MOROCCO BOUND

A Solo Motorcycle Journey to North Africa

(Welcome to Zagora, the end of the line)

I finally came to the gates of Zagora and cruised down the deserted streets. At the far south edge of town I found my white whale; the SIGN. Smiling through the sweat trickling down my face, I turned left and headed down off the main drag and towards the lower ground near the Oued Draa. I spied a camping sign tacked to the side of a building and followed it to my current spot. Just dropping 50 feet down from the level of the town and following dirt tracks into this shady part of the oasis, it seems as though the temperatures dropped 20 degrees. I parked the bike and stripped off my protective riding gear as fast as I could. What a relief! I was here and I was alive! Even the hot water that I was drinking felt good. I strolled around the “campground”, found an old chair, and just sat there in the shade cooling off while I watched the tops of the date palms whipped about by the blowing winds 15 meters above me.

The camping place was in the bottom of a ravine along the Oued Draa (Draa River), at least 50 feet below the rest of the town up on the ridge. Because of the practically non-existent humidity, just sitting in the shade felt cool even though it had to be very near 100F. I spent the next four hours relaxing, writing in this journal, and sharing dried fruit with Rashida and Hamid. ( a Muslim lady from the UK who was touring Morocco by bus with her 12 year old son). We talked all afternoon about Christianity and Islam. Talked of traveling and the many tricks that Moroccans pull on unsuspecting tourists. Spoke of life and Islam in particular. It was a very interesting afternoon. At sunset she and Hamid walked back into town to help me get my picture in front of “the sign”.

(Below is the famous, “52 days to Timbuktu” sign. Zagora was the traditional start point of the overland caravans going across the southern Sahara to that famous crossroads and trading mecca, Timbuktu, Mali.)

While we were there we met Hymer, a German on a BMW R1150GS in full Touratech gear. After we took the mandatory pictures of ourselves in front of the sign, I led Hymer back to our little campground. That evening our group was Hymer, Rashida and Hamid, myself, and a couple from the Nederlands who arrived on the late bus.

The cost was 10 dirham per tent, 10 dirham per person, and 5 dirham for the motorcycle. Since I chose to not pitch a tent, my cost was $1.50 to camp. It was adequate and sure beat sleeping out in the desert somewhere. There was a cold shower that came out of an open pipe in a cinderblock shed. There was a squat toilet in the next shed (unisex), complete with flush bucket. And there were loads of stray cats. I fixed my dinner on my Peak stove and dined al fresco.

Decided to sleep under the stars and laid my bedroll out on the ground. Considering where I was, I thought I could risk the chance that it wouldn’t rain that night. What an amazing night it was too. Lying there I put my hands behind my head and just stared at the stars that went on forever. I saw more things in the Heavens than I ever knew existed in my life.

I watched falling stars arc across the sky. As I lay there I thought of how much we miss by living near cities that obstruct such a magical view with their light pollution. As I struggled to keep my eyes open, the evening cooled off beautifully and soon I had to slip into my sleeping bag. I awoke to the first Call to Prayer at 04:30 am in the darkness of the morn. I tried to sleep in until 06:00, but was up with the first hint of light in the eastern sky. I pulled out my gear and fired up an espresso to start the day. The aroma apparently awoke everyone and soon I was making espresso for all. With that done, I packed, thanked everyone for the lovely evening, and headed back north.

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All photos and text are property of Jeff Munn.

Please do not use without my permission.