One man, one road, from Marrakesh to the Hilda Palace hotel.
Loaded with the bags of 7 people, and all the other paraphernalia that people can’t do without for 12 days.
Off I set, on the road to Olad Berhil, and the old Pashas place, now a hotel , I was taking the road route, the bikes an assortment of road/piste and wherever else is available to get stranded.
The usual totally unnecessary hubbub and drama of getting out of the city and onto the outskirts unsued. It was once fun, now it’s a pain in the arse. I want road. Open road. With only the odd mobylette in the way.
It all happens at once leaving Marrakesh. One minute chaos and bedlam all around, then emptiness and calm. I hit the I-pod playlist, for some driving tunes to match the journey ahead – Lonely Boy = Andrew Gold
The Landrover is a living thing, containing all the items needed for self-sufficiency and amusement. Including a garmin Rino, a radio with a 14 mile range and GPS, with the facility to show the other users locations. A man toy of the highest caliber. Also illegal everywhere except the US of A .
You get a real sense of history in this cabin, you never know what your going to find amongst the detritus, also one of the reasons why I’m wearing my earphones, it took two days to find the cable that plugs the I-pod directly into the stereo.
After a few hours, I was feeling peckish. I’ll stop somewhere with a nice view to help aid digestion .
This’ll do.
Boiled egg and cheesy spread ( acquired from the hotel breakfast) jammed into freshly baked bread bought from a village bakery.
Pulped Peach juice and kit-kat for desert .
Then to complete a fine lunch, on comes a good dancing track on the I-pod, and when you gotta a dance, you gotta a dance.
Anyone have a stab at guessing the track. From mid 1981 – Group has seven letters. Song has five .
There’s always one. Just as you get into the groove, on the loneliest road in the world, along comes a lycra clad freak. He didn’t bat an eyelid at the dad dancing going on in the middle of nowhere. Perhaps he thought he was hallucinating through all the exertion at high altitude.
Back on the road – I’m driving down into that village in the bottom right of picture.
Arrived at the hotel 2.30pm, on the road for 120 miles
i-pod finished – Only the Lonely = The big “O”, Roy Orbison. . Bikes arrived couple of hours later.
Didn’t speak to anyone all night. I’d forgotten how to.
The camp siren sounded at 7am. SHARP.
One man, one road, one destination, 13 luggage bags.
On the road by 8am.
Todays destination = Tafraoute. To the best hotel in town.
I grunt at the bike riders, and give them a wave as I drive off
I-pod at the ready - Owner of a lonely heart = Yes
As usual ,exceptional roads and views, all taken at sedate speeds.
The road in picture above leads into this next picture.
And these roads aren’t something you come across every now and again, these are the standard and type of road that’s mostly everywhere.
All you ever hear about are the Moroccan pistes, but the everyday roads are just as much fun, perhaps a lot of riders are put off morocco thinking it’s only rough pistes and dirty dusty riding, but these roads are OK for any type of bike, and pillion riders. They are mostly devoid of traffic, and accommodation is cheap and plentiful. It’s a shame everyone focuses on the pistes.
And it’s all only 2 days riding away. Leave Saturday morning, ride through france and spain, arrive in morocco Monday morning.
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Arrived hotel 2pm. Mileagefor the day 130 . I-pod – All By Myself =Harry Nilsson.
Bikes arrived 3.30pm. I said hi. Everyone.
Vey nice hotel. Very nice sunset. I feel an empathy with the lonely sun in the big sky.
Were staying here for two days. So tomorrow I have a day off.
