Day 159
Melilla is in Africa but politically part of Spain, like Ceuta, so I’m still in the Schengen area and on day 90. It’s quite odd crossing the border where the architecture suddenly changes from European colonial or modern to Moroccan square flat-roofed style. The Moroccans here speak Spanish as well as French, often mixing the two.
It’s much cooler here than in Europe, forecast is for 25C/18C for most of the upcoming week, quite windy but it looks mostly in my favour. I’m heading to Fez first then South from there. The landscape is mostly very dry and unpopulated with the occasional small area with a river surrounded by lush olive, argan and eucalyptus plantations. The roads are not too busy and there are some sports cyclists about, I chat briefly to the ones going my way.
Day 160
Fez is 240 km so I’ll split that into two days, stopping at Taza at almost exactly half-way. There’s a lot of dust in the air reducing visibility down to 5-10 km, and coupled with the pollution from all the badly maintained vehicles it’s horrible to breathe. The landscape doesn’t change much.
Day 161
Everything gets a bit greener and more populated as I get nearer to Fes. There are still roadblocks at most road intersections and approaches to main towns. I don’t remember seeing road blocks last time I was here (10 years ago) and had assumed it was just because of the proximity to the borders.
Fes is proper tourist-Morocco, with a huge bustling Medina and the associated hustle. I’d like to come back one day on a visit where I can buy a load of stuff and take it home.
Day 162
I wake feeling like I’ve smoked a packet of Gauloise, and the air quality gets even worse as I go through the south of Fes. Even out in the country it’s horrendous, half the vehicles are spewing visible smoke at 60+ km/h going downhill, the lorries struggling uphill beggar belief that they’re still able to run.
Today’s ride is up into the Middle Atlas, an area of national park and interestingly vast woodland. It’s uphill all the way. This area gets snow in the winter so the architecture is very alpine, steep roofs and names like Hotel Camonix, well-watered public gardens, etc. It’s an illusion though, the standards are very much Moroccan.
Day 163
More climbing takes me through an area of national park, past the monkeys and horse rides, up to 2,000 m, then down a bit to the vast empty plateau between Middle Atlas and High Atlas.
Day 164
Today is spent crossing this plateau to end up at the foothills of High Atlas. There’s an awful lot of not-very-much, but at least the roads are quiet and air more breathable.
Day 165
Heading south, the colour of the earth changes from orange/red to a grey sand colour. It’s a very long and steep climb, a lot of which I have to walk. There’s a river through here and quite a few smallholdings, mostly growing apples. On the road there are lots of European motorcyclists in both directions, mostly French and Spanish but some from Poland and Czechia.
I stop at Imilchill, a town which appears to have nothing but guest houses. Here I meet the first touring cyclists I’ve seen in Morocco, a couple of French guys doing a week loop from Marrakech, going in the opposite direction to me.
Day 166-7
I’ve gone down with an infection, probably covid, which has me flat out for 36 hours. In the morning of day 167 I meet a couple of British chaps cycling the “caravan road” northwards on gravel bikes. I ask them what the road is like to the south, and they warn me it’s supposedly really heavy going, full suspension and fat tyres recommended. They’ve not actually ridden it, they’ve driven to Ilimchil and are riding the caravan road north to their starting point.
Day 168
It turns out old chaps’ information was out of date, the road to Tinghir is for the most part good tarmac, most of it new, with a few short sections of reasonable gravel where the road is under construction. What’s more, by missing out this section they’ve missed the very best scenery of the route, by far. It’s absolutely stunning.
First it follows a fertile valley with many villages until it rises up to the Col de Tizi Tigherrouzine at 2,645m (or higher depending on source) making it one of the highest roads in the Atlas. People here are farming by hand and ploughing with horses. I take loads of photos. I asked a couple of women carrying huge packs if I could photograph them, one says “no, no, no”, the other asks for money. Later when I’m photographing the buildings, people ask me if they can be in the photo. There are lots of kids around as it’s Sunday, and a favourite game is playing chicken with cyclists, standing in the road with arms horizontal. It’s mostly harmless, but one slaps me as I pass, another time one runs alongside and tries to pull a pannier off.
There’s a very beautiful descent down the other side from the pass, this is motorcyclist heaven and there’s also a number of Spanish in off-road vehicles (maybe they heard the same about the roads as the blokes in Imilchil). I meet a Brazilian cyclist on a 30 year old bike, a similar set up to mine apart from number of gears and width of tyres. We cycle together for a bit but we’re not well matched for speed — he’s much faster than me when the road gets bumpy, but he’s really slow uphill which I can’t do on my lowest gear at 45″, I have to push through or risk stalling.
The whole area is Morocco as in the tourism pictures — towns of terra-cotta buildings, Kasbahs with towers and crenellated walls. The road takes me down past the Tougdha Dam into the Gorge which is incredibly deep and narrow, stunning to cycle through and very little traffic in spite of its popularity. I continue on to Tinghir, a lively city and quite a change from the last few stops.
Day 169
From Tinghir to the Dades valley is fairly flat and featureless. I consider trying to get all the way to Ouarzazate in one day in spite of the light headwind, but an hour in I realise I’ve not followed my normal morning routine and have left my charger in the kasbah. Cycling back to retrieve it means there’s no way I’ll get to Ouarzazate today.
I meet a number of Moroccan touring cyclists, they are not cycling together but I think they must be connected.
My guest house in Kalaat is directly behind the ruined buildings above.
Day 170
The ride to Ouarzazate is flattish and not particularly interesting apart from the concentrating solar farm, the tower of which is visible for at least 100 km in any direction. The road is not close to the valley, so no views of that.
Day 172
There’s a smaller road, but with decent tarmac, out of Ouarzazate avoiding the RN-10 for about 80 km. It’s a pleasant ride if a little boring, it skirts the villages rather than going through them, so not even anywhere to stop for tea.
Day 173
There’s a lot of empty space between here and Agadir. I’d like to cover it in two days rather than three but it’s hard to see where I can stay half-way. Wild camping in this area is advised against: it appears empty but a random goatherd can appear out of nowhere. Apparently if they find you camping they will call the police, mostly out of concern for your safety, but I really don’t want that.
There’s an auberge marked on the map in Aoulouz, a little off the route, so I head there. The town itself is very quiet, and there are no signs to the auberge which is unusual but I carry on. When I get close I ask around and a builder takes me to the place; it appears deserted and no-one answers his knocking. If I’d been on my own I’d have assumed it was closed but he insists and eventually someone opens the gates. Inside there’s a lot of activity, the place is undergoing a refit by what appears to be a bunch of teenagers. It’s all a little bizarre but they offer a room, and order in some pizza. Towels are promised but don’t arrive, there are cockroaches.
Day 174
Setting out it’s sunny but I can see the mist below is extensive. Soon I’ve descended into cold, thick mist: it’s downhill all the way to Agadir, and the mist stays with me most of the day, eventually clearing to just overcast. The whole ride is fairly uninteresting apart from the big walled city at Taroudannt, where I don’t bother to stop as it looks much like the other big walled cities but less interesting. 170 km gets me into Agadir for a little civilisation ready for the ride south. There have been a few long-distance cyclists about, I’m hoping perhaps I can hook up with someone for the next leg.
Day 177
Agadir – Tizmit
Fairly flat and uninteresting all the way. I cut off the main road through Souss-Massa National Park but the landscape is the same, the road slightly quieter but with more holes in it. I didn’t see any bald ibis.
Tizmit is a typical walled city, fewer tourists than the ones further north and more friendly. The riad I’ve booked calls me when I’m half an hour away and asks me to cancel. I tell them no: your fault, you cancel. At which point they magically find they can accommodate me after all.
Day 178
Tiznit – Guelmim
More of the same. I stay on the main road “voie express” as it’s wide and smooth and there’s very little other traffic. There are also no petrol stations or cafés, apart from one guy with a van on a slip road.
Day 179
Guelmim – Tam-Tam
Just outside Guelmim I meet Saeed, a Moroccan setting off on what looks like his first big trip. He’s going to Dakkar, as am I. It’s not clear why he’s stopped in the middle of the road but I’m thankful he doesn’t ask to ride with me as he’s going to be slow with all that stuff and he speaks hardly any English.
Not much of anything on the road to Tam-Tam, not even coffee available, just Moroccan tea which is foul but the Moroccans drink it all day.
In Tam-Tam I meet a Finn driving to Ghana. He’s on his own and looks about 20, speaks no French, quite an undertaking. I also chat with a French motorcyclist who’s clearly been on his own too long as I get his whole life story, divorce rantings, etc and so on.
Day 180
Tam-Tam – Tarfaya
I’ve been in contact with an Italian, Leo, who’s looking for someone to ride into Mauritania with. This is perfect, I’m a little nervous about Western Sahara and it will be good to hook up. He’s taking the bus to Dakhla on Monday so that puts a bit of pressure on me to cover the distance.
Leaving Tam-Tam the road drops down to the coast and is then flat with a tail wind. There are few towns to stop at, the first, Akhfennir, is a bit too early, I decide to push on and reach the port town of Tarfaya just before dusk with a daily distance of 215 km.
