First things first: Apologies for the late post on my trip last year. For reasons that will become clear later I couldn't write this up any earlier. But since I have greatly benefitted from and enjoyed the several reports here, I thought it was only fair for me to contribute a bit as well.

So here we go: As so many here, I found myself at a crossroads in my life, doing a job that I didn't really like. So I decided to quit my job to go back into academia. But more importantly, I wanted leave some time in between to go travelling. Having done some backpacking in Tanzania first, "travelling" meant a 3 month trip on my bike, a Honda Africa Twin RD03 (!), from London to Morocco.

Getting there
My route led me first to Germany, my country of birth, where I visited family and met up with Jan, a friend of mine and fellow biker who would accompany me till northern Spain. In typical central European weather (that is rain) we hammered down the motorways to Lyon where we eventually got some sunshine. So we made our way through the Cévennes to traverse the Pyrenees from Perpignan to Saint Sebastian, where we both went our separate ways. I headed south to Sevilla, passing Bilbao, Zaragoza, and Salamanca and Jan rode along the French Atlantic coast back to Germany.

I kept this part of my report deliberately short, as I want to focus it on my time in Morocco. But actually, "getting there" wasn't as quickly as it reads. It took me about a month till I left Sevilla for Algericas, where I boarded the ferry to Tanger Med. All in all, I spend two weeks with Jan traversing the Pyrenees and then some 3 weeks getting to southern Spain.

Arriving in Morocco
Getting to Morocco was relatively straightforward: I booked an early ferry departing from Algericas the night before, boarded it the next day and crossed to Tanger Med, which is the new port of Tanger, situated a fair bit to the east of the city. Crossing the border at Tanger, there was no hassle to speak of. An import form was submitted online in advance and the remainder (passport stamp, V5C check, insurance - for those of us tied to the British insurance market) was dealt with quickly and professionally at the port. At the port there were also some guys from Inwi - a Moroccan telecoms provider, handing out free sim-cards along with some water. I don't know, if it was the best provider to go with, but it was cheap and the signal was good.

Leaving the port I got on my way along the mediterranean coast and then the Rif mountains to my first stop, Tetouan. The Rif is (apart from Chefchaouen) less known for its tourism then its export: Cannabis. Cannabis is grown in the Rif on an industrial scale (I saw whole valleys full of cannabis fields). The crime that comes with it is why Morocco's most northern mountain range has a bit of a bad reputation. This is quite a shame as these mountains are beautiful and so often missed.

Also, the often assumed security risk actually turns out to be massively overestimated! At this point, I'm repeating what surely everyone who travelled the area can confirm: Morocco is absolutely safe and almost nowhere in the country would I discourage anyone to travel individually! As long as one keeps some common sense (not harvesting the crops in the Rif, not buying wholesale quantities of weed and not trying to illegally cross the border to Algeria or having a sing-along with the Polisario in Western Sahara etc.) one is absolutely safe.

After stopping for some tea at a roadside cafe in the mountains, where I had a nice chat with the owner, who used to live in Frankfurt and spoke excellent German, I eventually made it to Tetouan. Tetouan (as the whole north) is heavily influenced by its Spanish colonial history, which is why Spanish remained the most widely spoken language apart from moroccan arabic in the region. It has a lovely small Medina where I found a lovely Riad to stay for the night.


Riad Dalia in Tetouan with a typical communal area

Riads are traditional Moroccan guesthouses, usually situated in the Medinas of towns. Many of the Riads became accessible to tourism fairly recently and are well worth a stay. The downside of staying at Riads is that one has to stay inside the Medinas. These medival town centres are extremely narrow, crowded and busy places and one is thus best advised to leave any vehicles (incl. bikes) in a guarded car park nearby, which obviously lifts the act of settling in to a whole new level.


Tetouan Medina. These views one only gets in the early morning before the Soukhs get busy.

After that settling in though, I was rewarded with a breathtaking view!


View of Tetouan Medina from the roof terrace

Chefchaouen
The next day I was setting off to Chefchaouen. Right after leaving Tetouan I got to know my new set of tyres a bit better - in Gibraltar i got a set of TKC 80s; I had Heidenau Scout K60s before, which I can highly recommend due to its price, longevity, and its true duel road capabilities, but which were also not available locally. When I went towards the mountains there was some light rain, which, combined with a lot of dust an dirt on the road formed a soapy film that is dreaded among motorcyclists. Combine that with fresh knobbly tyres and you can see where I was going - sideways, separated from my bike. Luckily nothing happened apart from a smashed camera lens that was liberating itself from my topcase (note: always lock topcases, when riding!).

The ride to Chefchaouen was relatively unspectacular as I sticked to main roads to make up some time - I wanted to spend more time further south. Chefchaouen itself was one of the most beautiful towns I stayed at. Chefchaouen is located in the southern Rif and has a distinctive, blue painted Medina stretching along two hornlike hills (therefore the name Chefchaouen, which is Arab for "look at the horns"). I found Chaouen perfect to stay for a few days, have some rest and take a few Photos.


Chefchaouen Medina


Much is said about Chaouen, but surprisingly little about the place being mostly inhabited by cats


Again this emptiness is limited to early morning hours only

In Chefchaouen, I stayed in a hostel for less than 100dh/ night. They also offered beds for half the price on the roof, but owing to all my luggage I opted for a regular dorm bed. Not sleeping on the roof is also something one might want to consider if one isn't a cannabis smoker as this seems to be the main mode of entertainment there. This is not a political statement by the way. I don't mind if people smoking some weed every now and then but I don't do it myself and would find it a bit annoying having to sleep in between clouds of kif-kif and hashish smoke.

In any case, I joined some backpackers to an Algerian music festival that was taking place on various stages throughout Chaouen. I was quite surprised by this as I didn't expect that appreciation for Algerian culture in Morocco, given the tensions between the two countries. At the main stage we ended up drinking sweet mint tea and having a nice chat with a local who was working at one of the luxury resorts whilst the band in the background played some kind of Algerian influenced pop-rock-jazz-fusion that was really quite amazing!


Algerian music festival in Chefchaouen - who would've thought?

Fez
I left Chefchaouen towards Fez on side roads again, passing by the lake El Wahda. The road (R419) was introduced to me by a local as "the worst of roads". Although it turned out that it wasn't, negotiating the potholes, or rather craters, in the tarmac was quite challenging at times. So I decided to ride much of the road on the gravel next to it. I stopped for a break at a small trucker cafe, where I must've been the first European in years, judging by the looks I received.


En-route to Fez

Arriving in Fez I started the now familiar process of "settling in" after I found a safe spot to park my bike. Fez is the imperial capital of Morocco (before it was moved back to its original capital, Marrakesh, and then Rabat). Its medieval Medina, Fez El Bali, arguably the largest of its kind, is a world heritage site and one of the most interesting but also most challenging places in Morocco.


Fez's old Medina - Fez El Bali

I was not able to find anything myself and was totally reliant on a guide I hired for a day. I normally don't like doing that as one is very much relying on the programme and sights that are being presented rather than just wondering around and exploring places. But Fez El Bali is so overwhelming on a first visit that there is hardly an alternative for a few days stay. This, along with the slightly tense attitude of the locals was probably why I wasn't a big fan of it. But this is also why I will need to come back just to visit Fez and Meknes for longer and try to explore it myself.


Bou Inania Madrasa - The famous Blue Gate

One of the highlights in Fez is its University, Al Quaraouiyine, which, founded in 859, is one of the oldest Universities in the world. The UNESCO ranks it as the oldest degree awarding intstitution in the world. Most impressive I found the tile and woodwork in the Universities' mosque.


Dormitory areas and tiles in the Al Quaraouiyine University



Impressive woodwork

At this point, I should probably add a few words about my (official - I try to avoid faux guides whenever I can) guide. My guide was Gino, an expat-Moroccan who was primarily trading carpets in New York and working as a guide whenever he was in Fez. He was very much a typical mid-sixtes Italo-American, which was an identity he adapted as, so he said, it made life much easier in New York. He genuinely did a great job but was also a bit of a cheeky character. Having told me how much he valued honesty in the first place, he later asked me not to tell the owner of the Riad I stayed in the full price I payed. Oh, well...


Soukh in Fez El Bali

After half a day and some lunch we left the Medina and took a taxi to a tile manufacturer where I had rare opportunity to take some photos of the women at work. Taking photos of people is generally challenging but particularly in Morocco. Especially women can be very cross when they spot photographers nearby. I was therefore either asking in advance or was very discretely operating with tele lenses when taking portraits.



Visiting a tile manufacturer


Mosaik in the making

We then went to the jewish quarter, which Gino praised as an example for the tolerance of the mostly islamic society. That Fes Jdid was founded under the protection of the Emir, following a massacre by the population to kill all jews in Fez El Bali, we didn't talk much about. This is also why the jewish quarter is next to the royal residences of Fes - by far the most impressive building around.


Gate at the royal palace

After I spend a couple of days in Fez, I was a bit put off by the the hassle there and thus decided to mostly avoid big Moroccan cities for the rest of my trip. Don't get me wrong: I'm not saying that one shouldn't visit the big imperial cities. On the contrary: They are some of the most exiting places I have been to. But with a bike, staying inside the Medina is tricky! The traffic is horrendous to say the least! If you are with your own mode of transport, I would recommend to stay somewhere decentral, with a guarded car park attached and get a taxi into town. This is what I did in Marrakech and it worked much better.

From Fez Through the Middle Atlas to Midelt
After staying in Fez for a couple of days I went on to go to Midelt, which should be my "base-camp" for the High Atlas, where I had the first stretches of proper off-road riding. My route went through Ifran in the northern Middle Atlas. At this point, it may help to give some more explanation on the geography of the Atlas mountains. For this purpose I'm gonna borrow a sketch from wikipedia:


Geography of the Atlas

When one refers to the Atlas one doesn't refer to one mountain range but a series of different mountains spanning from the southwestern Moroccan coast all the way to the Algerian-Tunisian border region. That is a vast area! So there is need to specify. Morocco hosts three of the Atlas ranges: The Middle Atlas, in the north, followed by the High Atlas and the Anti Atlas including Jebel Sahro, which tourists often mistake for the Sahara desert. The Middle Atlas is a relatively small and green mountain range and has with Ifran a popular destination for the Moroccan royals.


Approaching the Middle Atlas

Owing to the long distance ahead I followed main (N) roads to Midelt. Although the road conditions were superb and I could cover a good distance, it took me a day to make my way from Fez to Midelt! Everyone plans to travel the whole country in a week should bear that in mind.


Lunch in Zaida

Having arrived in Midelt I stayed in a cheap hotel where I had some tea and entered the waypoints for the next day in my satnav. From the roof one had a fantastic view of the area and I had a nice chat with a local, who turned out to be a local Berber carpet trader. He later tried to trick me into his shop, but wasn't very good so I got away with it. Perhaps he was too nice. I do have to give a big shout to the security guy at the hotel. He came to my room late at night to tell me to park my bike inside the market halls next door! I'm pretty sure it wasn't necessary but it was really nice.

The High Atlas
The next day I had a nice breakfast with Tea and amazing Chapati (didn't have Chapati since I was in Tanzania and I loved it there!) and then got ready to get on my way. I only had to get fuel. But it turned out that there wasn't any in Midelt, although the town has three petrol stations.So I had to drive back till close to Zaida (about 30km) till I got some. Having fuelled up, I went via Cirque du Jaffar into the High Atlas and followed a mix of piste and tarmac to Ilmichil.



The Cirque du Jaffar is a generally difficult and fairly dangerous piste that is winding up into the mountains where it eventually follows a loop around the river jaffar - hence the name. On the way to the cirque I had some unwanted company by a pack of dogs. They didn't look like they were coming to play so I throttled up and got out of their way. On the actual cirque one climbs down a narrow track with impressive drops to one side. In dry conditions this is fairly straightforward on a bike (a few dried out river beds are technically most challenging - momentum is your friend) but I wouldn't recommend this piste in rain. I met a group of french guys with a local driver in a land cruiser. Whilst I happily hammered through the cirque, they had to go inch by inch through some narrow passages.

On the piste, I was stopped by several kids and nomads. General recommendation here, don't stop and don't hand out gifts and candy. This is helping no one but encourages begging and in the worst case brings you into trouble. Also, although Morocco is absolutely safe, there are reports of bandits trying their luck on tourists in the area. But this is very rare, so it shouldn't keep people from going there (I was much more worried about the dogs that chased me earlier).

Ilmichil to Dades
Leaving the Gorqe du Jaffar, I continued towards Imilchil, following route MH1 from Chris Scott's roadbook. Navigation was generally easy and the piste was mainly gravel and tarmac. Only at one point I had to take a diversion as the road was washed out from floods earlier that year. For much of the piste I was joined by the French group I met earlier who, as it turned out, were on their 10th trip - always with the same driver!


Piste to Imilchil

On the piste I came across two French riders on a R1200GS who were stranded with a puncture. I guess I couldn't be of much help apart from offering my food pump, which turned out to be much more reliable than the gas bullets in their puncture repair kit. Generally, I wasn't too convinced with the blutack-like rubber seal in their kit as it didn't seem to seal too well. But compared to my slime can, which was more then useless as it turned out later, it was pretty good. They did manage to mend it eventually and after having some lovely picknick with Salade Maroccaine and sardines the other french group invited me to, we continued towards Imilchil.


Me and my French-Moroccan Company

I arrived in Imilchil fairly late and for simplicity booked myself into the same hotel the French travellers stayed at - it had some amazing Kefta! I decided to stay for the next day as well, as I had fairly stable internet access and a breathtaking scenery around me. Imilchil is one of the larger Berber villages in the High Atlas. It is most known for the Betrothal Festival - a traditional Berber wedding festival and is a popular destination for mountain hikers. The village has everything on offer one needs (theoretically): a tourist office (which was closed), a post office (closed) with a cash machine (that didn't work), many gites, cafés, a chemist and most important a petrol station.


Imilchil

Two days later, I set of for Dades, looking forward to riding the famous upper Dades Gorge and the highest part of my journey - the piste should wind up to more than 2900m altitude. So I set off to the petrol station to end up not getting my bike started again. I spend a fair bit, with the help of locals, to get it running again. Eventually, one of the locals, Tarik, knew a mechanic who fixed the issue in no time (dirty spark plugs). I exchanged phone numbers with Tarik, as his family run a small auberge near Merzouga, where I would stay for a couple of days later.

The ride over the Dades piste was absolutely breathtaking. Since I first set food (or tyre) on the High Atlas, I was blown away by the mountainous beauty that presented itself. A lot of the mountains are washed out, owing to the torrential rainfalls the region is notorious for. This leaves the most incredible shapes and colours. On the Dades piste I was riding over vast high plateaus till the piste eventually winded up over the pass where one gets amazing views of the gorge.

Still mesmerised by the views, I suddenly realised the thunderstorms that were forming ahead of me. Although it didn't look like they would reach me, I thought downhill would be the safest option in any event. That was easier said than done as the track had some massive drops and there was a thin layer of mud on it that was enough to raise adrenalin levels quite a bit.


Upper Dades Gorge

I eventually made it down to the river Dades, where I run into more trouble: The storms left quite a bit of rain, leading to the river Dades being unpassable. Often one can simply wait till water levels passed sufficiently.


Left: Ford when I arrived; Right: About one hour later


The sensible thing to do in such a situation: Tea!

So after waiting about an hour I attempted the crossing, which turned out easier than I thought. The same couldn't be said about the parts of road that followed: I had to negotiate through heavy rock and mudslides, which actually was quite a bit of fun and I was surprised how well my bike took it. But then I realised that something wasn't quite right when I noticed a bit of oversteering in the twisties that followed. So I stopped and found myself with a flat tyre. So, out comes the tool box, in goes the new tube and after about half an hour (with the help of a few locals; the TKC tyres aren't easy to break), I was ready to go again.

Dades to Merzouga
In Dades I finally managed to get some cash out again. Cash is actually quite a problem throughout Africa. Cards are usually not accepted and functioning ATMs are often difficult to find outside large cities. Although the situation is comparatively good in Morocco, it is no exception. I would therefore recommend to always take a lot of cash in fairly remote areas (I was always taking out 3-4000dh, which is about 2-300GBP). This is usually enough to keep you afloat for a week, which (sillily) was about the time that passed since my last withdrawal in Fez. So when I reached the ATMs in Dades I was virtually out of cash.

Staying in a cheap motel in Dades, I went on the road again the next day, when I planned to follow main roads to Merzouga - a small village next to Marocco's biggest Erg (ie. sand dunes), Erg Chebbi. In Merzouga I would meet up with Tarik again, who offered me a good price for a stay at his families auberge and a camel trek into the dunes. Merzouga is in the eastern Jebel Sahro, a subrange of the Anti Atlas. Because of the picturesque dunes people commonly mistaken it for Desert, but it is probably more accurate to classify it as semi arid (ie. half desert) in the Sahara outskirts. In any case, it is near the Algerian border and was, thus, far away. Hence the choice to use main roads and leave early.


I left Dades just in time

After a few hours of riding my tyre turned out to be a bit of a headache again - I had another puncture, or better the same puncture. I was stupid enough to no clean/ check the inside of my tyre properly, which would've revealed a sharp piece of rock. So there I was now, about 20km away from Erfourd, with a flat tyre and no more spare tubes. Well, at least I had a can of tyre repair foam for emergencies with me, so I should be OK. I thought. In fact this foam doesn't make any difference at all. I took the whole can and my tyre pressure was the same - flat. I don't know how these things are supposed to work (glad for any advise) but my experience was a total failure. So don't get this!

Not being able to solve my situation on the spot, I organised a recovery. So I stopped a push bike, nice guy with his father, who knew someone with a van who took me to Erfourd, where I would meet Tarik, and then went on to the auberge. The way I spent in the back of the van holding my bike, as the recovery guys didn't have straps. Oh, well...


Bike recovery

In Erfourd I met Tarik and, to my surprise, a group of Americans from California, I stayed in the hotel in Imilchil with. We set off to Merzouga, where we were greated with some nice tea and biscuits..really needed that! As it turned out, I was again being stupid: I didn't negotiate a price for the recovery in advance. So the guys thought they could bill me whatever they wanted. We settled for 1500dh, which was a total rip-off (but still good, considering that they asked for 3000dh initially!). I was still being pissed at the guys but my mood brightened quickly, owing to the place I was at.


Erg Chebbi from the auberge; our terrace




Erg Chebbi in sunset

The auberge was amazing! It was a traditional Berber house with a lovely terrace, right next to the dunes. Tarik's family was also incredibly nice and I had nice company with the Americans, and a German couple that arrived later. The next day I got a taxi with Tarik to Risani, where we met with a friend of his and organised some spares for my bike (that is: tubes, apart from a sprocket the only spares I needed on the whole trip). On our way back we shared the taxi with a German/French couple. He was studying nautics, what I found absolutely amazing. So we had an interesting conversation on our way back (towards the desert, ironically).


Typical Moroccan transport - we were four more in the back

Erg Chebbi and Planning the Desert Pistes
Unfortunately our trip to Risani was a bit of a waste of time. All the tubes I could find were essentially better bicycle tubes, so quite thin. I got a spare tube just in case, but still aimed for something better. So I decided to take out the rear wheel and Tarik went off with it to a mechanic, who had MX tubes. I couldn't actually see the tubes to confirm it, but I didn't get another flat tyre again, so well done!

With that off my sleeve, I went off for an overnight camel trek into Erg Chebbi. I was picked up by a young kid who assured me he was 18, which I didn't believe, and his dromedary, Jimmy. Jimmy was a good trooper, but very unhappy even for dromedary standards. I asked how old he was? Fourteen I was told. Then I asked how old dromedaries normally get? Twelve.


Poor old Jimmy and our camp


Little Scorpion

The ride into the dunes wasn't the most comfortable hour I had but yet an experience I wouldn't want to miss. Equally I wouldn't want to do it again.
When we reached our camp, my guide was preparing dinner (although I told him how unnecessary that was) and I my camera. The first blanket he lifted from the ground revealed, among loads of bugs, a little, young scorpion. It was instantly clear that the little fellow wasn't aggressive at all but just tried to escape. As I was later told by a friend of mine, who is a biologist, the Scorpion was probably not very dangerous.

A good indicator for the venomousness of a scorpion is, is the size the size of the tail: the bigger, the more venomous (and not just the size of the scorpion, i.e. small scorpions aren't necessarily more dangerous). One of the most dangerous scorpions in Morocco is the Black Fat Tail Scorpion. It is fairly large and has, as the name suggests, a fat tail. Some 100 sting related deaths are reported each year in in Morocco (one will probably find a similarly high number of fatal allergic reactions to bee stings in Europe, so no reason to worry). Snakes are far more dangerous, but one is also less likely to encounter one (don't turn over big stones etc.).

Over night we had full moon unfortunately, so I didn't get a glimpse of a clear desert sky yet. But the next morning I got up early and so was able to take some nice shots of the dunes.


Jebel Sahro in the background











When we went back, I decided to give Jimmy a bit of a break and walked back. After a quick breakfast, I put my back wheel back in and then discussed my route plans with Tarik. He offered to arrange a 4x4 and accompany me. We planned for 3 days to get to Foum Zguid, sleeping at Tafaroute and near lake Iriki. I decided to sleep on it first as the price was quite expensive (5000dh). Considering petrol costs, and the price of a land cruiser, and other expenditures that was a fair price though. Later that day, another group of backpackers arrived with a Czech guy, Milan, who came with his dog in an old VW Passat all the way from the Czech Republic (liked the attitude a lot!). Milan had a healthy appreciation for sarcasm, so we had a lot of fun.

Merzouga to Tafroute
In the evening we picked up a couple of s with Milan at a hotel in Merzouga and had a nice time, entertaining the little daughter of a French couple with drums (and everything that made noise). For a moment Milan and me considered driving together through the Sahara pistes so that he'd be my backup car and I'd safe the 4x4. Luckily I rejected the option, as the pistes we took were nowhere near drivable in a regular road car. So I settled for the 4x4 option and Tarik arranged everything so that our driver, Zait, came later that morning in a fairly modern Toyota Land Cruiser and we could set off early enough.

A quick side note on travelling the desert pistes alone: Most of the Moroccan desert isn't too technical but mainly rocky. Yet a lot of surprises can happen on the way and the area is very remote, so help can be difficult to find. Also, navigating can be more difficult than one might think, if one isn't familiar with the area. My Satnav was obviously relying on the waypoints I entered, which were following routes MS6 and MS7 in Chris Scott's road book. Sometimes there is need to deviate from the route though, which is when regional knowledge is quite helpful. For this reason I would not recommend anyone to approach the desert alone. Bear in mind that every year tourists get lost or seriously harmed in the area, because they underestimate the challenge. Experienced desert riders will be fine though.

After getting fuel, filling up water and getting some bread and sardines, we approached the first leg of the pistes: Merzouga to Tafroute, crossig the (usually dry) river Rheris in between. That day could hardly be called desert riding, which was fair enough, as it wasn't desert yet. The route went through beautiful parts of the Jebel Sahro, pretty much along the Algerian border (don't get too close, it's mined!).


The piste before crossing Rheris

On our first day we were accompanied by some light rain, which turned some otherwise dusty stretches into the soapiest mud you can imagine. Especially Oued Rheris (Oued means river) was an absolute delight! Zait and Tarik had quite an advantage as they simply turned into crab-mode and went sideways most of the time - an option that's not available on two wheels. The challenge in crossing Rheris (which was just muddy but didn't carry any water) wasn't just the mud but also the fact that it was quite rutted. This meant that I was essentially sliding from rut to rut and ended up quite surprised that I made it through without going off. Normally, Rheris is known for being incredibly sandy by the way. And I can see that! We actually tried to avoid most of the mud at first by taking a detour slightly to the east, but the military police didn't like that and stopped us when we got too close to the border.


I had to do a bit of road building to get further; right: Behind the mountains is Algeria

Following Rheris was a stretch of relatively easy wet, but at parts also fairly deep sand and some steppe till we reached Tafroute. Almost. Just in front of it was a small river, that although looking harmless, wasn't passable. When I walked in a bit, it turned out that it was at least 0.5m deep and, more importantly, was very muddy. So chances were that we'd get stuck, or even worse, hit quicksand. So we ended up going through a palmerie till we found a safe crossing.


Left: Not safe to cross! If in doubt: walk it! Right: Yet more mud

In Tafroute we booked ourselves into a nice auberge where we had some lovely Tajine and tea. It turned out that the area we were riding through had quite some archeological importance. Attached to the auberge they had an astonishing exhibition of prehistoric artifacts. Among those were handaxes that, for all I know, could be hundreds of thousand or even millions of years old - a famous example, the Olduvai Handaxe in the British Museum is 1.6 Million years old. Handaxes are astonishing artefacts as they are essentially prehistoric multitools. As such, they mark an important stage in human development where fairly complex tools were produced - indeed so complex that people would've had to communicate and teach the production of these tools.


Handaxes exhibited in the auberge


Olduvai handaxe in the British Museum - 1.6 Million years old

Tafroute to Lac Iriki
The next morning we went on further towards M'hamid, detouring via Zagora as our host told us that the piste near Tagounite wasn't passable. Tafroute had fuel available, so I took advantage of this, and we also topped up water as the area around M'hamid is more desert climate than what we went through so far.

The piste from Tafroute to Zagora was generally straightforward. It is mostly going through sandy steppe along some beautiful rock formations. There were some more muddy patches we went through but generally it was getting drier. I had some quicksand experiences though, when I went over wet sandy patches and noticed my rear sinking in. I was luckily quick enough and throttling up got me out without problems (albeit rather dramatically and noisily). Further on towards Zagora we came across some dry lakes where we could almost go at motorway speeds. They were quite muddy at parts, but it was mostly firm mud and after the previous day I learned to read the ground well enough to have a reliable idea of the ground I was riding on.


At some point the picture quality suffered a bit. That because I went through a water hole Kamikaze-style.

The mud and sand turned more and more into dry rocks where I could go on hammering it a bit. On rocks I had a big time advantage. The other guys weren't really getting beyond 2nd gear without having to fear for their suspension, when I was pretty much going road speed. One does have to watch out for little dried out streams crossing the piste every now and then though. I was taken by surprise by some those, which made me involuntarily test my suspension travel. Again big shout to my Africa Twin! It just took it. Just had to replace headrace bearings back home...but that's a given.


Hills near Zagora

We arrived at Zagora around midday and got some lunch at a roadside grill. From Zagora, we went pretty much straight towards M'hamid. On the way we passed several palmeries, and got trough some mountains, where I had some good fun in the twisties. The road to M'hamid was all tarmac, so this was relaxing. On the way we passed several warning signs of desert conditions and it was gradually getting hotter.

After M'hamid we went on pistes again and it took only about a mile until we hit sand - some of the softest I have been in so far. The piste was going through dunelettes near Erg Chigaga, which are notorious for its Fech Fech - a very powdery sand that is often indistinguishable from the rocky ground. I followed a local on a small pushbike for about one mile to avoid some of the worst sand but just hit more Fech Fech and then more dunelettes. Eventually we made it through and went accross the Black Hamada - a vast stretch of rock desert. And very rocky it was indeed! At times we had to negotiate through riverbeds with football-sized rocks in them. Normally I would recommend momentum to manage difficult rocky passages. Not there though! I tried it first and it almost threw me off (which on rocky terrain would have been not cool at all!). So there was no alternative to going through rock by rock.


The sign is misleading. It was more a store of blankets we used to sleep outside

Eventually we arrived at Lac Iriki, and stayed in the dunes next to an auberge, whose owner was a friend of Zait's. He came swiftly and we made a fire and some tea and ate our sardines. We had the company of a desert mouse, that was very interested in our bread. We also had a few hours till moonrise that night, so we had a nice view of the milky way.

A pavilion next to where we stayed overnight

Back to the Atlas
The charm of Lac Iriki is what you cannot rather than what you can see - in other words it's vastness. The ride itself was really easy, hammering over the dry plains of the lake with only a few patches of mud or easy sand in between.


View of Erg Chigaga from afar

To the east of the seemingly endless plains one can spot some of the most beautiful rock formations (which I missed to take shots of), and within the lake are a few auberges, appearing like little castle islands. A few words on these lakes: On a map Lac Iriki appears as a regular lake, stretching as an extension of the river Draa to the Southeast between Anti Atlas and Algerian border (or, according to google maps as a pond to the north of the actual lake). It is actually a seasonal lake that is dry for most of the year and, rather than a lake, an area of wetlands following floods. When carrying water, flamingos can be seen here.

One can theoretically follow the Draa to the very south, close to Western Sahara but we decided to leave the plains towards the mountains near Tissint, where we would hit tarmac again and continue for Foum Zguid and eventually Ouarzazate. For those who want to go on, I would carry spare petrol, enough water (10l per day per head) and food for a few more nights of wild camping. As said, I haven't been further south as a month wasn't enough to see it all, but on a map the area that followed further down the Draa seemed very remote indeed. So one should probably be prepared for that. Also bear in mind that Western Sahara gets close and there is no distinct border to Morocco. Whilst, for all I know, this is still safe territory and the Polisario won't just be roaming around outside the so called "Free Zone" (eastern of the Moroccan wall, so you won't accidentally cross it), it is still close to an international conflict area and some care should be taken. Needless to say: don't get lost in the desert!


Dromedaries on the plains of Lac Iriki

Leaving the plains one rides across more Hamada - for miles and miles! This is really a stretch of piste that brings shocks to a test. Leaving the piste, for the first time, I had to go through a police checkpoint, where I would hand out one of my fiches - a prepared sheet of paper summarising passport and visa info and from where to where I was going. The officers usually like that and it speeds things up a bit. But you could handover your passport as well - Moroccan police is generally not a hassle and uncorrupt (if you aren't a journalist, or they think you are - think Western Sahara and big time camera equipment!). I actually forgot to to copy my visa number, but nobody seemed to mind - let's face it: They are after dodgy fellows, illegally crossing the desert from Algeria and not the odd tourist passing through.

In Foum Zguid we gassed up and topped up our water reserves - this is why I recommend 10l/ day/ person. We had loads of water and topped up in between, but when we arrived in Foum Zguid we were out of bottled water and were already drinking from reserves we got at the desert auberge. Well, and some, let's say, would've liked to drink that water with a bit of Immodium. From Foum Zguid we went on through the beautiful, beautiful (!) Anti Atlas to Tazenakht, where we had some lunch. Apparently, people there weren't to keen on strangers, so we pretended I was a tourist guide and decided not to stay overnight but rather move on to Ouarzazate, where we should go separate ways.

Ouarzazatte is famous for its film industry (among others The Mummy was filmed here), but I was too tired to do much sight seeing and mainly stayed at the Hotel to relax and enjoy the AC - after all it was close to 40° C.