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Morocco a country of extremes:
- High mountains and vast plains.
- Incredible wealth and abject poverty.
- Stinking drains to beautiful aromas in the souks
- Fertile farmland to parched desert.
- Crap roads to immaculate black top.
- Filthy mediaeval slums to modern high rise appartments.
- Searing heat to bitter cold (summer temp often +40C, lowest recorded -20c)
- Annoying bastard touts and some of the most hospitable people on earth.

It stretches from the edge of Europe where the climate is Mediterranean, over 1900km south to the edge of Black Africa where where the climate is most definitely desert. West to east, it ranges from fertile coastal plains to the high Atlas mountains. There is something to see around every bend....and someone who wants to sell you something, but you get used to that:-)

It is a huge country. To put it in perspective, Morocco is just about as far from top to bottom as it is from Northern France to Southern Spain, except the roads ( and drivers) are much worse. I feel I only rattled round a few of the major sights. Most of my trip was on major roads so have sort of done a tour that anyone could do in an ordinary car. The green line shows the route I took. Winter meant that many of the more 'challenging/interesting' routes were snowbound so were out of bounds for me.

All done, 5,500 miles later, this blog, over 1000 photos, a few scrapes on the bike and a lot of great memories is what I have to show for it.

Was it worth it? Definitely.
Will I go back? As soon as I can, preferably in springtime when I can take a look at some of the High Atlas roads that were closed.

By bike/car/bicycle/airplane....however you choose to get there, just go take a look. It is well worth it.

Home again

Last Day....at least in Spain. I woke up in my Hostal room hoping that there had been a thaw or at least no more snow and was disappointed on the first and glad that the second hadn't happened. Took the obligatory pic out the bathroom window to remind myself that riding in Spain in December is a little bit silly. The roads looked clear enough but the route out of the hostal carpark was a skating rink. The car drivers were giving me strange looks.

Spain is covered with these huge Bull sillhouettes. You cant drive more than 20 miles without seeing one. Several bulls later I reached Burgos and the sign said Santander 130km and I thought great, nearly done. I had been trying to stick to roads with a lot of traffic on them to sweep the snow off. Somehow the direct road to Santander is not favoured by trucks. I seemed to be on my own and soon the snow started to settle. Then I couldnt see any tarmac and the cars coming the other way were covered with inches of the stuff so I decided to backtrack 30km and try find a motorway with traffic. Sometimes trucks are your friend. You wont hear me say that often.

Got to the ferry and met up with Gerard and George, two very interesting characters who had been doing a similar trip to me but who started 7 days behind. Their experience of Moroccan weather was very different. They reported snow/ice/rain/wind on 19 out of 23 days. I started to realise how lucky I had been. George is I believe 72 years young and impressed me by riding one of the biggest heaviest bikes (FJR1300) you can buy up these moroccan passes in the snow. He has even taken the 'mighty yamaha' to Moscow and back. Nuts and lovely with it.


Next time, I'll go in spring. Who knows, if this recession bites as deep as it people think it will, might be the right time to bugger off and do another trip ;-)

Brass Monkey Weather

Decided to take a look at Gibralter seeing as I had visited the Spanish version (Ceuta) a few weeks ago. They are both about the same size and both densely populated. Both are Garrison towns, both are tax free havens and both are in somebody elses country. Both are pretty dingy but Ceuta winds hands down on that score. I imagine you could hold a 6 fingered banjo players convention in either. Gibraltar though has the famous rock and it is pretty impressive. Honeycombed with tunnels, guns and defensive postions, up close, it looks like a swiss cheese. The town is one barracks/bastion/buttress/gate/battery/garrison after another. It even has an airport but the runway runs out into the sea and crosses the main access road which has traffic lights to make sure you dont end up in the cockpit of the daily easyjet flight.

Thought I might pop up to see the famous Apes on the rock but they wanted £9.50 to let me drive the bike in so I declined. It is only 50p if you walk...but with no parking and no security I decided I would go see Europa Point, the light house right out on the tip. There were a bunch of guys there trying to salvage this ship that lost in a head-to-head with the rock on October 15th. The weather came in and I took refuge in a McDonalds of all places....2 hours there....I nearly lost the will to live. Still, I managed to re-attach my mangled sidelight lost in that crash a couple of weeks ago. Is there any limit to what you can achieve with Duck Tape and cable ties?

Called in on Seonaid and Eric in Marbella and helped them drink some of their fine red wine and researched the route back to Santander. Weather was looking decidedly iffy. Eric suggested continuing to search the internet till I found a weather forecast I liked. Interesting idea but they all said rain/snow/sleet no matter where I looked. I was getting a bit concerned because most of the middle of Spain is above 600M it is bloody cold in winter. Then I thought, sod it, I dont have a choice so I will have to take what comes.


After a fine breakfast of bacon and eggs (first pig to pass these lips in a month...yum!) I set off, wearing every stitch I could find. First 60k was a sweaty affair and I though I had over-cooked it....but then the forecast turned out to be right. 2C and rain. Like being hosed down by a slush puppy. Later came the corn snow and I had to pull off the road about 100k south of Madrid. Met some frozen Spanish bikers going the same way as me and they advised reserving a room. We drank a lot more coffee and waited....

After an hour it had melted a bit and the showers died down and we got going again. I wanted to clear the 1400M Pass north of Madrid in case there was a lot of snow overnight. If that happened, there would be no way to get the ferry tomorrow by bike. Temp dropped to -3C and I hoped there was lots of salt to stop the road freezing. Eventually, I realised I was pushing my luck and to reinforce the point a shower of snow told me to get off the road and I hauled up at a roadside hostel. Broke the back of the trip with 700km today and only 320k to Santander and all day to do it so should be fine.

Out of Africa

Today was a funny old day. Left Fes with the idea of getting my feet wet at the seaside in Larache and then heading for Spain tomorrow. Instead, Morocco decided to give me a 'soft day' as it is called in Ireland. It dribbled on me the whole day long. Not proper rain that falls and then you can get on with your day but that seeping relentless kind that eventually fills your boots, no matter what you have on. Cold soggy stuff. So I texted my weather consultant Richard and he gave me the good news that it is going to rain everywhere I plan to be for the next 3 days. Crap.

Didn't really take my camera out today, only took 6 pictures all day, a new low for me. In one of the few dry moments in the day, I stopped on a single lane bridge behind some cars that were following a herd of cattle and was then swamped by this flock of very mucky sheep closely followed by their jolly shepherds. The highlight of the day.


Decided then to go for Spain via Larache and if it dried up then I would stay one more night. It started to pour and and then I said sod it, my heart was not in it anymore. Tapas for tea, so I headed for Tangier. Arrived at ferryport at 1740, used all but my last 20DH to buy the ticket, was on ferry at 1757 and in spain at 1840. Even the ridiculous customs bureaucracy was made easy by the rain. Goodbye Africa and Morocco...for now.

Checked into a trucker hostel and I had a craving for something not Tagine. So I ordered the 8 Euro 'Menu del Dia' and ate some real Spanish brown food. No vegetable or vitamin content whatsoever. Some sort of fried rendered chicken rubbish. I was starving and I only stopped when I realised I was probably doing myself more harm than good. The coffee was excellent though. What I wouldnt give to have a nice green salad.....not had one since the Brittany ferries trip a month ago. Salad in Morocco is a good way to sample all the local microbes and spendf a lot of time talking to God on the bugh white telephone.

Quiet Fes

Fes is a strange place. It is composed of three cities really, the Ville Nouvelle built by the French, Fes el Djedad (new Fes - established in the 13th C.) and Fes el Bali (old Fes established sometime around 800). The new town is mostly straight lines, New Fes has some straight lines and some big open spaces and a very grand Royal Palace. This is a shot of the front door and for some reason, they are not worried about you taking pictures. Every other time I have tried to take a picture of a Royal Palace, the police get very excited.

Old Fes has not got a single straight line in it at all. The widest street in it is no more than a winding alley and the place is a labyrinth of souks, dead ends and narrow passages. It is very easy to get lost. The rough guide recommends you take a guided tour for an introduction but I said bugger that and had a go. All the street signs are in Arabic but there are some helpful tourist signs in english with arrows pointing you towards the main sights. I have to say that I was a little intimidated by the whole thing. One hour and 6 offers to 'guide' me to the medina later, I was in and wandering. I managed to find most of the bits I wanted to see quite by accident. You could easily spend days wandering the place and still see something new everytime you turn a corner.

It is pretty obvious when you get near the tanneries. (there are 3 I think) The stench is a good clue. The local shopkeepers invite you in to take a view from their rooftop terraces on the chance that you may buy something from the shop. Unfortuately, most of the tannery workers were on holiday as it is still holiday season so this shot is not the normal situation. The stink is something else and I do not envy anyone their job there.

After 6 hours walking around, I decided to cut my stay in Fes short and come back when it is busier. About 2/3rds of the stalls in the souks were closed for the holiday and tomorrow (Friday) it will be even quieter. As an intro to Fes on my own, I am glad that I saw it like this but I want the full monty version next.

Soggy day

Woke up this morning feeling a bit groggy with a head cold. Maybe there is some truth in the old wives tale about having wet feet. My little bathing experience a couple of days ago may have come home to haunt me. My mood was not improved when I opened the curtains to discover it was raining cats & dogs. The french have a nice saying which translated goes 'raining like a pissing cow'. Felt like the whole herd was at it up there.

I looked at the map and decided to check the conditions further up the road with the locals. I was planning to take a scenic route along the edge of the mountains towards Azrou. Rain at Beni Mellal would mean snow at Azrou and very difficult road conditions in the mountains. I saw yesterday what rain does to mountain roads and decided to be sensible and take a roundabout route to Fes. Even one ford with a good flow over it would be a real problem.

Passed by this Oued in flood and decided that I made a good decision. I have crossed hundreds of Oueds over the past weeks and almost none have had any water in them. Normally, they are pretty wide with very heavily eroded bank and a lot of rocks and sand in the bottom. When it rains, you dont want to pitch your tent anywhere near! Mostly, it just spitted at me all day but sometimes there were proper biblical proportioned showers and I was left riding along through slurry that flowed onto the roads from the surrounding fields. Slippery as hell.

Passed through some beautiful red and green countryside just inland of Rabat and then turned east again to Fes. The green I am now aware is because of the rain. I had my first experience of a Moroccan motorway. Looks just like a normal one, complete with toll booths, speed cameras, roadsigns that you can actually read and with a very good surface. Weird thing was that the cars didn't belch smoke and fumes and moved at a reasonable speed. I put this down to the cost of driving on it. For a motorcycle, it costs the equivalent of a restaurant meal to go 90km. This is beyond the means of many people here. So instead they walk on the hard shoulder, graze their sheep on the embankments, hitch lifts and I even saw a guy crossing on his donkey. Rode into Fes and despite the rain, the scooter guys managed to find me and try to get me to follow them to a hotel/carpet shop/restaurant. Amazingly persistent and speaking most main european languages, these guys flock like vultures round the recently arrived tourist carcass. Told them to bugger off...

Kebabs & Chasms

Today is the day all the sheep got it and were turned into kebab. Before I had gone 100m, I saw 4 in various stages of being dispached. And this continued for the next 3 hours as I passed through village after village. Everybody who could afford it was getting ready to make mutton kebab for the next 2 weeks. Pretty much the whole family stood around as the head of the family performed his duty on the poor beast. Last night in the market, the knife sharpeners were doing a brisk business. By my reckoning, 2 million sheep met a sudden end today.

Decided to go over the High Atlas again and head for Fes in a couple of days, but this time over a smaller road. Peter said it was a beautiful pass with a good asphalt road. He was right about the beautiful pass, but the road has suffered a lot with the rain and snow melt. Lots of mud, stones and rocks have have been washed down. In one place the road was scoured away completely. Some bits were even frozen solid. You got to take it easy as you do not know what is around the corner and if you get too near the edge, then only your favourite God is going to be any help. No stone walls or armcor barriers up here.

But there was no other traffic. Today is like Xmas day in Ireland. Everybody dressed in their finest and going to visit relations & friends. Swap kebab for Turkey and there you have it. Nobody was on the roads and it was an amazing difference. No acrid fumes, no smoke haze, just me and the road and I needed all I could get. It took about 5 hours to get 140k or so to Demnate and I was bloody cold by the time I got there. Someone switched off the sunlamp and turned on the freezer half way through the day. Had to pass 2 cols over 2200m and there was some snow about but the real cold came from the wind up top.

On the way down, I passed by this natural bridge. This is a rock bridge formed about 1.8M years ago. There is even a road over the top. I decided to head for some famous waterfalls near Orzoud and got as far as the village but decided tokeep going as there was only 30 mins of light left and another windy mountain pass to cross. Amazing road which I will have to come back and do in daylight. All the best sights are in your mirrrs and that is not a good thing to be looking at when you are on mountain roads.

Wet Feet

Spent a very peaceful night in a Kasbah hotel. Mud walls, bamboo/rattan ceilings, Camels in the stables and the obligatory tagine. The place was called the Kasbah Panoramic as it had fab views of the surrounding desert and Erg Chebbi. I got up at dawn to walk round and see the place before the light got too strong.

I set off on a piste towards Erfoud about 25k away. The hotel staff said it was easy so I decided to give it a go. Seemsed easy, just follow the GPS trail....except the GPS trail and the piste were not the same. And there were hundreds of pistes as this is a real 4x4 excursion area. The desert round here is mostly flat with lots of baked hard mud, small rocks & stones. The whole place is cris-crossed with them....and there is plenty of my old favorite....sand.

And then I saw this. Crap, I thought. The choices were to cross or go back the way I came and it had just taken me 1 hour 40 mins to do the piste. I looked for a while and say that the water was not that deep but quite fast flowing. Cars were able to cross but they were detouring round two big holes in the cement. If I put a wheel in one of them, the bike would be down the river before I could do anything. I did the white man thing & waved money at some kids and arranged for two strong ones to walk either side of me and prop me up if anything went wrong. 30 secs and 2 wet feet later I was on the other side breathing a huge sigh of relief. Best £1.80 insurance I ever bought.

I decided I had had enough excitement for one day so headed back to Bikershome in Ouarzazate for a good shower and good company and to plan the route back home. We went out for a milkshake ( very tasty! ) and whilst the ladies were browsing smelly things in the souk equivalent of Boots, I spotted this little number on a shelf.....who would have thought there would be a market for that?

Do the Hustle

Caught up on missed sleep last night and hit the road. Asked Peter about my propsed route and he advised against as it was very difficult. Map says it is a normal road but the local info says it is a quarry with boulders and manholes. That is the trouble with some of the maps here, they can be hopelessly out of date or full of wishful thinking. Nigel bought a map locally which has half the roads missing and the border with Algeria is not even marked on it. I decided to head for some very large sand dunes about 200 miles away at Erg Chebbi. More beautiful roads than you can shake a stick at. Blah Blah

Met my first roadside hustler today. I had heard about them but wasn't too sure whether I would bump into one. It goes like this, someone pretends to have a problem and flags you down, asks for a lift to the next town and then invites you in for a cuppa and then starts the hard sell on a carpet. I being my good samaritan self told him he could have a lift if he could get a helmet. No helmet no ride. He looked confused as nobody here wears helmets anyhow. Trouble was there was loads of traffic so the ruse was not believeable on that road. A mile later, someone else tried it again but this time I didn't even slow down. Anything to make a buck here. Later I stopped for a tea and one of the many 'false guides'/hustlers tried again. When I got up to go, he tried the old one 'that I was rude' to go so quickly. This road is peculiar for this level of hassle. I have not seen anything as bad as this elsewhere.

More desert roads and a balmy 22C. I had my washing strapped to the pillion seat and it was drying nicely. Only a little hint of burnt hydrocarbon on them this evening, a nice manly smell. On the roads you can see some strange sights. Guys on a 25cc scooter with a sheep between his legs, small trucks with a herd of sheep on the roof, a camel in the back of a landrover (head sticking out the top). I saw this little lot coming towards me at a ford. No sign of any safety regulations on the road here.

Took a wrong turn and ended up in the middle of Rissani. No tourists here, just me in the middle of the heaving dusty souk on a large loud bike and attracting a lot of attention. All very intense. There are no roadsigns, streetnames and hardly any straight lines. It is very easy to get lost. Luckily, the GPS allowed me to backtrack. If this had happened 10 days ago, I think I would have flipped.

As I got close to Erg Chebbi, I spotted a kasbah on a hill and a sign saying that it was a hotel so turned onto the piste and checked in. Lovely place with mud and straw walls with an incredible panoramic view of the town nearby and the dunes. These dunes are huge, and are what most people think the Sahara looks like. These ones are about 28km long by 7k at their widest. Will set the clock early to get the dawn from the roof....maybe!

Marrakech Nightlife

Said goodbye to Nigel this morning. His insurance sent over the lovely Jane Dutson MD to make sure he didn't pop his clogs on the way back. They even sent a proper ambulance to take him the 10k to the airport. Bizarre. If they only knew what he had been up to the past few days walking round Marrakech with me. Granted, he spent yesterday talking to God on the big white telephone but apart from that he seemed fine. Sadly, Jane only arrived at 230am so couldn't avail of the night life in Marrakech.

I, on the other hand enjoyed it very much. So much in fact that yesterday was a bit of a wipe-out. I met a Swiss biker yesterday and we arranged to meet up and see what the Marrakech nightclub scene had to offer. Lots of Gin and ladies of dubious morality is the answer. I availed myself heavily of the former and resisted the latter. They threw everything at us. Slim, big-boned, big bums, little bums, big boobs, small ones....the lot. Eventually they gave up after about 3 hours and figured us for gay. When the place was closing, we had a chat with one of the 'hostesses' and found out they had been taking turns to have a crack at us.

So I jumped on the bike at the crack of 11am and got going up the Tizi-n-Tichka pass. I was looking forward to this day the whole trip but it was a bit of a flop. Great road but a hangover and bumper to bumper traffic made it a lousy ride.




The problem with heavy traffic is that nobody here maintains their car and so you can taste the air. Belching big black clouds of fumes, these things crawl up the mountains and make for a thoroughly unpleasent breathing experience. I learned later that everybody is on the move to their family homes for the Eid festival in a few days. Sheep are changing hands now for 2 to 3 times the regular price.

Marrakech

Marrakech is a fabulous place. It assaults the senses and takes no prisoners.
Yesterday evening we went to the main market space called the Djemaa el Fna. In the past it was an assembly ground, place of execution and today it is a market during the day and in the evening it is a kind of carnival. Complete with Lunatic scooter traffic, beggars, hustlers, amazing colours, ancient buildings, good coffee, snake charmers, acrobats, storytellers, musicians, food stalls with delicacies like sheeps head and the best freshest orange juice I have ever tasted for 20p a glass.

I wont even bother trying to describe it. Get an Easyjet flight out here and find out for yourself. Magic.















Nigel is being repatriated tomorrow. They are sending a doctor out today to escort him back home....flying business class. Poor bugger is laid up in bed today with gut trouble. He is, as they say 'not able to fart with confidence'. I ate at the same places and seem to have escaped, so far.

Just over a week to go and I bumped into a swiss guy who is heading south to Mauritania and he gave me some worrying news that the passes over the mountains that I intend crossing were closed due to snow. I have seen snow ploughs here so hopefully it they will open up soon. Back to Ouarzazate and then on to the desert again. Apparently there is a sign out there somewhere which says '42 days to Timbuktu' so I thought I would take a look.

Road to Marrakech

One of the features of food shopping here is that there are few supermarkets. If you want bread, see the baker, vegetables then go to the market and if you want meat see the butcher. Meat from a male animal is more highly prized than that from a female. Sort of goes with the whole Male vs Female theme here. To prove the meat is male, they leave the dangly bits attached. It kind of makes you wince a bit when you see male eqiupment blowing in the wind like that...and no that long white thing hanging on the left is not a sausage.

Went on towards Marrakech over the Tizi-n-Test Pass (2100m). At the start there is a sign that says bends for 120km, and they mean it. In places the drop over the side are enough to make you drive on the other side of the road and most of steep parts are only wide enough for a single truck. Some of it has a good surface, some so-so and some is a work in progress. Great views..but I am betting blase about them now.

On the northern side of the pass, is the partly restored 12th century Tin Mal Mosque. It has its ubiquitous 'guide' with a key who will show you around for a small fee. The most striking thing about it is the symmetry of the arches inside. These have mostly been restored but quite a lot of the building is original. Worth a look.

Texted Nigel to see how he was and found out that he was holed up in a Riad in Marrakech so decided to join him. Nothing really prepares you for the lunacy of the Marrakech traffic. The Bastille roundabout in Paris is a doddle in comparison. They have the silly french right of way rules for roundabouts, pedestrians believe they have a forcefield which makes them impervious to injury, you will be overtaken, undertaken and bullied about by everybody including scooters....and still I didnt see many dented cars....It seems to work, bizarrely enough.

Pulled up outside the Riad and who was there but the entire family from Ourzazate and Nigel. They had come up to deal with the customs bureaucracy for Nigel. Found out thqt Nigel vas q very lucky chqp indeed. The surgeon told him he would have lasted probably another couple of days if he had not had treatment. So the coincidences are;
1) if I had not met him we had not decided to travel together
2) we had not decided on a whim to stop in Ourzazate
3) had not chosen Bikershome to stay in
he would have been much further south and nowhere near any medical facilities and they would have found his bones in the sand...Sobering thought. Nigel kindly posed with his before and after pictures of his stent surgery.

Big Girls Blouse

Stayed in this Riad last night ( posh for B&B ). Very nice with pise walls and wild decoration. The windows are particularly mad. The only windows in the rooms with clear glass are in the loo so you get a very nice view of the street whilst on the throne or in the shower. What is that all about? I must be the biggest wuss in the world making such a fuss over yesterday's ride. At breakfast today, the only other guests in the place, a German couple, Heinz and Petra told me they went down and up the same cliff 2-up on a transalp. 'Ja, OK, shoen, ganz normal.....' was the comment. Yes, I am a big girls blouse.....

So we went for a ride together today to the place I was supposed to go to yesterday, Taroudant. We took the same road I came over on in the snow but this time I could see what I missed last time. Fab scenery (again...getting bored saying that) and cold. Most of the road is at about 1700m. Heinz & Petra are here for a flying holiday ( the paragliding variety ) and were taking a couple of days out to see the mountains by bike and so were well dressed for motorcycling at 3C in big one piece romper suits. We stopped a couple of times to stuff various pieces of spare clothing down Heinz's legs to keep the chill out.


Taroudant is surrounded by fairly well preserved mud walls and the centre is compact and busy. It is a proper Berber market town and has all the hustle & bustle you expect and more. We meandered into town being 'helped/shepherded/guided' by a guy on a scooter. These guys can be quite persistent and wait for tourists on the edge of town and try to bring you directly to a carpet shop/restaurant/cafe where they claim a cut on your bill. We were having none of it and went directly to the main square and lunched.

I got all brave and decided to check into the hotel where we were eating. This place was a new low for me. 70DH for a twin room is very cheap....about £4.70. From my room, I got a view of this. I'm not sure what it is....it could be a sheep hairdressing salon if the signs are to be believed but I dont think so. Soon I found that my sensitive nostrils were not up to it. The gasses coming from the communal loos down the hall were seeping under the door and I decided to bail out and go across the road to a £12 a night place. Big difference for that extra 90DH.

Passed by some kids jumping off the inner rampart of the walls. Cool! No annoying parents worrying about broken necks etc. Told them I would make them famous and put them on youtube. Seemed to get excited by the idea and do some more stunts so I left before I filmed an accident.

Another detour

Left Tantan this morning with the intention of heading for Essaouira by the coast for a bit of R&R...and then I changed the plan. I decided to head for a pretty walled town called Taroudant which involved passing through the Anti-Atlas mountains again. The sky was clear so I hoped to see what I had missed in the snow last week. So off I went.....and then I decided on a bit of an adventure and to go a slightly round about route.

I headed up this beautiful twisty valley with a new surface on it and though great! Kasbah and Oasis to the right, nice road leading up the valley. Then the road turned to piste....and I though OK, I can handle this.




Then the piste turned a bit hairy and I was riding along a river bed with nice round slippy rocks. I asked the locals what the road was like further on and one told me that the bad bit was another 5k long and then the piste was good. So I continued and was rewarded with some incredible sights. A mini grand canyon with sheer walls hundreds of feet high.


One man's 5k is another man's 15k and eventually....I got to another oasis and found that the way out was a very steep windy path up the cliff. I have to say, I was a little anxious at times ;-) If I dropped the bike, there was going to be a bugger of a job picking it up. This is the view at the start. I couldnt see around the corner.....


And this is the view from about 2/3rd way up. I didnt take a pic at the top because I wanted to get out of there. It was windy as hell. An amazing road/path/piste and one that they wont be putting an asphalt surface on any time soon. The detour meant that I couldnt get to Taroudant so I decided to stop off again in Tafaroute and see the rocks again....no bad thing.