Pedro

So, following 2015's trip in which my lovely blue and white R1150GS was brought home on a truck from Morocco, I decided I needed to change bikes. I won't lie and say part of me wished to do it again on the 1150, but later on I was proven right in my decision to change. The guy who bought that bike from the dealer eventually had a lot of issues with it, with a gearbox needing rebuilding and the diff also acting up. Both of these issues would have probable come up on the same trip I was doing according to his mileage. After our return in 2014 I had made up my mind in choosing between two bikes, a Super Tenere and an R1200GSA, I gave the Super Tenere a chance because I really felt it to be the better choice from a mechanical point of view, but we both felt so much more comfortable aboard the BMW that it wasn´t really a choice. The BMW is just the better bike for carrying two people over rough roads. On the 16th January 2016 I picked up my brand new R1200GSA, and turned my R1150GS in at the same time. See if you can't tell my mixed feelings handing her in from the picture, I did love that bike. I did enjoy the sound the new bike made on cold starts on cold days, I think that shows as well. Maria was with me, and this is as much her bike as it is mine, it was bought with two up touring in mind. Anyway, during 2016 we used it a little to break in and test her out in Portugal. Went to the Algarve in the summer, did what we did. We were both impressed at how easier it handled mostly when loaded, and when going over rough ground. A day or two before leaving for Morocco I fitted a pair of Heidenau K60 on it, and we were ready to go. On the 8th of October 2016, we leave our home near Lisbon heading straight to Tarifa, plan was to take advantage of the great weather and sleep somewhere south of Tangier that same day, no problem regarding doing the miles as we were leaving with plenty of time. As always, I fill up on our local petrol station at little past 09:30 and heading South Thing is, the weather was so good, and I felt worn out from the previous days of work stress. By the time we made it to the Algarve, only two and a half hours after leaving home, the weather is getting warm like and the sun is warming us. I decide to tempt Maria with a grilled fish lunch and a trip to the beach. She didn't take much convincing and the rest of the day was spent in this fashion: We had already been to Morocco, there was no stress or hurry to do anything, this trip was all about enjoying life and this is what we were doing, that was a great day. The next day we were on the road quite early, feeling fresh and eager. Crossing into Spain It's always windy near Tarifa, I think it must be kitesurfing capital or something, judging by the number of kites flying By 12:30 Portugues time we were already boarding the Ferry Doing this for the third time we had it all under control, as I was tending to the bike being secured properly, Maria went to get a front place in the immigration office, we were finished 10 minutes after the boat left, feeling like seasoned travelers amongst amateurs. Customs in Morocco were being fast and efficient, no worries, so I strike a pose ? As we exit the harbor into Tanger centre, everything looks cleaner than before, maybe it's just us but actually the entire place had been freshened up. Not the case with these buildings, though. We are remembered it's a Sunday because the cellphone shop is closed. So just get some money from an ATM and move on. Maria worked for BNP so we used one of their machines, cause we're cool people like that. Decided to head to Chefchaouen and try to sleep there, there's a hotel we had checked the day before with a nice rate on booking and we were just going to show up. Traffic was quite heavy for whatever reason and plenty of speed controls. Some bikers complain about cops in Morocco, but I've always found them to be very nice and professional. I've clearly been caught a little over the limit and let go just for being a foreigner, but I suppose if you really treat their country like a trackday they might feel like you deserve a squeeze. By the time we reach our hotel it's getting to be late afternoon, but still time to enjoy a drink or a swimming pool. Getting in we notice a group of bikes with eastern european plates, and one R1200GSA with a portuguese plate, carrying three full metal cases on the back. Checking in we were refused the rate we had seen on booking.com, so instead we just logged into their wifi, checked in via booking and 15 seconds later were given a room key and a smile. Go figure. Also while checking in we strike a conversation with Rui Piçarra, Rui was riding the portuguese bike upfront, and lives 20km away from my parents. We instantly hit it off and decide to join for dinner. After a swim, it quickly start getting colder (it is October after all) so we make haste in search of food. I enjoy my first BEER in Morocco before dinner! It's not shit, either. The reason I picked this hotel, the view: Being as he was, Rui shows up after we've eaten, and we start talking. He decided to come on this trip by himself a couple of days before, and is carrying a map printed on an A4 piece of paper , Not camping, he is packing all of his three metal cases for a little over a week by himself while me and Maria are packing two Vario sidecars in the smaller position for two weeks. Rui is packing four bottles of booze though We tell him where we would be sleeping the next day, if he shows up at our hotel in Fez we'd meet for dinner.

You're welcome, Pete. But there are two more trips, with better riding, more fun, better pictures, and no mechanical drama

I only speak the truth Pete

How do you know if your bikes uses oil, Pete? You don’t

Pete would have gone through a tin og autoglym by now.

Why do you assume he knows the difference?

Looks purposeful, I like it.

It also didn't ruin my holidays, and simply turned them into the kind of holiday I probably wouldn't have had. I enjoy those memories.

An electrical plug not being connected by a mechanic can happen on any brand. It did put me off that dealer's workshop. And to be honest, I am inept, shouldn't have jumped to the conclusion and instead should have tried a lot more. That's the lesson learned there regarding bikes.

A few days after we arrived, the bike arrived as well. I went to help unload it from the trailer to my mechanic's shop, and I was quite angry to see that what was wrong with it was that the fuel pump plug hadn't been completely plugged, meaning the clicky thing that hold the plug didn't click, this had been fitted a year previous by the dealership that fixed it upon the last return from Morocco, and it just took a year to loosen enough to not make contact, but not enough that it fell off either. I was so annoyed at that. We tested the electrical wire that I stole off the tractor to make it run straight from the battery, and it was broken inside, making no contact even though it looked fine.

So we took to the swimming pool, which was pretty nice. We ended up staying almost a week there, never really being able to stray a long way from the hotel because I kept waiting for people to arrive with documents. We talked to the BMW dealer in Casablanca, who told us they only carry parts for the 1200 which is when they started with bikes, and as such any other part could take a few weeks to clear customs coming from Europe. I wasn't at all confident that I could fix it, so we sent it home. In the meantime, we changed plans and decided to make the best of it. We spent a few days in Fez, and then arranged to catch a flight from Marrakesh instead of Fez, to give us a chance to go there as well and get to see the place. A few days later, got on a train and went to Marrakesh And enjoyed Marrakesh as well We ended up having a great time as well to be continued...

Arriving at the hotel, I think we collapsed from exhaustion. The next day we tried to get the ball rolling as to where to go, how to fix the fuel pump, options, etc, except it was a sunday and there were nothing to do even though we had a busniss center at our disposal: The bike wasn't accessible for us to visit. We had two choices, have it sent home, collect it, or have it delivered somewhere in Morocco. All of these were final options.

And now you'll know why Aboukassim is a star, because there were a truck and a taxi going up and down the road on the other side of the village his family lives in, and he got on their car and told them where we were. Eventually they arrived And after a lot of missed comunication we load the bike, onto a tilted metal sheet covered in oil, and used to metal cable on the tow hook to old it down, there was nothing else to use. The yellow rope is just there to make them feel better, in case the engine protection bars fall off Complete with "D" sticker from it's origin We had the taxi ride from hell, the taxi itself wasn't too bad. There were to shocks left so it was pretty smooth, but we must have driven in first and second gear for two or three hours, I kept picturing the bike falling off so told them to stay behind. On second thought that wasn't very clever. Eventually we made it to Fez, and all was going ok up until they decide to load the bike onto a different truck, which I do. They then proceed to ask me for the bike papers, which I deny. Thing is, I didn't really care about them stealing the bike because if they stole it Allianz would have to pay for it dearly. What I couldn't do was let go of the papers until my passport had been "disconnected" from the bike. To prevent illegal imports I can't get into the country with a vehicle and then leave without, I would be in burocratic deep shit. A long argument ensued, between the tow truck guy, the second tow truck guy, the recovery company employee, the fixer, and myself. This carried on for a while with one of them trying to act tough, until Maria shouted at him. He clearly wasn't used to being shouted by a woman, so he was a little out of his depth. Eventually we left the bike to be taken to the depot, and went to the hotel, not to get there until we searched the whole of Fez for it, driven by a taxi driver that didn't understand roundabout or traffic lights. It would have been great fun had we been in the correct state of mind.

So, let me provide you with a little background to this trip. The previous year me and Maria had gotten back home with a bike that was leaking oil onto the clutch, still completely rideable though. The bike was ridden straight to the dealership where I had bought it, I left it there for a couple of weeks while they looked it over and had parts ordered. Output shaft had started leaking and contaminated the dry clutch. They were super nice about it and I completely understood that there was no rush in finishing it overnight. The dude who did it was happy to work on an older bike as they are probably Portugal's biggest BMW Motorrad dealer and he gets swamped with new bikes. They replaced the seals, clutch, and a few gearbox seals as well, I only paid for an oil change and was quite happy with it all. Until... A week after bringing the bike home I get on it to go to Lisbon and meet Maria for lunch on a cold friday morning. It was so cold that I stopped for coffee and to tighten my scarf 15 minutes into the ride before the motorway, to find out it was gushing fuel. Fuel lines were all loose. That was fixed by my mechanic, and rode it off. Then, before this 2015 trip I had the usual maintenance done, diff bearing and seals, throttle bodies balanced, etc, and it was running great when we took it to the Algarve in the summer, here arriving at Sagres and looking hella cool! This brings us to the first of October 2015, a happy couple leaving home on an sunny saturday morning after sleeping late. Fuel up and go, and go have a drink in the Algarve. Most clouds we saw that day I enjoyed starting it easy, as I usually do Next day, we're off to Spain We miss our boat and are forced to wait for a couple of hours in Tarifa, we tried to make the best of it with some calamari I strike a pose, this impressed the harbor people so much they let us by in an instant. Back in Tangier! The previous year I learned that most of the places we stayed in had a great swimming pool, and this year I made it a point to bring some shorts, so we got a hotel right in Tangier, and as soon as we noticed they had an inside swimming pool we made use of it. It's great to go for a dip after a day's riding. One size fits all robe was a little big: Came back to our room and what I thought was a wooden sculpture turned out to be a real life @Grasshopper's Ride Sunset in Tangier made going out to dinner even more special If you've got a sweet tooth, you´ll love this place, this is the Cappuccino in Tangier We had a nice dinner of some sandwiches, and turned in to watch some TV in bed, and rest. The plan was to visit a few of the places we didn't go on the previous year, including the Cannabis region, and Marrakesh. In the morning, as I get to the bike and load it, as soon as I turn the key I notice the fuel pump doesn't prime and as such it doesn't start even though the engine spins. I take the seat off and go for a wiggle on the fuses, one of them clicks and apparently it solved it because the bike started right away on the first try. This makes me feel proper manly by being capable of fixing shit. We ride off, into the hills and away from posh cafes. Passing Chefchaouen where we stop for a tea: And we turn away from the main road into smaller ones, this improves the quality of riding. Thing is, you have to be careful on these roads, diesel spills, slippery tarmac, potholes, gravel, fast taxis, no lane control, fast trucks, no lanes, donkeys, etc We're glad to be out and enjoying it, and this time it feels way less intimidating. Thing is, sometimes I think I can feel the bike having a hiccup, but that is usually through a patch of dirt or a pothole, and I assume I am imagining things. I can a be a bit hypochondriac when it comes to bikes and cars, so force myself to carry on. I do stop at a couple of mechanic shops to buy some fuses but all they want to sell to me is hashish Not long after lunchtime, we're happily riding along and as we go though a very slight bump the engine simply dies. It makes no fuss, like if I just switch the ignition off. We come to a stop and I start taking the seat off : First, mess with the fuses, it does nothing. Then, change fuses around, it does nothing. Change relays around, it does nothing. Look at the sidestand switch, it looks ok but I bypass it anyway. It does nothing. So I call my friendly mechanic, he's an expert bmw dude and he tells me that if indeed all that I checked is ok then it could be the fuel pump. In the meantime, we are handling this with coolness, we've got a battery pack for the phone, it's early and light out, it's an adventure. Couple of people stop by and offer assistance, this is good because it means we're not exactly in the middle of nowhere. Getting back to it... This is Aboukassim, and he's a star: Aboukassim lives in Casablanca and is here visiting his family for a celebration. He rode a Yamaha R6 at the time, and this is him showing us films of him blasting past traffic on his R6 in Casablanca? He doesn't know how to help, and we appreciate his effort, he tells us he'll be back in a while... In the meantime, I'm scrounging some electrical wire off a tractor parked nearby, to make a live connection between the battery and the fuel pump. I do it and it does nothing except some tractor loosing use of it's turn signals. above you'll see me calling Allianz's roadside assistance in Portugal. They "oh wow" when I told them where I was ? In the meantime, Aboukassim came back with a couple of his cousins, and food. They set a table right there in the middle of road with fresh hot tea and some sort of bread cooked while stuffed with vegetables inside. Good stuff but I didn´t really have an appetite. I should have eaten, though They left eventually, promising to check on us later. Allianz had already arranged for a fixer in Fez to get a taxi and a truck and pick up up. I understand it takes longer for a truck than for a bike to do the distance over bad roads, but it takes even longer if you get lost ... which is what happened Every time the fixer called he'd talk to Maria because she was a lot better at french than me, but it didn't really help because he didn't know french. He kept asking where we were and saying he was on his way so we waited had some tasty cashews and waited and waited and waited

You'll read it in the next installment of my Morocco trips

It's not luck, I bought it from a dealer specifically because I wanted to have warranty. On the second hand, I would have preferred to pay for it to be fixed at my mechanic considering what happened after.

I forgot about the bike. Well, apart from topping up the oil once she got home ok. Clutch got contaminated with oil and was slipping under heavy throttle but good enough to ride except in steep climbs. Dealer took the gearbox out and replaced the sealant under warranty, new clutch as well, and they threw in a few gearbox seals since it was out. Not everything was dreamy, but that is left to the next ride report which is going to be entitled "Morocco 2015, a lesson in changing plans"

Next morning, getting out we had a nice surprise waiting for us. Having looked at the sad state the bike was in, the auberge owner took upon himself to clean it. Armed with a chamois and a small amount of water, some moroccan skill, and I had a shiny bike again. "Such a pretty bike shouldn't be that dirty" is what he told Maria. We were on our way for some mountains again Riding this great mountain road, we stop for a little water, and I notice fluid flowing on the suspension leg. The left suspension sealant had given up and we had a wet fork. I wasn't too happy with this. This bike supposedly didn't have many miles but it was getting on with age, and had originally been registered in Hong Kong, it's true mileage was a mystery. "They say a plug goes in here, by hell it´s going here regardless if there is wiring behind it or not!" Next morning I borrow a small towel from the hotel and wrap it around the suspension fork, just to prevent oil from being thrown at me and at the brakes Rabat was on our sights, we had gotten out of the mountains, slept in a hotel not worth a mention, and started to arrive at Rabat by lunch time. Rabat was a shock, two nights before we had been to the poorest place we had seen, and now we entered Rabat through an avenue populated by mansions, some of them embassies, and one of the royal palaces. Here is one of royal palaces side entries Took us a few minutes to ride around that to get to the main avenue, we did try to pop into the main entrance and say hello but we were declined. They weren't happy when Maria went for her camera either, so no photos of that Settled into our hotel in the city centre, in a not so posh area near the medina, and went for a walk. Rabat has got a massive cemetery by the sea, from afar you think it's a crowd but as you get closer you realize it's headstones. Well, still a crowd if you think about it. Taxis make you feel like you're in the eighties, and as the end of the afternoon arrives the center starts to come alive, and the Medina wakes up We find a nice place to eat, it turned out to not be that nice but we could see people moving about outside and gave us some rest from a tyresome day. An early night in, and we slept well. In the morning, our poor hotel looked even more disheveled than the previous day, we waited forever for some breakfast, ended up having a stale croissant and some tea. It was a disgrace as pastry is usually as good in Morocco as anywhere you can imagine, a Moroccan patisserie leaves nothing to be desired to a Parisien one, except coffee here is better. We left Rabat and headed north to Tangier, for our last night in Morocco. Traffic was horrible leaving Rabat so we took the motorway. Not sure where, but around Asirah or Larache, we stopped for lunch, a nice fish soup I thought we had. This area looks almost 100% European, except for the minarets. We continue north and enter Tangier through the posh side, very expensive homes with huge properties, everything very well trimmed, and I decide to splurge and stay in a luxury hotel. The place was so nice I just couldn't say no. We walked into the marble floored lobby, leaving dust where we stepped, and enquired as to occupancy. The rude lady replied with a price I just said ok to shut her up and later did the calculations in my mind The place was amazing, and we lounged all afternoon: No pictures of the dinner that night, although it was amazing, in a balcony overlooking the ocean. I have since been there and have taken better pictures so you'll see those on the next reports. Next morning we were in no rush so rode to Tangier center, and stopped in a cafe for breakfast Boarding the ferry was uneventful, but during the trip this random lady thrust a baby on my arms and went to the bathroom. 15 minutes later I was starting to worry she wouldn't come back Spain received us with a pork sandwich and nice weather. Two days earlier, Maria had chipped a tooth chewing on some hard bread, and this is why we don't have many pictures of the last couple of days. We stayed in the Algarve to try and make her feel better, but eventually had to ride to Lisbon with a badly broken tooth and severe pain, through a rain storm in a motorcycle helmet. She cried with pain and it was a tough ending to an amazing trip that I'll never forget. I really liked reliving this entire thing, and will post three more reports of our other Morocco trips in the upcoming days.

So, leaving the golden dunes of Merzouga, we planned on sleeping on Mhamid. It's only around 400km but the trip would be what I longed for when dreaming of visiting the desert. After a hearty breakfast of Msemmen and lowering my heart beat on colesterol alone, we made way, it was a hot day and you felt it from early on. The rain drops that had fallen two nights before, along with the desert sand, left the bike a mess. Here I'm collecting an acacia thorn, the desert toothpick, and proceeding to stab myself in the finger. Halfway through the morning and we stopped for some tea. One of my favourite things is to sit at a cafe having a tea or coffee, and just allowing the street scene to unfold around you. Carrying on, further on the ride I stop for urination purposes, and take the chance to look at some desert trees. I read before, never park under an Acacia. If you look at the thorns on the pictures before you'll see why. Camels actually put whole branches in the mouths and suck out the leaves. On this stop my spirits drop as we notice an oil leak on the bike. Probably coming from between the engine and gearbox. We were in the middle of nowhere, so decided to press on to Zagora and figure out what to do there. On the way there we stop to check the oil level and Maria documented the occasion with a video. Oil wasn't dropping noticeably, and I realized I didn't have a tool to open the oil filler hole even though I had a full liter of oil in my luggage. That was smart planning! Anyway, on to Zagora! This was a hard road, lots of washboard, had to surf them at 120 for the bike to be livable, it felt like I was breaking it apart. The alternative would be to ride at 30kmh, which was not doable. We make it to Zagora, and stop to take our pictures next to the famous Tombouctou sign Zagora, being a big town and a gateway to the desert, is used to having offroad enthusiasts passing by. A few mechanic shops are here, some of them are used to renting out their facilities to desert racing teams that use this as a base for testing programs. We came accross Mohammed, who received us with a smile and tea. As soon as we walked in his shop Maria noticed the pictures on the wall, and realized she and Mohammed had several friends in common from when she was involved with Baja racing teams and Dakar Rally mechanics. We spent a good while there, just laughing with them. Mohammed was a cool enough dude that i allowed him to put a sticker on my bike Next door, you could have your teeth fixed as well We came away with the oil leak still leaking, but now equipped with a tool to take the filler plug off. So now we had a way of replenishing the oil level if it lowered. I was still unsure if it was engine oil or gearbox oil that was coming out, but since it was on such low quantity we decided to ride on to Mhamid and sleep where we had planned. The ride there would be quite hard but amazing, but not before having a light snack of a little bit of crappy pizza, not worth a picture. From Zagora South, were entering properly dry areas, here water is not a commodity but a luxury. Temperatures we slightly above 40ºC, and the wind was very high, those 100 or 120km felt like 300. Eventually the winds turned into a sand storm and we struggled to keep upright, the road was well visible so we continued. As the wind increased the temperature felt higher as well, which was very weird because you couldn't see the sun and it was almost as dark as night. We felt like we were on Mars but this was an amazing ride that made us appreciate how cool it was to be doing this trip. We got to our hotel exhausted and parked the bike inside the compound next to our room We were asked to be our showers short as there was a severe lack of water in the area. Apparently during most of the year people here only have water pressure on tap for a few hours per day. We went for a walk, and got a few unfriendly looks, presumably because Maria was wearing shorts. Our host took us on a small drive to the dunes in his Land Rover, to whatch the sunset before dinner. We talked a little about the desert and the people there, their way of life and difficulties. Also, we talked how much better life there could be with just minor adjustments like water management. A week after we left there were rain floods and some of those people drowned. Next day we start to head back north and starting our way back home. We still had a lot to see but I hated how the trip started to move back to reality instead of heading towards adventure. Every pore of the road was saturated with fine sand, made for an amazing sight. Stopping for a little water, the bike was a sad state That day, unbeknown to us, Muslims were in celebration. We thought it was weird when we first started noticing slaughtered lambs outside people's homes and made for a little uneasiness, only to be explained at night on our next hotel. Brief stop for lunch, I think in Ouarzazate Ouarzazate is a major city in the area, it is mostly known for its ties with Hollywood, it's got cinema studios and is a base for whenever you need a western setting, or generic middle eastern or desert film location. It's also a little without character and didn't appeal. We moved on. That evening we stayed at a small family owned auberge, we shared a few travel stories and they did as well having travelled all over Morocco in a Fiat Uno. We were served delicious tea upon arrival and Maria made friends with the little girl Owner's runaround moped, it's seen things and been places: Dinner was enjoyed on the rooftop, she's not very impressed with my photography skills A nice night's sleep was had

Indeed, Bob, I also think it's a matter of culture and the Berber and Beduin think of generosity as the best quality one can have. I'll treasure those memories.

After a hard evening of riding on very dark roads, getting lost with oncoming rally trucks blasting by at very high speeds with full blinding rally lights on, the shower and warm food, and sleep, felt like heaven. Sleeping in a hotel made of mud and powered by the distance hum of a generator, it means that when they turn the generator off you get an amazing night's sleep. In the morning, Maria's plan was to see the desert sunrise so sleep better be good because I wasn't going to sleep in Good news is that the dunes are right on our back door. I discovered desert sand for the first time. Having never been, I was amazed at how fine it is, and at how it doesn't stick to your skin. Instead, it absorbs all moisture out of it and almost cleans it. I've loved this place ever since. Sand was proper cold, and he had our cardio by climbing a couple of dunes, if you're not born doing that is pretty exhausting stuff. With an apetite, I enjoyed some nice msemmen for breakfast. It's a kind of hardish crepe or pancake, not really healthy but very tasty, usually eaten with honey, butter or jam. I have it with honey usually, although it's good when still warm with proper butter. The rest of the day was spent exploring the area around, we needed a rest so took the chance to ride the bike a little with no luggage, get it stuck a little too So during the morning we goofed off in the sand and took "adventuring" pictures I had my first close encounter with camel herds, and again, was surprised at how fast they actually cover distance when appearing to walk calmly. Can't be in the desert without the Clint Eastwood snarl It had rained the previous night, so we found the water droplet marks on the sand, seemed every single drop made it's own impact. On some you could actually see a speck of green starting to appear Desert @Tym showed up, to try and sell some rocks and to show me that my 1150 motorcycle is not the best tool for riding efficiently here. The heat was starting to grow, and we hit the village center for some lunch, in Morocco you can't go wrong with some omelette and olives. Usually, away from cities you'll see the chickens pecking away around the cafes and restaurants, so you know the eggs and chicken meat is great. Maria, going for the cool adventurer look. In the afternoon, we snoozed a little, and just hang out at the hotel drinking water. My hotel room ceiling: That evening we climbed the highest dune close to the hotel to go and see the sunset, but our plans were foiled by a sandstorm, which was an event of it's own. It starts with a refreshing breeze: And you start to see fast moving weather in the distance: And soon enough you're enjoying it from the comfort of a shelter, with your nose and ears full of sand. I grew to love that place, and with time we went back but that is for other reports. On the next day we woke up at dawn and tried to have the bike packed before breakfast while it was still cool. I love having a relaxed breakfast and then just getting my jacket and helmet on and ride off, no faffing about with luggage. Allows you to not be all sweaty and yucky when riding off, and makes for much more of an enjoyable exit. You look cooler as well, for all the adventure amateurs that might be around. This is also one of the reasons we never carried more than our side cases, simplicity is coolness.

I think I forgot to resize a lot of these pictures, sorry if it's too heavy. Will try and remember to resize from now on.

It had gotten cold(er) during the night so waking up in a cozy hay mattress felt like something from the movies. Morning light revealed what a great place we had slept in, and we had a great breakfast with the greatest view. There is nothing like a palm field in the desert, it's magnetic and comfortable. We rode off after drinking all the tea we could stomach and just as it was starting to warm a little. We needn't worry, as by the time we left the gorge and made it to Tinghir, only a few kms south, it was properly hot already: From Tinghir, we would go West and visit the Dades Gorges, maybe hook up a mountain (dirt) route back to the same place we slept in, before going to the Sahara. Going to the Dades Gorges was a great idea, we had a brief idea of desert heat before going back up to a gorge: I like the idea of that building up there in the rocks, that two years later we would sleep there. To the right of this tiny road was the most intense drop and views I've ever seen, pictures don't do it justice. After this amazing stretch of road it already lunch time and we needed a break, so found somewhere under a cool shade to sit and had some great lunch The restaurant owner quickly put our hopes to rest by telling us that the route we planned to go over wasn't passable. Apparently the same rains that washed the previous day's road and made this one not passable, with the difference that being dirt and on a cliff face the mud slide had really deleted any way through. Our plan quickly changed to heading back down the Gorge again, back to Tinghir and then onto the Sahara proper and to head towards the dunes. This would prove to be a little too long as we didn't know the Morocco Rally was about to start. Going back the Gorge du Dades And onto the open desert We stopped at Tinghir, for a cold drink in an air conditioned cafe, and decided where to go next. A booking was made for the golden dunes after Merzouga, a mere 200km away, shouldn't take a lot longer than 2 hours on the open desert. That was the plan, but we didn't factor getting lost, nor for the palm fields before Merzouga, and the complete darkness riding through those palms, and to top it all we didn't factor in that the Morocco Rally was about to start, and all rally jeeps and trucks would be coming back from the desert to Merzouga at night, going quite fast with a huge amount of lighting helping them. Quite scary. The plus, was looking at the desert's wide open spaces for the first time, and camel herds in the distance also for the first time. By the time we made it to the hotel, it was again too dark to appreciate the surroundings. As the hotel was located a few kms into a maze of pistes and google maps pointed it as being in the town's center, we were proper lost until someone showed us the way. This took an extra hour. Had a nice shower to wash the dust off, and tucked into a berber omelette and salad. I would have paid extra for a few cold beers, but no chance of that this time. The plan for the day after was for it to be a rest day. Sleep in the same place, just a ride around the area, and lounge a little drinking cold water and enjoying the desert and the dunes.

I apologize if there are too many pictures with crooked horizons, but Maria shot most of the onboard pictures one handed with a tiny camera, so you get what you pay for, I treasure them so I'm posting. I'm also making an effort to trim it down cause there are about 2000 pictures of this trip alone Next day, leaving near Midelt and the goal is to visit somewhere called Cirque de Jaaffar, just because it sounded epic. On the way we got sort of lost, and just decided to make our way to Imilchil, just because (to me) it sounded like some last frontier from Star Wars . We would be taking small roads, but as always is the case maps don't tell the terrain. First, some desolation And then we turned to the hills, to the Atlas, and it didn't disappoint. This is one of the best riding days of my life and also one of the ones which photos least tell the story. We started to make our way following a tiny road on one of Maria's maps, which to me were like some sort of dark magic, and the views were great and inspiring Passing through a few villages heading towards the mountains, we were pretty glad to follow this half dry riverbed, expect we came up to this: I walked a little along the riverbed, to see if there was any kind of road or path on the other side, but there wasn't. At least a full km had been washed out by the previous days' rains. My goal was never to try and do serious offroad with this heavy bike and a passenger, so we turned it down Instead went back a few kms and found a "detour" plate, and followed that road instead. Although it didn't appear in any of our maps it proved to be a nice one, and although not really deserted we rode for a long time with no other traffic whatsoever. High altitudes, high enough for me to be a little sick and feel weak. After a long climb to well over 3000m, I am feeling tired, and after a good couple of hours from the detour, we stop for a snack. The madeleines Maria decided to buy the previous day were very welcome. And we continued towards Imilchil ... Back then Maria didn't feel very much at ease on dirt without holding on so there weren't a lot of onboard pictured when riding on gravel. The road was very entertaining, lots of surface changes, whatever dirt there was was smooth enough and with plenty of moisture for grip but not mud, great stuff. After a while it started to get green and greener around us, and we started to drop in elevation, farming started to be more intense, and we were though the mountains and started arriving close to Imilchil. Roads in Morocco never lacking for drama: Arriving at Imilchil, turns out it is indeed a small village with a few shops, cafes, grilled food restaurants, basically a small mountain towing which everything converges. I felt like taking it in and maybe staying there as I was proper tired, but decided to oblige Maria who wasn't happy at all with staying in a one horse town for a few hours before sunset, and made way for the Gorges du Todra. As always, her choice would prove to be the right one Rolling on from Imilchil we were dropping in altitude, temperatures increasing slightly but rain also starting, so out came the plastic overcoats yet again. Views were ok What's happening now is that we're dropping from the mountains to desert level, though the gorges carved by rivers over centuries. These are the most touristy place in Morocco if you're driving or riding bikes, but between the weather and the hours at which we arrived, we managed to arrive with an amazing dying light and also nobody else around. It was unforgettable, plus you could smell the desert more and more. We had booked into a hotel right on the gorges, near the exit where the palm trees and houses are, and arrived right after dark. Parked the bike in the dude's maze warehouse, had a cold shower and a hot meal, and were very happy with it all.