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The trip out of Erg Chebbi did not start well. The sand had rolled in during the night and there were some deep sandy sections crossing the road out of Hotel Yasmina. I hit one sand bar a little too hard and down she went. Fortunately the GSA is designed to ‘crash’ and I simply picked it back up and continued.

Once we found tarmac we started our journey northwest towards Fes. Not long into the trip we had to stop for a ‘camel jam’, as they were crossing the road (shepherded by a chap on a scooter). Later on we had to stop for a herd of grazing sheep that crossed the road.

Other stops and starts were due to mechanical/ electrical issues with my bike and not the local domestic animals. It first occurred in a small town where I stalled and couldn’t get the bike started. After several tries it eventually took and I continued. At one gas station it wouldn’t start so we tried bump starting the bike. That didn’t work because as soon as the clutch was released the rear wheel locked up. No good. After blowing some air on the starter switch if fired up and we continued.

The route was very pleasant for the most part. Traffic was light, the roads were in good condition and the scenery was beautiful. The route reminded me at times of driving through Idaho – beautiful tarmac across rolling hills of pine forests. It was a long drive but a pleasant one

We eventually arrived in Fes and survived the urban traffic flows enroute to our hotel, where we checked in and met up with Abdellah (our guide who booked most of the hotels we used on the route)

Leaving Boumaine Dades we followed N-10 east towards Tinghir before heading northeast up the Todras river gorge. The gorge did not disappoint with narrow twisty roads dividing tall vertical cliffs.

Rising above the gorge we followed the river valley which proved to be quite fertile with large palm tree growths and various agriculture. Further still we found extensive formations being built for a future dam. It seemed surprising in that the valley seemed very arid and did not seem likely to support a dam.

We found a lonely cafe that overlooked the valley and stopped for an espresso, served up by the local proprietor Ali. We were likely the only customers he would see that day. He couldn’t speak english but we managed between us in French to some degree, and ended up sharing a cigarette with him.

Returning to Tinghir we stopped by at the Chez Michele convenience store in Tinghir to purchase some beer ( beer is not available at the Hotel Yasmina where we were spending the night).

The road to Erfoud proved simple enough and we were relying on Garmin to map out a suitable route to the Hotel near Erg Chebbi. Our Garmin was programmed to avoid unpaved roads, however the final few kilometers to the hotel were only passable by unpaved desert roads. This seemed to give the Garmin license to use any other unpaved roads it deemed useful in getting to our destination, and as a result sent us over about 16 km of desert road that we would have much rather avoided. It was quite challenging with sandy sections that could easily bring the bike down. The trick was to keep on the throttle to lighten the front wheel so that wouldn’t happen.

We did eventually make it to Hotel Yasmina which is beautifully located right at the edge of the Saharan Dunes.

Shortly after our departure from the hotel we refueled in Ait benhaddou and proceeded straight east across the desert. The views and desolation reminded us of the US-50 in Nevada – the “loneliest road in America”.

We passed through Quarzazate which was a more modern city with it’s own airport. It was also a city of storks, the leggy avians nesting in most of the high structures in town. Leaving town we noticed a network of powerlines crossing the landscape but with no noticeable source of power. (we later learned that there was a significant solar array power plant nearby)

Passing through the next town we were overtaken by a pair of riders on BMW’s – a 1200 GSA and a yellow F650 GS (they reminded me of my trip through the Western States with my buddy Kevin who also rides a yellow F650 GS).

When passing through a traffic circle my cornering proved too aggressive for the polished and painted concrete that formed the circle, and I low-sided into the curb. Embarrassed but otherwise unhurt I picked up the bike and examined the damage, which consisted of some scrapes on the roll bars, a broken mirror and some leaked oil. Before I knew it, there were the two BMW drivers – Phillipe and Kamil – standing alongside Steve. Kamil was a mechanic so did a quick check and concluded after some discussion that the bike was otherwise undamaged and ready for use. Still, rather than continue we took advantage of the situation to stop for an espresso with our new acquaintances.

As the four of us headed east towards Boumaine Dades it was clear we had the same objective – the Dades Gorge. So we drove as a group up into the valley through it’s famous twisty section before a quick stop and a return trip south. At Boumaine Dades we bid Phillipe and Kamil farewell (they were returning to Quarzazate) and we continued on to our hotel which had a commanding view of the town.

Today was a rest day. The hotel was perfect for this. An oasis in the desert with a pool and all the amenities of a resort.  We did laundry and hung everything out to dry and slept in.  In the morning we had a leisurely breakfast and then decided to check out the road that runs north of the hotel.  We were limited on fuel so we could only explore the first 30 km or so but it was worth it. The road follows the Ounila river valley. One of the best sections of road we have been on with a steep ascent with real hairpins and a number of ancient settlements with modern Riads sprinkled in among them. Expect tourism to be a major part of their economy in the future.

During a stop for photos we met a determined scooter driving salesman who was offering various local jewels derived from local gemstones. He even had his own weigh scale ( as I didn’t buy anything I didn’t discover what it’s purpose was). We also found people using the river for their laundry.

Before returning we stopped at a café along the road. We had our espressos and enjoyed a lengthy chat with Ishmael the proprietor.  His English was very good, as he had spent six years in England before returning  to Morocco in 2002.  We shared observations and questions on Europe, Morocco, local economies and governance, and some topics best left alone.  He was a bit surprised when we explained that our bikes were not rentals as it was cheaper that way. The economics of our trip seemed to intrigue him.

After returning to the hotel, Steve took advantage of the local spa that left him deliriously relaxed and a little disoriented (in a good way). I was tempted to partake of the local bar humidor’s offerings however the Cohiba’s looked like they had a touch of mold so I took a pass, and after a fine meal we called it a night.

We continued south on R304 through the town of Azlial which was a beautiful place with palm lined boulevards and high end shopping. Don’t know what the local economy involves but they are doing much better than the average Moroccan settlement.

Progress was speedy along the flat plateau that followed. At our espresso stop we encountered several tour buses – our first encounter with other tourists (who were kept in line by a pesky peacock)

We also passed a motorcycle tour group after we turned onto N9 and headed up the atlas mountains. Steve had remembered this road from 15 years prior and this road was the reason he wanted to do a bike trip in Morocco. It was amazing, freshly paved with beautifully engineered sweepers I thoroughly enjoyed the trip to the top.  When we pulled over I was surprised that Steve was disappointed. The track he remembered was twisty and gnarly winding through small villages, whereas this stretch had blasted out new sections to allow greater speeds, which left sections of the old road like oxbow lakes as silent witnesses to a more rugged less gentrified N9 routing.  As it was, the eastern slope is undergoing similar construction so the downward traverse still include those old sections.  But in years to come it will be a memory – replaced by what would otherwise be an excellent motorcycle road rivalling any in the Alps.

View of the Atlas Mountains

The last stretch to Ait Benhaddou was less fun, with traffic, towns and the heat of the day weighing in. When we made our turn to the hotel we passed three camels along the side of the road. The desert beckons!

We spent the night at the Hotel Riad Ksar Ighnda which was located in an old village in a beautiful Ounila River Valley.

Hotel Riad Ksar Ighnda

Leaving Fes we made for Ifrane as there was a Shell station there and we hadn’t refuelled the night before.  The first Shell was out of gasoline so we were able to get the fuel at the next Shell station down the road.

Now several days into the trip we had established our routines. When it came to packing up each day there was ‘a place for everything and everything in its place’.  Which works well for the most part as you know where to find anything.  Except when you break routine.  For example my bike keys. They are either in the ignition or they are in a small pocket in the left sleave of my jacket.  However when I refuelled at the Shell station I wanted to take a photo of the pump to record my mileage.  Only problem was when I was done I couldn’t find my key.  I frantically searched my tank bag – no key. I presumed it may have fallen, but nothing on the ground. (Perhaps it got wedged in some inaccessible part of my fairing!)  Not there.  Eventually I recalled to check the place where my wallet resides ( a small compartment on the front of my tank bag)  There it was! ( I stuffed it in with the wallet before reaching for my cellphone to take the pictures). Crisis averted we followed the Garmin off the main road onto this small country lane (N-7229).  It was barely a car width wide, but it took us through a winding forest along the backway out of Ifrane.  A bonus was that we passed two Maccaw monkeys on the side of the road.

We rejoined N-8 and headed south through Azrou. In Azrou we encountered what must have been a market day mob.  The roads were teaming with people heading off to the local market.  The pedestrians were spilling out onto the roadway so we had to proceed slowly.

 Just prior to arriving  at Beni- Mallal the Garmin was indicating another turn onto a very secondary road.  We saw two cyclists at the same intersection debating the merits of one versus the other. We decided to trust Garmin as it showed us bypassing Beni Mellal.  The road was very interesting with small villages – each with it’s own Mosque a few of which had storks nesting in their towers.

In the end we still had a significant stretch of urban roads through Beni Mallal – which is a large town – but eventually emerged and turned left on R304 onto a great twisty road to Bin el Ouidane.

The Road into Bin el Ouidane

The western leg to the crest of the mountains was broken busted tarmac which made for a bumpy ride, but the downward eastern slope was freshly paved yielding a bounty of linked turns and twisties on our way to the hotel, which was beautifully situated in the river valley that runs south of the large reservoir in the area.

The hotel Dar L’eau Vive

Dogs are everywhere in Morocco.  They are found foraging and lounging at any point and any time.  One large mangy cross between a yellow lab and a blue tick single handedly caused a traffic jam in rush hour.  Fortunately, they are not inclined to chase motorcycles so they were not the hazard they might have been in North America.

Leaving Chefchouen we headed east on N-2 through the Atlas mountains to the Issaguen.  The road conditions reminded us of ‘ a box of chocolates’ as understood by Forrest Gump – you never knew what you were going to get.  There was lots of fun with reasonably smooth GS type twisties as well as busted sections littered with pot holes and crumbling tarmac.  At times it was like a nice road in the Alps, at other times it was like forestry trunk roads back home. Rounding a corner we ran across an anxious chap retrieving a lost bag of grain right at the corner.  His truck was overladen – securing loads is an optional practice apparently. A little later we saw a fellow with a load of plastic tubing about 6 feet high on top of his Sierra van.  Wouldn’t’ take much to tip it over in a corner.

Stopping for fuel in Issaguen we met two brits on bikes who met the night before. They had stored their bikes in the parking at Hotel Madrid. One was riding a KTM 1290 and the other a V-strom. They were planning to take some very secondary roads.  Given the state of Morocco’s national roads we wished them luck.

Heading south on R509 we rejoined N2 on our way to Fes. This latter part was busier with traffic, taking us through several small towns. We arrived in downtown Fes and found our hotel easily.  The Royal Mirage was like a large Western resort hotel with all the amenities and ample parking. We settled in to a pool side dinner and then hit the sack.

The later ferry sailing allowed us to divert through Ronda and Gaucin. The first part was the usual 120 highway north but then we cut off for Ronda.  These roads were much more to our liking. Classic GS roads (the reason we come to Europe).  Rolling hills, idle windfarms, and perfect pavement.

We stopped quickly in Gaucin, and had fun navigating their alley width “roads”.  About the width of a HumVee they were tiled, and sloped to a drainage ditch in the middle. Fortunately  we didn’t meet any oncoming traffic. An old castle acts as a sentry for the town.

Dropping down out of Gaucin on the beautifully windy A-397 we rejoined the AP-7 route to Tarifa. We gassed up and arrive 2 hours prior to sailing. After check in we had time to kill so we went back into town for an espresso before queuing up for the ferry. An old fortress that stood guard over the ferry port was visible from our post.

After espresso, we checked in and were positioned all off on our own (motorcycles are given priority on exit apparently.)  The 3:00 ferry was delayed.  Another competing ferry showed up and four tour buses disgorged their contents in the form of Moroccan women ostensibly returning home after their fruit picking season in Spain.  Four buses full of coweled women towing huge bundles of clothing and other goods to take back home.

Our ferry finally arrived and set sail at 4:30. We were processed through Moroccan customs on the trip over and when we got to Tangier we were on our way to Chefchouen.  A miscue in Tangier involved getting back on track where at a semi-controlled intersection. Steve nearly got T-boned by the oncoming traffic.  It appears that there are some intersections with lights in only one direction. So we happened to be crossing at the wrong moment.  Tangier was definitely a city where you had to have your wits about you.  At one point we stopped to get our bearings and were hailed with a chorus of horns. Once we were out of Tangier we could relax a bit.  The ride to Chefchouen was uneventful and we arrived rather late at the Hotel Madrid. 

Our guide recommended a restaurant tucked in among the maze of blue tinted alleyways characteristic  of the city.  As our restaurant did not serve beer we had to locate a market nearby and stock up.  We had a simple meal on a terrace overlooking the city sharing the table with a young couple from Nottingham England.  Dinner done we turned in after a very long day.

A slow start wading through Madrid’s morning rush hour traffic and we were on our way.  Many of the locals were lane splitting, however given the girth of the GSA we didn’t follow suit.  Another day of 120 km toll roads winding through the Andalusia region where we saw olive trees in all directions covering every slope and hill in sight.

Along the way we saw what looked like a large covered stadium. If it was North America we would have guessed they were NHL barns, but not likely here in Spain.  We’ll never know.

We stopped for an espresso (as usual) and checked our smartphones only to find that our ferry to Tangier was cancelled (again) and we had to rebook for the 3:00 sailing.  No problem as the extra time meant we could explore other roads tomorrow rather than rush to catch the 11:00 sailing (which was rescheduled from 1:00)

The final approach to Malaga was a sample of the Andalusian countryside, with high speed sweepers on perfect pavement (a classic Super G road). We arrived at our hotel which was equipped with a terrace pool with a nice view of the local neighborhood – very enticing after a long day in 35 plus weather. Problem was … I hadn’t packed a bathing suit.

Fortunately we discovered a pedestrian shopping district just behind the hotel and I was able to buy a bathing suit for the remainder of the trip.

Day two our destination was  just north of Madrid.  A day full of express toll roads at 120 – 130 km/hr  that cut across the south of France, cleaving the Pyrenees in the north of Spain and then ending with freeway through to Madrid.  The roads through the Pyrenees were heavily tunneled with gentle sweepers, and all the while we were aware of some really good roads nearby that we will  be exploring in the weeks to come. But for now the mission is clear – get to Madrid.

To fortify ourselves for the trip we took espresso breaks at 11 and at 2.  Definitely needed those shots of caffeine!  And of course we were not alone. Many motorcyclists were on the road. We met up with a group that had just participated in the Punta / Punta east/ West BMW sponsored event. 

We gained some altitude on our way to Madrid- reaching elevations similar to our own Calgary.  The countryside seemed somewhat arid and reminded us of the terrain around Reno and Carson City Nevada.  I suspect that many parts of North America resembled this area north of Madrid.  Perhaps that’s why the Spanish settled there.