MOROCCO BOUND

A Solo Motorcycle Journey to North Africa

12 Sept 2002 (Thursday)

Gibraltar Nature Preserve, The Crown Colony of Gibraltar, on the Spanish Coast.

What a view! I am sitting in the shade, high up on “the Rock”, just savoring the ride, the view of Africa across the straits, the cool breeze, and a really good cigar. I am 2600 km from Germany, and the trip is really just starting. I can actually see Morocco from here.

Where to begin? Slept in until 07:30 because I needed the rest. Had a quick breakfast at the Global Internet Café/restaurant and checked my email while it was cooking. It is so wonderful to be able to communicate with your loved ones while on the road. Breakfast was scrambled eggs, bangers (sausage), beans, fried toast and coffee. Pure English. Was moving by 08:30 in a very heavy fog. After 30 km it cleared and revealed a beautiful day.

Had to pay a toll to ride the coastal highway to Algeciras, but then it was a twisting two-lane road to westward to Tarifa. As I crested the hills above the town I saw the juncture of the Atlantic and the Mediterranean. It was an awe-inspiring sight. Rode straight down into Tarifa and out onto the docks. I was officially at the southernmost point in all of Europe.

What a feeling. I had finally completed my bookends of Europe by riding to both the northernmost point (Nordkapp, Norway) and southernmost point (Tarifa, Spain). Some 4000 miles, and the Arctic Circle, separates the two, and I had ridden every mile of that distance. (See the Great Circle Tour of the Baltic Sea journal).

As I was sitting there on the docks savoring the moment, I noticed there was a ferry readying to leave for Tangier, Morocco. I thought I might as well go for it and quickly jumped in line to acquire the tickets. Was disappointed to find out that even though it was in fact going to Tangier, I was not allowed to travel on it. The ferry was for European Union (EU) residents only. For the first time, my USA passport did not help me out. Wow. However, the ticket agent was very helpful and did sell me a ticket for the morning ferry out of the port of Algeciras, bound for Tangier. With that in hand, a quick inquiry about camping resulted in directions to a Camping ground just north of town, right on the Atlantic Coast. The Camping Rio Jara was an incredible find. Imagine an oasis on the coast, heavily shaded, well maintained, right on the ocean, and with an average age of campers in their 20’s. But more on that later. After pitching my tent and unpacking the bike, I headed back eastwards along the sinuous coastline to the Rock of Gibraltar.

Officially called “The Crown Colony of Gibraltar” it has been in the possession of the United Kingdom since it was captured in 1704, and then officially ceded to the English in the Treaty of Utrecht, in 1713. Know as one of the two “Pillars of Hercules”, Gibraltar (UK territory in Spain to the north) and Mt. Achta, Cueta (Spanish Territory in Morocco to the south) were the limits of navigation in the known world of ancient times. Mariners did not sail beyond them for fear of falling off the edge of the world. Even today, it is hard to believe that the entire Mediterranean meets the Atlantic through this 14 mile wide strait. That is why the fortified “Rock” was so fought over by so many countries through the centuries. Even though it is only 5 km long and 1 km wide (2.3 square miles), it towers 426 meters over the water, and the control of the “Rock” allowed the control of all sea access to the Med. No wonder Spain has never given up the fight to force the UK to return Gibraltar to Spanish control. I find that strange though, since Spain has possession of an even larger chunk of Morocco in the city of Ceuta. Cueta is a Spanish territory in North Africa, carved out of Morocco. If you visit it from Algeciras, you can say you’ve been to Africa, and never have left Spain! Go figure. But getting back to the Gibraltar issue, Spain has tried various strategies over the years to force the UK to give it back, to include a total blockade/embargo from 1963 to 1985. Only in the late 80’s was the border between the two opened for daily traffic.

Even today, it is a royal pain to cross with an hour to two average wait for cars wishing to enter GIB, as the locals call it. However, as I sat sweating in my riding gear in the mile long queue of cars, I noticed the constant stream of scooters zipping past. Following the motto of it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission, I pulled out of the line and began to lane-split behind the little 50cc scooters buzzing merrily along. Believe it or not, there was a “Scooter and bicycle only” lane at the border, and the Customs officials just waved me right on through, saving hours a waiting and possible heat exhaustion from sitting in the sun. The traffic on GIB was still horrendous, with only two lane roads and solid bumper-to-bumper traffic. The only way I got anywhere was to follow the scooters and lane split. But lane splitting into oncoming traffic was an adrenaline buzz that I had never experienced. At times there were only inches that separated my saddlebags from the cars and busses on either side. What a ride! Even then, it took me 45 minutes to go the 3 miles thru the border and up to the Nature Preserve on the top of Gibraltar.

That is where I found the Barbary Apes. Even though the “Rock of Gibraltar” is heavily fortified, has internal caverns, and an intriguing history, I found the Barbary Apes to be the most incredible part. The “Apes” are really Barbary macaques (monkeys), and live absolutely free on the top and sides of the rock. They are native to Morocco and Algeria, and are the only free-living monkeys in all of Europe! British tradition has it that as long as they live on Gibraltar, it will remain in the possession of the Crown. So they are well cared for! Amazingly clever, they are adept at separating tourists from their food, and can be quite aggressive. When I opened a bag of crackers, they did not want the offered cracker, and instead went right after the bag in my hand.

When I hid it behind my back, two of them distracted me to the front while one circled behind me and tried to snatch it from my hand. Sneaky little devils they are. Eventually, after hiding the bag in my shirt, I coaxed one onto the bike and had a great time taking pictures of my newfound friend. He even gave me some directions for when I was over in Morocco. I then rode on to find a shaded picnic table on the side of the mountaintop, where I’m writing this now. What a sweet respite from the heat. I’m savoring a cold liter of water, some breaded cakes from the bakery, and relaxing in the cool breezes. From my perch over a thousand feet above the Med, I can see the harbor traffic and gaze across the 14 miles of the strait to the Atlas Mountains of Morocco. In a few, I’ll head back into town and look for a motorcycle shop and see about a new front tire. Mine is getting a bit thin, and I don’t want to risk 2000 miles of Morocco on it. Then it is back to the campground and a swim in the Atlantic.

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All photos and text are property of Jeff Munn.

Please do not use without my permission.