23 March 2025 - Marrakesh - Touama - 45 Miles

After a couple of nights in Marrakesh, doing a bit of sightseeing and rediscovering the ubiquity of tagine and couscous, on Sunday morning we set off. Getting out of Marrakesh was not as hair raising as I though it would be, and after wending out way thorough endless back streets in the old city, we came to a main road that led us out of the city. Perhaps because it is Sunday, there were lots of second hand markets selling anthing and everything, from old clothes to second hand liquidisers, a sort of downmarket flea markets. It was busy, but we had a good margin on the main road, which made it fine for cycling. Around Marrakesh is pretty flat so it was easy riding, although always aware of the traffic and the unpredictable motorbikes and scooters that abound here, as well as a noticeable number of donkey drawn carts, usually overloaded with whatever. Motorbikes will have father, mother, and a child or two on board, father with a crash helmet but the rest of the family without. We had planned on staying around our day's destination, Touama, and had heard that there was a place which would be open and suitable, but when we got there it was closed, so our only achievable option for our first night was a rather high class hotel a little away from Touama, where we appeared to be the only guests, and were given a very nice suite with two separate bedrooms. We ate there as well, a couscous dish with beef, and a very nice mixed salad, and sparkling water ! The two lads who were looking after us were from the Cote d'Ivoire in West Africa, and, yes, they really wanted to go to the UK rather than stay in Morocco ! They said because they think that they can earn good money there, and people are nice to immigrants. I wish them well, but...? All in all, a succesful day, and proof that cycling in Morocco, even in Marrakesh, is possible and safe. I like the fact that their main roads, the Routes Nationales, are generally well maintained, and with a wide shoulder. They are busy, however, especially when in the mountains, I guess because they are the only route through the challenging geography. The government has evidently invested in road infrastructure, as they have in internet connection, which is generally very good. Better than at home, where if I take the train from Birmingham to London for the majority of the route the signal is dire. Here you see red and white painted mobile phone and communictions towers on top of hills and mountains, and even in the countryside where the villages look like they have for the last 1000 years, and people are herding goats and sheep and hauling forage from the valley floor, you will still get very good G4 or even G5 signal. The woman herding her goats along the side of the road will be speaking in to her mobile phone and catching up on the gossip from further down the valley. Wonderful

24 March 2025 - Touama - Agdal Telouet - 40 Miles

Very quickly this morning we started to climb, and climb, and climb ! This was to be a day of climing, following the RN 9 up towards the 2200 meter / 7000 ft pass at the Col duTichka, following switchback after switchback. The road was busy, I guess because it is the only road up and over the Atlas Mountains in this area. However, it is a well built and maintained road, with a wide margin, so although noisy it was safe. Worst of all are the motorcycllists, usually in packs, who disturb the peace. The tourist motorbiker look, all beefy and hairy, is not a good look. I think somebody should tell them. Some of the lorries look as though they have seen better times, and belch black exhaust as they grind up the mountains, overly weighed down with precararious looking loads. There is a lot of motorhomes, usually French or Italian, couples of a certain retired age enjoying the winter sun and maybe revisiting their hippy youth. The riding was tiring and unrelenting, climbing up several thousand feet, until we reached the Col / Summit at 2,220 meters / 7,000 feet where it was bitterly cold and windy. Then a rapid downhill for a few miles into a valley, and along to Agdal Telouet where we spent the night at a rustic but charming auberge in the middle of nowhere, and were welcomed most warmly by host Muhammed, who provided us with mint tea and lit up the calor gas heater to revive us. We had a meal of brochettes, omelette and salad, a welcome variation on the usual Moroccan fare of tagine and couscous. So far accomodation has been, well, rustic, but with everything I need after a day of cycling. Plumbing is a bit hit and miss generally, and the electrics a bit DIY, so good to avoid unconnected wires hanging from walls and ceilings. The welcome is invariably enthusiastic, I guess because people like us provide a valuable source of income in what otherwise is a very subsistence economy out in the Moroccan countryside.

Ramadan is in full swing, and so outside of the very tourist areas it is difficult to get food during the day. Most locals look as though they observe the fast, and I've seen groups doing their daily prayers, but I note that when passing through small villages, it is the men who are lounging around whiling away the day until they can break their fast, and it is the women who are in the fields still working and hauling stuff. Maybe it's like that most of the time ? I think in these parts, men rule and women work. Hey, if Trump, Vance and Hegseth et al get their way on diversity, equality and inclusion, we all might go back to that way, presuming there is still something left given their idiotic and grossly irresponsible world view and foreign policy. I could go on.

25 March 2025 - Agdal Telouet - Ait Benhadou - 40 Miles

The cold wind of last night had abated. Muhammed told us that when there is rain over in Marrakesh it causes wind in the mountains. Luckily, what breeze there was in the morning was to our back, so we bowled along the valley until we came to another valley which we followed, eventually a few hundred feet above the valley floor and able to see all the terraced fields down in the valley, so green and verdant compared to the red and dun coloured rock of the mountainsides. The valleys are very rural, lots of donkeys carrying fodder up from the valley floor, women hauling fire wood, herders looking over the sheep and goats who roam precariously up and down the mountainsides. The villages are not pretty, just mud brick and concrete brick, square flat roofed buildings, many half finished or in process of being built or renovated, often painted in a reddish brown. I can't say that they are pleasing on the eye. You have to go to the cities to see the kind of Islamic architecture you see in the magazines. These places have electricity, they have mobile phone / data signal, but the way of life is still, l I venture, what it has been for the last thousand years - herding, subsistence farming and getting by with what they have. There are lots of ruins of the tradtional mud built houses, but these seem to have largely been left to rot in preference to the breeze block new additions, which probably take a lot less looking after than having to renew the mud on the walls every year or so. Our end point was Ait Benhaddou, where I was last year, and is on the tourist trail because it has an old citadel and kasbah, which is used as a film set, apparently. It stands in for Western and dystopian type Mad Max films The town was filled with minibuses taking tourists up and down the valley, lots of French, Italians and Spaniards, and a smattering of British who were easily identifiable by their pale skin and lardyness. The females particularly. I say no more.

26 March 2025 - Ait Benhaddou - Quazazate - 25 Miles

I'm not sure why today's ride was so short, but I guess it has something to do with finding places with accommodation and food, and fitting in with the days' itineraries either side. Anyhow, we had a late start, took in the citadel and kasbh at Ait Benhaddou, and then cycled along the valley to Ouazazarte, something like 25 miles.

Ouarzarate is the site of a concentrated solar mirror which focuses the sun on a tower and generates electricity by boiling some salt solution that produces steam that drives a turbine. Or something like that. Anyhow, you can see the bright light of the mirrors focusing the sun from miles away, as in the picture. Morocco is blessed with the sun, so I guess all the modern green / solar electicity generation schemes will work here.

Most days our daily mileage is in the region of 40 - 50 miles, but often there is a lot of climbing over mountain ranges involved, even up well over 2000 meters the other day as went went from Touama to Agdal. Routes often take us over a mountain pass, and then down to a valley for a while, only then to go up to another mountain pass. So, progress is slow, especially when hauling all my kit and kaboodle. I am quite good at just putting my head down and grinding away slowly up the incline, and legs, heart and lungs seem to co-operate. If the climb is on one of the Route Nationalel roads, then the road condition is often very good, with a decent margin, even though the traffic might be heavy. More rural roads are much quieter, but there is often only one road up to a high pass, and that will be the RN road. Generally speaking the roads in Morocco are very good. There has evidently been a lot of investment in the road network infrastructure in the last few years.

Likewise with internet connectivity, which seems to have very widespread coverage, evidenced by the mobile phone masts at the tops of mountains and passes. It's been so good so far that I've been able to listen to Radio 4 on BBC Sounds as I ride along in the middle of nowhere. Now, when I'm going bytrain from Birmingham to London I can't get a decent mobile signal for significant parts of the journey. But, here in Morocco, good mobile phone and data coverage is available in the mountains and deserts. I think it is because it is government driven policy here to have widespread coverage. Whereas in the UK, the government has handed over internet coverage to private firms, like BT and OpenReach, and they are interested in profit rather than public service, and they cherrypick. providing good service to where they can make a good profit. Even in Birmingham, living only half a mile or so from the city centre I can only get copper wire internet of something like 8 mbs, even though there is fibre broadband up on the main road 100 yards away, but BT/OpenReach won't bring it down our road because there isn't enough profit in it for them. But in Quarzazarte on the fringes of the Sahara Desert, I get a full and powerful 5G data signal and decent service, even to watch Netflix and BBC iPlayer (though a VPN !). And electricity generated from the concentrated solar mirror jobey.

27 March 2025 - Quazazarte - Agdz - 35 Miles

Today was another day of climbing over a mountain pass on the way to Agdz as we make our way down further south to a series of oases towns. But first, we had to get over a pass of 1700 meters / 5600 ft, through some spectacular mountain and valley views, along the RN9 which has been substantially renovated in the last few years, and so was a good road for riding along with a decent margin for safety. And then, once over the summit, it was a nice long downhill in to Agdz, which is at the head of a valley that is green and fertile, with lots of palm trees and various crops which are able to be grown there because of the water. I'm not sure where the water comes from, perhaps from aquafers deep underground. Anyhow, the end result is a lush and pleasant environment.

We stayed at a very pleasant Riad called Le Chant de Palmiers, set in a palm grove, with lots of nice shaded areas with water features and fountains. Many of the places we have been staying appear very quiet - tonight the only other people were a French couple beside Richard and me. Maybe it's because it's still Ramadan in these parts, maybe because the season proper hasn't started yet. I think April / May / June are the tourist season proper, thereafter it is too hot, at least until the autumn months.

Ramadan should be coming to an end in a few days, although exactly when still depends on some Mullah/Imam/Ayatollah/Religious Worthy, in presumably Saudi Arabia, seeing the new moon, although he (and it will most certainly be a he) might not be able to see it, maybe because his eyesight is duff, or because of haze, or clouds, or whatever, even though the new moon is astronomically there. Until he does see it with own eyes, and confirms so, Ramadan does not end, and the Eid Feast cannot begin, and it could add another day or two of Ramadan fasting until the sighting of the new moon is confirmed, so Mrs Mo's plans for the Eid celebrations will have to be very flexible. It's a bit like not knowing whether Christmas Day is on the 25 or 26 or 27th December, even though we know the Baby Jesus was born on 25th December. Don't we ?! Bit of a nonsense really, especially in this day and age when we really do know when the new moon occurs. But, it seems to be all down to these moon watchers in wherever, and everybody is wating upon their confirmation of a sighting of the new moon. And I have no doubt that there will be different schools of Islam with different interpretations of what constitutes a new moon and when it is officially a new moon, etc., etc. I really do feel for Mrs Mo and her Eid preparations.

You can't get away from Ramadan here. The days are quiet, but as soon as the fast breaks when the sun sets, then everybody is out and about until the wee small hours. Getting food and drink during the day is a bit problematic, not everywhere is open during the fast. Most people seem to keep to the fast, at least publicly. The nice man at the Riad in Ait Benhaddou, whose wife is visibly pregnant, told me that she does not have to fast because of her condition. So, it's good to see some sense in the application of the Ramadan fast for those who really should not fast from food and water for so many hours. A bit like the Lenten fasting exemptions in Catholicism. Even outside of Ramadan, Morocco is clearly a majority Muslim country, although sort of Muslim Lite. Every village has its mosque, the best kept building in the village, I suspect funded from Saudi Arabian / Qatari / UAE money, pursing their influence agenda and their version of Islam. The call to prayer is loud-speakered several times a day by the Muezzin, some of whom are better than others, some clearly needing lessons in tone, style and tune. Give me a peal of church bells any day.

28 March 2025 - Agdz - Zagora - 60 Miles

About half way along the route, I decided to pull off the road and have a little snack I had brought with me and rehydrate. I saw a bit of shade under a tree and cycled over to it, no more than 50 yards or so. And then, while munching away on my snack I noticed that both tyres had gone flat, and on inspection noticed they were covered in little three prong barbed things which had put multiple punctures in each tyre. I'm not riding my normal tyres, Schwalbe Marathon Plus (Unplattbar, as the Germans say !) but another type of Schwalbe which doesn't evidently have such good puncture protection. And, I only had about four puncture patches, and my spare tyre already had a puncture. Kids gathered around enthusiastically, and I thought I was going to be mobbed and fleeced of everything I had as I set about seeing if I could remedy the situation. The kids were fine really, and when it was obvious I could not fix things and was contemplating having to walk, get a taxi, get a bus to Zagora, one of the kids told me in pigeon French that there was a motorcycle repair shop in the little town a kilometer away.

So, I trudged there, and as I arrived the mechanic guy, Muhammed, arrived on his motorbike and set to seeing if he could repair the inner tubes, but even he gave up. There were just too many leaks in both inner tubes. Then his sidekick (another Muhammed) hopped on to his motorbike and went away for about 10 minutes and returned with two exact tubes with the right valve, which he had sourced from God knows where. And saved the day.

So, I am now very careful not to pull off the road in to the bush for fear of these barbs, which appear to be everywhere. I was able to resume my ride to Zagora, which is a biggish oasis town, where I passed the night in a rather sumptuous, over the top, camp hotel which looked as though it should be a film setting for Arabian Nights. Richard and I ate in the very pleasant and cool courtyard, served by a rather stern and precise young waiter who stood to attention by the table. Food was predictable, Moroccan salad, tagine etc, although Richard tried a spaghetti Bolognese, which was a poor choice, I fear.

I was concerned to find a patch kit and some spare inner tubes the next morning before we set off the our next stop, Tazzarine, but where ? Anyhow, schoolboy French, Google maps and a bit of riding around found me at another motorbike place the next morning, where, again, they had precisely what I needed, and so I was able to set off confidently. I really do not want to be stranded again on the fringes of the Sahara Desert with flat tyres.

What I have taken away from this episode / experience, other than to avoid the dreaded barbs, is how willing and generous pretty much any Moroccan I had dealings with was. Always a smile, always wanting to help, and no sense of it it being seen as an opporutnity to rip of the foreigner tourist. They were great. And saved my bacon. Oh, by the way, Richard would willingly have helped, but his tyres and inner tubes are of a different size to mine !

And so to sleep in my canopy swathed bed !

29 March 2025 - Zagora - Tazzarine 55 Miles

My morning search for inner tubes of the right size and valve having been successful, and Richard having found a bank to get some cash, we were off on a 55 mile stretch that would take us to Tazzarine. The road was the N12, which by and large was a decent road, but the ride seemed a bit long, and we both found ourselves getting short on water. So, note to self, no matter how many little villages and possible watering holes you think there might be along the way for replenishment, still take lots of water with you ! Basic stuff really, 101 of bicycle touring ! I did stop at one little hole in the wall place, and the guy didn't have any bottled water, but he did have bleach, and a little warm yogurt drink that I took, and probably shouldn't have because it had consequences down below a little later on. Even the petrol stations we passed on the way didn't have water, or only some mankey looking stuff out of a jerry can. Petrol stations here, even if they look all modern, don't seem to have a shop attached, so no supplies and water available.

So, both Richard and I were hot, thirsty, dehydrated and frustrated when we arrived at our hotel at Tazzarine, which hadn't got great reviews on Booking.Com, but was the only one around. The Hotel Bougafer lived down to its reputation in all ways. We waited and waited for some sloth of a manager to book us in. He kept disappearing and coming back, and going away again, and I suspect he didn't know we had a booking. Eventually, we got keys to rooms that really needed a lot of TLC, especially in the shower and toilet department, mind you the plumbing generally in Morocco is very hit and miss pretty much anywhere - wonky toilets, dripping showers, then a deluge, then cold, then boiling hot, then nothing, and so on. My bed didn't look as though the sheets had been changed, so I went in search of clean bed linen and found a cupboard with some in and did my own chambermaid trick to my own room. Mr Sloth sat around the pool, admittedly an inviting looking pool, playing with his phone, while some young waiter chap scurried around doing everything, with Sloth Man just clicking his fingers and giving orders. He definitely needs a kick up the jacksie, but I suspect here in Morocco and in this culture, the Big Man doesn't move a muscles unless he really has to. Dinner, to be fair, was decent, provided by the long suffering waiter and some old guy who cooked us very succulent chicken brochettes and Moroccan salad. Oh, and they had beer, Moroccan Casablanca beer, small bottles, but warm and pretty unappetising. The manager chap couldn't even keep the beer cold in the fridge ! And to add to the bother, I think there was a spider in my room that made a feast of me during the night, the bites too big to be a mosquito, so something like a spider it must have been. Look up Hotel Bougafer on Booking.Com and read my review. Along with the reviews of other guests. Not that it will make any difference, I think, for future performance.

We seems to be in fairly level territory at the moment, so not a lot of climbing, as we go along valleys between two ranges of mountains, sometime with very lush oasis vegetation. I think over the mountains to our right is the Sahara, and there are lots of 4x4s, off road vehicles, sand buggies and noisy motorcyles heading that way, no doubt to make a mess of the sand dunes and do all kinds of damage to the environment. Just for kicks ! I feel very virtuous having a low carbon impact as I cycle along. The weather at the moment is lovely, bright blue sky and sunny, not too hot, but still a bit chilly in the mornings and evenings. Ramadan should be coming to an end in the next couple of days, dependent on the sighting of the new moon, and I look forward to seeing the celebrations for Eid. Maybe the Muezzin will put on a special show for the end of Ramadan ?

30 March 2025 - Tazzarine - Alnif - 45 Miles

We shook the dust from our feet as we left the Hotel Bougafer in Tazzarine, after a passable breakfast served by the hard working waiter, with the boss sitting playing with is phone and taking no part in any proceedings, except when it came to paying the final bill, and even that was a lackadaisical affair. At least it was at the budget end of the scale. I'm not sure if you'd get much better if you traded up.

Our ride to Alnif was on a pleasant road with a few hundred meters climbing up and then down a couple of times along the way, with a nice 15 km gentle downhill with the wind to our backs on the homestretch. Along the way, about 10 km outside Alnif I stopped at one of the new petrol stations and cafes that are popping up along the roads and after my coconut juice rode away leaving my water filtration bag, which filters out the bacteria and kills the viruses when a chlorine tablet is added. Usually, I buy bottled water, but if I have to use tap water I put it through the cleaning process. So far it's worked. Almost near Alnif I realised I'd left it at the petrol staion, but wasn't in the mood to cycle back up the incline and against the wind to retreive it, so my mission on arriving at Alnif was to get a taxi back there to pick it up. Taxis are ubiquitous here, whizzing at great speeds along the road, packed with people and overloaded with stuff of all sorts on the roofrack. The cars have seen better days, I suspect that they are third generation hand-me-downs from France, and they find a new lease of life here until they are flogged to death. After washing and changing I walked up to the taxi square, and after much discussion amoung the taxi drivers one agreed to take me back to the petrol station. The lad at the hotel said it would be 50 Dirham return, but I guess I got the foreigner rate of 150 Dirham, but was not inclined to argue, except to let the taxi driver know that I knew I was being ripped off. But, getting my filter bottle back was worth the extra. Geneally speaking, I've not felt in Morocco that they inflate the prices for the tourist, except if you are in a tourist restaurant or hotel, then you will pay a premium. Or in the souk, where they always start high, and you have to haggle. People seem friendly and honest. Except the taxi drivers. Taxi drivers worldwide are a dodgey lot. The ride was hair raising, along a straight road at massive speed only slowing down when he came to a place where the road had been washed away by the rains and floods. They get quite a bit of flash flooding in these parts in the winter.

Driving is pretty awful in Morocco. Unpredictable, careless, and undisciplined. On my bike I am always very defensive and keep an eye out for what a car /driver will do, like pull out in front of me with no signal or even a look in the mirror. I call it the Inshallah School of Motoring. If it is your predestined day to die, then you will die, no matter how you drive, so no need to bother about how you drive then. And, if you kill somebody, well, it was their day to die anyhow. So that's alright then. I see the same driving philosopy / theology amongst many of our Country Cousins in Birmingham. I do struggle with the dangerous carelessness we see on our roads, especially from a little runt from Sparkhill or Small Heath in a 20 year old souped up BMW / Audi / Mercedes / Volkswagen driving like crazy, going through red lights, cutting in an out. Mind you, you do see the same driving behavior by louts from Chelmsley Wood or Longbridge. I trust I've been balanced there ? (Brummeistan people will know the difference in the areas that I am talking about !) Why does it upset me so much ? Because I'm usually the one who is in the firing line on my bike. And, I am not prepared to leave my well being to a predetermined Inshallah fate. Or to predestination. Or to the stunted runts and thick louts. I believe in personal responsibility and taking ownership of my safety and the safety of others. I'm not prepared to take a chance on God and predestination every time I cycle my bike. I think He/She/It/They has bigger things to worry about. So, I'll do my own worrying. And take responsibility. Which, it seems to me, a lazy medieval philosophy/theology of Inshallah rather allows you to conveniently sidestep, and avoids you having to take personal ownership and ultimate responsibility.

The mood was merry in Alnif tonight, because the new moon had been sighted and Eid will be tomorrow. The town was busy with people doing last minute shopping for the feast. And hectic traffic.