Road to Merzouga

I part company from the group at a fuel stop near Ait-Ichchou; the boys go off-road again and plan to meet up at the Dar el Janoub Hotel in Merzouga, about 250km distant. My route is via Gourrama and then hit the N13 (near Rich) south to Errachidia, Erfoud and Rissani to pick up the N13 east/south-east to Merzouga.
All went well until I got to Errachidia where the signs vanished, was approached by a gay hotel owner who wanted to take me to his place (for what one wonders... tea & cake?) and eventually I asked a policeman and soon was heading out of the city rush hour traffic towards Erfoud.
At Rissani I ended up in a cul-de-sac populated by a huge building probably a mosque with lots of people coming and going. Had some difficulty finding the right way out as all the signs had been vandalised with the alternative English/French names obliterated leaving only the Arabic....
At a fuel stop I spotted a convoy of six 4x4 vehicles steaming down the road and decided to tuck in behind them thinking they may be going my way! As it turned out they were.
 The convoy stopped at Aoufouss and I carried on alone into the deepening gloom of the evening thinking about the boys and imagining that they were already at the poolside sipping cold Flag beers... how wrong I was!

By now it was dark and just before Erfoud I passed some posh-looking hotels and thought I spotted one of the lads and decided to go back and check it out. An adverse camber on the road caught me out and I dropped the bike doing my u-turn. Idiot!! and just as I picked poor Peg up the convoy came up and stopped to help. They were a bunch of Polish guys and really helpful. The bike wouldn't start initially and they stayed with me 'till it started and it was then I learned they were headed to Merzouga, although didn't know the name of their hotel! They suggested I follow them, which I was more than glad to do. At Erfoud they pulled in so I decided to carry on and re-fuel at Rissani, my next stop. There I was told it was only 47km to Merzouga, so I felt that within the hour I should be at my final stop for the night.
After a good hour (well it felt like an hour, maybe it wasn't) I stopped to check the map and while stopped a car pulled up and a guy jumped out asking if I wanted a hotel. I said I had one booked and told him the name and he said he knew about the 5 bikers and told me to carry on for another 5km or so to a junction and turn left to the hotel.
When I came to the first junction, there were loads of advertising hoardings of all the hotels down this unmade road and I stopped to check them to see if Dar el Janoub was one of them. It wasn't, but once again there was a car parked at the junction and the driver jumped out with the same query and when I explained that I had a hotel, he said to follow him and he would lead me to the hotel. Which he did! Brill! I was very relieved.

My relief became diminished somewhat when I couldn't see the other bikes parked at the hotel.
The hotel owner came out and said he was expecting 5 people on bikes and I said I was Number Five!
Anyway I checked in and he asked me if I'd be taking dinner, I gratefully accepted and quickly changed and sat down completely alone in the dining room.
Soup and chicken & chips with a sort of custard for pudding. The waiter (who spoke perfect english) asked me if I wanted more soup and chicken as he had plenty! (four other helpings I assumed).


Three quick cans of Flag with dinner and I repaired to my quarters and had a shower and went into reception to pick up the wi-fi and attempt to try and send some messages to track down the others. Unfortunately my mobile's battery was just about dead and without an adapter I was stuffed. The hotel didn't have one either. I then had the bright idea to use the basic browser on my Kindle and managed to post a message on Facebook, hoping somebody might see it. Then the english-speaking hotel guy came over to me and lent me his iPod and I was able to send some more messages and eventually picked one up from Tom saying they ran out of time and had stopped off at Erfoud. They seemed to have no idea where I was, although the Dar el Janoub was definitely in the plan and I had assumed from the various contacts I had that it had been booked, etc. As it turned out it hadn't and we later guessed that the word had gone around and some of the guys I met were probably acting as speculative agents and maybe booking rooms all over the place!

A very good night's sleep and rose early for breakfast which was taken out on the terrace. Fantastic view and really a great way to start the day, slightly marred by the other guests - a gaggle of elderly Germans all babbling away at once (not that I have anything against Germans, far from it as some of you may know).

At about 10.30am I heard some bikes and thought my comrades had arrived but it wasn't them. Then I spotted some bikers perched on top of the big sand dune about a mile away from the hotel and thought that it might be our intrepid adventurers, so guessed they would arrive in a couple of hours. However it was not to be and as it turned out they had arrived at Erfoud very late and proceeded to have a late session at their hotel.

I decided to chill out by the pool and read my Kindle... but it was so hot had to move the lounger out of the sun and in the process slid the thing over the Kindle completely breaking the display. No reading then!  Had a siesta later and was contemplating an early dinner on my lonesome again and planning what my next move would be (Ouarzazate then Taghazoute) when I heard the dulcid tones of a pair KTMs, a baffle-less Honda and the calm & quiet purr of an Africa Twin and knew they had arrived. Very pleased to see them at last!
Straight unto the roof terrace, olives & cans of Flag, watching the incredible sunset over the dunes then into dinner swapping stories and knocking back a few more Flags.

Next morning we all had breakfast on the terrace - the Germans had already gone!

Serious business this breakfasting!

  After breakfast James jumped on his bike and set off for the big dune and was soon just a tiny speck in the distance...

James approaching the summit...

 Jame's shot of his bike at the top!

Alone again until Tazenakht

Saturday 19 March

I leave the boys just outside Oarzazate as they go off road again... and head towards Tazenakht where we plan to re-group. A nice ride with plenty of long traffic-free roads and some stunning mountainous scenery, including an incredibly sharp-ponted mountain maybe an extinct volcano (photo out-of-focus and no wasn't taken from the sadle at 72kph!)

I did see (I think or was it a mirage?) one strange sight: a man on what looked like an old British motorbike, maybe a Velocette or Vincent. It was black and he was clipping along quite fast about 70kph and he was dressed in some strange garb: a black puddin basin helmet, goggles, black gauntlets and a long brown overcoat!
T E Lawrence rides again!!
Eeeshh.... as my friend would say - I must've been dreaming!
The off-road crew got to our planned spot just before me.

Second day crossing the Rekkam Plateau

Always interesting watching some unfortunate having to kick-start his mate's bike...


Up at first light and with Kendal Mint cake for breakfast we set off again. And so my nightmare continued, although I think I was managing to stay on the bike for longer periods I was becoming fatigued more quickly than the previous day and could feel my overall state of well being deteriorating. Justin did a fantastic job of looking after me - constantly making sure I was drinking water and feeding me sugary sweets.

Eventually we came upon a small settlement and while some of the re-fuelled with 'essence' (petrol) supplied by the head man, James asked him if he could take me off the plateau. He immediately said he could indicating his car nearby. I was very skeptical that Peg would fit in the boot but he was adamant and quickly removed the boot lid to indicate how it would fit.
As I was desperate I agreed to pay 800 dirhams and all the men and our boys heaved poor Peg into the car boot.

About 3 seconds later there was a sickening crunch as the car bodywork began to crumble under the weight; Peg was quickly hauled out and as it was obvious that this was never going to work I quickly strapped my luggage back on and tried to get my money back.

Some fierce wrangling then went on (mostly by head mans wife alternatively harranguing him for ruining the family car and shouting at me to pay for the damage and the petrol. Eventually I got about 200 dirham back and we all scooted off to another settlement where we had spotted some lorries.
The story must have got round as they seemed to know what we wanted and demanded 1,000 dirham to 'taxi' me to the town. I'd had enough by then and resolved to struggle on.

The going was quite a bit easier now or maybe I was getting more adept at sliding Peg through huge mounds of mud but as soon as I felt I was starting to enjoy the action something would cause me to fluster, panic and drop the bike again, increasingly at what seemed to be easy sections. I soon realised that I was completely out of stamina - like a drowning man I could not summon anything more up from anywhere.
Once again it had been a brutal day for me and although I felt so bad about holding up everybody else, I became more concerned about my own condition.

As light was beginning to fade we came upon a huge expanse of mud and inevitably I ended up with my face in it. Very shortly afterwards James & Justin spotted some bikes and a vehicle in the distance.
Like proper train spotters they identified the bikes as KTM something or others and the vehicle as a Land Rover. It was Adventure-Spec's Dave Lomax and 2 MCN journalists doing a film.
We posed for photos etc It was a bit like Livingstone & Stanley. They gave us a bag of bread rolls & water (kinda symbolic I thought). After a few photos and Lomax bigging it up for the film camera they were soon on their way and wearily we were on ours. After about an hour or so the light had just about gone so James suggested we pitch our tents and I imposed myself on Tom & Nick in their tent - there was no way I would've been able to assemble my little tent in the dark (tricky enough in daylight - ask anybody who's seen me attempt it at any of last year's festivals, especially that eponymous one where I became hooked on vet matters).
And so we made camp. Justin found a stream and using chlorine & de-salination tablets produced some very welcome potable drinking water as we had all just about run out. Unfortunately I had lost the bag of bread in the course of one of my many spills so it was a small piece of Kendal Mint cake. each for supper and water! Real survival stuff. I had a bad night - nowhere near as good as the previous one in the mud hut - probably because I really didn't feel too well.

We all rose early and quickly broke camp & got under way. Although the going was easier I think I was pretty de-hydrated as I kept feelin dizzy and kinda unconnected. Justin kept forcin water down me and I only had a few falls and places where somebody had to ride Peg for me out of a tricky section.

Several hours later we finally hit the tarmac again. I leapt off and hugged the road thanking God and John Loudon McAdam for his invention.

Yay!!  lovely black sticky tarmac!

I suspect James guided us on a very much more direct route to the tarmac than he had originally planned in order to get me back to my comfort zone. I'll be eternally grateful.
All the boys had been fantastic looking after me and not one word of complaint did I hear (or feel) about how I'd been such a burden to the group. There is no way I could have made it without their unstinting and selfless help.

It was no understatement: I was very pleased to embrace the tarmac after three days of hell...

Monday 14 March - first day in Maroc

After clearing border formalities etc we get a wiggle on and James sets the satnav for the Rekkam Plateau.

As we speed towards the plateau we spot our first police road block. They wave us to pull over & stop.

The head cop was quite aggressive and demanded our passports, wanted to know where we were going, where we'd been, etc. He didn't seem to believe that we had only just arrived in Marok and hadn't stayed in a hotel or had a plan to stay in one that night. The look of incredulity on his face mirrored mine when James told him we were camping out in the wilds of the Rekkam. I hadn't realised that camping was seriously on the agenda!

We did notice that they didn't have a proper police car but they all carried guns so we co-operated! Eventually after giving them wine gums (they offered us dates) and taking our passports back to their car for inspection and asking each of us what our profession was they waved us on our way. This had wasted about an hour so James set a cracking pace as we headed due south.

We left the tarmac somewhere near Taourirt (I think) and so began my personal nightmare. Initially the track was gravel mainly and the tyres were coping ok but as the terrain changed and sandy clay-like mud appeared I was all over the place with the front washing away and I was constantly dropping the bike.

The worst of it was that I couldn't pick the bike up and one of the others had to keep helping me. It would not nearly have been half as bad if I had a lighter (and more suitable) machine with less baggage; at least I would have been able to pick up the bike and not keep needing help. I felt really bad about hindering progress so much and realised that I shouldn't have been there at all especially with Peg and so little experience.

Progress was very slow and with each offie my confidence plummeted and I had to mentally start from scratch again. I kept thinking of all the stuff Steve from Touratrail had taught me in Spain.
It became a seemingly never ending merry-go-round of 10, 15 or 20 minutes of progress and then dump - down and off again. Pretty soon both the bike and I were covered in mud.

After a few hours of this following another drop the bike failed to start and the sidestand indicator was lit which meant the switch had broken. Tom came to the rescue and taped it up.

I kept dropping behind and consequently somebody had to keep coming back to pick up the bike and often ride it over a difficult bit with such frequency that we were now seriously behind schedule and light was beginning to fade. It was suggested that we look for a local with a van or lorry to take me to the nearest town - a suggestion I readily agreed to as I was by now completely exhausted.
Daylight was now rapidly fading the landscape had become very lunar or martian-like in appearance and seemed completely barren and very inhospitable indeed. We appeared to be on top of the plateau with the same featureless scene extending as far as the eye could see, when James spotted a solitary little mud hut and suggested we stay there for the night and resume our search for somebody to take me to safety next morning. Everybody readily agreed as the light was just about gone and it was a very exposed area for tents.

A very out-of-focus shot (showing the ventilated end) of our 1st night's accommodation in Marok... a mud hut/cowshed ...

The hut had half its bamboo roof missing but nevertheless I thought was quite warm & cosy. Tom soon had a little fire going and the boys cooked up some welcome pot noodles - a novelty for me (to which I added Grammas!) on their camping stoves. I had neglected to pack any camping gear apart from my tiny tent & sleeping bag and so was of no use at all. Then after a drink of JD & coke I gratefully crawled into my sleeping bag and was soon snoring (allegedly!).
Some hours later Justin woke us up with the news that it was raining and some re-arrangin went on as we all squeezed into one end of the hut.

Up at first light and with Kendal Mint cake for breakfast we set off again. And so my nightmare continued, although I think I was managing to stay on the bike for longer periods I was becoming fatigued more quickly than the previous day and could feel my overall state of well being deteriorating. Justin did a fantastic job of looking after me - constantly making sure I was drinking water and feeding me sugary sweets.

Eventually we came upon a small settlement and while some of us re-fuelled with 'essence' (petrol) supplied by the head man, James asked him if he could take me off the plateau. He immediately said he could indicating his car nearby. I was very sceptical that Peg would fit in the boot but he was adamant and quikly removed the boot lid to indicate how it would fit.
As I was desperate I agreed to pay 800 dirhams (about £60) and all the men and our boys heaved poor Peg into the car boot.

About 3 seconds later there was a sickening crunch as the car bodywork began to crumble under the weight; Peg was quickly hauled out and as it was obvious that this was never going to work I quickly strapped my luggage back on and tried to get my money back.

Some fierce wrangling then went on (mostly by head mans wife alternatively harranguing him for ruining the family car and shouting at me to pay for the damage and the petrol. Eventually I got about 200 dirham back and we all scooted off to another settlement where we had spotted some lorries.
The story must have got round as they seemed to know what we wanted and demanded 1,000 dirham to 'taxi' me to the town. I'd had enough by then and resolved to struggle on.

Minor trauma at Malaga

Nick & I kept our eyes on bikes/gear while others got their tickets. For some reason we paid a bit more than them (found out why later).
We didn't have long to wait before the signal sounded to gather at the waiting area to board the ferry. As we got ready to board, James discovered he hadn't got his ticket! He and Justin raced back to the booking office and came back still looking for the ticket. Meanwhile, boarding had commenced - there seemed to be very few vehicles. The boys started to dash back to the booking office (presumably to buy another ticket) when Nick spotted a bit of paper on the ground: the missing ticket!
We shouted that we found the ticket and hastily boarded.
Nick & I discovered that our tickets included a shared 4 berth cabin. There were 2 arabs already ensconced and we dumped our gear on the top bunks and headed for the bar where the others had set up camp (nearby out on deck). I elected to stay with them and Nick went back to the cabin.
Unfortunately it rained during the night and we had to re-assemble in the lounge. I slept very badly on a seat and we docked around 8am.
The port of Melilla is Spanish controlled and looked like it was a fortified town in former times.

We pulled up at 1st petrol station and Tom went to work on Justin's bike stripping down the clutch. After about an hour or so we headed off for the border about 2k away.

Sunday and a proper adventure!

A late night discussion last night about the ferries to Maroc made us realise that we had to get to either Almeria or Malaga by Sunday evening otherwise we would be under extreme pressure to complete our Moroccan tour. Good early start and we headed for Malaga blasting down some big fast A-roads.
We stopped only to re-fuel our bikes (and ourselves) and made very good progress until just past Antequera on the amazingly twisty A7075 when Tom, Nick & I stopped to photograph the scenery:

(J & J went bombin down the mountain) and a car pulled up; people told us the road was blocked by a landslide a few kilometres further down.
We waited to see if J & J would return - they didn't. So thinking that the road was maybe only inpassable to 4-wheel traffic we carried on util we met the boys surveying the blocked road.

It really was impassable and only possible to get by on foot.
This wasn't going to stop our band of intrepid adventurers though!
The road had slipped in two places by several feet!

In about an hour they had hauled the bikes past the obstruction and we were on our way again.
Got into Malaga about 9pm

Salamanaca to Ciudad Real

On the road for about 9am we had a great ride as James's satnav took us down some great twisties and some incredibly long straight roads - a very long day but we covered a lot of miles.
At one stage during this leg we encountered some roads & roundabouts which the satnav didn't know about and James took a short cut across some wasteland between a motorway and a slip road. Havin no option but to follow I found myself in a treackley-sticky muddy field. Oh no! I was doin quite well but slowed down too much, got completely bogged down an promptly fell off!
The boys came to my rescue. At the end of this field was a ditch/storm drain 4ft wide and about 3ft deep. I baulked and James rode poor Peg in and out of the gully.
And on we rode south into the Spanish evening to just outside Ciudad Real.
We stopped at an unusual hotel in Ciudad Real which resembled a warehouse on an industrial estate! Nevertheless we had a great meal and kept the barman up way past his bedtime.

 The bar bill at the end of the evening!