Morocco 2022

[Pedro]

02nd December, Friday, woke up at dawn as soon as the sun cast sufficient light to hit me while still in bed, it's a lovely way to wake up also because here there is no TV, and very little internet to get distracted so you are forced to sleep early taking full advantage of the desert night silence. The previous night I talked a little with the hotel owner, and he told me about an oasis about 6 or 8km into the desert reachable only through proper sand dunes. Some hotels and tour guides have a few tents there and do overnight stays, there is no showers and limited use of water to prevent contamination of the excellent water quality they have there. It takes 1 to 1,5 hours to walk there with camels but only 15 minutes with quads. The silence of the desert night there must be deafening, I am eager to try that, and from what Hassan told me watching the stars there is amazing, extra amazing only though, because right on the edge of the dunes where I was staying you already get more of a clear picture of the universe than anywhere else I've been to. I was tempted to stay another couple of nights, on the night of the 02nd they had no other occupants other than maybe some surprise visitors but then on the 03rd they would be getting a 50 people group, if I were to stay that meant two more nights, and honestly I was worried that might push me too much into December and bad weather. Since I had been getting very lucky with the weather, I made a plan to visit again and next time go on the proper desert on foot or quads, now it's time to go back on the road.

Waking up with the Saharan dawn, you can also appreciate desert style insulation on those doors  :

 

Bike packed up before breakfast, 

 

And again my favourite msmen and coffee for breakfast, while leisurely allowing the sun to rise a little and kill off some of that sand chill that seems to hit you right in the bones. The desert cold feels different than normal cold, during the previous days it got up about 15 and 18º in the afternoon and all the other tourists were freezing as soon as it got near sunset. Considering a group consisting of two Canadians, one Germans, two Swiss, some having flown directly from snow covered locations all exclaimed through an almost hearable teeth rattle that they didn't expect to feel so cold, there must be some truth to that. It does feel colder here.

 

By 08:45 or 9, I rode off with a satisfying wheelspin, now feeling very confident with my surrounding terrain. My newly found confidence made me feel ecstatic and almost unwilling to leave the area, but it was the right thing to do as too much of that confidence would surely end up with an unpleasant event reminding me I am no Stephane Peterhansel. I decided to take only tarmac roads from here on, the bike having had a pretty good workout already, and also I realized that my luggage is the source of most of the unpleasant rattles I hear when riding on corrugations and proper offroad, I did not feel like carrying a broken luggage case in duct taped plastic bags. Next visit to the desert I will be carrying a different luggage arrangement if indeed the plan is to take more offroad pistes.

My eyes were definitely teared up when leaving, it's a special location and I WILL return, I get a very similar feeling here than I used to get at the Nurburgring, both being motorsport locations and both with their own very special ways of biting back if you think you got things covered.

 

After Rissani I stop as soon as the landscape becomes spectacular, and one last time try to find a fossil to take home. After 10 minutes looking I give up, say my farewells to Erg Chebbi and move on.

 

I had a big day ahead, and from then on almost didn't stop through the day. I was headed southwest and planned on going past Zagora, to Tata an then Guelmim. Look it up on google maps, it's interesting terrain of wide open landscapes and mountains. No plan where to sleep, that would be tended to by mid afternoon depending on where I got to, riding at night with this cold wasn't on the plans.

Acacia trees start to dot the landscape, and it definitely feels like Africa now.

 

Stopped to have a sip of water, and ended up taking my knife to the plastic water bottle to cut it in half and provide three skinny dogs with some refreshment. They were cautious of me but as soon as I walked to a safe distance they slurped it down, no more water with me now, but I knew there would be plenty of towns ahead.

 

Tissint is a pretty location, I remember that on a previous trip I was also surprised at how much water there was there.

Stopped just enough to get a couple of pictures, and made way, this was a day for covering distance. Went past Zagora with just one stop to fuel up the bike, and rode on making it to Tata at around 16:00. I had passed by where before me and Maria had reached to stay for the night, but that was riding at much more of a leisurely pace, now I had a conundrum, either ride on and get cold in one or one and a half hours, or stay here and relax. Tata has an authentic vibe to it, no tourists, no Europeans either it seemed, and no touts. In fact nobody seemed to give a shit about me except for kids who always wave at a big motorcycle, so I stayed. Stopped on town entrance to eat something, a croissant and some yogurt, and check on booking.com and arrange for shelter. Don't know how to name that sweet by the croissant on the picture, but if you're ever in Morocco do ask for them by pointing, they're very cinnamony inside and absolutely decadent.

 

I found a comfy and cheap place to stay, in a one single person bed bedroom, something I haven't seen in ages anywhere, but it had just been renovated and had amazing water pressure in the hot shower, something you really value after staying in the desert. By 17:30 I go to the bar to get a bottle of water and notice people are watching the world cup and drinking beer, not being my first choice on a regular day I promptly order a Heineken, and the bar tender is a little shocked at how fast a thirsty portuguese downs a beer in one go, don't think he ever saw that  

I have another by the very cold pool, good showers and cold beers after a long day on the bike are undervalued in Europe, but that beer too was quick to disappear and I went ahead and explored Tata, at 2€ each Heineken, alcohol in Morocco isn't a cheap pastime.

 

Tata is now one of my favourite towns to stay for a night in Morocco, absolutely no tourist arrassment. Come with me while I take you for a walk around town into the night, have dinner consisting of some amazing skewers shared with little cats and a hungry dog, and end up drinking expressos while watching football on tv.

 

Proper Motul motorcycle oil on sale, good stuff and all those 4 stroke scooters are safe!

 

It's not a big town, but walking around felt good after today's ride. I made it back feeling quite cold and was happy to get to bed. Slept great that night. I knew that the next day would be packed with amazing scenery and big skies...

[XTreme]

Amazing Pedro......you're putting us all to shame!

[Pedro]

03rd December, Saturday.

I wake up with an email I receive every saturday at 7:10 to 7:30, usually that annoys me, but here it means it's a Saturday so an early wake up call and absolutely no calls or work stuff for two days. Being able to get away like this during work is a great privilege, and I am aware and appreciative of that, but never being completely off from getting a surprise call even if being out on an adventure does take it's toll and you end up never enjoying things the same. I miss that hugely, in my previous trips with Maria I would leave my phone with my brother who would take over completely for a couple of weeks, that is no longer an option so I take my phone and my portuguese number works just like at home. Also take my laptop, which has proved amazingly resilient over the last few years, but it's a weight I would rather leave behind. Today I can leave it all behind, it's Saturday, so let's go!

I ride the full 1km to one of Tata's bakeries and have an amazingly unhealthy breakfast, along with a big mug of delicious orange juice.

I ride south-west, past Akka and heading to Foam El Hisn. Back in Merzouga you felt like you're in the Desert, but here you do feel like you're in a remote country and heading to proper Africa. It's not everyday I'm here so I did stop a few times to enjoy it, I was still undecided if going all the way to Guelmim or if turning back north at Four El Hisn.

 

This is an Acacia branch, and what camels will chew on, each one of those thorns is properly sharp and tough.

 

Tizounine, a clear example of a grand avenue crossing the town, with expensive light fixtures for miles before and after town, but walk 10 meters out of that grand avenue's sidewalks and it's dirt streets and mud homes, can't help but notice there's a little imbalance.

 

Plastic trash is a problem, and along with touts thing to squeeze money out of tourists in big cities, this is what will shock you the most in Morocco, in some places it is a shocking problem that nobody obviously knows how to deal with. I preferred to not document it in this report because I felt uneasy taking my phone out for a picture in front of someone's home to document how disgusting their street looks like. Those are real people living there, and the lack of a trash management structure is something that they will eventually be hurt by. Here, this is just a casual reminder you're still in society even though you feel like you're out by yourself looking at camels.

 

Now this was a little bit of a cool moment, I am enjoying the solitude of the place and a true rock garden, I talked to Sofia and had just said that from now on it'll be wide open spaces but safe roads, tarmac, mostly wide roads until I turn back on and get north to the Anti Atlas and then the Atlas, I get on the bike to ride about 2km and stop, look to my left as a nice dirt road goes perfectly over the hills to the left.

It's not everyday I'm here, so I ride up to see what's on the other side of those hills, and soon enough find myself in fifth gear on the most perfect dirt road ever made heading to the horizon.

 

It's heading south kind of towards Algeria, it's not really clear where it goes, but it's so perfect I'm keen on finding out, I've got time and it's Saturday so the fact that I've got no phone signal at all is less of a concern.

Sadly, a few minutes into it the perfect dirt road from heaven and it ends into this. This is not on google marked as anything, but it's around here: https://goo.gl/maps/wbrCcWvPmykJzQns7 and a little bit of a @XTreme ride report.

It ends in what looks like a small abandoned fortified building, now in ruins. I had decided to make the most of it and go to Guelmim, so suddenly I had plenty of time as it was still 12:30. I ride down there and go exploring a little.

 

 

From the top I see another building in ruins, and go see that too:

 

Upon closer inspection the tiny building's remaining really stink! I start spotting a lot of animal dung and a minute later the probable culprits!

 

Wild donkeys use this as their bathroom, they jump up from their sleep in the shade and get ready to run away.

 

Makes sense that this place has a well near it, before roads this is a little out there, there's a river a few kms away so this well probably never runs dry either. Nowadays there's solar powered pumps keeping water available for animals, I decided not to try it out even though the sun was strong and this was the warmest it's been in this whole trip.

 

And just like that, I'm back on the perfect dirt road, quickly getting back to the N12, and head south to Assa for a lunch stop.

 

I stop on an empty snack place, and order a turkey grillade sandwich. While I wait my bike attracts the attention of three kids, who come to look at it and say hello. It turns into a photo shoot and even the guy from the cafe next door comes to have his picture taken on the mighty GS

 

The grillade Panini arrived and it was delicious, turns out turkey can be delicious too. This plus a coca cola went for 24 dirhams, which sometimes makes me think that something must be wrong with some places in Portugal and the prices I'm charged for stuff that takes less effort than this.

 

As I paid and said farewell it turned into a photoshoot for purposes of internet publicity in their google maps thing, that up until now looked rather poor. If you want go and post a like or a 5 stars rating: https://goo.gl/maps/GgDwhS3d8h7pFGWz7

 

The three kids that had previously came by did ask for one dirham, and I didn't have the heart to say no. I gave them a 5 or 10 dirham coin but told them to split between the three, as I was riding off I saw them come running back to show me the three big candy bars  they got, with huge grins. It made me really happy, that, the wrappers are probably flying around the sahara now, but I chose to focus on their smiles instead.

Again, Assa shows off with extravagant street lighting when most streets inside are dirt.

 

 

I've been riding on the N12 since morning, it's a National road (the best quality road except motorways) with good safe surface and great views, but the stretch between Assa and Fask take it to another level. I would not advocate speeding but if there is one road in Morocco that you can enjoy a proper sports bike or a Ferrari on, this is it. I took it steady at 90 or 100kmh because the views also make it one of the most scenic places I've been.

 

The day's ride ended on a high with all the socialising in Assa and the amazing views and road after. I ride into Guelmim and head straight into my hotel, it's not yet cold and at little over 15:00 there's time for a little bit of swimming pool refreshment, not that it was particularly warm.

It's a nice hotel, that one, not much of traditional character but more of a corporate sort of affair. The state of my boots didn't match the other guests.

 

Aware that it was probably cold, I refused to have carried swimming shorts all this way to not enjoy them and again dove head first into the cold clean swimming pool. It was freezing, a few strokes and I was back out catching some sun pretending not to be unpleasantly cold.  

 

That lasted for 20 minutes, maybe not even that, but it was worth it as my plan to say no to nothing has worked out so far and turns out it makes for fuller nicer traveling days when out by yourself. I wasn't really out by myself and lonely though, for some parts I relived very happy memories with Maria, I did chat with Sofia every day, and taking all these pictures to make a ride report made for useful companionship too, in the form of a silent travel companion that does not mess with my riding style, does not weight my bike down in offroad, or argues when I want to go for sardines on meal times. Made my way to the hot shower, and called a taxi to go to Guelmim to check out the end of day city life. the hotel is a good 7 km out of city, which makes for a quiet experience, and I didn't feel like riding the bike there now that I felt fresh and showered. The Taxi charged me 100 dirhams for a few minutes, which is outrageous, I protested but no deal. Paid up and felt cheated by it.

This is the walk around Guelmim to finish the day:

 

 

 

 

In Guelmim, mannequins displaying women's clothing don't conform to barbie style body images, instead they're of healthy full bodied middle aged women with huge boobs! I approve!

 

 

 

 

Guelmim proved not to be too inviting though, and I did feel out of my comfort zone there. At sunset the city wakes up and the markets start to explode with movement. Too much diesel fumes on busy streets, too much movement and noise, I would have preferred a cold crisp glass of white wine but even sitting down for a tea or an expresso I was neglected, service took forever and I walked out from two places, all of a sudden and after an amazing day on the motorcycle I was not in a happy mood and took no enjoyment of the place. Even if you find yourself somewhere like that that doesn't conform to what you consider an enjoyable location, you are wise to remember it's only a momentary adventure and that in a few days you'll be home longing for distant lands. Exhausted after walking around Guelmim I sat down in "Corbina" the restaurant, and ordered a Corbina (Corvina in Portuguese, is a fish maybe similar to a big seabass) This is desert but the ocean is close by and they do have a lot of fish in their traditional diets. At first the restaurant seemed cold and the guys there sort of distant. 

 

The fish was amazing, I ate it all traditionally, out of that metal plate where it was cooked using my fingers and bread to scoop up chunks of fish and the delicious tomato based spicy sauce. Suddenly I'm enjoying a warm meal in a quiet corner by myself, I give the guys the thumbs up and suddenly all the bad spirits were gone, I think they got a kick out of watching me eat like local. At the end you wash your hands and you're no more of a mess than on an european restaurant, but I recognize it's not for everyone, and they will provide cutlery if you want it.

 

the warm meal made me feel better about it all and I went exploring the street markets, some places defy health rules with live chickens being kept and sold next to a proper outside meat butchers, next to eggs, next to a sandwich shop, next to fruit and next to... you get the point

 

Not really a football guy, but still I stopped for an expresso and watched life happen around me.

 

 

Found a shop to put some money into my moroccan sim card, I had run out of calls to me, 20 dirhams gave me an hour and a half of international calls more, and some more data that I didn't need. Walked back some more to try and find a taxi back to the hotel and I tried a couple of petit taxis, the small red taxis, like Dacias or small Peugeots, but turns out the petit taxi don't go out of town, for that you need the grand taxi, and behold they take me exactly to the same guy as before. I grudgingly pony up for another 100 dirhams, this leaves me fuming and I ask at the hotel reception that they start calling someone else, that was clearly a tourist ripoff.

I go to bed tired after a very long day with a myriad of things happening through it, this day alone felt like a whole trip by itself. The next day? The next day is Sunday, no work calls again and the plan is to go back into mountains, twisty roads and amazing scenery, ... 

[XTreme]

14 minutes ago, Pedro said:

03rd December, Saturday.

I wake up with an email I receive every saturday at 7:10 to 7:30, usually that annoys me, but here it means it's a Saturday so an early wake up call and absolutely no calls or work stuff for two days. Being able to get away like this during work is a great privilege, and I am aware and appreciative of that, but never being completely off from getting a surprise call even if being out on an adventure does take it's toll and you end up never enjoying things the same. I miss that hugely, in my previous trips with Maria I would leave my phone with my brother who would take over completely for a couple of weeks, that is no longer an option so I take my phone and my portuguese number works just like at home. Also take my laptop, which has proved amazingly resilient over the last few years, but it's a weight I would rather leave behind. Today I can leave it all behind, it's Saturday, so let's go!

I ride the full 1km to one of Tata's bakeries and have an amazingly unhealthy breakfast, along with a big mug of delicious orange juice.

I ride south-west, past Akka and heading to Foam El Hisn. Back in Merzouga you felt like you're in the Desert, but here you do feel like you're in a remote country and heading to proper Africa. It's not everyday I'm here so I did stop a few times to enjoy it, I was still undecided if going all the way to Guelmim or if turning back north at Four El Hisn.

 

This is an Acacia branch, and what camels will chew on, each one of those thorns is properly sharp and tough.

 

Tizounine, a clear example of a grand avenue crossing the town, with expensive light fixtures for miles before and after town, but walk 10 meters out of that grand avenue's sidewalks and it's dirt streets and mud homes, can't help but notice there's a little imbalance.

 

Plastic trash is a problem, and along with touts thing to squeeze money out of tourists in big cities, this is what will shock you the most in Morocco, in some places it is a shocking problem that nobody obviously knows how to deal with. I preferred to not document it in this report because I felt uneasy taking my phone out for a picture in front of someone's home to document how disgusting their street looks like. Those are real people living there, and the lack of a trash management structure is something that they will eventually be hurt by. Here, this is just a casual reminder you're still in society even though you feel like you're out by yourself looking at camels.

 

Now this was a little bit of a cool moment, I am enjoying the solitude of the place and a true rock garden, I talked to Sofia and had just said that from now on it'll be wide open spaces but safe roads, tarmac, mostly wide roads until I turn back on and get north to the Anti Atlas and then the Atlas, I get on the bike to ride about 2km and stop, look to my left as a nice dirt road goes perfectly over the hills to the left.

It's not everyday I'm here, so I ride up to see what's on the other side of those hills, and soon enough find myself in fifth gear on the most perfect dirt road ever made heading to the horizon.

 

It's heading south kind of towards Algeria, it's not really clear where it goes, but it's so perfect I'm keen on finding out, I've got time and it's Saturday so the fact that I've got no phone signal at all is less of a concern.

Sadly, a few minutes into it the perfect dirt road from heaven and it ends into this. This is not on google marked as anything, but it's around here: https://goo.gl/maps/wbrCcWvPmykJzQns7 and a little bit of a @XTreme ride report.

It ends in what looks like a small abandoned fortified building, now in ruins. I had decided to make the most of it and go to Guelmim, so suddenly I had plenty of time as it was still 12:30. I ride down there and go exploring a little.

 

 

From the top I see another building in ruins, and go see that too:

 

Upon closer inspection the tiny building's remaining really stink! I start spotting a lot of animal dung and a minute later the probable culprits!

 

Wild donkeys use this as their bathroom, they jump up from their sleep in the shade and get ready to run away.

 

Makes sense that this place has a well near it, before roads this is a little out there, there's a river a few kms away so this well probably never runs dry either. Nowadays there's solar powered pumps keeping water available for animals, I decided not to try it out even though the sun was strong and this was the warmest it's been in this whole trip.

 

And just like that, I'm back on the perfect dirt road, quickly getting back to the N12, and head south to Assa for a lunch stop.

 

I stop on an empty snack place, and order a turkey grillade sandwich. While I wait my bike attracts the attention of three kids, who come to look at it and say hello. It turns into a photo shoot and even the guy from the cafe next door comes to have his picture taken on the mighty GS

 

The grillade Panini arrived and it was delicious, turns out turkey can be delicious too. This plus a coca cola went for 24 dirhams, which sometimes makes me think that something must be wrong with some places in Portugal and the prices I'm charged for stuff that takes less effort than this.

 

As I paid and said farewell it turned into a photoshoot for purposes of internet publicity in their google maps thing, that up until now looked rather poor. If you want go and post a like or a 5 stars rating: https://goo.gl/maps/GgDwhS3d8h7pFGWz7

 

The three kids that had previously came by did ask for one dirham, and I didn't have the heart to say no. I gave them a 5 or 10 dirham coin but told them to split between the three, as I was riding off I saw them come running back to show me the three big candy bars  they got, with huge grins. It made me really happy, that, the wrappers are probably flying around the sahara now, but I chose to focus on their smiles instead.

Again, Assa shows off with extravagant street lighting when most streets inside are dirt.

 

 

I've been riding on the N12 since morning, it's a National road (the best quality road except motorways) with good safe surface and great views, but the stretch between Assa and Fask take it to another level. I would not advocate speeding but if there is one road in Morocco that you can enjoy a proper sports bike or a Ferrari on, this is it. I took it steady at 90 or 100kmh because the views also make it one of the most scenic places I've been.

 

The day's ride ended on a high with all the socialising in Assa and the amazing views and road after. I ride into Guelmim and head straight into my hotel, it's not yet cold and at little over 15:00 there's time for a little bit of swimming pool refreshment, not that it was particularly warm.

It's a nice hotel, that one, not much of traditional character but more of a corporate sort of affair. The state of my boots didn't match the other guests.

 

Aware that it was probably cold, I refused to have carried swimming shorts all this way to not enjoy them and again dove head first into the cold clean swimming pool. It was freezing, a few strokes and I was back out catching some sun pretending not to be unpleasantly cold.  

 

That lasted for 20 minutes, maybe not even that, but it was worth it as my plan to say no to nothing has worked out so far and turns out it makes for fuller nicer traveling days when out by yourself. I wasn't really out by myself and lonely though, for some parts I relived very happy memories with Maria, I did chat with Sofia every day, and taking all these pictures to make a ride report made for useful companionship too, in the form of a silent travel companion that does not mess with my riding style, does not weight my bike down in offroad, or argues when I want to go for sardines on meal times. Made my way to the hot shower, and called a taxi to go to Guelmim to check out the end of day city life. the hotel is a good 7 km out of city, which makes for a quiet experience, and I didn't feel like riding the bike there now that I felt fresh and showered. The Taxi charged me 100 dirhams for a few minutes, which is outrageous, I protested but no deal. Paid up and felt cheated by it.

This is the walk around Guelmim to finish the day:

 

 

 

 

In Guelmim, mannequins displaying women's clothing don't conform to barbie style body images, instead they're of healthy full bodied middle aged women with huge boobs! I approve!

 

 

 

 

Guelmim proved not to be too inviting though, and I did feel out of my comfort zone there. At sunset the city wakes up and the markets start to explode with movement. Too much diesel fumes on busy streets, too much movement and noise, I would have preferred a cold crisp glass of white wine but even sitting down for a tea or an expresso I was neglected, service took forever and I walked out from two places, all of a sudden and after an amazing day on the motorcycle I was not in a happy mood and took no enjoyment of the place. Even if you find yourself somewhere like that that doesn't conform to what you consider an enjoyable location, you are wise to remember it's only a momentary adventure and that in a few days you'll be home longing for distant lands. Exhausted after walking around Guelmim I sat down in "Corbina" the restaurant, and ordered a Corbina (Corvina in Portuguese, is a fish maybe similar to a big seabass) This is desert but the ocean is close by and they do have a lot of fish in their traditional diets. At first the restaurant seemed cold and the guys there sort of distant. 

 

The fish was amazing, I ate it all traditionally, out of that metal plate where it was cooked using my fingers and bread to scoop up chunks of fish and the delicious tomato based spicy sauce. Suddenly I'm enjoying a warm meal in a quiet corner by myself, I give the guys the thumbs up and suddenly all the bad spirits were gone, I think they got a kick out of watching me eat like local. At the end you wash your hands and you're no more of a mess than on an european restaurant, but I recognize it's not for everyone, and they will provide cutlery if you want it.

 

the warm meal made me feel better about it all and I went exploring the street markets, some places defy health rules with live chickens being kept and sold next to a proper outside meat butchers, next to eggs, next to a sandwich shop, next to fruit and next to... you get the point

 

Not really a football guy, but still I stopped for an expresso and watched life happen around me.

 

 

Found a shop to put some money into my moroccan sim card, I had run out of calls to me, 20 dirhams gave me an hour and a half of international calls more, and some more data that I didn't need. Walked back some more to try and find a taxi back to the hotel and I tried a couple of petit taxis, the small red taxis, like Dacias or small Peugeots, but turns out the petit taxi don't go out of town, for that you need the grand taxi, and behold they take me exactly to the same guy as before. I grudgingly pony up for another 100 dirhams, this leaves me fuming and I ask at the hotel reception that they start calling someone else, that was clearly a tourist ripoff.

I go to bed tired after a very long day with a myriad of things happening through it, this day alone felt like a whole trip by itself. The next day? The next day is Sunday, no work calls again and the plan is to go back into mountains, twisty roads and amazing scenery, ... 

Superb! Is there many of those ruins out there Pedro?

[yen_powell]

This picture makes me dizzy and I am not sure why.

[Pedro]

04th December, Sunday

Wake up at my own pace after a night well slept. This traveling all day does provide for good sleep, and I can definitely feel that compared to when at home. I am also in love with the feeling of packing stuff to the bike, which takes 5 seconds with BMW's Vario cases, then have something to eat and some hot beverage, and then ride off like you're a pro. Makes me feel like a movie star 

 

The plan is to ride back east for a bit all the way to Four El Hism on the R102, then turn the bike North and use that canyon to climb over the mountains over to Argan territory, stop at a small town that sells some Argan based products, and then go in the direction of Marrakech past the most Star Wars sounding city name ever, Taroudant, and the Tizi N'Test mountain pass, all good stuff to look forward to on the start of the journey north, I certainly wouldn't be reaching Marrakech's chaos today, though, and was unsure where to stop. Ahead of me, I knew I had some of the best mountain roads over the following three days.

Morning cold and saying hello to donkeys when stopping to put on my warm gloves.

 

Reach the palm trees of Tamarnt and head north on a gorge road, the R107 starts down on the desert, enters into the mountains via a gorge, climbs on the end of it and goes to Tafraout:

 

Arriving in Tafraout at almost 14:00, I shop around to buy a little bit of pure Argan oil, and have some amazing chicken for lunch

 

And at 15:00 get back on the road north, heading to Taroudant! This was to be an amazing bit of the trip, Argan trees grow very slowly so most of the ones I see over these mountains are really old, it's a great experience.

 

Over near the other side of that valley there is Taroudant, it was now about 17:30 so I was going to get there at around sunset time. Traveling here took forever, the roads are amazing and worthy of more time, the distances aren't even that great but I kept stopping to look at trees and pick a few argan seeds to take home. Temperature was climbing as I approached the valley in front too, which felt great after the morning's cold. 

Beyond the valley, you get the first glimpse of the Atlas too, it's always an impressive landmark to approach.

 

Taroudant is a walled city, like a smaller less chaotic Marrakech. It's got a cool vibe to it, I stopped once for tea in the middle of the day and liked how it felt, back then it was quite a hot day though, and I was happy to sprint for the mountains, today it felt warm as I arrived which was good, the next day I knew I was going to be cold at 2000 meters.

Being a walled city, it's got a few doors around it, but makes navigation hard, I searched on google maps for a hotel and found somewhere on the outskirts, it was now getting dark and I felt tired, so went for it, what happened next was a bit surreal. I showed up at the place and it was a riad sort of thing with a walled in garden like what is normal on the outskirts of town, it looked alright but had disco music blaring. I park the bike inside the closed gates, and there's a weird ambience going on. Walk into reception and the guy tells me they had a 700 dirham room for me, I laugh at him and tell him they've got some at 500 in booking, and he tells me to sit down and talk. 

Now, this dude sits down next to me and very quietly, and gaily, tells me to consider a special price of 400 dirhams with breakfast included, and that I should let him show me the room. It doesn't sound good, I get a weird feeling again and tell him no deal, and I prepare to leave, he then insists and tells me that for 400 dirhams I get the room, breakfast, dinner, and that he would really be happy if I were with him so he could show the room to me, and doing that he simply lays his hand gently on my leg. I then realize what sort of place that is, why I had a weird feeling when saluting the guys sitting on the garden, how weird and out of place the Ibiza type music sounded, and what really came with that room, so quite quickly told him I'd stay nearer to the city center, and left. 

I then find another place inside the city walls, it's pricier but seems really very nice and less chance of sex with other men. After getting a little lost I did find the location, and was delighted to ride a little bit of a weird access street lodged between the city walls and the hotel entrance itself.

 

This hotel, the Moulin de Taroudant, (can't say Taroudant without picturing Jedis and light sabers!) was an old water mill now refurbished by a french guy, they had nice comfy beds, rooms with no offers of sex, and a very relaxing restaurant where I had a pretty gourmet fish skewer and aubergine pure, it was good. After a nice shower to wash the road off me, I was delighted to have a glass of Moroccan white wine outside, and then eat by the fireplace, where I met a nice older couple of Scots, and staid late drinking red wine with them. Charlie and his kind wife (with a very weird name that I can't for the life of me remember) were great company.

 

I slept well, having had a bottle and a half of pretty average red wine I felt ready for bed.

The next day? Mountain roads surely await, and adventure

[Pedro]

43 minutes ago, yen_powell said:

This picture makes me dizzy and I am not sure why.

It was taken on the move from the bike, the focus sometimes does this weird thing when it gets confused between the standing still horizon and a really fast moving road below.

 

44 minutes ago, XTreme said:

Superb! Is there many of those ruins out there Pedro?

I would say yes, but I don't really go out looking for that. Sadly sometimes there's a pretty fine difference between what seem like ruins in the distance and someone's home, though.

[XTreme]

6 minutes ago, Pedro said:

he would really be happy if I were with him so he could show the room to me, and doing that he simply lays his hand gently on my leg.

[Sir Fallsalot]

6 minutes ago, XTreme said:

@Pedro that's Pete's way of asking for the address of the sex room without asking. Pete you will have to be more direct in the future Pedro doesn't get your subtle hints but i was happy to translate for you 

[Pedro]

4 minutes ago, Sir Fallsalot said:

@Pedro that's Pete's way of asking for the address of the sex room without asking. Pete you will have to be more direct in the future Pedro doesn't get your subtle hints but i was happy to translate for you 

It's 2023 in a few days, no need for that kind of shame!

Here you go @XTreme:https://goo.gl/maps/KSr964JnKKZPUjpXA

 

 

[Pedro]

05th December, Monday

During the night I felt like I heard the bike's alarm sound, it was parked outside but with video surveillance and very closely nudged between the hotel owner's suv and an old Land Rover, it wouldn't be moved without a commotion but anyway it did cross my mind. In the morning when I went to put the luggage on it the Landie had recently smashed windows, the bike was untouched so all's good and time to go. 

 

Such a nice place, I marked it on google maps to remind me where it is for next time I'm around, even if they thought I was German on account of the kind of motorcycle I rode in on. By 9 I was riding out.

 

Starting the bike and heading out of Taroudant was a pleasure, warming it up slowly on still mostly sleepy usually very busy streets, 

 

There's kids playing football everywhere:

 

 

I had a couple of calls to make, so by 10:15 it had just become office hours in Portugal so I stopped and got on with them. I stopped right in the middle of an amazing Argan tree orchard. While I did calls and waited for people to wake up back at home I got distracted and spent a while looking at trees. The darkness over the mountains in the distance? Yes, that's where I'm going.

 

A little further on stopped for tea and to try and finally wrap up a couple of things back home, and got a little guy interested in my snack.

 

And then, up the Tizi N'Test.  It's a great piece of road, goes up to a little over 2000 meters and has been greatly improved since I was last here, it's hard to keep it safe with all the frequent rock slides, though, they smash through barriers like it's nothing.

 

It's a shame, it's such a cool little road to climb that I really wish it went to 3000 meters and lasted longer, right when it's getting more and more interesting it reaches the top and you start descending on the other side. The other side of the mountain going down to Asni isn't as impressive. Usually, usually it isn't as impressive, today it was a little bit more dramatic than normal, winds were really very high and they had just had a lot of rock slides that were being cleared as I went past. The sort of thing that really blocks a road unless you're on a bicycle and can carry it over, or can REALLY mess up your day if they hit you.

It's pretty countryside though.

 

I stopped by a place I stayed at before, with Maria, it's a great looking hotel, with amazing modern Moroccan cooking, I stopped to have a look around but they were closed for season cleaning.

 

I pondered on staying there, but just walked around for a little and then rode on to Marrakech, it was too early to stop anyway, and it really looked like the weather there in the mountains was going to turn quite nasty. Rains here mean muds and conditions that challenge my casual jeans and open faced helmet riding like an adventuring gentleman. It was good to go, spending a whole afternoon with nothing to do in bad weather would also be boring.

At Tahannaout I saw a sign for a woman's cooperative and stopped as I still had a little shopping to do and felt like talking to someone. Women cooperatives are a way that Moroccan women found out of taking to market skills and labour that they traditionally do, like carpet making, argan oil products, spice preparations, all kinds of traditional stuff. Doing this via a cooperative it means they control their intake of household money instead of watching it being diverted to their husband's cafe lifestyle while kids go hungry.

 

The ladies were very nice and one of them spoke perfect english, that's nice as my french isn't up to understanding a fast spoken conversation. I wanted to buy some saffron too, but they didn't sell spices there, traditional saffron is a great product, it's an expensive thing so it's a shame when you buy stale old strings, I was pointed to another place 45 minutes away, I made it in 30 

There, as soon as I arrived the older lady, clearly the matriarch of the place quickly came and gave me a hug and said that I wasn't going anywhere until she got a ride in the bike of my bike, I told her that for that I needed a discount on spices and that she would be risking ending up in Portugal. Her reply was a big laugh, told me I could take her wherever, and a naughty wink! Moroccan women are cool sometimes. The whole place was full of pretty smiles, I did my shopping and then proceeded to give three rides through the village, each one with someone laughing along on the back. 

 

As we rode along the village I noticed that skies were turning properly dark above and that water was starting to flow on the sides of streets, coming from the mountain above. I resisted the will to linger around there and rode on to Marrakech. From there to Marrakech it was mostly flat straight roads, traffic meant a steady 60 to 80kmh, not fast but under that kind of weird traffic you're better sticking to slow. It's a road, but people turn around anywhere, bicycles share the road, kids cross it, people park half n the road, cafes have tens of scooters in front, all of them arriving and leaving like on a busy bee nest. 

I'm content to see the dark sky behind me

 

I pick a hotel, book it within 1 minute, put it on the phone's navigation and easily ride into Marrakech. Sometimes we're spoiled by technology! 

This is the views and sounds of afternoon Marrakech traffic on a nice and organized avenue, from my hotel room window.

 

Lets take a walk down to the main medina square, it was a half hour brisk walk to get there unless you get distracted or lost, I obviously did both.

Police Kawasaki, they came running very distressed that someone took a picture of their bike. 

 

Cool tow truck!

 

Bus station human mass on end of afternoon Marrakech

 

 

And the Medina,

 

Flavored with tomato, spices and onion sauce, it's great! I remember having it for 40 or 50 cents, 20 dirhams this time. A sign of times in bigger cities:

 

The old Yamahas are a class act compared to the current 4 stroke chinese bikes.

Motorcycle parking, zoom inside and you'll see hundred of them!

 

Made my way to a small spice and herbs shop that I previously visited. I told the owner I had been before and he enquired about my life, I told him, showed him a few pictures of when we were before, and had an emotional moment. That properly left me sad and full of sorrow. I slowly walked back to the hotel with tears in my eyes. I had spent a week here in 2015 on the year the 1150 broke down before flying home, and visiting Marrakech had more of an impact on me than I anticipated. I gave a few donations to people trying to sell cookies on the street to make a few dirhams a night, one of the ladies cried and hugged me and wished me well, it felt ok to at least make someone else feel better on that moment. 

Got to the hotel but didn't feel like burrowing myself in my room, so sat outside in a café and had some hot tea. The next day would see mountains and elevation, I had a plan for a little adventure and was looking forward to it!

[yen_powell]

I had to look up Argan oil. It mentioned the traditional way of extracting it!!!

A tradition in some areas of Morocco allows goats to climb argan trees to feed freely on the fruits. The kernels are then later retrieved from the goat droppings, considerably reducing the labour involved in extraction at the expense of some potential gustatory aversion.

 

[Pedro]

06th December, Tuesday

Dawn at 08:05 from my hotel room.

 

Breakfast my hotel was not included in the room price I paid, and I didn't feel at all captivated by it either, too international and I'm feeling like an adventure. The plan was to swiftly ride out of Marrakech and through the Atlas heading East. Roads are cool, views are cool, weather seems to be behaving, all's cool. I ride out heading to Azilal.

Already out of town I am not missing breakfast, but I am missing something to start the day comfortably instead of just water, so stop by a Café Mobile. The quality of the expresso these guys put out from the back of a small van is amazing, 10 times better than the best you can get in most Europe except Portugal and Italy, and even then there might be a case for Morocco's roadside café.

The guy is surprised I take pictures of his car, but I tell him that's not very common in Portugal. He quickly says that if I plan on making a Portuguese business he is available as a partner , but being no fool quickly says that in Portugal you probably need fees and permits and taxes, there you just set it up and go. 

 

At 6 net dirhams per expresso it IS pretty good business. He did follow good practices on cleaning the stuff and preparing it for the next coffee using boiling water, more so than most cafes in Portugal, I was amazed. Maybe one of these days I'll start going for the more complicated coffees like milk and foams and sugars and all that stuff, maybe after going back to Taroudant and staying in the gay hotel too 

Azilal is a very civilized place, if I were to go live in Morocco for good and looking for a place to properly live this could well be it. I stop to send a postcard home

 

Tagalf, just a village full of people living a hard mountain life, all the kids smiled and laughed though

 

Donkeys, always stop for donkeys

 

Riding out of Azilal, a young man is hitch hiking along, not a tourist but a kid on trainers and just jeans and a sweater walking along a road, he must have been 17 or 19, I wave back and he salutes me with their gesture of waving at you and then touching their hearts, so I ride back and offer him a ride. Carried him for maybe 30 or 40km in 7 or 8ºC, he should have been freezing but always with a smile and happy to not be walking. When I left him he said he was going up to Beni Melal, maybe another 30km but going north, he had no problems thanking for the ride and I watched as he walked away decidedly down the road, hope he got a ride instead of walking through the night as it's cold there. 

Stopped in Aghbala, it was 15:17 when this picture was taken. Aghbala has many qualities: it's got a kick ass adventure sounding name, it's busy in a Atlas exotic sort of adventure way instead of nasty city way, smoke from coal grills and woodburning chimneys was wafting through the air, streets were paved with mud covered tarmac, people couldn't give a shit about me being there except for kids, I spotted a little snack place with a hot metal plate, so stop the bike and walk in.

 

 

The lady running the place didn't speak a word of french but we got along, I managed to get my favourite sardines served inside a bread long with diced tomatoes and onions, it was pretty fucking awesome and flavoured perfectly. Just the kind of thing to pick you up. Picture does not do it justice.

Also had a kind of sausage, that feels like mostly paprika inside with little meat, it was quite spicy. I've no idea what it's made of.

As I was eating, there was a lady with a child in the back. The little girl completely taken with curiosity came to investigate me from a safe distance. After a few winks she finally gave me the biggest smile, I didn't catch that on a picture though.

Nothing like a silly traveller to make women put on a pretty smile for a crazy foreigner

 

Feeling comforted from both a great meal and the warming smiles, I crack on! The plan was to make it back to Imilchil, the little mountain village I had passed through a few days before, and take the lovely mountain dirt pass again, going again to Boulmane and then coming back north up the Todra Gorge. This would add at least a day to my trip but who cares, I make progress...

Temperatures drop substancially, it's now about 16:30 and it's been between 6 to 8ºC for the last hour or so, then it becomes clear the more mountain passes crossing the Atlas aren't a good idea, I'll let the pictures tell you why, that white stuff is where I'm heading.

 

I've been to Imilchil and that area in days that saw me enduring 35º before and after, and still being sort of chilly there, it didn't sound like a half pleasant idea to go past there with snow on, so that plan was discarded and I fell back on plan B, Plan B was to go near Zaida, and stay back on the same place I did before. Funny enough that's what me and Maria did in 2017, stayed there once going South and once going North.

I went, and about one hour later got there. It was now getting proper cold in the area. I tried the check in and nobody was there, the restaurant and you could go in and rob the place, nobody around, tried to see if the room I wanted was open and it wasn't, then tried everything again and found the TV room, everyone was watching the first half of the Morocco vs Spain match.

I got my key and we left formalities for later, quickly had a hot shower and made it there to watch the end of the match. Morocco won on penalties, their goalkeeper "Bono" was gigantic and eliminated Spain.

Most people lost their shit, the single one guy in front of the tv not jumping? He's a Spaniard:

 

 

Now, Moroccans are insane about football, they will now way more about the portuguese league than I ever will, they'll know players names from the first 15 teams in Portugal, and that knowledge extends to Spain, France, Germany, England and Italy, it's amazing. They will watch most things with true enthusiasm, and that day Portugal was to play agains Switzerland. My new friend Mamoud proclaimed he would watch the match with me, so now I had to 

I had my dinner of preserved citron and chicken tagine, and it was very much amazing, and drank a 375cc bottle of Moroccan wine. It's not the greatest wine, it's below average in Portugal, but you live according to your surroundings

 

What happened next was a thing of beauty, as I sat down to watch the match, 10 minutes after it started there were two guys there; one Moroccan, tall guy built like a closet, had a big smile but only one crooked tooth to be seen, then the other was clearly European. As he didn't say hello back when I sat down I asked if he was Moroccan and he answers with a very distinct superiority: "Moroccan, me? I'm Swiss!" 

I proudly stated I was Portuguese, and the Moroccan guy just erupted into the loudest laugh, and went to scrub his hands together in a way that clearly meant "game on!"

Portugal finished the first half with 2 or 3 goals over the Swiss team, clearly going to win, my Swiss fellow traveler wasn't a good looser. I went out and smoked a cigarette with Mamoud and another guy, now part of the small group of avid football fans. I went and bought another wine bottle, to share with Mamoud, but did the gentlemanly thing and went to offer some to the Swiss, who coldly stated he was having a beer. So, instead of ordering a big bottle I got another small one, Mamoud wasn't much of a drinking and I felt awkward to drink a normal amount amongst company with unknown beliefs towards alcohol.

German tourer parked for the night outside the restaurant, I can see the appeal in proper winter:

The Swiss made fun of Moroccan wine, and went on to nurse the one sip left on his beer glass for a while, stating that in Portugal we do have nice wine. I agreed, and swallowed my mental response in which I told him that being a Swiss he knows shit about wine.

Portugal won 5-1, the dude quickly got up 1 second after the final beep and stormed out, he was a twat and sadly the first contact I had with another foreign motorcyclist. Had another smoke with Mamoud to celebrate, who turns out used to ride a 125cc 2 stroke Yamaha (it went up hills with two big people no problem) said our farewells, and went to bed. 

It was properly cold that night, but I slept great after a day of motorcycle riding, mountains, good food and a little wine in me, and enjoyed my comfy bed with really heavy covers.

[Pedro]

59 minutes ago, yen_powell said:

I had to look up Argan oil. It mentioned the traditional way of extracting it!!!

A tradition in some areas of Morocco allows goats to climb argan trees to feed freely on the fruits. The kernels are then later retrieved from the goat droppings, considerably reducing the labour involved in extraction at the expense of some potential gustatory aversion.

 

That's true, the goats climbing the trees are an amazing show when they do it up in the mountains. Not that it matters since the seeds squeezed for oil are protected inside the shells that need to be cracked open to retrieve them, but the practice of collecting seeds like that isn't a thing anymore. Argan oil went from being a foreign thing to richly valued for the cosmetic industry, and for Parisian chefs to lavishly use it on salads, so value increased exponentially over the last few years. As such, herding is done less and less on Argan, and they're mostly picked like olives.

[XTreme]

Outstanding Pedro!

[Pedro]

07th December, Wednesday

It was the coldest night since I've been in Morocco, snow covered mountain tops were in sight of where I slept. I woke up with no alarm clock, as has been so for a couple of years except with unusually early work commitments. And since it was dark and still too cold, I laid in bed enjoying the warmth.

Dawn was at a little past 8, this is 8:33, bike felt cold just from looking at it in the distance, minimum temperature that night had been 1ºC. It was the first time in this trip that it cranked slowly once before starting, maybe still sleepy!

 

After slowly enjoying breakfast and double the usual amount of hot coffee to allow the sun to kill off some of the early morning cold, I get out and ride off with 4ºC showing on the dashboard.

I am definitely heading north and back home, though, first heading is to Fes and then Tangier. Winter is firmly arriving and I am not equipped for it.

A little later I stop on an open plain, this is the last wide open spot that I'll see on this trip, so decide to stop and enjoy it for a moment as I had done so before, in 2017. In 2017 it was decided that our next few trips wouldn't be to Morocco, and I distinctly remember passing this road, undergoing construction at the time, and realizing I wouldn't be doing this for a while. Fate proved cruel and I couldn't anticipate how right I was. 

 

The road to Sefrou is great, sometimes it almost feels European in a good way. My phone demanded my attention and I stopped for a while, right on the middle of some twisties.

 

Moroccan police is strict with speed limit enforcements, they have just the few fixed cameras around major cities, but all around the country you can expect to find the odd police stopping point armed with a speed gun. For European vehicles some of the 60kmh seem too low, but they really aren't considering the state of some of their vehicles and the loads they carry. A little after the previous picture was taken I was warned by an oncoming car about the radar, and after it stopped by a couple having a cigarette by their motorcycle. They were a very cool couple, spaniards in their 60s, riding a grey and red R1250GSA also with Vario cases, the dude was surprised to see mine on the GSA and like geeks we bonded over how bikes look shit with the tubes required to carry aluminum cases when the cases are off. They frequently ride all over the Iberian Peninsula and Morocco, it was a nice meeting and one of those sort of short contacts with people that warm up your day. Cool bike they had, too!

Street dog pack in Sefrou:

 

I made it to Fes quite early, and decided to stay. The couple from before had told me that I would be facing rain storms in Spain and Portugal, and north Morocco as well, and that I should spend a couple of days to wait them out before going if not in a hurry. I'm no good in just waiting around like that and seemed to me I was going to ride through the rain regardless, it was a matter of choosing to do it in one or two days of heavy rain or 4 or 5 days of shit weather. I chose the least time regardless of intensity.

Arriving at Fes I got hit with a big time nostalgia, having spent a few nice days here before. Fes gets really hot in the summertime and most of the year it's warmer than you would think considering it's almost northern location. Stoplights sometimes have little sun beaks to make lights easier to see in bright sunshine, here sometimes they melt over the lights from the heat! It's also a place where revolving outdoor publicity signs have airconditioning systems attached, so they don't burn out in summertime. I arrived sometime around after midday, and the temperature made me comfortable compared to the early morning cold.

I went looking for a shop where I bought a carpet previously, they had reasonable prices and acted like a cooperative, the selection was immense and they had friendly people there. That shop was now extinct and replaced by a place that now works on the third story of an office building and sells mostly custom carpets to big hotels. They only had one Kilim rug there, it was pretty but the dude wanted 3200 dirhams for it, and I think that was too much, so didn't take it. He was immovable on price, so he can keep it.

 

My hotel of choice made me smile when I rocked up at 13:00 and asked for a room. The dude proved what southern Moroccans think of people from the big cities of Casablanca, Rabat and Fes by being an altive twat and telling me to come back later since they had no rooms ready yet. Since it isn't summertime and I wouldn't miss their amazing swimming pool space, I went across the street and 20 minutes later was having my shower and getting ready to go for a walk. 

Fes' main avenue, ending at the royal palace's gold leafed doors.

 

I stopped for a snack somewhere where me and Maria used to have dinner at, still the same guy but he was in a bad mood that day, lunch was cheap but completely forgettable, and not worthy of a picture either, and that's saying something considering this ride report 's picture intensity. I walked to the medina borders to see if I could find a rug shop and to walk off some of the afternoon. Getting to the medina was a few kms walk, and the noise, smells and pollution of Fes got me before that. I felt miserable and intoxicated, people had no space for a friendly smile towards a foreigner unless asking for a coin or trying to attract you towards a stand selling something. Cafes showed no hospitality and overall my nostalgia towards Fes was not returned. Next time I'll treat it the same way.

 

Stopped by the hotel for a little, to organize some of the luggage and sit in my bed to relax a little. Went out to find something to eat at night, and sat down to eat some pretty average rotisserie chicken, not on pair at all with what you get in smaller places. I did smile at the table next to mine as I watched three older ladies in traditional but couture level clothings eat their chicken breasts with their fingers, to me that moment illustrated the difference between European and Moroccan table costumes. Did come across a pretty cool street stand selling books, most of them in Arabic but some pretty cool covers there.

 

Searched for a cafe but regardless of the abundance of establishments all I saw were noisy unpleasant places and rude waiters, gave that a pass and went to my room. I had a big day ahead and felt like quiet.

I slept ok as I was a little tired from the afternoon walk, but a little sad of the disapointement that Fes turned out to be. Earlier I had booked my ferry pass to Tarifa sailing out of Tangier Ville port at 15:00, it's no big deal making it but I was supposed to get the first proper rains of this trip, and that I did...

[Pedro]

I had went to bed early, and did set an alarm clock for the first time in weeks, to 06:30. That gave me time to enjoy waking up lazily in bed, procrastinating getting up while enjoying my own company. Breakfast was the only poor one I had this trip, that went nicely with the theme of this visit to Fes, croissants were stale and worthy of one single bite, orange juice hadn't seen an orange since an industrial factory somewhere once processed them, and coffee tasted like Nescafe. In Morocco there's no excuse for non fresh orange juice and shit coffee, but it made sense as that hotel didn't even offer a breakfast free stay, they had to push people to eat it 

I was ready to go a little after 7, but as I looked around the streets seemed really wet and it was going to be dark for a while after leaving, so grudgingly put my plastic rain pants and jacket on.

By 07:25, I was ready to go:

 

Put navigation on heading to Ain Dorij, and rode off, google maps took me out via tiny streets that seemed more complicated than needed, but the low traffic showed me a less seen side of Fes. It was interesting. 

Getting out of town and rain starts to steadily fall, at 08:15 I had had my only really challenging moment on the road and stopped to enjoy the sunrise a little, on a particularly muddy and poorly surfaced bit of road tilting to the right, I was forced to brake a little and basically slid off the road, I spotted the gravel bit outside the tarmac and simply pointed to that and rode it for a while. I am most impressed at the Mitas E07 + Dakar, they're sound tires even if the manufacturer warns that they have poor performance in rain and cold.

08:15:

 

Rain properly starts to fall shortly later, my phone is now safe in my jacket and I stop for a moment's rest after spotting shelter. Someone takes my picture as for whatever reason I was enjoying it quite a bit.

The above was at 08:55, I then put the phone back in my jacket pocket safe from the weather, and rode all the way to Tangier with no need for it. Navigation was easy and although I was riding on less than main roads I knew I had to go pass Ouezzane and then Chefchaouen, it proved easy. Rain didn't stop for the rest of the morning, averaging from hard to very hard and very windy at the same time. I got stopped at a checkpoint and after the initial small talk the officer told me I had been spotted at 95kmh on a 60, I got off the bike with the helmet open, got my right glove off and introduced myself, told him I would be more respectful from now on, but that I was intended on catching the Ferry and wanted to not miss it, all while putting my biggest possible good guy big smile attitude. Then he asked me for my papers while looking at the back of the bike, and asked where I was from as clearly I didn't have a French or German plate, upon the answer of "Portugaise" he enthusiastically shook my hand and after becoming friends sent me on my way with a big smile and a "ride safe" farewell. Portugal is a good nationality to be in Morocco, our national football team shares the same colours, and we both like beating the French and Spaniards. 

From there it was very smooth to Tangier, if plenty of wet. The last miles before Tangier were dry and windy, which allowed the overalls to dry on the outside. I had money with me so stopped to top up the bike at a Shell station, rode into Tangier feeling like a road worn adventurer, and quickly got lost in lunchtime traffic 

Stopped at a cafe with outside tables on a common street and ordered a sandwich. While it took forever to arrive I took the overalls off and made myself comfortable. Turns out my overall pants aren't really waterproof anymore, my jeans were wet on the outside all over the waterproof stitches, and my chest and upper back was fully wet too. Good stuff!

The bike looked proper and had just proven to be a trusty friend, a true work beast or a war horse:

 

It was good to ride to the port without the blasted rain suit, hang around for a little getting in line for the bike to be x-rayed, it all went easily as if hipotetically crossing between any European countries. The crossing was a little choppy, the storms seemed to have angered the Mediterranean and the boat rocked heavily the whole trip. At first it was funny like so, look at the water level in the horizon:

 

But after a while people started to get a little tired of it, I felt like having a piss but sat firmly in my seat at the risk of falling over when walking or throwing up if standing, two guys started praying to Allah, and a few people had hands on their faces like trying to prevent eyes from popping out. 

We made it ok though, lack of paperwork on the boat was a bonus, I don't envy people crossing the other way and having to write stuff down, I would succumb to that for sure!

Got out of the boat in my due time, and pushed the bike along with all the line of cars that got off the boat before I did. Tarifa looked stormy, so I put the rain stuff back on, the time at Tangier and on the boat had dried my clothes so I felt comfy and fresh.

 

It was past 16:00 by the time I rode out of Tarifa, I had looked at hotels around there and also the weather forecasts, it was rain for the next few days, so feeling fresh after the ride from Fes I decided to go home for the night, Waze sent me via Badajoz which wouldn't have been my preferred route, but as it was raining through Sevilla (or was it Huelva already? I don't know...) I was lazy and followed it's guidance. Storms were littered all around, with orange warnings for heavy rain so I figured there must be a reason for the longer route. 

Right before entering Portugal I stopped for a snack after riding all the way from Tarifa in heavy rains. 20km into the trip a water barrier descended upon me with such violence that water pushed into my overalls with ease through my neck and wrists. This stop made sense, and the tiny jamon con queso bocadillho provided me with a little comfort from the belly outwards. The beer is 0% alcohol, too.

 

The snack and fuel stop was at 20:09, I made it home at 22:54 and the bike looked pretty much like I did except prettier, just as wet.

 

That was an epic day riding, around 300/320km in Morocco's backroads and around 700km in Europe with port crossing and a choppy ride in the middle of it, I felt like it was a proper day to end a proper trip, and was comforted by a hot shower in my own house, that I grew to love from Maria. Heated up some of Sofia's shepherds pie and opened a bottle of red wine.

I was feeling energized when arriving home, despite the long day, but as soon as food and wine hit my stomach and I settled from the excitement of riding through rain storms, I started feeling tired. That night I fell asleep moments after laying down, and the rain lashed the outside of my bedroom walls through the night.

On this trip I travelled with Maria and Sofia, and have to thank you all for providing an audience, the taking pictures everywhere provided with a distraction to some of the very intense feelings I had. I got through it and the extreme darkness I feared didn't appear, only sorrow and the memory of loving times did. I hardly ever felt alone on this trip.

It was a nice one, there will be more.

Thank you for all the nice comments.

[Grasshopper]

Wow, what a trip and great ride reports.  So many pictures I was going to comment on, but I should be booking some stuff for my next few days of travel.  Enough of the warmth and sand, back to snowy highways.

I’m happy for you as it sounds like your adventure was really good for you.

[Saul]

I really enjoyed all of your reports Pedro.  You have a talent for writing and engaging the reader.  I had thought long trips on BMW's were behind me but reading your reports had me dreaming of more.   Thanks for sharing your feelings also, gave some real emotional colour and context to the trip.    The photos were stunning.  

[XTreme]

4 minutes ago, Saul said:

You have a talent for writing and engaging the reader.

Very true......Pedro's a great writer!

[yen_powell]

Absolutely cracking.

[Sofia]

13 hours ago, Pedro said:

I had went to bed early, and did set an alarm clock for the first time in weeks, to 06:30. That gave me time to enjoy waking up lazily in bed, procrastinating getting up while enjoying my own company. Breakfast was the only poor one I had this trip, that went nicely with the theme of this visit to Fes, croissants were stale and worthy of one single bite, orange juice hadn't seen an orange since an industrial factory somewhere once processed them, and coffee tasted like Nescafe. In Morocco there's no excuse for non fresh orange juice and shit coffee, but it made sense as that hotel didn't even offer a breakfast free stay, they had to push people to eat it 

I was ready to go a little after 7, but as I looked around the streets seemed really wet and it was going to be dark for a while after leaving, so grudgingly put my plastic rain pants and jacket on.

By 07:25, I was ready to go:

 

Put navigation on heading to Ain Dorij, and rode off, google maps took me out via tiny streets that seemed more complicated than needed, but the low traffic showed me a less seen side of Fes. It was interesting. 

Getting out of town and rain starts to steadily fall, at 08:15 I had had my only really challenging moment on the road and stopped to enjoy the sunrise a little, on a particularly muddy and poorly surfaced bit of road tilting to the right, I was forced to brake a little and basically slid off the road, I spotted the gravel bit outside the tarmac and simply pointed to that and rode it for a while. I am most impressed at the Mitas E07 + Dakar, they're sound tires even if the manufacturer warns that they have poor performance in rain and cold.

08:15:

 

Rain properly starts to fall shortly later, my phone is now safe in my jacket and I stop for a moment's rest after spotting shelter. Someone takes my picture as for whatever reason I was enjoying it quite a bit.

The above was at 08:55, I then put the phone back in my jacket pocket safe from the weather, and rode all the way to Tangier with no need for it. Navigation was easy and although I was riding on less than main roads I knew I had to go pass Ouezzane and then Chefchaouen, it proved easy. Rain didn't stop for the rest of the morning, averaging from hard to very hard and very windy at the same time. I got stopped at a checkpoint and after the initial small talk the officer told me I had been spotted at 95kmh on a 60, I got off the bike with the helmet open, got my right glove off and introduced myself, told him I would be more respectful from now on, but that I was intended on catching the Ferry and wanted to not miss it, all while putting my biggest possible good guy big smile attitude. Then he asked me for my papers while looking at the back of the bike, and asked where I was from as clearly I didn't have a French or German plate, upon the answer of "Portugaise" he enthusiastically shook my hand and after becoming friends sent me on my way with a big smile and a "ride safe" farewell. Portugal is a good nationality to be in Morocco, our national football team shares the same colours, and we both like beating the French and Spaniards. 

From there it was very smooth to Tangier, if plenty of wet. The last miles before Tangier were dry and windy, which allowed the overalls to dry on the outside. I had money with me so stopped to top up the bike at a Shell station, rode into Tangier feeling like a road worn adventurer, and quickly got lost in lunchtime traffic 

Stopped at a cafe with outside tables on a common street and ordered a sandwich. While it took forever to arrive I took the overalls off and made myself comfortable. Turns out my overall pants aren't really waterproof anymore, my jeans were wet on the outside all over the waterproof stitches, and my chest and upper back was fully wet too. Good stuff!

The bike looked proper and had just proven to be a trusty friend, a true work beast or a war horse:

 

It was good to ride to the port without the blasted rain suit, hang around for a little getting in line for the bike to be x-rayed, it all went easily as if hipotetically crossing between any European countries. The crossing was a little choppy, the storms seemed to have angered the Mediterranean and the boat rocked heavily the whole trip. At first it was funny like so, look at the water level in the horizon:

 

But after a while people started to get a little tired of it, I felt like having a piss but sat firmly in my seat at the risk of falling over when walking or throwing up if standing, two guys started praying to Allah, and a few people had hands on their faces like trying to prevent eyes from popping out. 

We made it ok though, lack of paperwork on the boat was a bonus, I don't envy people crossing the other way and having to write stuff down, I would succumb to that for sure!

Got out of the boat in my due time, and pushed the bike along with all the line of cars that got off the boat before I did. Tarifa looked stormy, so I put the rain stuff back on, the time at Tangier and on the boat had dried my clothes so I felt comfy and fresh.

 

It was past 16:00 by the time I rode out of Tarifa, I had looked at hotels around there and also the weather forecasts, it was rain for the next few days, so feeling fresh after the ride from Fes I decided to go home for the night, Waze sent me via Badajoz which wouldn't have been my preferred route, but as it was raining through Sevilla (or was it Huelva already? I don't know...) I was lazy and followed it's guidance. Storms were littered all around, with orange warnings for heavy rain so I figured there must be a reason for the longer route. 

Right before entering Portugal I stopped for a snack after riding all the way from Tarifa in heavy rains. 20km into the trip a water barrier descended upon me with such violence that water pushed into my overalls with ease through my neck and wrists. This stop made sense, and the tiny jamon con queso bocadillho provided me with a little comfort from the belly outwards. The beer is 0% alcohol, too.

 

The snack and fuel stop was at 20:09, I made it home at 22:54 and the bike looked pretty much like I did except prettier, just as wet.

 

That was an epic day riding, around 300/320km in Morocco's backroads and around 700km in Europe with port crossing and a choppy ride in the middle of it, I felt like it was a proper day to end a proper trip, and was comforted by a hot shower in my own house, that I grew to love from Maria. Heated up some of Sofia's shepherds pie and opened a bottle of red wine.

I was feeling energized when arriving home, despite the long day, but as soon as food and wine hit my stomach and I settled from the excitement of riding through rain storms, I started feeling tired. That night I fell asleep moments after laying down, and the rain lashed the outside of my bedroom walls through the night.

On this trip I travelled with Maria and Sofia, and have to thank you all for providing an audience, the taking pictures everywhere provided with a distraction to some of the very intense feelings I had. I got through it and the extreme darkness I feared didn't appear, only sorrow and the memory of loving times did. I hardly ever felt alone on this trip.

It was a nice one, there will be more.

Thank you for all the nice comments.

  thank you for sharing it with us. 

[Catteeclan]

Thanks for the ride Pedro, excellent report. Felt a little emotional for you reading some of that.

 

My favourite pic.

[Pedro]

Thank you for the kind comments, guys!

 

6 hours ago, Saul said:

I really enjoyed all of your reports Pedro.  You have a talent for writing and engaging the reader.  I had thought long trips on BMW's were behind me but reading your reports had me dreaming of more.   Thanks for sharing your feelings also, gave some real emotional colour and context to the trip.    The photos were stunning.  

You don't need a BMW to do any of this stuff and many bikes would probably be a lot better offroad, but I really appreciate mine and it absolutely suits my riding style.

 

[Saul]

1 hour ago, Pedro said:

Thank you for the kind comments, guys!

 

You don't need a BMW to do any of this stuff and many bikes would probably be a lot better offroad, but I really appreciate mine and it absolutely suits my riding style.

 

I know you don't need a BMW but I have done a lot of miles on them in the past, although a different generation to yours.  To my mind it's the right choice for long trips, or it was back in the day for me, now I would look at a F700/800GS if I were to go the BMW route again and travel again.    Something I can contemplate now my kids are older and have less need for me day to to day.     Have to get a lot more miles under my belt before I would attempt to go on any adventures or long trips, a confidence thing.  I know my Himalayan would do it as many have done before me, but it doesn't have the grunt to travel the way I would want to.        Each to their own choices I suppose.