First things first: Apologies for the late post on my trip last year. For reasons that will become clear later I couldn't write this up any earlier. But since I have greatly benefitted from and enjoyed the several reports here, I thought it was only fair for me to contribute a bit as well.

So here we go: As so many here, I found myself at a crossroads in my life, doing a job that I didn't really like. So I decided to quit my job to go back into academia. But more importantly, I wanted leave some time in between to go travelling. Having done some backpacking in Tanzania first, "travelling" meant a 3 month trip on my bike, a Honda Africa Twin RD03 (!), from London to Morocco.

Getting there
My route led me first to Germany, my country of birth, where I visited family and met up with Jan, a friend of mine and fellow biker who would accompany me till northern Spain. In typical central European weather (that is rain) we hammered down the motorways to Lyon where we eventually got some sunshine. So we made our way through the Cévennes to traverse the Pyrenees from Perpignan to Saint Sebastian, where we both went our separate ways. I headed south to Sevilla, passing Bilbao, Zaragoza, and Salamanca and Jan rode along the French Atlantic coast back to Germany.

I kept this part of my report deliberately short, as I want to focus it on my time in Morocco. But actually, "getting there" wasn't as quickly as it reads. It took me about a month till I left Sevilla for Algericas, where I boarded the ferry to Tanger Med. All in all, I spend two weeks with Jan traversing the Pyrenees and then some 3 weeks getting to southern Spain.

Arriving in Morocco
Getting to Morocco was relatively straightforward: I booked an early ferry departing from Algericas the night before, boarded it the next day and crossed to Tanger Med, which is the new port of Tanger, situated a fair bit to the east of the city. Crossing the border at Tanger, there was no hassle to speak of. An import form was submitted online in advance and the remainder (passport stamp, V5C check, insurance - for those of us tied to the British insurance market) was dealt with quickly and professionally at the port. At the port there were also some guys from Inwi - a Moroccan telecoms provider, handing out free sim-cards along with some water. I don't know, if it was the best provider to go with, but it was cheap and the signal was good.

Leaving the port I got on my way along the mediterranean coast and then the Rif mountains to my first stop, Tetouan. The Rif is (apart from Chefchaouen) less known for its tourism then its export: Cannabis. Cannabis is grown in the Rif on an industrial scale (I saw whole valleys full of cannabis fields). The crime that comes with it is why Morocco's most northern mountain range has a bit of a bad reputation. This is quite a shame as these mountains are beautiful and so often missed.

Also, the often assumed security risk actually turns out to be massively overestimated! At this point, I'm repeating what surely everyone who travelled the area can confirm: Morocco is absolutely safe and almost nowhere in the country would I discourage anyone to travel individually! As long as one keeps some common sense (not harvesting the crops in the Rif, not buying wholesale quantities of weed and not trying to illegally cross the border to Algeria or having a sing-along with the Polisario in Western Sahara etc.) one is absolutely safe.

After stopping for some tea at a roadside cafe in the mountains, where I had a nice chat with the owner, who used to live in Frankfurt and spoke excellent German, I eventually made it to Tetouan. Tetouan (as the whole north) is heavily influenced by its Spanish colonial history, which is why Spanish remained the most widely spoken language apart from moroccan arabic in the region. It has a lovely small Medina where I found a lovely Riad to stay for the night.


Riad Dalia in Tetouan with a typical communal area

Riads are traditional Moroccan guesthouses, usually situated in the Medinas of towns. Many of the Riads became accessible to tourism fairly recently and are well worth a stay. The downside of staying at Riads is that one has to stay inside the Medinas. These medival town centres are extremely narrow, crowded and busy places and one is thus best advised to leave any vehicles (incl. bikes) in a guarded car park nearby, which obviously lifts the act of settling in to a whole new level.


Tetouan Medina. These views one only gets in the early morning before the Soukhs get busy.

After that settling in though, I was rewarded with a breathtaking view!


View of Tetouan Medina from the roof terrace

Chefchaouen
The next day I was setting off to Chefchaouen. Right after leaving Tetouan I got to know my new set of tyres a bit better - in Gibraltar i got a set of TKC 80s; I had Heidenau Scout K60s before, which I can highly recommend due to its price, longevity, and its true duel road capabilities, but which were also not available locally. When I went towards the mountains there was some light rain, which, combined with a lot of dust an dirt on the road formed a soapy film that is dreaded among motorcyclists. Combine that with fresh knobbly tyres and you can see where I was going - sideways, separated from my bike. Luckily nothing happened apart from a smashed camera lens that was liberating itself from my topcase (note: always lock topcases, when riding!).

The ride to Chefchaouen was relatively unspectacular as I sticked to main roads to make up some time - I wanted to spend more time further south. Chefchaouen itself was one of the most beautiful towns I stayed at. Chefchaouen is located in the southern Rif and has a distinctive, blue painted Medina stretching along two hornlike hills (therefore the name Chefchaouen, which is Arab for "look at the horns"). I found Chaouen perfect to stay for a few days, have some rest and take a few Photos.


Chefchaouen Medina


Much is said about Chaouen, but surprisingly little about the place being mostly inhabited by cats


Again this emptiness is limited to early morning hours only

In Chefchaouen, I stayed in a hostel for less than 100dh/ night. They also offered beds for half the price on the roof, but owing to all my luggage I opted for a regular dorm bed. Not sleeping on the roof is also something one might want to consider if one isn't a cannabis smoker as this seems to be the main mode of entertainment there. This is not a political statement by the way. I don't mind if people smoking some weed every now and then but I don't do it myself and would find it a bit annoying having to sleep in between clouds of kif-kif and hashish smoke.

In any case, I joined some backpackers to an Algerian music festival that was taking place on various stages throughout Chaouen. I was quite surprised by this as I didn't expect that appreciation for Algerian culture in Morocco, given the tensions between the two countries. At the main stage we ended up drinking sweet mint tea and having a nice chat with a local who was working at one of the luxury resorts whilst the band in the background played some kind of Algerian influenced pop-rock-jazz-fusion that was really quite amazing!


Algerian music festival in Chefchaouen - who would've thought?

Fez
I left Chefchaouen towards Fez on side roads again, passing by the lake El Wahda. The road (R419) was introduced to me by a local as "the worst of roads". Although it turned out that it wasn't, negotiating the potholes, or rather craters, in the tarmac was quite challenging at times. So I decided to ride much of the road on the gravel next to it. I stopped for a break at a small trucker cafe, where I must've been the first European in years, judging by the looks I received.


En-route to Fez

Arriving in Fez I started the now familiar process of "settling in" after I found a safe spot to park my bike. Fez is the imperial capital of Morocco (before it was moved back to its original capital, Marrakesh, and then Rabat). Its medieval Medina, Fez El Bali, arguably the largest of its kind, is a world heritage site and one of the most interesting but also most challenging places in Morocco.


Fez's old Medina - Fez El Bali

I was not able to find anything myself and was totally reliant on a guide I hired for a day. I normally don't like doing that as one is very much relying on the programme and sights that are being presented rather than just wondering around and exploring places. But Fez El Bali is so overwhelming on a first visit that there is hardly an alternative for a few days stay. This, along with the slightly tense attitude of the locals was probably why I wasn't a big fan of it. But this is also why I will need to come back just to visit Fez and Meknes for longer and try to explore it myself.


Bou Inania Madrasa - The famous Blue Gate

One of the highlights in Fez is its University, Al Quaraouiyine, which, founded in 859, is one of the oldest Universities in the world. The UNESCO ranks it as the oldest degree awarding intstitution in the world. Most impressive I found the tile and woodwork in the Universities' mosque.


Dormitory areas and tiles in the Al Quaraouiyine University



Impressive woodwork

At this point, I should probably add a few words about my (official - I try to avoid faux guides whenever I can) guide. My guide was Gino, an expat-Moroccan who was primarily trading carpets in New York and working as a guide whenever he was in Fez. He was very much a typical mid-sixtes Italo-American, which was an identity he adapted as, so he said, it made life much easier in New York. He genuinely did a great job but was also a bit of a cheeky character. Having told me how much he valued honesty in the first place, he later asked me not to tell the owner of the Riad I stayed in the full price I payed. Oh, well...


Soukh in Fez El Bali

After half a day and some lunch we left the Medina and took a taxi to a tile manufacturer where I had rare opportunity to take some photos of the women at work. Taking photos of people is generally challenging but particularly in Morocco. Especially women can be very cross when they spot photographers nearby. I was therefore either asking in advance or was very discretely operating with tele lenses when taking portraits.



Visiting a tile manufacturer


Mosaik in the making

We then went to the jewish quarter, which Gino praised as an example for the tolerance of the mostly islamic society. That Fes Jdid was founded under the protection of the Emir, following a massacre by the population to kill all jews in Fez El Bali, we didn't talk much about. This is also why the jewish quarter is next to the royal residences of Fes - by far the most impressive building around.


Gate at the royal palace

After I spend a couple of days in Fez, I was a bit put off by the the hassle there and thus decided to mostly avoid big Moroccan cities for the rest of my trip. Don't get me wrong: I'm not saying that one shouldn't visit the big imperial cities. On the contrary: They are some of the most exiting places I have been to. But with a bike, staying inside the Medina is tricky! The traffic is horrendous to say the least! If you are with your own mode of transport, I would recommend to stay somewhere decentral, with a guarded car park attached and get a taxi into town. This is what I did in Marrakech and it worked much better.

From Fez Through the Middle Atlas to Midelt
After staying in Fez for a couple of days I went on to go to Midelt, which should be my "base-camp" for the High Atlas, where I had the first stretches of proper off-road riding. My route went through Ifran in the northern Middle Atlas. At this point, it may help to give some more explanation on the geography of the Atlas mountains. For this purpose I'm gonna borrow a sketch from wikipedia:


Geography of the Atlas

When one refers to the Atlas one doesn't refer to one mountain range but a series of different mountains spanning from the southwestern Moroccan coast all the way to the Algerian-Tunisian border region. That is a vast area! So there is need to specify. Morocco hosts three of the Atlas ranges: The Middle Atlas, in the north, followed by the High Atlas and the Anti Atlas including Jebel Sahro, which tourists often mistake for the Sahara desert. The Middle Atlas is a relatively small and green mountain range and has with Ifran a popular destination for the Moroccan royals.


Approaching the Middle Atlas

Owing to the long distance ahead I followed main (N) roads to Midelt. Although the road conditions were superb and I could cover a good distance, it took me a day to make my way from Fez to Midelt! Everyone plans to travel the whole country in a week should bear that in mind.


Lunch in Zaida

Having arrived in Midelt I stayed in a cheap hotel where I had some tea and entered the waypoints for the next day in my satnav. From the roof one had a fantastic view of the area and I had a nice chat with a local, who turned out to be a local Berber carpet trader. He later tried to trick me into his shop, but wasn't very good so I got away with it. Perhaps he was too nice. I do have to give a big shout to the security guy at the hotel. He came to my room late at night to tell me to park my bike inside the market halls next door! I'm pretty sure it wasn't necessary but it was really nice.

The High Atlas
The next day I had a nice breakfast with Tea and amazing Chapati (didn't have Chapati since I was in Tanzania and I loved it there!) and then got ready to get on my way. I only had to get fuel. But it turned out that there wasn't any in Midelt, although the town has three petrol stations.So I had to drive back till close to Zaida (about 30km) till I got some. Having fuelled up, I went via Cirque du Jaffar into the High Atlas and followed a mix of piste and tarmac to Ilmichil.



The Cirque du Jaffar is a generally difficult and fairly dangerous piste that is winding up into the mountains where it eventually follows a loop around the river jaffar - hence the name. On the way to the cirque I had some unwanted company by a pack of dogs. They didn't look like they were coming to play so I throttled up and got out of their way. On the actual cirque one climbs down a narrow track with impressive drops to one side. In dry conditions this is fairly straightforward on a bike (a few dried out river beds are technically most challenging - momentum is your friend) but I wouldn't recommend this piste in rain. I met a group of french guys with a local driver in a land cruiser. Whilst I happily hammered through the cirque, they had to go inch by inch through some narrow passages.

On the piste, I was stopped by several kids and nomads. General recommendation here, don't stop and don't hand out gifts and candy. This is helping no one but encourages begging and in the worst case brings you into trouble. Also, although Morocco is absolutely safe, there are reports of bandits trying their luck on tourists in the area. But this is very rare, so it shouldn't keep people from going there (I was much more worried about the dogs that chased me earlier).

Ilmichil to Dades
Leaving the Gorqe du Jaffar, I continued towards Imilchil, following route MH1 from Chris Scott's roadbook. Navigation was generally easy and the piste was mainly gravel and tarmac. Only at one point I had to take a diversion as the road was washed out from floods earlier that year. For much of the piste I was joined by the French group I met earlier who, as it turned out, were on their 10th trip - always with the same driver!


Piste to Imilchil

On the piste I came across two French riders on a R1200GS who were stranded with a puncture. I guess I couldn't be of much help apart from offering my food pump, which turned out to be much more reliable than the gas bullets in their puncture repair kit. Generally, I wasn't too convinced with the blutack-like rubber seal in their kit as it didn't seem to seal too well. But compared to my slime can, which was more then useless as it turned out later, it was pretty good. They did manage to mend it eventually and after having some lovely picknick with Salade Maroccaine and sardines the other french group invited me to, we continued towards Imilchil.


Me and my French-Moroccan Company

I arrived in Imilchil fairly late and for simplicity booked myself into the same hotel the French travellers stayed at - it had some amazing Kefta! I decided to stay for the next day as well, as I had fairly stable internet access and a breathtaking scenery around me. Imilchil is one of the larger Berber villages in the High Atlas. It is most known for the Betrothal Festival - a traditional Berber wedding festival and is a popular destination for mountain hikers. The village has everything on offer one needs (theoretically): a tourist office (which was closed), a post office (closed) with a cash machine (that didn't work), many gites, cafés, a chemist and most important a petrol station.


Imilchil

Two days later, I set of for Dades, looking forward to riding the famous upper Dades Gorge and the highest part of my journey - the piste should wind up to more than 2900m altitude. So I set off to the petrol station to end up not getting my bike started again. I spend a fair bit, with the help of locals, to get it running again. Eventually, one of the locals, Tarik, knew a mechanic who fixed the issue in no time (dirty spark plugs). I exchanged phone numbers with Tarik, as his family run a small auberge near Merzouga, where I would stay for a couple of days later.

The ride over the Dades piste was absolutely breathtaking. Since I first set food (or tyre) on the High Atlas, I was blown away by the mountainous beauty that presented itself. A lot of the mountains are washed out, owing to the torrential rainfalls the region is notorious for. This leaves the most incredible shapes and colours. On the Dades piste I was riding over vast high plateaus till the piste eventually winded up over the pass where one gets amazing views of the gorge.

Still mesmerised by the views, I suddenly realised the thunderstorms that were forming ahead of me. Although it didn't look like they would reach me, I thought downhill would be the safest option in any event. That was easier said than done as the track had some massive drops and there was a thin layer of mud on it that was enough to raise adrenalin levels quite a bit.


Upper Dades Gorge

I eventually made it down to the river Dades, where I run into more trouble: The storms left quite a bit of rain, leading to the river Dades being unpassable. Often one can simply wait till water levels passed sufficiently.


Left: Ford when I arrived; Right: About one hour later


The sensible thing to do in such a situation: Tea!

So after waiting about an hour I attempted the crossing, which turned out easier than I thought. The same couldn't be said about the parts of road that followed: I had to negotiate through heavy rock and mudslides, which actually was quite a bit of fun and I was surprised how well my bike took it. But then I realised that something wasn't quite right when I noticed a bit of oversteering in the twisties that followed. So I stopped and found myself with a flat tyre. So, out comes the tool box, in goes the new tube and after about half an hour (with the help of a few locals; the TKC tyres aren't easy to break), I was ready to go again.