MARRAKECH

I am now in Marrakech and taking a well earned break at the rather swanky Es Saadi Resort. And I want to make it abundantly clear that I do NOT appear in the following photo, nor do I endorse such offensive, boofheaded behaviour while I'm not there.

 We have racked up just over 2000 km since leaving Lisbon, about the half way point of the tour. Since leaving Fez, I have to say the riding has improved a lot. There is nothing like a bit of experience with local conditions. The driving is still totally nuts, but if you start from the assumption that everybody on the road has a death wish, a kind of inevitability allows you to enjoy the next five minutes before something else terrifying happens. Eventually, you kind of go with it. But you trust nobody. Road rules in Morocco must be obeyed unquestioningly under all circumstances, no matter what. Unless you don't want to. And there's the crux of the problem.

Did I mention that we are on a BMW GS 750, Triple Black Edition, (very smart). Made a mistake at bike selection time, and have been paying for it ever since. Had to take the top box off after the first hour, because we could not both squeeze onto the seat. Now we have stuff all over the place, and can never find what we're looking for. Coulda, woulda, shoulda. Even the 850 would have been tight, but I didn't really want a 1250 either. Maybe I should be in the truck!

A little about our group. We have two Canadian couples, two girls and a bloke from NZ (all individuals), four other couples from NSW/Vic (who have done rides together previously), a German/Aussie guy on his own GS850, a guy from Sydney, and the two of us. We have three Compass staff, a guy from the bike hire company, along with two vans. It is the biggest group I've ridden with on such a tour, and it brings its own dynamics with it. The ride gets strung out and /or split up more, you have to wait longer at corners and other stops, checkin/out, personality differences arise more frequently, etc. So far, so good, but I don't think I'll be doing another one.

From Fez, we headed due South and into the Middle Atlas Mountains. At one point we found ourselves in a beautiful town which looked like it had been transplanted from France. Told rather cryptically that it was a University town. Anyway, it had great landscaping and proper coffee. A little further on we stopped for lunch in a popular stop, populated by a freeloading band of monkeys. That was an interesting experience. We had to post a guard around the food and the bike gear, as they went for anything loose and fled up the nearest tree. Someone had a packet of chips or whatever picked from their pocket, while another had to fight for a glove. Finally a local with a biblical style slingshot (I kid you not) dispersed the troupe, and they reconvened across the road to pester another group. Which we enjoyed greatly. Its always funny when it happens to someone else!

At day's end we found ourselves just outside a remote old mining town, called Midelt, and in a very large and quite newish (20 yo) hotel that had almost no other guests. I started thinking about the Bates Motel, or that cartoon where Porky Pig and Sylvester checked into a haunted hotel in the desert. Anyway, nobody died, and next day we headed to Merzouga, which is the epicentre of the Camp in the Sahara industry. After changing at a nearby hotel, we all headed out for the obligatory camel ride into the Sahara. I remember as a schoolboy hearing about a purported book called "Across the Arabian Desert by Camel" by Major Bumsore. Well after two hours of bouncing around on top of this admittedly docile ship of the desert, my backside felt like I'd done a 10 year stretch in Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary. I fail to recall anything more uncomfortable. Cas, on the other hand, quite used to snapping pics from the pillion seat, did it no hands and took so many photos that others were asking for copies. After yet another battle with technology, I managed to find a few to post.

YEE HAR!!

Fact for all you sand lovers out there. The parts of the Sahara that I have encountered consist of extremely fine sand grains, and it's very, very dry. Just the thing for the hourglass industry.  But you do have to seive out the camel shit. Unless you're making a really, really big hourglass.

There were quite a lot of other camps in the nearby dunes, so its a business. But it was an ok experience. There were also heaps of other options, such as dune buggy tours, quad bike tours, dirt bike tours. Most of which were happening while we were trying to feel the serenity. As soon as that died down after dark, the Moroccan music started up again. It sounded like a hand grenade exploding in Billy Hyde's Drum Clinic. We did not have to endure a camel ride back to town, instead we were all relieved to find  a fleet of 4WDs ready and waiting. This lasted precisely up to the moment a certifiable lunatic started the vehicle and with Moroccan music blaring, took off up the side of the nearest dune and practically rolled the car. He only ever had one hand on the wheel, the other being fully occupied with holding his phone, which he was speaking into. In between turning around to ask the other passengers "You Like? You Like?? I go faster". At one stage, he even sent a text. I know this because I was sitting next to him, and getting decidedly jittery when the speedo hit 120 kph. 

Once back on the bikes, where it was comparatively a lot safer, we headed back the way we came in, which meant doubling up over 100 km of empty barren terrain to the west of Merzouga, then into the High Atlas Mountains and heading for Todra Gorge. By now, the riding was actually pleasant, temps down to 17-18 degC and the roads actually pretty good. But you never know what is lurking around the next bend or on the other side of the hill. Each habitable area is a lottery, with people and animals walking across the road with no regard for their safety or that of anyone else, and the usual unconventional moves from anything with wheels.

Todra Gorge was pretty cool, a giant vertical chasm carved from the rock by a river, which at the time of our visit looked pretty innocuous. Lots of other tourists, and all that goes with it. Including a small child with pleading eyes who held out her hand for whatever the tourists might put in it. I noticed she went back to a cave where the rest of the family was living. Learning the family business, I thought to myself. Yes, I gave her a coin, alright? At this town we entered an unassuming restaurant which turned out to be a hidden gem. A beautiful vine covered terrace overlooking the river, hidden from the sight of the heaving masses. Here we had, I reckon, the best meal of the tour so far. A great selection of barbecued shaslicks, local vegetable salad and a Coke in a glass bottle! 

The road between Merzouga and Marrakech is probably one of the most scenic and popular routes in the country, and clearly a must do with all the other bike tours, and there were plenty of those. It starts with vast open spaces on plateaus that stretch between enormous mountains. At times I was reminded of the Altiplano (high plains) of Bolivia, and parts of Pakistan, and indeed even the odd reminder of the US south west, or of good old Oz. (You know, everything below the horizon is earthy, everything above the horizon is sky, that kind of thing !!!). This route took us down as far as Ouarzazate, the most southerly point of our journey, and we commenced the trek northward from here. This was really up and down and very twisty, yet still with breathtaking scenery. Features of this section included the World Heritage listed mud brick village of Ait Ben Haddou, remarkably unscathed from the recent major earthquake. Chris Phillips and I were denied the chance to see the similar town, just outside the aptly named city of Bam in Iran, which had been totally destroyed by an earthquake just before we arrived there in 2008. So I regarded this as being due! It has been used for numerous movies, including Gladiator and Game of Thrones. I can just see Russell Crowe leaving his five star hotel in Marrakech and getting helicoptered out to site for a solid day's work of killing and maiming, before going back to his hotel for a pink gin at  cocktail hour. Oliver Reed died during the production of this movie, I suspect probably because he couldn't get a drink!

While I was there I bought this toy camel for my little grandson Gus.

After demolishing half the shop, because it was so dark in there and stacked to the rafters with similar tourist tat. I know I paid too much, but Abdul gave me the satisfaction of thinking I could barter properly. The guy was a real pro, every bit as good as Eric Idle. It was fun, and everybody's happy.

The other main feature of this route is the incredible Tizi n' Tichka Pass. Yes, that's how you spell it. This is a famous descent often featured in bike mags or tour brochures, and a photo I have no access to, so google away. Probably taken by a drone I suspect, but it's one hell of a ride. In fact its only a part of a much longer fantastic bike road coming down from the Atlas mountains to the flat, hot plains where Morocco's biggest city Marrakech has sat for a few thousand years. And it was back into 37 degC and crazy traffic. All good things etc! Morocco clearly has a plan for improving its road network. Parts of this route are world class. Now if only they could join up all the bits! I might make that suggestion on an official basis. I came around a sweeping bend of perfect bitumen, cranked over hard and wringing a healthy 7000 rpm in 3rd from the willing Beemer, to be confronted by a pile of loose railway ballast - it was too big to be called gravel - spread out before me for 100 metres. Anxious moments followed. They don't use road signs, they let people sort it themselves. Very reminiscent of India or China, ie let the gods decide. We also had a duel with a nitwit who drove an overloaded small car on whatever part of the road he felt like, while maintaining a safe distance of 3mm from the nearest vehicle. I decided the best place to be was well in front of this guy, so I ripped past him at the first of very few opportunities, only to have the guy overtake me 10 minutes later on a blind corner. I guess in the overall scheme of things, this matters not. If he wants to die, that's his business, or its the will of Allah. Well, I'm saddled with that Western belief in cause and effect, and I don't want to be part of his destiny, all due respect to Allah. I doubt I'm the first foreigner to be bamboozled by the way of doing many things in this crazy, crazy country.