With a vague arrangement to meet up at tea stops, we set off to go Erfoud via Er Rachidia. I prefered to ride alone because I was still in such awe of the scenery that I didn’t want to think about keeping up to a set pace. I was also still feeling quite nauseous each morning. As it was unlikely to still be seasickness and I was fairly certain I wasn’t pregnant, that only left a reaction to the anti malaria medication as a likely culprit. Tough, no alternative, so get over it.
A good road with many hairpins over the Tizi-n Talrhemt pass was my introduction to the High Atlas and, as on many previous occasions, I wished that my photographic skills could do it justice. At least with digital photography I can delete the shots of my thumb. The early stretches of the Ziz Gorges were impressive but I found the Tunnel du Legionnaire a bit disappointing (blasé or what?). I had r
ead that the French had built the tunnel to create this route south in the 1930s and I suppose I was expecting something amazing. At least the government had the decency to still have soldiers guarding it so that gave it a bit of spectacle.
The rest of the Ziz Gorges put the tunnel out of my mind – this was truly spectacular, and all seen from a good main road. A tea stop had to be in order here at a suitable viewpoint and, yes, we did actually meet up again. I took a leisurely ramble to Erfoud and lost touch with the other bikers. The municipal campsite was open but had been thoroughly trashed by the floods so, time for a hotel. It had been a long day so I just chose the most competent looking fixer around (Mustapha) and got him to find me a suitable hotel. He got me exactly what I wanted, at 150 dirham, in the middle of
the town and with a guarantee of secure parking for the night.
I joined a young Dutch couple, Hugo and Sabine, for dinner at a pavement café. We all went for the safe option, the special of the day. I have no idea what Kalia is but it was delicious. Hugo and Sabine had been backpacking but had joined up temporarily with another couple in a hire car and it was interesting to compare our travel arrangements. They delicately enquired my age, decided that it was the same as their parents and said they couldn’t imagine them on a bike never mind a solo bike trip to Morocco. I have been surprised at how few solo travellers I’ve met – it’s definitely harder but it’s very enjoyable.
Back at the hotel, my secure parking was now available and, no, I wouldn’t need my bike gear because it was just round the corner. And that’s how I came to follow the hotel owner in his car though the mayhem of Erfoud main street at dark wearing light trousers, t-shirt, sandals and no helmet. Off the main street, over 100 metres of rubble from the flood, and my bike joined his car in the garage of his luxury apartment. Terrazza floor in a garage?
A good road with many hairpins over the Tizi-n Talrhemt pass was my introduction to the High Atlas and, as on many previous occasions, I wished that my photographic skills could do it justice. At least with digital photography I can delete the shots of my thumb. The early stretches of the Ziz Gorges were impressive but I found the Tunnel du Legionnaire a bit disappointing (blasé or what?). I had r
ead that the French had built the tunnel to create this route south in the 1930s and I suppose I was expecting something amazing. At least the government had the decency to still have soldiers guarding it so that gave it a bit of spectacle.The rest of the Ziz Gorges put the tunnel out of my mind – this was truly spectacular, and all seen from a good main road. A tea stop had to be in order here at a suitable viewpoint and, yes, we did actually meet up again. I took a leisurely ramble to Erfoud and lost touch with the other bikers. The municipal campsite was open but had been thoroughly trashed by the floods so, time for a hotel. It had been a long day so I just chose the most competent looking fixer around (Mustapha) and got him to find me a suitable hotel. He got me exactly what I wanted, at 150 dirham, in the middle of
the town and with a guarantee of secure parking for the night.I joined a young Dutch couple, Hugo and Sabine, for dinner at a pavement café. We all went for the safe option, the special of the day. I have no idea what Kalia is but it was delicious. Hugo and Sabine had been backpacking but had joined up temporarily with another couple in a hire car and it was interesting to compare our travel arrangements. They delicately enquired my age, decided that it was the same as their parents and said they couldn’t imagine them on a bike never mind a solo bike trip to Morocco. I have been surprised at how few solo travellers I’ve met – it’s definitely harder but it’s very enjoyable.
Back at the hotel, my secure parking was now available and, no, I wouldn’t need my bike gear because it was just round the corner. And that’s how I came to follow the hotel owner in his car though the mayhem of Erfoud main street at dark wearing light trousers, t-shirt, sandals and no helmet. Off the main street, over 100 metres of rubble from the flood, and my bike joined his car in the garage of his luxury apartment. Terrazza floor in a garage?
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