World Wildlife Fund
Sunday 28 November 2010
The first few days in Morocco.
.
The first few days in Morocco.
The 45km ride from 'Tanger' port to Tanger was a pleasant start, a craggy-rock, coast hugging route, greetings from road-side people as I cycled past, horns honking and hands waving from cars and trucks – welcoming the latest adventurer onto the dark continent. Goats and sheep grazing freely at the roadside, passing countless people ambling around waiting for passing taxis, which is quite something - here the taxi’s bundle as many people inside as possible, usually being the large, battered, Mercedes cars (Grand Taxi´s), four in the back two in the front…I’d even whitnesed a lady clambering into the boot of one, sitting up right as it drove off...what would the E.U health and safety have to say about this!! The day’s pleasant mood soon changed as the tarmac of Tanger arrived under the wheels. Like any big European town, tower blocks, busy roads, smog, impatient horns blaring as soon as lights go green, big towns, yuk!.
Larache was a reasonable size town, asking a few people, not in Arabic but pigeon French, I was soon at the ‘campsite’. This was a confused campsite, it doubled as a coach-station, or maybe it was a confused coach-station, either way it had security so I was happy. There was also a tent mosque and a restaurant, I made use of one of them.
From cars and tarmac to donkeys and dust, day two proved quite varied. Wanting to stick to the quieter roads I payed the price, pot-holes, puddles, no road signs, although the latter was standard even on main roads, never knowing what town I had entered. Good practice of things further south I guess! The next large town was to be Kenitra, from my Michelin map an ‘approximate’ 60 miles away, I’d normally add 10 to be safe, but it turned into 90 miles, heaven knows how! On finding no campsite in the town I was standing at the side of a busy road thinking what to do when a chap on a moped pulled up to my back wheel. From our limited words I believe Chakiri was also a cyclist. He kindly led me to a cheap hotel in town, and at 100 dirham a good price, an even insisted on paying half!
I’m not sure what the crop was but there were many fields like this. From what I could see I assumed it was standard practice after cultivating the fields just to throw the waste bags into the wind, I passed so much rubbish littering the road side, blown into hedges and trees, [partially] picturesque open country side, with the ugly evidence the man was around.
Not particularly wanting to be sucked into the inevitable chaos of Mohamedia’s neighboring town, Casablanca, my route thankfully veered inland just before, now heading to Marrakech, via Settat. Thankfully my good sense of direction and compass got me on the right road out of town, with little in the way of signs. This is the Synagogue at Settat. No need for an alarm clock in Moroccan towns!...you get woken at 5:20 by the days first chanting prayers, to ensure everyone is woken it´s even broadcast by PA speaker system....now where did I put my ear-plugs?
The next day on leaving Settat the roads and towns just seemed too quiet as I headed to Marrakech. All the roadside ‘shack-shops’ were closed, low on water and with no rivers to filter I stopped at a road-side dwelling, a young lad with a big smile greeted me, holding my empty water bottle upside down he new what I wanted, shouting over to his mother she approached, hand held out I greased her palm with 5 dirham, ~ 50 pence. As I followed them into their dusty-gravel yard I saw chickens pecking at fresh blood on the ground, turning I see a skinned sheep corpse hanging in the corner, with the master of the house standing next to it, knife in hand, about to gut the animal. Jeers and shouts of joy and excitement at this alien who had landed on their turf. Verbal communication from both sides was non existent yet it was clear they wanted me to join them for dinner. Tapping my watch and saying ´Marrakech’ implying my days schedule was too tight to stay (as it was), looking back now though I wish I would have stayed, maybe a lesson to be learnt?
With some previous Googling I had 2 addresses for Marrakech campsites. A few times before lack of research had gave me no choice but to use hotels, so it was reassuring to know what was up-ahead pre-arrival, although this didn’t help me at Settat as the campsite was closed for the season!! At the campsite that evening I found out why the sheep had been killed, Morocco was celebrating it's Independence anniversary from when French control ceased in 1956. This was the longest day's mileage of the tour so far, clocking up 102 miles (~163km)
Marrakech was actually quite refreshing. Not big and built-up like Tanger or Rabat, but more like I expected from Morocco. Still with a certain Western touch (McD!) yet still with it’s own identity. Also being such a popular tourist place I didn’t stand out quite as much, which was nice.
Many weeks ago a Canadian couple, Michele + Benoit, members from the warmshowers.org hospitality website had been put in touch with another bicycle tourer from Holland. Maarten is cycling across Africa down to Cameroon and was looking for a ride partner to cross Mauritania with. With recent un-ease in Western Sahara this could prove beneficial both ways, in politically turbulent times in the past solo travelers have been denied entry, and with the attraction of the dessert was the country I’d been looking forward to the most. It will also be great to have someone other than myself to talk to.
Having ‘paused’ the bicycle tour for a week, whilst I helped out on a service / calibrations visit for my previous employer, I’ll rendezvous with Maarten on my return to Marrakech on Monday 29th. Here our cyber-friendship becomes reality and we head up into the Atlas Mountains, where I expect the ‘real’ Morocco continues….
The first few days in Morocco.
The 45km ride from 'Tanger' port to Tanger was a pleasant start, a craggy-rock, coast hugging route, greetings from road-side people as I cycled past, horns honking and hands waving from cars and trucks – welcoming the latest adventurer onto the dark continent. Goats and sheep grazing freely at the roadside, passing countless people ambling around waiting for passing taxis, which is quite something - here the taxi’s bundle as many people inside as possible, usually being the large, battered, Mercedes cars (Grand Taxi´s), four in the back two in the front…I’d even whitnesed a lady clambering into the boot of one, sitting up right as it drove off...what would the E.U health and safety have to say about this!! The day’s pleasant mood soon changed as the tarmac of Tanger arrived under the wheels. Like any big European town, tower blocks, busy roads, smog, impatient horns blaring as soon as lights go green, big towns, yuk!. 
The following day the suburbs of Tanger faded away, the traffic, and gawking eyes thinned out and the Atlantic came into sight. One thing that takes a while getting used to is the attention, so many people line the streets, at times I was miles from any village but there would always be people at the roadside, gawking at the ‘tourist’ on his bike. The first few days in Morocco I’d be ‘bonjour-ing’ every Tom, Dick and Harry, I felt like a celebrity... but the novelty soon wears off and the staring eyes start to irritate. At one point I needed to stop just to map check or something, finding a spot clear of people I stopped, 20 seconds later I’m spotted by three kids on bikes, it’s almost like they sit in the hedges waiting, map back in the pannier I’m off, I see them in the rear view chasing after me “sod off” I think to myself, guess it’s just part-of-the-package of Morocco and I need to go-with-the-flow, coastal routes are always busier, maybe I should have took the inland route and headed to Fez?...next time!
Beach side greenery of next to the Atlantic.
Can you see the ´wildlife´ (click for larger image)
Larache was a reasonable size town, asking a few people, not in Arabic but pigeon French, I was soon at the ‘campsite’. This was a confused campsite, it doubled as a coach-station, or maybe it was a confused coach-station, either way it had security so I was happy. There was also a tent mosque and a restaurant, I made use of one of them. 
Early morning coastal haze.
From cars and tarmac to donkeys and dust, day two proved quite varied. Wanting to stick to the quieter roads I payed the price, pot-holes, puddles, no road signs, although the latter was standard even on main roads, never knowing what town I had entered. Good practice of things further south I guess! The next large town was to be Kenitra, from my Michelin map an ‘approximate’ 60 miles away, I’d normally add 10 to be safe, but it turned into 90 miles, heaven knows how! On finding no campsite in the town I was standing at the side of a busy road thinking what to do when a chap on a moped pulled up to my back wheel. From our limited words I believe Chakiri was also a cyclist. He kindly led me to a cheap hotel in town, and at 100 dirham a good price, an even insisted on paying half!
I’m not sure what the crop was but there were many fields like this. From what I could see I assumed it was standard practice after cultivating the fields just to throw the waste bags into the wind, I passed so much rubbish littering the road side, blown into hedges and trees, [partially] picturesque open country side, with the ugly evidence the man was around. 
Sheep are big business in Morocco, sacrificed on special occasions.
Sale´ fishing port (next to Rabat)
Me and cats!…another campsite, another sucker to feed em´!
Coast side rocks at Mohamedia with breaking waves in background.
Anyone for surfing?!!
Not particularly wanting to be sucked into the inevitable chaos of Mohamedia’s neighboring town, Casablanca, my route thankfully veered inland just before, now heading to Marrakech, via Settat. Thankfully my good sense of direction and compass got me on the right road out of town, with little in the way of signs. This is the Synagogue at Settat. No need for an alarm clock in Moroccan towns!...you get woken at 5:20 by the days first chanting prayers, to ensure everyone is woken it´s even broadcast by PA speaker system....now where did I put my ear-plugs?
The next day on leaving Settat the roads and towns just seemed too quiet as I headed to Marrakech. All the roadside ‘shack-shops’ were closed, low on water and with no rivers to filter I stopped at a road-side dwelling, a young lad with a big smile greeted me, holding my empty water bottle upside down he new what I wanted, shouting over to his mother she approached, hand held out I greased her palm with 5 dirham, ~ 50 pence. As I followed them into their dusty-gravel yard I saw chickens pecking at fresh blood on the ground, turning I see a skinned sheep corpse hanging in the corner, with the master of the house standing next to it, knife in hand, about to gut the animal. Jeers and shouts of joy and excitement at this alien who had landed on their turf. Verbal communication from both sides was non existent yet it was clear they wanted me to join them for dinner. Tapping my watch and saying ´Marrakech’ implying my days schedule was too tight to stay (as it was), looking back now though I wish I would have stayed, maybe a lesson to be learnt?With some previous Googling I had 2 addresses for Marrakech campsites. A few times before lack of research had gave me no choice but to use hotels, so it was reassuring to know what was up-ahead pre-arrival, although this didn’t help me at Settat as the campsite was closed for the season!! At the campsite that evening I found out why the sheep had been killed, Morocco was celebrating it's Independence anniversary from when French control ceased in 1956. This was the longest day's mileage of the tour so far, clocking up 102 miles (~163km)
Marrakech shopping mal.
....the train station.
Some dessert taxi's.
Cycle lane!
Many weeks ago a Canadian couple, Michele + Benoit, members from the warmshowers.org hospitality website had been put in touch with another bicycle tourer from Holland. Maarten is cycling across Africa down to Cameroon and was looking for a ride partner to cross Mauritania with. With recent un-ease in Western Sahara this could prove beneficial both ways, in politically turbulent times in the past solo travelers have been denied entry, and with the attraction of the dessert was the country I’d been looking forward to the most. It will also be great to have someone other than myself to talk to.
Maartens blog can be found here
Michele + Benoit’s blog can be found here
Having ‘paused’ the bicycle tour for a week, whilst I helped out on a service / calibrations visit for my previous employer, I’ll rendezvous with Maarten on my return to Marrakech on Monday 29th. Here our cyber-friendship becomes reality and we head up into the Atlas Mountains, where I expect the ‘real’ Morocco continues….
New slide-show pictures with this post, click on the widget for full-size pics
Subscribe to:
Post Comments
(Atom)
Usually I never comment on blogs but your article is so convincing that I never stop myself to say something about it. You’re doing a great job Man,Keep it up.
ReplyDeleteHi, sorry, I've just seen this..5 years later. Thank you. Since this tour I've rode two more extended trips, the previous one os heer, with links to the two others.
Deletehttp://wallisonwheelz.blogspot.com/