Day 22 – El Loss Pathportos

Mike: It’s a mystery, but at some point between slumber and awakeness, I demolish a bed. Waking in a tangle of pine, sponge mattress and sheet, we do the only thing possible – ignore it, have a coffee and leave. After deciding that Salamanca would be a good place for lunch, we took off. Stopping for fuel (130 kms later) I innocently asked Mark about remembering to collect his passport (Pathportos) ‘El Problemo’ exclaimed Mark, and thus began the day’s adventure.

Contrary to the popular ‘Audrey Hepburn number’ the rain doesn’t fall on the areas flatter than the rest, in the country known as Spain. The precipitation tends to favour the hillier areas, and as a result whilst travelling through those areas commonly known as hills/ mountains etc... We got wet, due to the rain (What falls in Spain).

Mark in his travels in search of Pathportos came to experience the frozen stuff – Hail, buckets of the stuff (os) When we eventually caught up with him he was wet and cold (poor thingos) We decided to make camp – found a rather nice hotel actually, cheap too. Stayed near Salamanca, a big ride tomorrow.

Had food; it was ok, after meaty discussions we retired to the room to watch musically challenged Jesus impersonator/ tyre salesmen type singer strangle songs to enthusiastic crowd on telly.

We had become comfortably numb watching our muse, when all of a sudden... Vocal teutonic in next room decides that eleven is not the appropriate volume (probably right) but still  goose-stepping up to our room, wearing lederhosen and singing German marching songs is not on! (Made that bit up) Turned down TV and went to bed.

Day 21 - Bikes get fixed, get on the move again.

Mike: Lars' and Mark's bikes get their weekly service/ check up at El Motorista and they strap the tyres back onto their bikes. We leave to the wailing of attractive women and ‘senioritas el academios’ (schoolgirls). It's times like these you appreciate the time spent learning basic Spanish. ‘No, no, no!’ we said, ‘Los grande hombres on los motos must departos prontos’.

We headed north from Jerez towards the delightful truck stop of Alijucen. The warm ambience of the lit candles on arrival was a mere illusion as the proprietor, informed us that there was a power cut due to (much gesticulation at this point, fingers/arms moving up and down) rain in the hills. This had the added bonus of no water (electric pump). So far our room was looking pretty rubbish.

Eventually power was resumed and Juan Pedro Conchitas San Fransiscos del Fuegos, was able to cook some food (steak and chips) At this point Lars was still unable to commit to serious eating, the previous nights exuberance having taken its toll.  We retired to our bedroom to music and a duty free bottle of Ballantines.

Day 20 – Over to Spain - meeting Mark & Mike again

Set off at around 10 from Chefchaouen towards Ceuta, the border crossing taking around 20 minutes in the heat. After the short ferry crossing  I changed sparkplug and blasted up to Jerez to see if I could get to El Motorista before they close at 7.

Pepe was all smiles when I got there and after explaining the spark plug problem and the loose steering bushings I left the bike there and found a taxi to Hotel Trujillo.

It was good to catch up with the guys to hear about their adventures. Mark’s bike are being fixed and should be good the next day. After a few whiskies, we went to our local for food and drink.

Mileage: ~ 150 

Mark and Mike – After more bleeding saints we decided to get pissed. This was a good idea.

Lars turned up at a time, it was good to catch up, we went to local pub (they remembered us) and got fed and more pissed.

Day 19 – Sue going home and I go north.

After dropping Sue off at the airport I set headed northeast around 11.30.   

The landscape is different north of Marrakech. Wide open plains with the Middle Atlas in the south east. Beautiful views again!

The road between Oued Zem and Rabat is one of the best motorcycle roads I have ridden! Even with my heavy bike with off road tyres it was such good fun!

A motorway blast and after understanding there are no night ferries I decided to blast for Chefchaouen and arrived at hotel 9.30. The last hour in the dark over the mountain roads was interesting!

Not much to write about but one of the best riding days of the trip!

Mileage: 412

Day 18 – Marrakech day – Majorelle Gardens

A lazy day with a walk through Guliez and to Majorelle Gardens, a lovely place but not as “tranquile” as Sue expected it. Tourist everywhere! Yves Saint Laurent created some wonderful colourful designs there which we will take home to our garden. Some fantastic cacti there! 

In the afternoon and evening we wandered the souk for some shopping, finishing off with food at one of the stalls. We had just started our dinner when a 2 young(er) girls asked us ...what is that and what is that? They were on a one week tour of Morocco with their first day in Marrakech. 

We walked over the square towards Koutabia thinking about a horse carriage ride back to the hotel, but for the first offer of 200 dirhams I just said no!  Sue agreed and I said...” let’s just walk on, all the  way past the row of horse carriages ...we will get an offer” And by the end the row of horses a man came to us saying “ Hotel du Pacha 100 dirham? And off we went!

The wonderful early century setting of the Hotel Du Pacha was perfect to end our day with a coffee.

Mileage: 0

 

Mike and Mark – Start heading inland, Mark takes a tumble.

We rode to Chefchouen, it was good to get away from the coast/ Rabat. We passed through some pretty damn good farm land, the area was quite clearly fertile, towns all seeming to service the rural/ farming sector. It was here (Souk-el-Arba du- Rharb) that Mark (unwisely choosing the Harry Hill plastic comedy chair) took a tumble. This caused much mirth amongst the cafe set, as Marks Base came over Apex, how we laughed.

This dear reader was only the prelude to another incident that was to overshadow the chair affair. Known as the ‘pannier falling off the bike bit’ because it involved a pannier falling of a bike. It was to provide some Moroccan woman and her donkey with dinner time stories for some time to come. Aluminium panniers travel very fast along asphalt when a large motorbike is used as the primary source of forward momentum. Narrowly missing said woman and donkey, they watched sparks fly and the offending pannier grind to a halt in some African bush (foliage as opposed to pubic region). After quick assessment and appropriate actions, duck tape and bungee ties came to the rescue (better than the original) fixing the pannier to the bike. At this point it became clear that marks bike was poorly. We chugged to Chefcheuan where men offered us ‘ rugs’, this was a constant theme,  men saying they had good stuff, ‘ rugs like you wouldn’t believe, Moroccan gold ‘ rugs’ etc etc -  didn’t see any carpets though.

Day 17 – Warming up over Tizi n Test and meeting an old friend

 After changing the sparkplug again, the bike ran fine and the morning sun was glorious and warm! The plains below the mountain pass of Tizi n Test was dotted with Argan trees and to reach the delicious nuts goats apparently climb the trees. We stopped at a feminine cooperative where we were shown the long and laborious process of extracting the oil from the Argan nuts, it smells very nice and the young educated lady said it is good for everything! We bought some oil for cooking but also soap and Hammam scrubbing soap.

When we stopped for a photo of the fantastic views, 2 guys on a moped signed to us what we thought was a “do you want us to take a picture of you 2”. But after they stopped they wanted a pic of them on my bike! I nearly charged then 100 dirhams!

The road narrowed and steepened and as we were riding on the valley side of the road, I told Sue I didn’t like heights, and that I get dizzy if I’m up too high. I’m not sure what she shouted at me through the helmet, I just heard some laughing and shouting about something, anyway her hold on me tightened, which was nice!

As we came up to the top of the ‘Test we stopped for some lunch. When I showed the proprietor; Hassan, the picture of me and Mike from last year he became delirious, dancing around laughing. He hugged and kissed us and we took photos of us and his family.  His son is now helping with the restaurant and they are also finishing off a six room hostel after 4 years of work.

On the way down we just had to stop a few times to enjoy the scenery, we arrived at Hotel Du Pacha in the evening.

Mileage: 149

Mike and Mark –

The rain stopped for long enough to dry our bivies and pack up, we had stayed remarkably dry, we took shelter for an hour as another belt of rain came through, then took off down the coast.

El Jadida on the Atlantic coast is known for the 27 types of effluent it produces. With a skyline and smell rivalled only by Port Talbot, it has become the centre for ‘toxic tourism’ boasting several unique species of animal. The area produces phosphates (Morocco’s biggest export) and clearly is the area’s biggest employer, which is why the locals put up with the pollution. Carried on up the coast looking for some overnight accommodation in one of the sea side resorts – nothing. All private apartments- went to Bouznika (a large town) to try luck. Pulling off the road into a small roadside puddle, found myself in a ‘you’ve been framed moment’. I surfaced moments later, my panniers providing a degree of buoyancy, and my sailing experience proving invaluable. After proving the bikes’ sea worthiness’ we asked a local copper for directions to a hotel. A town with no hotels! He pointed us in the direction of Rabat, we rode on. Arriving tired and in the middle of the night did not enamour me to Rabat, a city that seems to consist of unlit road works, aggressive drivers and general non-friendly Muslim types, ended up in a hotel that we would have preferred not too! Expensive with arrogant staff (infidel treatment again)

Day 16 – Village visit, slippery piste, puncture and through the cold rain to Taliouine

We said goodbye to our new found Bikers Home friends and Peter advised us about a gravel road over to Tazenacht that looked more interesting than the tarmac. 

A few miles in, we saw some camels by the side of the road and stopping for pictures,  it didn’t take long for the camel driver to come running over. Photos, laughs, smiles and a few dirhams changed hands. 

Further on we saw a little village down in a small valley below us and Sue suggested we ride down to see it. We got to the end of the road in front of the school, just when the kids were storming out. 2 young men came over and we started talking, Elyoubi and Samat were cousins and they invited us to their house. We spent more than 3 hours in this little village Taguanzalte that isn’t even on the map. We had tea with the father in the house, the women and walked around the village with an entourage of kids. We learned that when filming “Babel”, Brad Pitt and Kate Blanchett stayed in their house and donated some money towards the electricification of the village. 

Many times when you have been invited somewhere, we have had the experience that you are expected to pay for the “hospitality”. But this time I tried to explain that and that we don’t want to be rude and offend them in any way, Both cousins were adamant that they did not want anything! The school has 60 children and the parents have to pay for all school material including books. A book can cost between 5 to 25 dirhams, so Sue and I offered to donate some money to the school. How can you resist that when you have 2 lovely girls in tow all the time like Sue new best friends?!

We also went to see the cooperative where carpets where handmade. The yellow carpet in making was to be 3.4 metres by 4 metres, it would take 6 months to make and cost 6000 dirhams if bought from the cooperative. I don’t think £600 would buy you a carpet like that in UK? If you wanted you could have any pattern or your name or initials in the carpet. Sue and I decided on the spot to come back sometime in the future with a car and bring one back!

We had to move on, even if they offered us to stay and we set off in the rain that had started about an hour before. The piste became very slippery from the rain so I rode very slow, I don’t think I went faster than 30 mph at any time.The scenery was stunning! After around 40 miles we came to Tazenacht and just outside the village the bike went wobbly, flat front tyre! Found a tyre place and it was fixed in 30 minutes, 20 dirhams! The repairman found an inch long thorn from one of the tough hostile bushes. Sue didn’t like the state of the tyre....

Getting much later now and still a good 50 miles to go.  The cold wind and rain relentlessly bashed against us as we motored on to Taliouine. Sue was frozen to the core by the time we arrived - not the best part of the trip for her!  Made even worse when it first seemed that the small hotel “Askaoun” we had found did not provide the hot water they had promised and worse again when I disappeared for over an hour to get a pannier repaired on the bike, leaving her shivering in bed.

Lars: Well I had to desert her... at least for a while, the means of transportation has priority doesn’t it? At the petrol station I asked around and a few minutes later a guy had taken the other bolt/bracket and took off on his moped. There I stood waiting, hoping he would return, going to the shop buying nuts and looking around in this one (dead) horse town but after 45 minutes he came back with a new bolt bracket welded and grinded, better than original. I came back to a very cold and lonely Sue, but after a good dinner she was as new again!

Sue: With hot water restored, a number of rum and cokes and wrapped in a blanket, I had recovered enough for us to enjoy a lovely private meal in the upstairs restaurant. Lesson number one - make sure you put your woman first and definitely before your bike!!!  

Mileage: 104 miles

 The family in Taguenzalte

Sue and the girls

 Flat tyre!

Warming up dinner

Mike and Mark – Road from Kesh to Safi.

Safi is very Islamic, we were looked up and down as infidels, not a warm Berber welcome here. Found the campsite and pitched our bivies made ourselves comfortable. We should have taken more notice of the animals walking in pairs to higher ground; alas we didn’t see what was to come. After a hearty meal, we crawled into our sleeping bags. At this point the pitter, patter of the rain was light, within minutes it was a torrent of biblical proportions. Gazing out through my triangular hole, I ‘hunkered’ down for the night. During a pause in ‘hunkering’ I noticed a large puddle/ small lake forming to the right of my head. Fearing I may drown at some point, I arranged my bags to prevent accidental rolling into the pond. The rain continued all night.