Last year I went for my first bike tour organised as an open invitation on the GSer forum and 20 bikes and 22 people headed off last July, through Germany, Austria , Croatia and generally around Eastern Europe, in 10 days. It was a great trip but at quite a pace, and a very large group. Because of the Croatia trip I got to meet GSEddie, also living in Hampshire, and we started to think about a tour for 2010. We wanted less riding in a day, a smaller group, and somewhere interesting. We joked initially about Morocco, but we’d seen the scary videos, with lots of serious off-road, big river crossings, and we concluded Morocco was for hard core riders, not for us, surely.... or could it be?
Then we started to do some research, reading Tim Cullis’s excellent Moroccan guide , http://www.ukgser.com/forums/showthread.php?t=89396 and reading Eddie’s adventure books Morocco Overland and The Adventure Motorcycling Handbook both by Chris Scott and pouring over the Rough Guide Moroccan map I got as a retirement present we began to work out if we could do a mainly road trip with the option of some gentle pistes. After a few planning sessions we began to feel it may be possible.
There are different options to get to Morocco but we did not want to do the long Autoroute blast through France therefore opted for the ferry to Spain and made bookings on the Portsmouth - Santander ferry. This would leave us just a day’s riding through Spain to get to the ferry to Morocco. We started to sketch out an inland route around Morocco, including mountain passes. The idea was to make our way down south in 3 or 4 days to the edge of the desert, spend a few days around there, including a stay at the Biker’s Home Hotel. Then, after exploring the south including some riding without panniers, we would head up to the north again, maybe visiting Marrakesh or Casablanca.
We had used the Garmin Zumo GPS successfully on the Croatia trip and decided it would be handy to have its help for navigation in Morocco. Morocco is not covered in the standard European Garmin mapping(why should it be) so we downloaded Olaf’s free Marokko Topo mapping (http://www.island-olaf.de/travel/marokko/gps.html) recommended in Tim Cullis’s guide. Olaf’s mapping proved very accurate but it does not allow routing to be done automatically by the Zumo between 2 locations but you can create routes by selecting a number of waypoints and making them into a route. Eddie then began to put together routes based on the outline tour route above. Our intention was to mainly stay in hotels as we were told they were cheap but we also wanted the option of camping for a few nights.
The following 3 images are from the GPS track log showing the Moroccan route taken:-
We then began to think of what equipment we would take. We both had 1200GSs so the bikes were sorted and many of the accessories had been well tested on the Croatia trip. One early decision was to add bike-to-bike radio communication this time and we geared up with Kenwoods through the Autocom. I pushed the boat out and invested in a TK3207 radio with an external aerial and we each used push-to-talk. We also agreed Camel Backs were essential on this trip to avoid dehydration. I was lucky to have advice and support from Edventure of this parish, who rode through Morocco on his single handed trip last year to Ghana. Ed told us not to take too much gear and then promptly offered the loan of his array of spares and his 911 diagnostic tool, all of which was very welcome. The key spares were FPC, Antenna ring, inner tubes and spokes. We already had various tyre repair kits and a Slime pump. The spokes were because Eddie and I had put GSA spoked wheels on our 1200GSs and had decided on TKC tyres for this trip. We convinced ourselves the spoked wheels were a better option but really we just liked the look of them on the bike. You may ask why we did not get 1200GS Adventures which already have spoked wheels but are also taller bikes. I can be classed as vertically challenged and Eddie is no giant, so the lower 1200GS suited us better. In my case I also had the factory fitted low suspension and a low seat.
We then had a few meetings at my place to test radios and agree which tools to take. The practical approach would be just to take one set of the right tools and share them out to reduce weight. However we all took our favourite tools, so were well tooled up, again ignoring Edventure’s sage words.
With a couple of months to go, a work colleague of Eddie’s joined the team. Chris had shown his commitment to the venture by buying a few things in advance, like a suitable bike. Chris did not have an adventure bike when he initially enquired about the trip but Eddie explained that he would need a 1200GS as it would be up to the trip and simplify the carrying of spares. With Eddie’s help Chris then bought a 2006 1200GS with low mileage and started to kit it out. This meant Chris had to get Zumo, Autocom, TKCs and Panniers. We all 3 had different pannier options, I had my trusty Zegas, with one new lid, and a big Givi topbox. Eddie had moved over to a GSA ally luggage and Chris had a set of Varios. OK, why the new Zega lid you ask! (If you want the ‘Why the new lid story’ then go to Appendix 1 below, or read it later).
Now back to the Moroccan preparations. With the Zega panniers and topbox I was determined to have just one further bag to sit on the rack behind the riders seat with the passenger seat removed. On the Croatia trip I had 3 bags at one point and this just looked stupid. This time I was using the BMW waterproof zip bag. Eddie was determined to get all his stuff, including the camping gear and tent into his panniers, and succeeded. Chris managed with a waterproof rucksack and his Givi topbox and the Vario panniers. So we were not too overloaded, at least not in volume but the panniers were heavy and the bikes did feel the weight.
Eddie had read up carefully on the documents required for Morocco. This included having the V5 for the bike, insurance, green card, health insurance, driving licence but specifically the 3 part customs form mentioned in Tim Cullis’s briefing. Following Tim’s advice we all linked into the Moroccan Customs website and filled in all the details in advance and printed down the completed forms. This was simple enough to do and easier to do at home than at a windy border crossing with a dodgy pen being hassled by Moroccan ‘helpers’. More on the border later. All these documents, including passport were copied. Again, learning from our last trip, we planned to have a copy of the documents, spare bike keys and a spare credit card carried by someone else in the tour in case anything was lost or stolen.
We also had thought it a good idea to book a couple of the hotels in advance, for the 1st and 2 nd nights in Morocco. This was not hard to do on the internet but with hindsight we would not bother again as hotels were easy to find in towns, and hotels you have found are easier to get to than hotels you have booked and prove hard to find, if this makes sense.
As we all have a computer background we took computers. Eddie and I had netbooks and Chris a full laptop. This also linked in with the video cameras we each had, so that downloading video would be possible each evening. I’ll look at the merits of having video in the lessons learned section near the end of the trip report. I had also treated myself to a new Lumix DMC-ZS3 digital camera for the trip and I’ll say now it was one of the most successful pieces of equipment. One other last minute purchase was a pair of BMW GS gloves which allow good airflow as well as giving some protection as my hands had suffered in the Croatia heat last year with my normal UK gloves. Of course the bikes were all serviced a few weeks prior to the trip. I took mine to Bahnstormers and Eddie and Chris took theirs to a Mr Steptoe, again of this parish.
So the day dawned in early May when we three converged on the Ferry terminal at Portsmouth. It had been +5C when I left home and was a chilly ride to the ferry. We were still getting used to the bikes being fully loaded and the manoeuvring on the ferry was tricky to get the bike in position for the strap down. For those interested the bikes were placed on the side stand and strapped down by the ferry staff. There were loads of bikes packed closely together but the staff were clearly proficient at securing them for the voyage. We headed for our cabins. Eddie and I were sharing and were directed to a cabin which was clearly for a single person. We went to the information desk to point out this silly mistake and were informed very clearly that there are no single cabins on this boat but if we pulled on the drawstring hanging from the ceiling the 2nd bunk bed would be revealed. Eddie and I slunk back to the cabin looking suitably sheepish! The trip takes just over 24 hours and the food and drink is reasonably priced. There is entertainment which had a sense of ‘Hello Campers’ about it. In our group there was more pleasure in laughing at the entertainment than with it. However I know we all secretly regret not taking part in the bingo session while in the middle of the bay of Biscay, hey ho!
Arriving in Santander at around 13:00 local time we headed for the autoroute following our GPS route. We were soon climbing and the temperature dropped, not to freezing but to low single figures and there was snow on the mountains close to the road, a bit of a shock to come across this on our Summer trip. We had decided to avoid the Madrid ring road and chose the westerly Valladolid, Salamanca, Seville route. This initial scenery was great and I even spotted a flock of Griffon Vultures circling overhead, with wings the size of front doors, and I made a mental note not to stop around here in case they were hungry. The motorway we were on was quite new and one feature of it was a lack of service stations. When you needed fuel you had to leave the motorway and head for the nearest town and the signs were not always too helpful. Our plan was to ride till tired and then find a cheap hotel and head off in the morning to get to Algeciras in time to get to Morocco by mid afternoon. As we got tired I searched the GPS for the nearest hotel and followed the route. It took us to a small town and after discovering the waypoint was about 700 meters out and showed the hotel on the wrong side of the road we pulled into a nice country hotel with locked garage parking, a restaurant and bar still open, and a triple room cost about 20 Euro’s each, result. Next morning, refreshed, we headed off via Seville to Algeciras and the ferry. As the road descended to the plain the temperature steadily rose and so did the spirits. The bikes were going well but Chris did feel that his front wheel was a little light and it made motorway progress a little uncomfortable.
Bikes waiting to board Algeciras to Cueta ferry.
As we came in to Algeciras it was not clear where the port was. Eddie suggested on the radio it may be where we could see the large cranes on the skyline. I told him this was a rash conclusion as it may just be a crane manufacturer showing off his products to attract custom. Eddie agreed. At about this point Chris realised the standard of humour and banter he was going to have to listen to for the next 3 weeks. Despite my reservations we headed for the cranes and strangely found the ferry port. This was the first time we came across the ‘Helper’ culture where people would step out in front of you and direct you to this place to buy tickets, exchange money etc. We found what we think was an official ticket seller and got tickets to Ceuta for about 60Euro’s each. Later, we heard a story of an English GS rider who bought a ticket on the street in Algeciras a few days before us and the ticket proved to be worthless. The Ferry to Ceuta was a much better standard than I expected and had comfortable seating and a bar. We tucked in to a very welcome coffee and filled bread roll. The ‘duty free’ shop was tiny and disappointing.
With all the stories we had heard there was a level of anxiety as to what reception we would get from the Moroccan officials as we disembarked. My bike was the first off and I followed directions with my hand on the brake waiting for the police and customers official to stop me for a check. We continued slowly but nobody stopped us and suddenly we found we were out on the street without our papers being checked and getting customs permission to take the bikes into Morocco. The old Moroccan hands will be smiling at this point. We then discovered, when we tried to get back in to the port, that we were not in Morocco yet and in fact had not left Spain. Ceuta is in a small Spanish enclave, like Gibraltar for the UK, where Spain still owns the territory. After winding our way through the back streets of Ceuta we approached the border. We spoke to some French GS riders who had just come through and they advised us not to use a ‘helper’ just do the paperwork yourself and it will be OK. As we left the Spanish border and got close to the Moroccan border were pestered by helpers. They held out police forms which you need to complete to start the process. We then discovered a basic shortcoming of our planning, we could not find a pen to fill in the police form and Eddie and Chris borrowed one from the helper. I stubbornly searched my luggage for a pen and eventually found it and filled in the police form. I took it to the police booth, he checked it and stamped it and my passport. I asked what next and he pointed at the customs(Douane) booth. I went there with my stamped passport and my forms filled in and printed down from the Moroccan Customer website. The customs officer scanned in the form electronically, did not even look at my V5 and gave me back the 2 copies I required. I had completed the Moroccan paperwork in about 10 minutes and felt like cheering. However, there was a stronger urge to get away from this place and the helpers. One of the helpers told Chris that the prefilled out customs forms were no good and he had to fill out another by hand. This was clearly rubbish but no doubt increased the potential tip the helper could get. We made our way out and were checked again to ensure that we had the right papers and were away.
The road out was directly south and along the coast with a strong wind blowing off the sea, causing us to lean the bikes as we rode. We stayed on this road and avoided the motorway heading initially for Tetouan. Chris and I had managed to get Green card cover in UK, both being with Carole Nash and Aviva, but Eddie’s insurance did not offer a Green Card for Morocco. So we headed to Tetouan to get Eddie a Green card. We had a waypoint from the GSer site in Tetuan where it was believed he could get a green card. We wound our way through the streets of the busy town getting our first taste of riding a bike through North African traffic as a group. Of course the waypoint proved not to be entirely accurate, however it had led us to a business area which seemed to have insurance brokers. We parked up and Eddie and I headed off. After being redirected a few times we found a place which would do it but at a cost of nearly 100Euros for 1 month cover and to be paid on Moroccan Dms. We had to then find a Bureau de Change before the deal could be completed. This all took an hour or so but Eddie got a very official form in a nice little plastic folder and more importantly had cover and we were on our way again. We had both lost a few pounds in perspiration as we trudged around in the 30+C heat. Chris in the meantime was with the 3 bikes getting a lot of attention from the locals.
We had booked a hotel in Chefchaouen for the night. The road out of Tetouan was a challenge. It was narrow and twisty and was being repaired and too many people wanted to use it and most vehicles were bigger and harder than our GSs. We had at least one near miss, good training for the roads ahead. The journey certainly got our attention as we wound our way up to the Chefchaouen.
Chefchaouen is a hill town and very busy. We got the usual greeting from the helpers on arrival but learned enough from them that the hotel was near the high point of the town. We wound our way up to a square, which seemed the highest place we could get to with bikes, and were approached by another helper. We told him the hotel name and he got his mobile out and made a call. He then handed me the phone and said it was the hotel and I spoke to a young lad who said he would come and get us. When he arrived he explained the guy who called was the guardian of the square and would look after our bikes during the night. This was not the ‘secure parking’ we had been promised when we booked the hotel. I decided to walk to have a look at the hotel and see what it was like. I followed the young lad through narrow alleyways and streets to the hotel. It was a Riad(small hotel) and had a traditional circular reception area with galleried landings above with rooms off. He showed me the triple room I had reserved. Another surprise. The room was small and the bedding was a single bed and, behind it a double bed on a platform, with a small shower room to the side. I wondered what my colleagues would think of this arrangement. However it seemed clean and the guy was friendly so I presented it positively to the guys. I’ll save blushes by not saying what the sleeping arrangements were that night but want to deny those rumours about Eddie and I, we are just good friends.
The secure parking in the public square in Chefchaouen
The young lad explained that the room cost, about 100 Euros, included a meal in a nearby restaurant, and when we have put our stuff away in the room we should come down to the reception area for tea. The tea was mint, with lots of little cakes and very welcome after a day with some stress and hassle, but also a successful day. The young lad then drew a map for us showing where to find the restaurant for our evening meal and also the medina. We headed off through the alleyways with little shops and stalls selling everything from DVDs to Henna. A wonderful mixture of smells and sounds. The restaurant was welcoming and used well by locals and we enjoyed our ‘free’ 3 course meal. We then walked down to the Medina and got a sample of the atmosphere and headed back to the hotel, via the square with the bikes. The Guardian was in the square and approached us to confirm he was keeping an eye and we felt reassured. It was hard to leave our Western/UK feeling of concern behind us and trust that this guy would do his job and the bikes would be there in the morning. Part of why you do these trips though is to encounter other cultures which may challenge your values... We would see what we would find in the morning!
We woke to light rain and it felt more like the Lake District than North Africa. A great Moroccan breakfast, eggs, pancakes, flat bread, pastries and bread, with Apricot jam and coffee, but no handle on the mug for Chris! Before leaving we went up to the hotel’s roof to see the view over the mountains and saw the pale sunshine highlighting the contours on the landscape. Without further delay we headed off to the bikes. All was well, nothing had been touched and the guardian’s replacement approached us and verified we were happy and he had his small tip. We headed off in the rain to Fez.
The wet road down from Chefchouen was steep in places and we needed to pay attention. While we had to focus on the road it was hard not to glance at the fields and sides of the road which had loads of people, either tending animals or gathering fodder or just standing around. Old women carrying heavy loads of green vegetation which was either fodder or bedding for the animals.
Then it dried out and warmed up, but the road deteriorated with many potholes and sometimes landslips, fun thought using a GS doing what it was made for...standing on the pegs.. negotiating rough roads carrying heavy luggage. The soil here was very crumbly and there were a number of landslips which took away parts of the road. The locals had an improvised warning system which was to put a rock at the point where the road had fallen away, making it slightly more visible to traffic. We benefited from these warning rocks on a number of occasions. The road continued to pass through areas of real subsistence farming with more people gathering bundles of green vegetation. After coming around one of the bends we came across a scary scene and the consequence of one of the landslips. This time the landslip was a big one where nearly half the width of the road had fallen away. The scene which faced us was of a crashed car being recovered from a deep ravine. The beaten up car was being towed by a tow-truck and another cable was attached to rear of the car and being pulled by about 20 locals. The mangled car looked to have been traveling in the same direction as us and hit the landslip and fallen 20 or 30 feet from the road. It seemed hard to believe anyone had survived in the car. Once the car was pulled up I mustered my French and asked a local what had happened. It seem there had been 2 young people in the car and to our amazement they were both OK and the guy said not even injured. The local guy I spoke to also seemed very surprised at that result. We got on our way as the locals cleared and quickly caught up on the tow truck and we got a better look at the car and it seemed amazing that the passengers had survived. We rode cautiously for a while but soon put the accident behind us and began riding at our normal brisk pace.
The landslip where the car had left the road
As we got out of this landscape, which was in a national park, and got nearer Fez the road improved to smooth tarmac with sharp bends and never-ending curves. We seemed to forget that we were fully loaded and before long we were throwing the bikes into the corners and marvelling at the handling and the grip from the TKCs. I know I grounded the pegs on one corner. Earlier we had been riding slowly, standing on the pegs negotiating the rough road and sometimes the absence of a road, and glad of the knobbles on the TKCs. Now a couple of hours later we were using the GSs in a different way, as cornering machines exploring grip of tyres and all fully loaded. Sadly the whole trip could not be on this road and it had to end but the road did lead to Fez and we found the hotel without much hassle.
Then some fun started as we were told we were not booked in. I had reserved this hotel on the net with a London firm and even paid in advance. This resulted in a lot of phone calls to UK but the problem could not be sorted as it was a Saturday. We booked in again paying the local higher price but at least we did not have to move the bikes or our luggage. In fact we stayed 2 nights and by this time the earlier booking had been confirmed and we had only to pay for one night. One thing we learned from this hotel experience is that it is not cheap to call UK from a UK mobile in Morocco. I had put about £60 on my Pay As You Go from Vodafone before leaving and found that after the calls to London it had all run out. Fortunately the hotel provided free internet access and Eddie checked on the Vodafone website and we were shocked to learn that a 1 minute(or portion of a minute) call costs £1.65. A 2 minute and 1 sec call, therefore costs a fiver, so beware.
The hotel was in the new town of Fez and once settled in we went up to the main street. Eddie wanted to get a set of glasses to replace the ones he had and left behind along the way. We went in to an opticians and Eddie spent a full 10 Euros which was worth it as the guy also recommended a local restaurant and now Eddie was even able to read the menu. I had Tagine of course and all the food was good and cost about 8 Euros( I quote Euros because it is an easy conversion from Dm, the local currency. 1 Euro = 10Dm). We ended the evening with a stroll along the road. Eddie and I returned to the hotel each sporting our new leather hats, to Chris’s embarrassment, which cost all of 5 Euros each. I wanted to get a fez in Fez but was not sure it would survive 2 weeks in a pannier around Morocco. Wish I’d just got it now!
Fez.
Chris had noticed that his green card was written out for his Honda CBR and not the GS and was concerned that he may not have proper cover so he decided not to ride until this could be clarified and as it was the weekend it meant we could not continue on our journey south. Eddie and I decided we’d do a day’s ride with the luxury of having the panniers off. In the original planning of the trip we had considered including a National Park to the west of Fez. This delay in our journey then gave us the opportunity to take in the National Park. Getting out of Fez was easy using Eddie’s route and we cut through the traffic with ease without the panniers. The road was good and had some nice corners as we climbed. We made good progress and eventually came to a large lake created by a dam. The lake had wonderful views. It seemed pretty full and we were surprised to see palm trees partly submerged. One of the palm trees had lost it’s top and was inhabited by a family of Storks... No excuse for these chicks not being well fed with food so close! In fact there were lots of fishermen and their drying fish were displayed on sale at the side of the road.
We carried on past the lake and came to the turnoff right near Sidi-Abdallah-des-Rhiata for the national park circuit to loop south and back north again to Taza on the main N6 road. This road in the park was not a ‘walk-in-the-park’. It was narrow, had a rough surface, and describing it as twisty is selling it short. The corners were amazing, tight and frequent. As Eddie was snapping at my heels, I suggested he take the lead. I think the fact he had the panniers off and the bike was lighter made him forget he was on a 1200GS with TKCs and he thought he was on a Supermoto. He chucked the bike into the corners, with his leg down, and was clearly revelling in it. I did not hang about either and tried to hang on to his tail. The corners were so frequent that we could not find time to comment in the radio, we had our hands full, braking, accelerating, cornering and generally using all our strength to keep these big bikes on this narrow piece of tarmac. The penalties of veering off the road were severe with a rock face on one side and a spectacular view on the other. There was hardly any traffic, just the occasional car to keep us honest. We did not admire the view much and had to stop after 30 mins or so for a breather, and to let the bikes cool down.
The viewpoint in the National Park with the snow capped Middle Atlas in the distance.
The view was amazing with the local terrain quite green and wooded. In the distance the Middle Atlas had snow on the peaks. We saw a sheep/goat herder about half a mile away and it was no time till he and his flock were with us on the viewpoint and Eddie handed over the obligatory cigarette as he admired the bikes. Anyway, enough of this relaxing and off we headed along Eddie’s favourite road. The road continued to charm and surprise us as we progressed briskly around the circuit. There was the odd gasp on the radio as a particular bend had an unusual twist but little intelligible was said until it started to straighten out.
This route gave us one of the most unusual encounters with nature on the trip. While I was following Eddie’s bike he ran over something in the road and I was shocked to see it was a snake, about 2 ½ feet long. We didn’t stop as we were confident it would have been recorded on the video cameras we each had. However it is a well known fact that when something special happens somehow the camera does not work. This was true of the snake encounter where my camera’s card was full and Eddie’s recording was corrupt. The snake was spared been photographed in that moment when it saw a 1200GS bearing down on it ridden by a scary guy, sitting on the skin of a dead sheep(Eddie has a sheepskin cover on his seat). If anyone finds a snake in the National Park near Taza with the pattern of 2 TKC tyres on it, please offer it our apologies and make sure it knows it was Eddie what done it!
The road back from Taza was smooth and relaxing after our mountain adventures. We stopped a couple of times for a picture of a stork nest but continued on to the lake again. I wanted some pictures of the palm trees in the lake and while I was away from the bikes Eddie got to know the locals. It started in the usual way with Eddie been cajoled out of a fag but this got more interesting with the guy trying to get Eddie to exchange more fags for his recently caught fish. I’m not sure why but Eddie was not up for the deal.
On the outskirts of Fez we had our first and only brush with the police. There was a general roadblock and all vehicles were being checked. We were pulled to the side and Eddie was questioned first. The guy was quite abrupt and only spoke French and in the end was shouting at Eddie. He then called a guy in a suit to assist. The guy in a suit seemed more calm and I waved him over to me. I explained in Irish Leaving Certificate French that we were tourists staying in a hotel in Fez. He checked our papers and in the end waved us on. The lesson was to always have your passport handy while on the bike and be sure you know where you are or have stayed as this seemed to be what they were looking for. Looking back it felt more like a security check than a traffic stop but we were glad to get away. After that we mostly had welcoming waves from the police and were never stopped again. There was one time further south when a policeman seemed to raise his hand to stop us but even this turned into a wave, to my relief.
Palm trees and storks in the reservoir.
On our last evening in Fez we went down to the Medina by Taxi. The narrow streets were packed with an array of sounds and smells. The sellers did try to entice us to buy their wares but we were in a no shopping mood and walked on. When we came out of the other end of the medina we decided to take a taxi back to the hotel. The first problem with this plan was that there were no taxis in this quiet area of Fez. The second difficulty was that we realised none of us knew the name of the hotel or street. While we looked for a taxi we were offered a ride in a 3 wheel van, where the front end was a 150cc Hounday motorcycle, and the seating was on a bench covered with a carpet in the back. The issue was how could we describe our unnamed hotel.
We asked the driver if he knew the McDonalds in the new town, next to the big fountain, which was near the hotel. He said he did and we got in having agreed, we believed, to a 1.5Euro(15Dm) fare. The ride in the back was an experience. The road up to the hotel was a climb and this little 150 engine was struggling with the 3 of us in the back. There was a cheer from all of us when he managed to catch a higher gear but he generally had to drop down a gear again pretty soon. We got there and it was the right fountain, but the fare had now become 5 Euro(50Dm) but probably worth the experience. This fountain was on the middle of a roundabout and a bit special. As we arrived music was playing all around the roundabout and we then noticed that the fountain was in synchronised to the music and put on quite a show.
Our 3 wheeled taxi and driver in Fez.
Fez to Midelt.
After some early morning phone calls back to UK Chris found out that although his green card had his other bike details, it had been issued for both bikes and he was covered. He got the insurance company to send him an email to confirm this and he felt he was OK to continue the journey. We were on our way south again. We had fun getting the panniers down from the room to go back on the bike. The hotel kindly offered us a trolley which we loaded up. We came down in the lift and realised there were 3 big steps up to the reception level, great. The boxes had to be manhandled again and we were reminded how heavy they really were. Once we had completed this exercise and built up a good sweat, we saw someone getting out of another lift which came down directly into the reception area, cest la vie!
After our day out without them the bikes felt heavy again loaded up with the panniers. However, we got out of Fez easily, down the N8 and it was good to be heading south again on Eddie’s route. It was pleasant road and we went through agricultural land. Later we passed through a forest and we joked that it did not seem so different to the New Forest back home but the occasional stork flying overhead reminded us we were not actually in Hampshire. We stopped for coffee at a new town, Ifrane. It was a weird place where all the buildings were newly built and it could have been in middle America. In fact it is a center for skiing and a university town but still a bit strange. On our way out of the town, which is badly signposted, we passed a royal palace, presumably the Winter Palace. At around this time Eddie’s Route indicated we should turn left. We looked for a road and all we could see was a lane heading off up a hill. We decided to explore it and see how the bikes felt. It was covered in loose gravel and deeply rutted with the winter rains. We got to the top of the hill and had a council of war. The bikes had felt very unstable on this surface and as we were fully loaded, I voted for a return to the tarmac, which is what we did. Maybe I was beginning to realise I am not an off-road god with a fully loaded GS. We continued past wonderful scenery and in fact saw some proper skiing centres in the mountains. Skiing in Morocco, what ever next! Anyway, as we got closer to Midelt we past groups of Nomad tents and lots of sheep and goats always tended by someone.
Local transport.
Midelt would not get many votes were to mistakenly enter the Moroccan Prettiest Towns Competition. We had read that it did not offer much but is in a useful place as a staging post heading south. We headed into town looking for a hotel which was on the Garmin GPS list and also recommended in our Lonely Planet Guide as ‘having an abundance of hot water’. Just the job! We found it and were greeted by the proprietor. I went to look at the rooms. They seemed OK, if a bit basic. I went down and joined the others and the proprietor had been joined by a couple of young lads. I asked the price, 6 Euro per Person and 2 to garage the bikes. With the Lonely Planet recommendation we could not go wrong and went for it and asked where the garage was. Before Eddie realised it, one of the young Berbers jumped on the back of his bike and pointed the way. The garage was secure and fine if a bit dusty. It was tempting to write our names on the car which seemed to have been in there for years but we resisted. The 6 Euro’s each covered 2 rooms so Chris could be on his own. We returned down to the entrance. Calling it a ‘Reception’ or ‘Lobby’ is just not appropriate here. We asked for a recommendation of a restaurant and one of the Berber lads offered to show us after giving us a brief history of the tribes of Morocco, particularly the Berber. We walked for miles it seemed to this restaurant he knew. We were uncomfortable with the Berber sitting to the side and not eating and we asked him to join us. We ordered local food, and I joked that it would have been nice to have had a beer after a hot day in the saddle in the strict Muslim town. The Berber said it may be possible and someone was sent out to a shop. I was then supplied with a bottle of beer wrapped in a serviette with only the neck protruding. It was obviously a bottle of beer wrapped up, but this seemed to satisfy local sensitivities and I got my beer.
After the meal the Berber said he would like to show us his shop and give us some tea. We were led around some back streets and into a tiny shop. Tea was ordered and one of the Berber lads we saw at the hotel returned, this time in full Berber gear, including headdress. While we drank our tea he asked if we would mind if he showed us some of the carpets made by the Berber in the local hills. He explained in great detail the different symbols used in the design, one sign to say it was made by a married lady, one for a single girl, etc. He then rolled out a few carpets and we explained we were on motorbikes and therefore not in the market for a carpet. They looked undaunted, this was a worrying sign. He then taught us the Berber word for ‘not interested’(now forgotten) and the word for ‘possibly’, and we had to say this to him in Berber when each Carpet was rolled out. Eddie and I grudgingly complied and Chris sat on his hands. Unfortunately Eddie and I said ‘possibly’ to a couple of small carpets. The net was tightening. The salesman was standing between us and the door. We were hooked. Once the rest of the carpets were dismissed and removed the remaining carpets were displayed prominently on the floor. We were asked then to choose which we preferred out of the 3 remaining carpets. Eddie and I chose our favourites but at this stage no money had been mentioned. He then asked what we wanted to pay. I gave Eddie a look to say, “looks like we may have to buy something, shall I start the dealing”, Eddie’s silent response suggested agreement. I made a very low offer. The Berber explained the plight of the hill Berber and the time it takes to weave each carpet. I then said there was little point in dealing as we had no room which was the truth! They dismissed that with a wave and explained they would wrap them up really small. I was asked to improve my offer….. it continued in this way until Eddie and I left the shop, our wallets lighter and a rolled up carpet under our arms wrapped up in a black plastic bag. Chris had totally resisted this intensive marketing campaign and even the Berber jewelery the pressed on him, assuming he was not a carpet man.
Midelt to Merzouga
There was no breakfast included in the 6 Euro room rate so we headed off early. There was also no ‘Lashings of Hot Water’. Lonely Planet please take note. In fact there was hardly any water at all, and the beds were lumpy. The bikes were safe and no more dusty than when we arrived. We left Midelt, initially heading in different directions till we all read the GPS correctly. Our plan that day was to reach Merzouga on the edge of the Sahara to see the big sand dunes of Erg Chebbi.
Midelt was up quite high and the route out took us through the mountains. The scenery was spectacular and the road had sweeping bends initially and allowed us to look around. There were lots of sheep in the hills and, of course, a Berber tending them. We saw basic tented encampments and one family moving their tents, with the help of 12 donkeys. The road then descended and got a bit more twisty and we started to go through a gorge with a river at the bottom and vegetation and palm trees along the side of the river. This is referred to as an Oasis and was soon the only green vegetation around. It was not my idea of an oasis, as a small collection of palm trees in a desert but it was oasis Moroccan style in a long strip. We came across a few of these later on the trip. The temperature rose as we descended from the mountains and our Camelbacks got a fair bit of use. We occasionally came across Animals near or on the road and the sheep and goats normally ran away when they heard the sound of the bikes. This was not the case with one cow who we saw on the road some distance ahead. We slowed down to give her a chance to walk off the road, but she remained in the middle of the road looking at us. This was one of the times I was sorry to be leading. Eventually I stopped about 5 yards from the cow. She still did not move and occupied the centre of the road. I was brought up on a farm and used to cattle but also know that a cow with horns can be as dangerous a bull. She had horns, big ones. We stared at each other for about a minute, maybe longer, before she decided that she would not charge this strange machine and would amble to the side, having established who was boss in this piece of road.
We passed through El Rachidia and continued on down by the side of the river and the oasis. It was an absorbing ride. As we rode into Erfoud it reminded me of a scene from the old westerns I used to watch as a child where the dusty cowboys ride into a sleepy town and everyone looks around to see what the wind has blown in. This is how it felt as we rode into Efroud that afternoon. We stopped for coffee and coke and a for some more drinking water, it was about 35C.
I had looped bungies around the top loops of my Zega panniers and became the water transporter for the team. In fact the bike felt a bit light without the usual 2 litre bottle on each pannier. As I normally led I think this was a ploy to slow me down. In Erfoud we had a decision to make on the route to Merzouga. There was the normal tarmac road or the piste, a rough road of questionable quality. After the refreshment of the drinks we went for the piste to see what it was like, but to return if it proved difficult. Initially it seemed OK with just a bit of gravel then we hit the serrations left by the 4WD units. These serrations shook the bikes and us but we continued. It all changed though after about 5 Km when I heard a call on the radio from Eddie, who was now leading, that he had hit sand. I saw him just get through and then saw Chris also struggling. I also followed but half way through the sand I found myself and the bike on the ground. My foot had been caught under the right Pannier and was a bit painful but I got it out and seemed to have no broken bones. My first thought was we had to have a photo of the bike in the sand and got my camera out before Chris and Eddie could return. However, before I could take the photo a Twareg appeared beside me on his little put-put. He shook hands, offered to help me up with the bike and be our guide. We asked if there was much sand on the rest of the piste. He said yes there was some but hard to say where because it moved with the wind. The Twareg helped us right the bike, which was undamaged, and advised us on the best way of getting out of the sand. He made me get back on and apply the power while slipping the clutch, it worked, even if there was a strong smell of overworked clutch.
Did some say there was sand on this piste?
We then asked how much of the piste there was between here and Merzouga and he said about 20 Km. We looked at each other and decided it may be too far for today as we were tired and fully loaded and to return to the road. This decision suited me as I had just fallen but I was happy to return to the road on my own and meet the other 2 in Merzouga if they wanted to continue the piste. Chris did not have crash bars and Eddie described his escape from the sand which was by gunning the engine and shooting forward and leaping over a ledge which he did not see and just managed to keep the bike upright. It was therefore generally agreed we should head for the tarmac and we did so without further incident, but we were not sorry we had tried out the piste.
The 3 bikes parked up safely outside the hotel in Merzouga.
The dunes of Erg Chebbi had an orange tint as we passed on route to Merzouga and looked mysterious and spectacular. We approached Merzouga and it did not look much. The buildings were all a sand/mud colour and where you looked closely at them there were made of, or faced with, dried mud, even those recently built. This had the effect of making the building and town blend into the desert landscape. As we arrived in Merzouga we were assaulted by the usual ‘helpers’ offering hotels and restaurants. We rode on past them and began looking at the Lonely Planet guide for hotel recommendations. However, we did not leave all the helpers behind and the most enterprising one followed us on his Puch Maxi and said he knew a good hotel and cheap. We(I) was sceptical but were tired and we followed him. I was more concerned when he left the makeshift road and headed off across the desert. The last thing I needed was another desert trip but we followed standing on the foot pegs to negotiate the terrain. After about ½ mile of this trek we entered a mud-walled compound and there was a respectable looking hotel and somewhere shady to park the bikes. The hotel was in the style of a French Foreign Legion Fort like many other modern Moroccan hotels. The Puch rider explained that he had led us in this way because of the sand. We looked where he was pointing and could see that the main entrance had been blocked by a meter of sand which had blown in from the dunes. We hoped we did not get a sandstorm and get blocked in. We admired the layer of dust the 1200s had gathered as we parked them up. Mine may have had a bit more sand than the other 2 but then I had been a bit more intimate with it.
We went in and confirmed the price of 20 Euro each for the night to include evening meal and breakfast, use of the pool and free WiFi(pronounced weefee by the locals). Better than sleeping in a tent after the day we had and pretty good value. There was also a bar and the staff were very friendly! On opening my bag in the room I noticed a slight odour and decided some clothes washing was due. The great thing here was that clothes were dry in a couple of hours and ready to wear in a couple of hours. As this was the day of accidents, Chris had an encounter with a large desert rose, placed near the entrance of the hotel. He bashed his shin on it and the sharp stones cut his leg. So in a way the desert had got 2 of us that day.
This may be the time to mention another good bit of planning Eddie had done. He had suggested we prepared before we left UK a number of ‘Fiche D’Etat Civil’ forms which each hotel require you to fill out on arrival. Having these ready to hand to the hotel, saved us from filling in a form each time we checked in and allowed us to get to the hotel shower all the quicker. The forms include details of your passport, when you arrived in Morocco, bike details etc. It certainly worth preparing these forms in advance before you travel and were very useful to us that day.
Having settled into the hotel we lounged about, had a few beers, did some washing and in this heat it was dry in an hour or so and had a tagine of course for dinner.
Footprints in the desert sand.
Next morning after breakfast we walked over to the dunes and marvelled at the shapes and colours and took some photos. On the way back we were approached by a kid who had some fossils and jewellery to sell. Eddie and I wanted some as souvenirs and the bartering started. This was a bit different as the kid was about 10 and the bartering took place by writing the prices in the sand. He wrote an initial price with his finger, let’s say 400Dm, I scrubbed it out and wrote 50Dm, he then scrubbed out my 50 and his 400 again and wrote 350. I then scrubbed out his 350 and, etc. This continued until we agreed a price of around 180, again written in sand. This little exchange, conducted in the sand, was one of the most memorable experience for the whole trip.
To be continued......
Then we started to do some research, reading Tim Cullis’s excellent Moroccan guide , http://www.ukgser.com/forums/showthread.php?t=89396 and reading Eddie’s adventure books Morocco Overland and The Adventure Motorcycling Handbook both by Chris Scott and pouring over the Rough Guide Moroccan map I got as a retirement present we began to work out if we could do a mainly road trip with the option of some gentle pistes. After a few planning sessions we began to feel it may be possible.
There are different options to get to Morocco but we did not want to do the long Autoroute blast through France therefore opted for the ferry to Spain and made bookings on the Portsmouth - Santander ferry. This would leave us just a day’s riding through Spain to get to the ferry to Morocco. We started to sketch out an inland route around Morocco, including mountain passes. The idea was to make our way down south in 3 or 4 days to the edge of the desert, spend a few days around there, including a stay at the Biker’s Home Hotel. Then, after exploring the south including some riding without panniers, we would head up to the north again, maybe visiting Marrakesh or Casablanca.
We had used the Garmin Zumo GPS successfully on the Croatia trip and decided it would be handy to have its help for navigation in Morocco. Morocco is not covered in the standard European Garmin mapping(why should it be) so we downloaded Olaf’s free Marokko Topo mapping (http://www.island-olaf.de/travel/marokko/gps.html) recommended in Tim Cullis’s guide. Olaf’s mapping proved very accurate but it does not allow routing to be done automatically by the Zumo between 2 locations but you can create routes by selecting a number of waypoints and making them into a route. Eddie then began to put together routes based on the outline tour route above. Our intention was to mainly stay in hotels as we were told they were cheap but we also wanted the option of camping for a few nights.
The following 3 images are from the GPS track log showing the Moroccan route taken:-
We then began to think of what equipment we would take. We both had 1200GSs so the bikes were sorted and many of the accessories had been well tested on the Croatia trip. One early decision was to add bike-to-bike radio communication this time and we geared up with Kenwoods through the Autocom. I pushed the boat out and invested in a TK3207 radio with an external aerial and we each used push-to-talk. We also agreed Camel Backs were essential on this trip to avoid dehydration. I was lucky to have advice and support from Edventure of this parish, who rode through Morocco on his single handed trip last year to Ghana. Ed told us not to take too much gear and then promptly offered the loan of his array of spares and his 911 diagnostic tool, all of which was very welcome. The key spares were FPC, Antenna ring, inner tubes and spokes. We already had various tyre repair kits and a Slime pump. The spokes were because Eddie and I had put GSA spoked wheels on our 1200GSs and had decided on TKC tyres for this trip. We convinced ourselves the spoked wheels were a better option but really we just liked the look of them on the bike. You may ask why we did not get 1200GS Adventures which already have spoked wheels but are also taller bikes. I can be classed as vertically challenged and Eddie is no giant, so the lower 1200GS suited us better. In my case I also had the factory fitted low suspension and a low seat.
We then had a few meetings at my place to test radios and agree which tools to take. The practical approach would be just to take one set of the right tools and share them out to reduce weight. However we all took our favourite tools, so were well tooled up, again ignoring Edventure’s sage words.
With a couple of months to go, a work colleague of Eddie’s joined the team. Chris had shown his commitment to the venture by buying a few things in advance, like a suitable bike. Chris did not have an adventure bike when he initially enquired about the trip but Eddie explained that he would need a 1200GS as it would be up to the trip and simplify the carrying of spares. With Eddie’s help Chris then bought a 2006 1200GS with low mileage and started to kit it out. This meant Chris had to get Zumo, Autocom, TKCs and Panniers. We all 3 had different pannier options, I had my trusty Zegas, with one new lid, and a big Givi topbox. Eddie had moved over to a GSA ally luggage and Chris had a set of Varios. OK, why the new Zega lid you ask! (If you want the ‘Why the new lid story’ then go to Appendix 1 below, or read it later).
Now back to the Moroccan preparations. With the Zega panniers and topbox I was determined to have just one further bag to sit on the rack behind the riders seat with the passenger seat removed. On the Croatia trip I had 3 bags at one point and this just looked stupid. This time I was using the BMW waterproof zip bag. Eddie was determined to get all his stuff, including the camping gear and tent into his panniers, and succeeded. Chris managed with a waterproof rucksack and his Givi topbox and the Vario panniers. So we were not too overloaded, at least not in volume but the panniers were heavy and the bikes did feel the weight.
Eddie had read up carefully on the documents required for Morocco. This included having the V5 for the bike, insurance, green card, health insurance, driving licence but specifically the 3 part customs form mentioned in Tim Cullis’s briefing. Following Tim’s advice we all linked into the Moroccan Customs website and filled in all the details in advance and printed down the completed forms. This was simple enough to do and easier to do at home than at a windy border crossing with a dodgy pen being hassled by Moroccan ‘helpers’. More on the border later. All these documents, including passport were copied. Again, learning from our last trip, we planned to have a copy of the documents, spare bike keys and a spare credit card carried by someone else in the tour in case anything was lost or stolen.
We also had thought it a good idea to book a couple of the hotels in advance, for the 1st and 2 nd nights in Morocco. This was not hard to do on the internet but with hindsight we would not bother again as hotels were easy to find in towns, and hotels you have found are easier to get to than hotels you have booked and prove hard to find, if this makes sense.
As we all have a computer background we took computers. Eddie and I had netbooks and Chris a full laptop. This also linked in with the video cameras we each had, so that downloading video would be possible each evening. I’ll look at the merits of having video in the lessons learned section near the end of the trip report. I had also treated myself to a new Lumix DMC-ZS3 digital camera for the trip and I’ll say now it was one of the most successful pieces of equipment. One other last minute purchase was a pair of BMW GS gloves which allow good airflow as well as giving some protection as my hands had suffered in the Croatia heat last year with my normal UK gloves. Of course the bikes were all serviced a few weeks prior to the trip. I took mine to Bahnstormers and Eddie and Chris took theirs to a Mr Steptoe, again of this parish.
So the day dawned in early May when we three converged on the Ferry terminal at Portsmouth. It had been +5C when I left home and was a chilly ride to the ferry. We were still getting used to the bikes being fully loaded and the manoeuvring on the ferry was tricky to get the bike in position for the strap down. For those interested the bikes were placed on the side stand and strapped down by the ferry staff. There were loads of bikes packed closely together but the staff were clearly proficient at securing them for the voyage. We headed for our cabins. Eddie and I were sharing and were directed to a cabin which was clearly for a single person. We went to the information desk to point out this silly mistake and were informed very clearly that there are no single cabins on this boat but if we pulled on the drawstring hanging from the ceiling the 2nd bunk bed would be revealed. Eddie and I slunk back to the cabin looking suitably sheepish! The trip takes just over 24 hours and the food and drink is reasonably priced. There is entertainment which had a sense of ‘Hello Campers’ about it. In our group there was more pleasure in laughing at the entertainment than with it. However I know we all secretly regret not taking part in the bingo session while in the middle of the bay of Biscay, hey ho!
Arriving in Santander at around 13:00 local time we headed for the autoroute following our GPS route. We were soon climbing and the temperature dropped, not to freezing but to low single figures and there was snow on the mountains close to the road, a bit of a shock to come across this on our Summer trip. We had decided to avoid the Madrid ring road and chose the westerly Valladolid, Salamanca, Seville route. This initial scenery was great and I even spotted a flock of Griffon Vultures circling overhead, with wings the size of front doors, and I made a mental note not to stop around here in case they were hungry. The motorway we were on was quite new and one feature of it was a lack of service stations. When you needed fuel you had to leave the motorway and head for the nearest town and the signs were not always too helpful. Our plan was to ride till tired and then find a cheap hotel and head off in the morning to get to Algeciras in time to get to Morocco by mid afternoon. As we got tired I searched the GPS for the nearest hotel and followed the route. It took us to a small town and after discovering the waypoint was about 700 meters out and showed the hotel on the wrong side of the road we pulled into a nice country hotel with locked garage parking, a restaurant and bar still open, and a triple room cost about 20 Euro’s each, result. Next morning, refreshed, we headed off via Seville to Algeciras and the ferry. As the road descended to the plain the temperature steadily rose and so did the spirits. The bikes were going well but Chris did feel that his front wheel was a little light and it made motorway progress a little uncomfortable.
Bikes waiting to board Algeciras to Cueta ferry.
As we came in to Algeciras it was not clear where the port was. Eddie suggested on the radio it may be where we could see the large cranes on the skyline. I told him this was a rash conclusion as it may just be a crane manufacturer showing off his products to attract custom. Eddie agreed. At about this point Chris realised the standard of humour and banter he was going to have to listen to for the next 3 weeks. Despite my reservations we headed for the cranes and strangely found the ferry port. This was the first time we came across the ‘Helper’ culture where people would step out in front of you and direct you to this place to buy tickets, exchange money etc. We found what we think was an official ticket seller and got tickets to Ceuta for about 60Euro’s each. Later, we heard a story of an English GS rider who bought a ticket on the street in Algeciras a few days before us and the ticket proved to be worthless. The Ferry to Ceuta was a much better standard than I expected and had comfortable seating and a bar. We tucked in to a very welcome coffee and filled bread roll. The ‘duty free’ shop was tiny and disappointing.
With all the stories we had heard there was a level of anxiety as to what reception we would get from the Moroccan officials as we disembarked. My bike was the first off and I followed directions with my hand on the brake waiting for the police and customers official to stop me for a check. We continued slowly but nobody stopped us and suddenly we found we were out on the street without our papers being checked and getting customs permission to take the bikes into Morocco. The old Moroccan hands will be smiling at this point. We then discovered, when we tried to get back in to the port, that we were not in Morocco yet and in fact had not left Spain. Ceuta is in a small Spanish enclave, like Gibraltar for the UK, where Spain still owns the territory. After winding our way through the back streets of Ceuta we approached the border. We spoke to some French GS riders who had just come through and they advised us not to use a ‘helper’ just do the paperwork yourself and it will be OK. As we left the Spanish border and got close to the Moroccan border were pestered by helpers. They held out police forms which you need to complete to start the process. We then discovered a basic shortcoming of our planning, we could not find a pen to fill in the police form and Eddie and Chris borrowed one from the helper. I stubbornly searched my luggage for a pen and eventually found it and filled in the police form. I took it to the police booth, he checked it and stamped it and my passport. I asked what next and he pointed at the customs(Douane) booth. I went there with my stamped passport and my forms filled in and printed down from the Moroccan Customer website. The customs officer scanned in the form electronically, did not even look at my V5 and gave me back the 2 copies I required. I had completed the Moroccan paperwork in about 10 minutes and felt like cheering. However, there was a stronger urge to get away from this place and the helpers. One of the helpers told Chris that the prefilled out customs forms were no good and he had to fill out another by hand. This was clearly rubbish but no doubt increased the potential tip the helper could get. We made our way out and were checked again to ensure that we had the right papers and were away.
The road out was directly south and along the coast with a strong wind blowing off the sea, causing us to lean the bikes as we rode. We stayed on this road and avoided the motorway heading initially for Tetouan. Chris and I had managed to get Green card cover in UK, both being with Carole Nash and Aviva, but Eddie’s insurance did not offer a Green Card for Morocco. So we headed to Tetouan to get Eddie a Green card. We had a waypoint from the GSer site in Tetuan where it was believed he could get a green card. We wound our way through the streets of the busy town getting our first taste of riding a bike through North African traffic as a group. Of course the waypoint proved not to be entirely accurate, however it had led us to a business area which seemed to have insurance brokers. We parked up and Eddie and I headed off. After being redirected a few times we found a place which would do it but at a cost of nearly 100Euros for 1 month cover and to be paid on Moroccan Dms. We had to then find a Bureau de Change before the deal could be completed. This all took an hour or so but Eddie got a very official form in a nice little plastic folder and more importantly had cover and we were on our way again. We had both lost a few pounds in perspiration as we trudged around in the 30+C heat. Chris in the meantime was with the 3 bikes getting a lot of attention from the locals.
We had booked a hotel in Chefchaouen for the night. The road out of Tetouan was a challenge. It was narrow and twisty and was being repaired and too many people wanted to use it and most vehicles were bigger and harder than our GSs. We had at least one near miss, good training for the roads ahead. The journey certainly got our attention as we wound our way up to the Chefchaouen.
Chefchaouen is a hill town and very busy. We got the usual greeting from the helpers on arrival but learned enough from them that the hotel was near the high point of the town. We wound our way up to a square, which seemed the highest place we could get to with bikes, and were approached by another helper. We told him the hotel name and he got his mobile out and made a call. He then handed me the phone and said it was the hotel and I spoke to a young lad who said he would come and get us. When he arrived he explained the guy who called was the guardian of the square and would look after our bikes during the night. This was not the ‘secure parking’ we had been promised when we booked the hotel. I decided to walk to have a look at the hotel and see what it was like. I followed the young lad through narrow alleyways and streets to the hotel. It was a Riad(small hotel) and had a traditional circular reception area with galleried landings above with rooms off. He showed me the triple room I had reserved. Another surprise. The room was small and the bedding was a single bed and, behind it a double bed on a platform, with a small shower room to the side. I wondered what my colleagues would think of this arrangement. However it seemed clean and the guy was friendly so I presented it positively to the guys. I’ll save blushes by not saying what the sleeping arrangements were that night but want to deny those rumours about Eddie and I, we are just good friends.
The secure parking in the public square in Chefchaouen
The young lad explained that the room cost, about 100 Euros, included a meal in a nearby restaurant, and when we have put our stuff away in the room we should come down to the reception area for tea. The tea was mint, with lots of little cakes and very welcome after a day with some stress and hassle, but also a successful day. The young lad then drew a map for us showing where to find the restaurant for our evening meal and also the medina. We headed off through the alleyways with little shops and stalls selling everything from DVDs to Henna. A wonderful mixture of smells and sounds. The restaurant was welcoming and used well by locals and we enjoyed our ‘free’ 3 course meal. We then walked down to the Medina and got a sample of the atmosphere and headed back to the hotel, via the square with the bikes. The Guardian was in the square and approached us to confirm he was keeping an eye and we felt reassured. It was hard to leave our Western/UK feeling of concern behind us and trust that this guy would do his job and the bikes would be there in the morning. Part of why you do these trips though is to encounter other cultures which may challenge your values... We would see what we would find in the morning!
We woke to light rain and it felt more like the Lake District than North Africa. A great Moroccan breakfast, eggs, pancakes, flat bread, pastries and bread, with Apricot jam and coffee, but no handle on the mug for Chris! Before leaving we went up to the hotel’s roof to see the view over the mountains and saw the pale sunshine highlighting the contours on the landscape. Without further delay we headed off to the bikes. All was well, nothing had been touched and the guardian’s replacement approached us and verified we were happy and he had his small tip. We headed off in the rain to Fez.
The wet road down from Chefchouen was steep in places and we needed to pay attention. While we had to focus on the road it was hard not to glance at the fields and sides of the road which had loads of people, either tending animals or gathering fodder or just standing around. Old women carrying heavy loads of green vegetation which was either fodder or bedding for the animals.
Then it dried out and warmed up, but the road deteriorated with many potholes and sometimes landslips, fun thought using a GS doing what it was made for...standing on the pegs.. negotiating rough roads carrying heavy luggage. The soil here was very crumbly and there were a number of landslips which took away parts of the road. The locals had an improvised warning system which was to put a rock at the point where the road had fallen away, making it slightly more visible to traffic. We benefited from these warning rocks on a number of occasions. The road continued to pass through areas of real subsistence farming with more people gathering bundles of green vegetation. After coming around one of the bends we came across a scary scene and the consequence of one of the landslips. This time the landslip was a big one where nearly half the width of the road had fallen away. The scene which faced us was of a crashed car being recovered from a deep ravine. The beaten up car was being towed by a tow-truck and another cable was attached to rear of the car and being pulled by about 20 locals. The mangled car looked to have been traveling in the same direction as us and hit the landslip and fallen 20 or 30 feet from the road. It seemed hard to believe anyone had survived in the car. Once the car was pulled up I mustered my French and asked a local what had happened. It seem there had been 2 young people in the car and to our amazement they were both OK and the guy said not even injured. The local guy I spoke to also seemed very surprised at that result. We got on our way as the locals cleared and quickly caught up on the tow truck and we got a better look at the car and it seemed amazing that the passengers had survived. We rode cautiously for a while but soon put the accident behind us and began riding at our normal brisk pace.
The landslip where the car had left the road
As we got out of this landscape, which was in a national park, and got nearer Fez the road improved to smooth tarmac with sharp bends and never-ending curves. We seemed to forget that we were fully loaded and before long we were throwing the bikes into the corners and marvelling at the handling and the grip from the TKCs. I know I grounded the pegs on one corner. Earlier we had been riding slowly, standing on the pegs negotiating the rough road and sometimes the absence of a road, and glad of the knobbles on the TKCs. Now a couple of hours later we were using the GSs in a different way, as cornering machines exploring grip of tyres and all fully loaded. Sadly the whole trip could not be on this road and it had to end but the road did lead to Fez and we found the hotel without much hassle.
Then some fun started as we were told we were not booked in. I had reserved this hotel on the net with a London firm and even paid in advance. This resulted in a lot of phone calls to UK but the problem could not be sorted as it was a Saturday. We booked in again paying the local higher price but at least we did not have to move the bikes or our luggage. In fact we stayed 2 nights and by this time the earlier booking had been confirmed and we had only to pay for one night. One thing we learned from this hotel experience is that it is not cheap to call UK from a UK mobile in Morocco. I had put about £60 on my Pay As You Go from Vodafone before leaving and found that after the calls to London it had all run out. Fortunately the hotel provided free internet access and Eddie checked on the Vodafone website and we were shocked to learn that a 1 minute(or portion of a minute) call costs £1.65. A 2 minute and 1 sec call, therefore costs a fiver, so beware.
The hotel was in the new town of Fez and once settled in we went up to the main street. Eddie wanted to get a set of glasses to replace the ones he had and left behind along the way. We went in to an opticians and Eddie spent a full 10 Euros which was worth it as the guy also recommended a local restaurant and now Eddie was even able to read the menu. I had Tagine of course and all the food was good and cost about 8 Euros( I quote Euros because it is an easy conversion from Dm, the local currency. 1 Euro = 10Dm). We ended the evening with a stroll along the road. Eddie and I returned to the hotel each sporting our new leather hats, to Chris’s embarrassment, which cost all of 5 Euros each. I wanted to get a fez in Fez but was not sure it would survive 2 weeks in a pannier around Morocco. Wish I’d just got it now!
Fez.
Chris had noticed that his green card was written out for his Honda CBR and not the GS and was concerned that he may not have proper cover so he decided not to ride until this could be clarified and as it was the weekend it meant we could not continue on our journey south. Eddie and I decided we’d do a day’s ride with the luxury of having the panniers off. In the original planning of the trip we had considered including a National Park to the west of Fez. This delay in our journey then gave us the opportunity to take in the National Park. Getting out of Fez was easy using Eddie’s route and we cut through the traffic with ease without the panniers. The road was good and had some nice corners as we climbed. We made good progress and eventually came to a large lake created by a dam. The lake had wonderful views. It seemed pretty full and we were surprised to see palm trees partly submerged. One of the palm trees had lost it’s top and was inhabited by a family of Storks... No excuse for these chicks not being well fed with food so close! In fact there were lots of fishermen and their drying fish were displayed on sale at the side of the road.
We carried on past the lake and came to the turnoff right near Sidi-Abdallah-des-Rhiata for the national park circuit to loop south and back north again to Taza on the main N6 road. This road in the park was not a ‘walk-in-the-park’. It was narrow, had a rough surface, and describing it as twisty is selling it short. The corners were amazing, tight and frequent. As Eddie was snapping at my heels, I suggested he take the lead. I think the fact he had the panniers off and the bike was lighter made him forget he was on a 1200GS with TKCs and he thought he was on a Supermoto. He chucked the bike into the corners, with his leg down, and was clearly revelling in it. I did not hang about either and tried to hang on to his tail. The corners were so frequent that we could not find time to comment in the radio, we had our hands full, braking, accelerating, cornering and generally using all our strength to keep these big bikes on this narrow piece of tarmac. The penalties of veering off the road were severe with a rock face on one side and a spectacular view on the other. There was hardly any traffic, just the occasional car to keep us honest. We did not admire the view much and had to stop after 30 mins or so for a breather, and to let the bikes cool down.
The viewpoint in the National Park with the snow capped Middle Atlas in the distance.
The view was amazing with the local terrain quite green and wooded. In the distance the Middle Atlas had snow on the peaks. We saw a sheep/goat herder about half a mile away and it was no time till he and his flock were with us on the viewpoint and Eddie handed over the obligatory cigarette as he admired the bikes. Anyway, enough of this relaxing and off we headed along Eddie’s favourite road. The road continued to charm and surprise us as we progressed briskly around the circuit. There was the odd gasp on the radio as a particular bend had an unusual twist but little intelligible was said until it started to straighten out.
This route gave us one of the most unusual encounters with nature on the trip. While I was following Eddie’s bike he ran over something in the road and I was shocked to see it was a snake, about 2 ½ feet long. We didn’t stop as we were confident it would have been recorded on the video cameras we each had. However it is a well known fact that when something special happens somehow the camera does not work. This was true of the snake encounter where my camera’s card was full and Eddie’s recording was corrupt. The snake was spared been photographed in that moment when it saw a 1200GS bearing down on it ridden by a scary guy, sitting on the skin of a dead sheep(Eddie has a sheepskin cover on his seat). If anyone finds a snake in the National Park near Taza with the pattern of 2 TKC tyres on it, please offer it our apologies and make sure it knows it was Eddie what done it!
The road back from Taza was smooth and relaxing after our mountain adventures. We stopped a couple of times for a picture of a stork nest but continued on to the lake again. I wanted some pictures of the palm trees in the lake and while I was away from the bikes Eddie got to know the locals. It started in the usual way with Eddie been cajoled out of a fag but this got more interesting with the guy trying to get Eddie to exchange more fags for his recently caught fish. I’m not sure why but Eddie was not up for the deal.
On the outskirts of Fez we had our first and only brush with the police. There was a general roadblock and all vehicles were being checked. We were pulled to the side and Eddie was questioned first. The guy was quite abrupt and only spoke French and in the end was shouting at Eddie. He then called a guy in a suit to assist. The guy in a suit seemed more calm and I waved him over to me. I explained in Irish Leaving Certificate French that we were tourists staying in a hotel in Fez. He checked our papers and in the end waved us on. The lesson was to always have your passport handy while on the bike and be sure you know where you are or have stayed as this seemed to be what they were looking for. Looking back it felt more like a security check than a traffic stop but we were glad to get away. After that we mostly had welcoming waves from the police and were never stopped again. There was one time further south when a policeman seemed to raise his hand to stop us but even this turned into a wave, to my relief.
Palm trees and storks in the reservoir.
On our last evening in Fez we went down to the Medina by Taxi. The narrow streets were packed with an array of sounds and smells. The sellers did try to entice us to buy their wares but we were in a no shopping mood and walked on. When we came out of the other end of the medina we decided to take a taxi back to the hotel. The first problem with this plan was that there were no taxis in this quiet area of Fez. The second difficulty was that we realised none of us knew the name of the hotel or street. While we looked for a taxi we were offered a ride in a 3 wheel van, where the front end was a 150cc Hounday motorcycle, and the seating was on a bench covered with a carpet in the back. The issue was how could we describe our unnamed hotel.
We asked the driver if he knew the McDonalds in the new town, next to the big fountain, which was near the hotel. He said he did and we got in having agreed, we believed, to a 1.5Euro(15Dm) fare. The ride in the back was an experience. The road up to the hotel was a climb and this little 150 engine was struggling with the 3 of us in the back. There was a cheer from all of us when he managed to catch a higher gear but he generally had to drop down a gear again pretty soon. We got there and it was the right fountain, but the fare had now become 5 Euro(50Dm) but probably worth the experience. This fountain was on the middle of a roundabout and a bit special. As we arrived music was playing all around the roundabout and we then noticed that the fountain was in synchronised to the music and put on quite a show.
Our 3 wheeled taxi and driver in Fez.
Fez to Midelt.
After some early morning phone calls back to UK Chris found out that although his green card had his other bike details, it had been issued for both bikes and he was covered. He got the insurance company to send him an email to confirm this and he felt he was OK to continue the journey. We were on our way south again. We had fun getting the panniers down from the room to go back on the bike. The hotel kindly offered us a trolley which we loaded up. We came down in the lift and realised there were 3 big steps up to the reception level, great. The boxes had to be manhandled again and we were reminded how heavy they really were. Once we had completed this exercise and built up a good sweat, we saw someone getting out of another lift which came down directly into the reception area, cest la vie!
After our day out without them the bikes felt heavy again loaded up with the panniers. However, we got out of Fez easily, down the N8 and it was good to be heading south again on Eddie’s route. It was pleasant road and we went through agricultural land. Later we passed through a forest and we joked that it did not seem so different to the New Forest back home but the occasional stork flying overhead reminded us we were not actually in Hampshire. We stopped for coffee at a new town, Ifrane. It was a weird place where all the buildings were newly built and it could have been in middle America. In fact it is a center for skiing and a university town but still a bit strange. On our way out of the town, which is badly signposted, we passed a royal palace, presumably the Winter Palace. At around this time Eddie’s Route indicated we should turn left. We looked for a road and all we could see was a lane heading off up a hill. We decided to explore it and see how the bikes felt. It was covered in loose gravel and deeply rutted with the winter rains. We got to the top of the hill and had a council of war. The bikes had felt very unstable on this surface and as we were fully loaded, I voted for a return to the tarmac, which is what we did. Maybe I was beginning to realise I am not an off-road god with a fully loaded GS. We continued past wonderful scenery and in fact saw some proper skiing centres in the mountains. Skiing in Morocco, what ever next! Anyway, as we got closer to Midelt we past groups of Nomad tents and lots of sheep and goats always tended by someone.
Local transport.
Midelt would not get many votes were to mistakenly enter the Moroccan Prettiest Towns Competition. We had read that it did not offer much but is in a useful place as a staging post heading south. We headed into town looking for a hotel which was on the Garmin GPS list and also recommended in our Lonely Planet Guide as ‘having an abundance of hot water’. Just the job! We found it and were greeted by the proprietor. I went to look at the rooms. They seemed OK, if a bit basic. I went down and joined the others and the proprietor had been joined by a couple of young lads. I asked the price, 6 Euro per Person and 2 to garage the bikes. With the Lonely Planet recommendation we could not go wrong and went for it and asked where the garage was. Before Eddie realised it, one of the young Berbers jumped on the back of his bike and pointed the way. The garage was secure and fine if a bit dusty. It was tempting to write our names on the car which seemed to have been in there for years but we resisted. The 6 Euro’s each covered 2 rooms so Chris could be on his own. We returned down to the entrance. Calling it a ‘Reception’ or ‘Lobby’ is just not appropriate here. We asked for a recommendation of a restaurant and one of the Berber lads offered to show us after giving us a brief history of the tribes of Morocco, particularly the Berber. We walked for miles it seemed to this restaurant he knew. We were uncomfortable with the Berber sitting to the side and not eating and we asked him to join us. We ordered local food, and I joked that it would have been nice to have had a beer after a hot day in the saddle in the strict Muslim town. The Berber said it may be possible and someone was sent out to a shop. I was then supplied with a bottle of beer wrapped in a serviette with only the neck protruding. It was obviously a bottle of beer wrapped up, but this seemed to satisfy local sensitivities and I got my beer.
After the meal the Berber said he would like to show us his shop and give us some tea. We were led around some back streets and into a tiny shop. Tea was ordered and one of the Berber lads we saw at the hotel returned, this time in full Berber gear, including headdress. While we drank our tea he asked if we would mind if he showed us some of the carpets made by the Berber in the local hills. He explained in great detail the different symbols used in the design, one sign to say it was made by a married lady, one for a single girl, etc. He then rolled out a few carpets and we explained we were on motorbikes and therefore not in the market for a carpet. They looked undaunted, this was a worrying sign. He then taught us the Berber word for ‘not interested’(now forgotten) and the word for ‘possibly’, and we had to say this to him in Berber when each Carpet was rolled out. Eddie and I grudgingly complied and Chris sat on his hands. Unfortunately Eddie and I said ‘possibly’ to a couple of small carpets. The net was tightening. The salesman was standing between us and the door. We were hooked. Once the rest of the carpets were dismissed and removed the remaining carpets were displayed prominently on the floor. We were asked then to choose which we preferred out of the 3 remaining carpets. Eddie and I chose our favourites but at this stage no money had been mentioned. He then asked what we wanted to pay. I gave Eddie a look to say, “looks like we may have to buy something, shall I start the dealing”, Eddie’s silent response suggested agreement. I made a very low offer. The Berber explained the plight of the hill Berber and the time it takes to weave each carpet. I then said there was little point in dealing as we had no room which was the truth! They dismissed that with a wave and explained they would wrap them up really small. I was asked to improve my offer….. it continued in this way until Eddie and I left the shop, our wallets lighter and a rolled up carpet under our arms wrapped up in a black plastic bag. Chris had totally resisted this intensive marketing campaign and even the Berber jewelery the pressed on him, assuming he was not a carpet man.
Midelt to Merzouga
There was no breakfast included in the 6 Euro room rate so we headed off early. There was also no ‘Lashings of Hot Water’. Lonely Planet please take note. In fact there was hardly any water at all, and the beds were lumpy. The bikes were safe and no more dusty than when we arrived. We left Midelt, initially heading in different directions till we all read the GPS correctly. Our plan that day was to reach Merzouga on the edge of the Sahara to see the big sand dunes of Erg Chebbi.
Midelt was up quite high and the route out took us through the mountains. The scenery was spectacular and the road had sweeping bends initially and allowed us to look around. There were lots of sheep in the hills and, of course, a Berber tending them. We saw basic tented encampments and one family moving their tents, with the help of 12 donkeys. The road then descended and got a bit more twisty and we started to go through a gorge with a river at the bottom and vegetation and palm trees along the side of the river. This is referred to as an Oasis and was soon the only green vegetation around. It was not my idea of an oasis, as a small collection of palm trees in a desert but it was oasis Moroccan style in a long strip. We came across a few of these later on the trip. The temperature rose as we descended from the mountains and our Camelbacks got a fair bit of use. We occasionally came across Animals near or on the road and the sheep and goats normally ran away when they heard the sound of the bikes. This was not the case with one cow who we saw on the road some distance ahead. We slowed down to give her a chance to walk off the road, but she remained in the middle of the road looking at us. This was one of the times I was sorry to be leading. Eventually I stopped about 5 yards from the cow. She still did not move and occupied the centre of the road. I was brought up on a farm and used to cattle but also know that a cow with horns can be as dangerous a bull. She had horns, big ones. We stared at each other for about a minute, maybe longer, before she decided that she would not charge this strange machine and would amble to the side, having established who was boss in this piece of road.
We passed through El Rachidia and continued on down by the side of the river and the oasis. It was an absorbing ride. As we rode into Erfoud it reminded me of a scene from the old westerns I used to watch as a child where the dusty cowboys ride into a sleepy town and everyone looks around to see what the wind has blown in. This is how it felt as we rode into Efroud that afternoon. We stopped for coffee and coke and a for some more drinking water, it was about 35C.
I had looped bungies around the top loops of my Zega panniers and became the water transporter for the team. In fact the bike felt a bit light without the usual 2 litre bottle on each pannier. As I normally led I think this was a ploy to slow me down. In Erfoud we had a decision to make on the route to Merzouga. There was the normal tarmac road or the piste, a rough road of questionable quality. After the refreshment of the drinks we went for the piste to see what it was like, but to return if it proved difficult. Initially it seemed OK with just a bit of gravel then we hit the serrations left by the 4WD units. These serrations shook the bikes and us but we continued. It all changed though after about 5 Km when I heard a call on the radio from Eddie, who was now leading, that he had hit sand. I saw him just get through and then saw Chris also struggling. I also followed but half way through the sand I found myself and the bike on the ground. My foot had been caught under the right Pannier and was a bit painful but I got it out and seemed to have no broken bones. My first thought was we had to have a photo of the bike in the sand and got my camera out before Chris and Eddie could return. However, before I could take the photo a Twareg appeared beside me on his little put-put. He shook hands, offered to help me up with the bike and be our guide. We asked if there was much sand on the rest of the piste. He said yes there was some but hard to say where because it moved with the wind. The Twareg helped us right the bike, which was undamaged, and advised us on the best way of getting out of the sand. He made me get back on and apply the power while slipping the clutch, it worked, even if there was a strong smell of overworked clutch.
Did some say there was sand on this piste?
We then asked how much of the piste there was between here and Merzouga and he said about 20 Km. We looked at each other and decided it may be too far for today as we were tired and fully loaded and to return to the road. This decision suited me as I had just fallen but I was happy to return to the road on my own and meet the other 2 in Merzouga if they wanted to continue the piste. Chris did not have crash bars and Eddie described his escape from the sand which was by gunning the engine and shooting forward and leaping over a ledge which he did not see and just managed to keep the bike upright. It was therefore generally agreed we should head for the tarmac and we did so without further incident, but we were not sorry we had tried out the piste.
The 3 bikes parked up safely outside the hotel in Merzouga.
The dunes of Erg Chebbi had an orange tint as we passed on route to Merzouga and looked mysterious and spectacular. We approached Merzouga and it did not look much. The buildings were all a sand/mud colour and where you looked closely at them there were made of, or faced with, dried mud, even those recently built. This had the effect of making the building and town blend into the desert landscape. As we arrived in Merzouga we were assaulted by the usual ‘helpers’ offering hotels and restaurants. We rode on past them and began looking at the Lonely Planet guide for hotel recommendations. However, we did not leave all the helpers behind and the most enterprising one followed us on his Puch Maxi and said he knew a good hotel and cheap. We(I) was sceptical but were tired and we followed him. I was more concerned when he left the makeshift road and headed off across the desert. The last thing I needed was another desert trip but we followed standing on the foot pegs to negotiate the terrain. After about ½ mile of this trek we entered a mud-walled compound and there was a respectable looking hotel and somewhere shady to park the bikes. The hotel was in the style of a French Foreign Legion Fort like many other modern Moroccan hotels. The Puch rider explained that he had led us in this way because of the sand. We looked where he was pointing and could see that the main entrance had been blocked by a meter of sand which had blown in from the dunes. We hoped we did not get a sandstorm and get blocked in. We admired the layer of dust the 1200s had gathered as we parked them up. Mine may have had a bit more sand than the other 2 but then I had been a bit more intimate with it.
We went in and confirmed the price of 20 Euro each for the night to include evening meal and breakfast, use of the pool and free WiFi(pronounced weefee by the locals). Better than sleeping in a tent after the day we had and pretty good value. There was also a bar and the staff were very friendly! On opening my bag in the room I noticed a slight odour and decided some clothes washing was due. The great thing here was that clothes were dry in a couple of hours and ready to wear in a couple of hours. As this was the day of accidents, Chris had an encounter with a large desert rose, placed near the entrance of the hotel. He bashed his shin on it and the sharp stones cut his leg. So in a way the desert had got 2 of us that day.
This may be the time to mention another good bit of planning Eddie had done. He had suggested we prepared before we left UK a number of ‘Fiche D’Etat Civil’ forms which each hotel require you to fill out on arrival. Having these ready to hand to the hotel, saved us from filling in a form each time we checked in and allowed us to get to the hotel shower all the quicker. The forms include details of your passport, when you arrived in Morocco, bike details etc. It certainly worth preparing these forms in advance before you travel and were very useful to us that day.
Having settled into the hotel we lounged about, had a few beers, did some washing and in this heat it was dry in an hour or so and had a tagine of course for dinner.
Footprints in the desert sand.
Next morning after breakfast we walked over to the dunes and marvelled at the shapes and colours and took some photos. On the way back we were approached by a kid who had some fossils and jewellery to sell. Eddie and I wanted some as souvenirs and the bartering started. This was a bit different as the kid was about 10 and the bartering took place by writing the prices in the sand. He wrote an initial price with his finger, let’s say 400Dm, I scrubbed it out and wrote 50Dm, he then scrubbed out my 50 and his 400 again and wrote 350. I then scrubbed out his 350 and, etc. This continued until we agreed a price of around 180, again written in sand. This little exchange, conducted in the sand, was one of the most memorable experience for the whole trip.
To be continued......
