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Clinging precariously to the northern tip of Africa, Ceuta is the last Spanish enclave in this vast continent Into Africa and the point from which our Moroccan adventure begins. At the border, it’s late November and 100 degrees. We park in the shade, and Lisa has to remain behind, guarding the bikes, because, under Moroccan law, wives are still regarded as ‘property’. The officials won’t deal with her. Visiting the row of low beige offices, I collect an assortment of brightly colored immigration documents and start the process, which is surprisingly fast in this far-flung outpost. Text: Simon Thomas Under Saharan Skies Photography: Simon & Lisa Thomas

Border formalities completed, we medina (old town) through a vast stone Bkick up the side-stands and tap through gate of ornate interwoven arches to the gears, launching ourselves into the squeeze our way down a smoky, teem- 20th country on our tour. Riding into ing alley, thick with the din and perfumes the lush green Martil Valley, we begin of North Africa. to acclimatize to a different set of rules. We speed past a bizarre mix of new The Muslim festival of Ramadan Mercedes and old jalopies waiting hasT just started, and we eagerly join while a dusty herd of livestock ambles in the search for food as the day (and across the road unimpressed by the the daily fast) ends. Following the crowd, blaring barrage of car horns. we find two plastic chairs at a small eatery. Abdul, a local silversmith, invites With the warm lapping waters of us to join him for his first meal of the Wthe Mediterranean to our left, the cool day, celebrating the breaking of the sea breeze flowing through the vents fast. The hood of his gray-and-brown in our jackets is a welcome relief. On jellaba covers his head. We watch as the outskirts of Tétouan the air is sweet, he expertly uses only his right hand a piquant mixture of scents from the and pieces of bread to eat. We follow orange, almond and pomegranate suit, devouring a rich mixture of syrupy orchards that encircle this ancient city. sweet pastries and spicy vegetable Dusk is setting in as we walk into the soup, all served with strong coffee.

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lower Rif range spits us out onto the fertile, open plains of Saïss. On a windswept plateau, we pull to the side of the road and take in the majestic view. We are dusty, thirsty and tired. Sprawling into the distance, the mysti- cal city of Fez, and beyond the walled city, on a milky pink horizon, the teeth of the middle Atlas await us.

Exploring Morocco’s Imperial Cities We find a small hotel room for $8, chosenW more for its secure parking than its dusty brick walls. There is no running water until 7pm, so we quickly freshen up with wet wipes, lifting the gritty dirt from our sun-kissed cheeks. The first of Morocco’s imperial cities is  Caption 3 - Caption 3 - Caption 3 - just begging to be explored. An arid  Caption 1 - Caption 1 - Caption 1 - Caption 3 - Caption 3 - Caption 3 - Caption 1 - Caption 1 - Caption 1 - Riding the Rif Mountains breeze massages the fortified ramparts As we travel south of the city, the of Morocco’s’ largest market, or medina, the main road carefully past Meknes,  Caption 4 - Caption 4 - Caption 4 - Caption 4 - Caption 4 - Caption 4  Caption 2 - Caption 2 - Caption 2 - bikesA are rumbling contentedly, and and inside we fall under Fez’s spell. the third Imperial city, as taxis weave Caption 2 - Caption 2 - Caption 2 we hug the rugged contours of the Rif Walking through the tangled narrow around laden carts. Street vendors Victorious in our efforts at the con- To the Red City of Mountain range. This is an unspoiled streets and alleys of what many con- vying for our attention leap in front of sulateV and with our visas safely secured, Marrakesh land of interlocking valleys and hidden sider the spiritual and cultural heart us, only to jump back at the last pos- we sit outside our hastily pitched tent, Two days’ ride southwest we sit in gullies. Overhead, craggy limestone of Morocco, we are dizzied by the sible moment. West of the city, we ride sipping coffee from metal mugs and aT small cafe on the periphery of Africa’s peaks tower, their jagged heights pierc- unfamiliar but exciting smells. into open space and vivid sunlight, reflecting on the day. We watch the largest and busiest market square, the ing a bright cloudless sky. We take a feeling at once a more comforting sense aquamarine sky gradually turn indigo Djemaa el Fna, (assembly of the dead) cautious pace, anxiously aware the Soon we are caught up in the tide of freedom. Here and there thick cedar then black, with the haunting song of inside the fire-red walls of Marrakesh. region has a reputation for physical ofS the city’s bustle, the jostle of passing groves flank the parched plains, and at least a dozen muezzins calling the The vast tiled expanse heaves with a violence aimed at passing tourists who mule carts and jellaba-robed masses. several emerald-green date and palm faithful as our evening serenade. heady mixture of orange-juice stalls, stray too close to the drug-growing The rugs adorning dusty brick walls groves cozy up to the road’s edge. dancers, snake charmers and red-robed areas. Fig trees, prickly pear and cacti look ancient, and swarthy, toothless old The next morning we leave the city water sellers, their collection of brass lurk in the shadows of the steeper men squint suspiciously and then slowly Casablanca is surprisingly modern, behindT and ride southwest toward the drinking cups jangling like jewelry ravines. Thick cedar forests and olive smile at as we pass. Life courses through itsC smooth contemporary skyline punc- mountain town of El Bourouj. The land- around their necks. It’s easy to imagine groves blanket the slopes to our left, a web of light-dappled alleys no wider tuated by the “Finger of God,” the scape turns from a beige, dusty gray being in a scene out of The Arabian and the pungency of cannabis and than my outstretched arms – little has towering 656-foot minaret of the Hassan to tangerine as we climb, nearing the Nights. Our base for a few days is the peppermint wafts from the lower ter- changed here in centuries. On Talaa II Mosque. With its majestically faded Atlas Mountains. At d’Ouzoud, the Riad Nora, a quiet sanctuary walled races. Morocco is sensory overload at Kabira, the main street of the market, architecture and worn colonial boule- artisans swarm, offering their arts and off from the delicious commotion that its most intoxicating. hundreds of small stalls spill into the vards, this rough-edged metropolis of crafts when we stop for water, though is Marrakesh. Inside the Riad’s high, street, a seemingly chaotic mix of sellers four million feels familiar to us, more they seem more interested in our bikes seventeenth-century walls, we get the In the uppermost reaches of the plying everything from bath plugs to akin to a forgotten city in Southern than in landing a sale. Guides eager first chance we’ve had in a while to DjibálaI range of the Rif Mountains, we embroidered yellow slippers, kaftans, Europe, than its opposite twin, Fez. for business tug on our jackets, each thoroughly inspect our trusty bikes, pass the blue village of Chefchaouen, and huge bags of ochre and yellow spice. We are not here to sightsee but to pick of them trying to overtop the other in and spend a full day on overdue service a favorite stop-off for the adventurous up our visas for Mauritania, the long a buzz of frenzied yelling, and all of well aware that the yet-to-be crossed traveler. By late afternoon we are The next day, we ride the narrow, war between Morocco and Mauritania them fervently pleading for us to pitch snowcapped summits of the Atlas ascending, swapping ravines and gul- stonyT dirt track up to the main road making it impossible to acquire them our tent at their site. But keen to escape Mountains are almost within touching lies for farmed mountain terraces. The and turn west for Casablanca. We follow on the border. such attention, we push on. distance.

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relief. Worn out by the soft sand, we barely have the energy or time to pitch the tent and finish a can of corned beef with crackers before sleep overtakes us.

The next two weeks pass quickly, and Twith each day our skill improves. Barreling our naked bikes in and out of the sur- rounding dunes, venturing further from the safety of Merzouga as our confidence increases, Lisa and I grow used to the rear of our bikes sliding to previously impossible extremes. Her whoops and shouts of excitement can be heard over  Caption 7 - Caption 7 - Caption 7 - Caption 7 - Caption 7 - Caption 7 the noise of the engines, as she guns the throttle of her rowdy 650 and stands “Salaam ‘Alaykum” (“Peace be upon versation, explaining that this is the proudly on the pegs, enduro-style. you”),S the Touareg man says with a first time his father has eaten in the smile. We reply in kind, “Alaykum As- presence of a female. We are both Problems Near the Algerian Salaam” (“Upon you be peace”). He honored and humbled, and as the eve- Border stands tall, and his wrapped, indigo ning ends, we spy Amar’s wife and Hard on the throttle of the 1100 tagelmust (10-foot-long turban cloth) daughter watching from the wings. Hin thick, soft sand, I’m suddenly jolted elegantly drapes his head. He is Amar, forward, thrown over the bars and the head of his clan, and his practiced Though our wait for the replacement winded by the impact. The bike is 10 English is welcome, allowing us to dis- Tdriveshaft to arrive from the UK takes  Caption 5 - Caption 5 - Caption 5 - Caption 5 - Caption 5 - Caption 5 - Caption 5 - Caption 5 - Caption 5 - Caption 5 feet behind me, upright, and stuck pense with our rusty French. While five weeks, the delay has been a price- deep. Bizarrely, the bikes engine is still discussing our bike dilemma, Amar less privilege, living as we have for over  Caption 6 - Caption 6 - Caption 6 - Fifty miles south of the city, we follow size. We wave but get nothing more running. How can that be? Something leans forward, pauses, and then with a month within Amar’s Touareg encamp- Caption 6 - Caption 6 - Caption 6 - Fa very rough track through a steep, than a stare in return. are no other is seriously wrong with this picture, I great sincerity and intent, he invites us ment and experiencing firsthand the arid valley of striated walls colored in signs of life. With daylight fading, we thought, and it didn’t appear that the to his Touareg camp for dinner with his secretive culture and rituals of northwest dozens of hues of brown, red and make a hurried descent, speeding bike would be going anywhere under its father and family. “You will be my honored Africa’s last true nomadic tribe. cream. Our wheels crunch to a stop as along the high stony plateau, heading own power until the problem was fixed. guests,” he affirms, and we instantly we pause at the crossroads and eye toward Aït Benhaddou, with the Sahara understand the significance of the invi- As we ride south into the Western the dark tar ribbon that will bear us silently, but powerfully, announcing its Riding away on Lisa’s 650GS, I tation being extended to Lisa too, as ASahara, through the disputed territo- south over the Atlas range and close presence in the near distance. Rfeel uncomfortable leaving her alone men and women never eat together in ries and toward Mauritania, we reflect to the border with Algeria. Our real and stranded in the dunes, but we have Touareg culture. on the lessons taken on board since Moroccan adventure is about to begin. The Sahara no choice. The local men will not deal leaving home. Adventure is a simple Days have passed, as have succes- with a woman’s pleas for assistance Living with the Touareg yet misunder­stood term, and we’re slowly Four hours from the start of our ascent siveD towns and villages with exotic no matter the circumstance. Back at The following night, our shoes left coming to terms with the gritty reality Finto the Atlas we are still grinding sky- names: Ifrane, Azrou, Timahdite, Midelt, Merzouga, I secure the help of Hasan, Toutside Amar’s tent, Lisa and I sit crossed- of what it means. It is certainly bound up ward, our progress slowed by the ice- Er-Rachidia, and far-off Erfoud. Our a local guide with a four-by-four. Three legged with him and his father around in learning to deal with the unexpected. and-snow-filled tracks. Numb hands destination is Merzouga, a small oasis hours later, we’ve hauled the crippled a low circular wooden table. With the If you’re fortunate, it is about befriending squeeze brake levers at 9,000 feet, that abuts Erg Chebbi, Morocco’s larg- bike back to a makeshift workshop, a billowing fabric of Amar’s camp and someone special. Adventure isn’t glossy and we pull on extra layers by the side est genuine Saharan dune. It is another lean-to erected by our tent, with blue soft embroidered pillows adding to the Hollywood stuff. It’s taking a chance, of the road. Below and around us is 35 miles via roadless, open sand plains tarpaulin lain on the ground to collect exotic air, we methodically wash our starting down a path fraught with uncer- one of the world greatest mountain to Merzouga, and we are already bat- falling nuts and bolts. Four hours into hands and feet in Muslim tradition. tainty and discovering that the unknown ranges, raw and untouched. On the tling with the loaded bikes and our the stripdown, the culprit is found: a Dipping from a communal serving bowl, is rarely dangerous – it’s just…unknown. plateau above, a young boy dressed paucity of sand-riding experience. As destroyed driveshaft. In disbelief, we we enjoy a rich stew, using bread and RR in rags minds his herd of scrawny goats, night settles in, we pull into the courtyard take a walk to clear our heads and the fingers of our right hands. Amar To view more photos and post your and the staff he carries is twice his of a small desert refuge to our great take stock of the situation. translates his father’s whispered con- comments, visit www.roadrunner.travel

88 RoadRUNNER Motorcycle Touring & Travel www.roadrunner.travel July/August '09 89 Tours Products & Services Northern Africa FACTS AND INFORMATION Total Mileage blanca, and Marrakesh. Other cities Approximately 2,213 miles. have two-lane highways.

In General Don’t drive at night – roadway light- The best time to visit Morocco is ing systems are poor or nonexistent. spring (mid-March to May) or autumn Traffic signals don’t always work and (September to November) as summer when they do, they are often ignored. temperatures can be unbearable. Winters are cold, especially in the At- The secondary roads are often nar- las area, and many mountain roads row and poorly paved, and the roads may be closed due to heavy snowfall. through the Rif and Atlas Mountains The north coast and the Rif Mountains are steep, narrow and winding. The  Caption 8 - Caption 8 - Caption 8 - are often wet and cloudy in winter and Caption 8 - Caption 8 rainy season (November–March) brings early spring. flash flooding sometimes severe enough How to Get There to wash away roads in rural areas. United States citizens do not require Casablanca and Marrakech are a visa for Morocco and are allowed the main ports of entry. Morocco’s main Books & Maps to remain in the country for 90 days international entry point is the Moham- o The Rough Guide to Morocco , by from date of entry. med V International Airport, 30km Mark Ellingham, Daniel Jacobs, southeast of Casablanca. A cheaper Hamish Brown, Shaun McVeigh, Always consult more option is to fly into Malaga or Gibraltar Rough Guides, detailed maps for Ceuta and take the ferry to Morocco via the ISBN 978-1843538615, $24.99 touring purposes. Tétouan Spanish enclave of Ceuta, from Algeciras o Lonely Planet Morocco Chechaouen Fes or Tarifa in southern Spain. (Country Guide), by Paul Clammer, Casablanca North Meknes Lonely Planet, Atlantic El Borouj Food & Lodging ISBN 978-1741049718, $24.99 Ocean Marrakech The cuisine of Morocco is a mix of o Map 0742 Morocco/Maroc, influences: Arab, Berber, Moorish, by Michelin National Maps, Merzouga Middle Eastern, Mediterranean, Afri- ISBN 978-2067118874, $7.07 can, and Jewish. The ubiquitous meal o Waterproof Morocco Map, by ITMB of the Moroccan cuisine is couscous ISBN 978-1553413349, $11.95 topped with meats (usually sheep, goat or chicken) and vegetables. All the Addresses & Phone Numbers major cities offer a broad array of ac- o Visit Morocco, WESTERN commodations, and free camping is www.visitmarocco.com SAHARA allowed in the countryside. o International Travel http://travel.state.gov/travel Roads & Biking In the major cities, streets are very Motorcycles & Gear congested, with many vehicles in bad BMW R1100GS and BMW F650GS condition wandering alongside pe- Luggage System: Touratech destrians, scooters and animal-drawn Helmet: BMW system 4 carts. There are freeways linking the Jacket and Pants: Hein Gericke cities of Tangier, Rabat, Fez, Casa- Boots: Gearne and Alpine Tech 6

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