed though at the crazy prices being
asked in the souks, it takes some serious effort to haggle things down to
something sensible - the tourist influence I suppose. I wanted a couple of
simple white metal "Hand of Fatima" motifs for an idea at home but
when the vendor opens with a price of 250dh you know there's little point in
continuing. One thing that does work I find is to engage the sellers in
conversation, tell him about my bike trip and get some sympathy for being so
poor that I'm forced to cycle everywhere. They can't imagine anyone would cycle
for pleasure so it's quite a successful tactic and I eventually manage to pick
up the bits and pieces I want for decent prices. There are some lovely fabrics
for sale so I'll be heading home with lots of colourful stuff to drape
'somewhere'... to with the boxes of fabrics from around the world I already
have. Going to need lots of 'draping space' in my new house...
Other than that it was a
very low key, relaxing day, visited the Hunja stall again come sunset, an
interesting dinner in the square and just generally relaxing. Sent a few emails
home and dragged myself along to the Musee du Marrakesh for a bit of
culture.... the exhibits (art) were crap but the building housing it was quite
stunning - a beautifully restored old riad.
I also visited the Garden Marjorelle this afternoon - it's privately
owned (nice to have the spare $$$$!) and was well worth it - a real enclave in
the city and the bright blue painted villa at the centre houses a fabulous
private collection of Moroccan art and artifacts. Enjoyed it, it was relief to
find I still do appreciate such things - I was starting to worry I was turning
into an unappreciative cynic (with regard to my views on the Musee du Marrakesh
in particular...)!
There are a couple of things I won't miss about
Last day of this trip.... time to reflect. It didn't all go as planned (but
there was no real plan anyway) with the weather and getting sick. I've had to spend
more time back in
Today was almost a carbon copy of yesterday (i.e. exploring different parts
of the city and eating & drinking in the sun), except I visited the Palace
El Badia this morning (after coffee of course...). This really was worth it - a
stunning building belonging to a former Vizier to the Sultan. The only thing
missing was some furniture and people to bring it life, as it is the building
is pretty much just a shell - albeit a beautiful one!
The impact of tourism on the people here is unfortunate. So many of the
visitors are downright rude so it's understandable why many of the vendors in
the souk are so surly. One guy selling a beautiful silk scarf I wanted simply
refused to haggle... miserable sod. Next place though was better - as always I
took my time and dragged out the usual trivial conversation and eventually
walked out with the bits and pieces I wanted at less than half the price the
German couple in there at the same time paid. Got a free smile and shake of the
hand with my goodies too - far more pleasant.
Just one thing left to do - I've got various bits and pieces from tour to
get rid of so I have room for the stuff I’ve bought so this evening it
was back off down the souks with my old gloves, some spare tubes, a tatty
seatpack and other bits and pieces... it didn't take long to trade all of it
for some interesting late Christmas presents for the guys back home!
This evening I've packed my bike up, dug out some clean(er) clothes for the
journey home and booked a cab to the airport for 6am...... so that's it I
s'pose.....
04 January, Day 21:
Marrakesh/England
Getting here was painless... the taxi was bang on time and no argument over
the price either (100dh, even with a bike). Didn't even have to take the wheels
off the bike to get it in the Fiat Uno, just slid it in over the tops of the
seats. I'd been warned that the check-in staff in
With all that out of the way there's nothing left to do but reflect on my
trip.... It was brilliant really, yes it all went a bit pear-shaped but I have
the perfect excuse to come back and cycle the
Back to reality…..