MOROCCO BOUND

A Solo Motorcycle Journey to North Africa

 

 

 

14 Sept 2002  (Saturday)

in the shade, in an oasis, Zagora, Morocco

 

I am here!  The end of the line.  Zagora.  It is not quite the end of the civilized world, but you can take a camel to get there from here!  I am 3,658 kilometers (about 2200 miles) from Enkenbach, Germany.  At times today, especially in the last 2 hours, it seemed as if the gods were conspiring to keep me from getting here.  The closer I got, the hotter it became, and the stronger the winds blew.  I swear it was like a bad dream….. you know the one were no matter how hard you try, you just can’t get to a certain place?  It was like that.  But I am here now, stripped down and sitting in the shade, cooling off and drinking lots of water.  I’ll backtrack to this morning…..

 

Once again was up at 0530.  My hand-washed clothes had dried overnight, so packing went quickly.  By 0600 I was having my petite dejeuner in the garden outside.  Double espressos and hard rolls with sweet jam.  Loaded the bike and tipped the outside attendant for washing the bike overnight.  Was rolling by 7 am after first taking some photos from the hotel rooftop.  Not two blocks from the hotel I was reminded of the perils of traffic in Morocco.  A horse-drawn wagon came careening out from a side street and  flew straight through a  traffic circle.  Only this time it was the weight of the wagon driving the poor horses whose hooves were skidding on the pavement as they tried to stop.  Again, everyone managed to avoid them, and continued right on as if it was a normal occurrence.  I was beginning to wonder if it was!

 

            After that it was a beautiful, cool morning to ride.  The sun was up and I was heading up into the high Atlas Mountains. (Haut Atlas)  It was only 190 km to Ouarzatate and I knew I’d be there in three hours.  Only one small flaw in my plan.  The Atlas Mountains!  I was loving every minute of the ride and starting to lean into the mountainous turns when Morocco gave me wake-up call number 3.  I dropped a gear and accelerated into a sharp, descending left-hand turn in the shade of a ravine.  I failed to notice the diesel oil that had spilled out of an overfull gas tank from a slow moving truck going downhill.  The next thing I knew, both ends of the motorcycle were not  in sync, and then the tires quickly snagged the road again and snapped the bike back around.  It all happened in a split second.  I didn’t wreck, but I did leave a very deep pucker mark in the upholstery  on the seat.  That made me wake up and helped focus my concentration a little better.  Slowing down, I spent the rest of the morning in 2nd and 3rd gear and concentrated on the experience, and not the speed.

 

  The Atlas Mountains are the north/south divider between merely arid Morocco on the west, and desert Morocco on the east.  Cresting over the top at the Col de Tichka at 2260 meters (7414 ft), I could truly begin to see the absolutely beautiful desolation off to the east.  The air was crystal clear, and the mountain foothills slowly rippled out into the desert in every lessening waves.  Stopping to rest, and to haggle with the rock vendors, I felt like I was on top of the world. 

 

   As I began my descent into the Draa Valley, bright sunshine and cool mountain air embraced me.  I was almost euphoric.  In hindsight, I might have stayed and savored it a little while longer.

 

 

 

Return to Page 7 | Return to Index Page | Continue to Page 9

All photos and text are property of Jeff Munn.

Please do not use without my permission.