March 31, 2016
Tour of Morocco 2015
Tour of Morocco 2015
At the start of 2015, a work colleague came to me and said “I’ve got a plan to drive around Morocco on motorbikes this summer, and you’re involved”. I said I hadn’t ridden a bike in 15 years, he said you’ve got 9 months to learn.
So I started on my biking journey, selling my weekend cage and getting all the legalities out of the way, theory test, IBT, etc then I bought a bike and gear and started to learn the roped but knew that I would have to wait at least 6 months before I could even apply for a full license.
Unfortunately the timings didn’t work out and I knew I wouldn’t even get a date for the test so in the last few weeks before the trip I decided to rent a 4×4 to help lug all the lads (13 in total) gear about and do a few days on the bike on the sly.
So I’ve trimmed out as much cage talk as I could , but the 4×4 we had was an integral part of the trip so apologies. We took an evening flight to Marrakesh with Ryanair, I picked up the 4×4 and the lads got a taxi to the Hotel. Some beer was consumed.
Day One
Marrakesh to Ouarzazate
The inaugural leg of Morocco 2015.
We gathered on the Monday morning in the Lobby of the hotel in Marrakesh, shook off the effects of the abundance of beer from the night before and we agreed that the lads were to head into town to pick up their bikes from the rental place, and I was to negotiate the Pathfinder through the Monday morning hustle and bustle of Marrakesh and meet them at a predetermined spot outside of town.
The weather was actually quite warm (30°C) that morning so the lads took the gear that they thought they’d need (not much) and packed the rest into the back of the jeep.
The pannier situation of the rentals wasn’t exactly trustworthy. We were informed ahead of the event that some bikes would have one box instead of the promised three, and some would have none at all, so we had instructed the lads before the trip to pack lightly just in case. I’d have hated to see what they would have brought if I didn’t.
The 7 seater 4×4 was stuffed to bursting with all manners of bags and suitcases.
The original idea of bringing such a large jeep was that if someone dropped a bike and it was beyond repair then we could stuff it in the back and carry on. I guess that idea was now well and truly out the window.
With the leaf springs of the Pathfinder groaning under the weight of 13 men’s socks and jocks we set off through the city to get to our waypoint and we were thrown into the deep-end of the lunacy that is driving through Marrakesh. Traffic lights, lane dividers, roundabouts, stop signs are all merely a suggestion and not at all to be taken seriously , at least looking at the locals that’s the way it seems to me. Why use an indicator when a horn will suffice much more so.
If you’re stopped at a red light the cars behind you will burst into song by blaring the horns before the light ever changes green, just to let you know that god forbid you make them wait in traffic for one more second than they have to. There was a 4 way -4 lane unsignalled roundabout in the middle of town that severely puckered my nipsy as I tried to coax the big Nissan through the platoon of W123 Mercs that are omnipresent as taxis, as well as trying to avoid the smaller vehicles hiding in my blind spots that were desperate to make it into a gap that doesn’t exist, not to mention the swarm of scooters with riders that seemed to be on an apparent Kamikaze mission.
I navigated through the shanty towns and the slums, stunned at the conditions that people were living in, and then a half mile down the road found myself on an immaculate road with leafy green verges on either side and Golf resorts being tended to by greens men. The juxtaposition of such affluence and poverty was staggering.
We stopped at a café outside of the waypoint and had a coffee in the mid-morning sun waiting for the rest of our cohorts to arrive.
It was only now that I was stationary and awakened by the espresso I could take a mental snapshot of the cars that shared the road with us.
It being a French colony, anything old and French was the order of the day.
Soon the air was filled with the throbbing of 11 single cylinder engines as the cavalcade of Yamaha XT660’s, the Suzuki, and the KTM all arrived.
The lads pulled in and we had a look around the machines before they got too much abuse. All looked to be in pretty ok nick for rentals. Sean’s KTM stood out as it was packed to the rafters with saddle bags filled to bursting with equipment. The reason for this is Sean, not being one to take the easy option, had set off a week before we had and driven the KTM 690 through France, Spain and down to the ferry crossing to Morocco and met us at the hotel yesterday.
We loaded up on warm coffee, and set off; little did we know we would soon be glad of it.
Today’s journey was to take us from Marrakesh, up over the Atlas Mountains via the Tizi N Tichka pass, and down into Ouarzazate.
A little over 200km with an elevation change up to 2260m at the very top of the pass.
The lads took off and we started our ascent, Nev and myself bringing up the rear with all the gear in the back.
The first 20-30 km went off without a hitch as we climbed the first few hundred meters in elevation, through switchback after switchback on some beautiful winding roads, spotting mud huts and villages dotted in what seemed to be most desolate of areas. Ladies gathered in the rivers below us washing the clothes of their families by beating them off rocks in the murky brown water, and yet every man walked around in a pristine white robe. Utterly unimaginable considering there’s neither a Zanussi nor hint of Persil within 50 miles.
We noticed the temperature dropped steadily inside the jeep the higher we rose. From 30°C down in the foothills, but now it was pushing down as low as 15°C.
Then without warning a torrent of rain came down, and as I turned a corner I came across all 11 bikes on the side of road, beckoning me to pull over so they could grab what little wet gear they had packed in the jeep.
From here on in, the next few hours were an unpleasant slog, in a deluge of rain that showed no sign of stopping, temps dipped down to 8°C, visibility down to 50 yards or less as we climbed higher into the clouds, which meant that even though we were surrounded by some of the most magnificent views in the world , we couldn’t see them. We may as well have saved ourselves the bother of giving 150 quid to Michael o Leary and done the bleeding ring of Kerry.
As it was off season too, most of the big roadside cafes and restaurants had closed so there wasn’t a bit of hot food to be had. One place at the summit was open and we managed to get some fizzy pop and chocolate into ourselves to keep some bit of blood sugar coursing through the veins. The lads opened up the jackets and their undergarments were soaked through. But one look at the sky and we knew it was pointless to try and wait out the rain, it wasn’t gonna stop today at least, so we decided to move on towards our final destination. Myself and Nev clambered into the warm dry jeep, and whilst we did feel a small pang of empathy for our travel mates, looking out as they donned cold and wet jackets , we silently smiled as we adjusted the dual zone climate control to our individual liking and put on the heated seats so we didn’t get a chill in this inclement weather.
As we came down the other side of the pass the heavy rains had also brought some localised flash flooding. Normally dry river beds were bursting their banks as the muddy water from the hilltops above washed silt, sand and pebbles across the road making any bit of decent progress treacherous. The pace slowed down as we navigated through a few crashes and even more dangerous twisty sections often including bridges that had been engulfed with water , and sometimes had been knocked out altogether. This continued until we hit the lowlands and the temps raised a bit but the rain did not relent. The light was fading from the sky as we neared our hotel, which proved impossible to find as it had changed name since we had booked it. We managed eventually to locate it down a side street and everyone squelched into the lobby grabbed the room key and trudged off to the rooms for a well-earned hot shower and a few local brews to quench the thirst.