The Big Trip #5

The Big Trip
Morocco

Week 9: Cycling the Route des Kasbahs

Route: Ouarzazate – Gorge du Dades – Gorge due Todra – Goulmima – Merzouga

345 kilometers

From Ouarzazate, we headed out into the desert, a vast, empty, rocky
landscape. In the distance, we could see the hazy outline of the High Atlas
mountains. We rode past crumbing Kasbahs (old fortresses) and through
occasional palm-filled oasises.

For the first time in Morocco, we rode for long stretches without seeing any
people, and despite the heat and the headwind, I could finally relax a bit.
But as soon as we rode into a small town, I had to go on the defensive
again, constantly looking out for threats. Never has my body language been
so important in the way I dealt with people – my personal safety depended on
it. Whether a group of kids decided to use their slingshots to fire rocks at
me or not depended on my posture, facial expressions, and the choice of
Arabic, French and English words I used.

We couldn’t have done this ride out in the desert without the restaurants
that appeared in the middle of nowhere and served cold drinks. I don’t drink
soda at home, but nothing has ever tasted so good as a cold Coke after a few
hours of cycling in the desert. I don’t know the official temperature, but
it was hot enough to melt a patch off of one of my inner tubes.

On our way to the Dades Gorge, we met up with an Australian cyclist, and
spent the next week riding with Neil. It was nice having some company, and I
felt having another person around made things a bit safer for all of us. The
road out to the Dades Gorge was a series of potholes and bumps where
potholes had been filled in, making for very slow going. But it was well
worth it, because halfway in, the road improved and we had a fantastic ride
along the dramatic red cliffs of the gorge.

In the dusty town of Goulmima, I went for a run to get rid of some of the
frustration and stress from traveling that had been building up for the past
few weeks. It was the first time I had gone running since the Paris marathon
on the beginning of our trip. I ran past old men sitting outside their
shops, women carrying heavy plastic jugs of water, boys playing soccer,
donkeys grazing in fields of stone. People watched me run past with approval
instead of hostility. No one wanted anything from me, except to know if I
was having a good run. “Ca va bien?” they’d ask warmly.

I decided to turn around when it became so dusty even the sky turned brown,
and I was surprised to see Bob walking out to meet me with a bottle of
water. I still don’t know how he was able to find me in the maze of streets.
He gave me a birthday card and proposed. I, of course, said yes. To the
delight of a group of 12-year-old girls watching nearby and giggling, Bob
gave me a brief hug (there is rarely physical contact between men and women
in this Muslim country) and we walked side-by-side back to our tent.

On our way to the Todra Gorge, we had an exhilirating ride on flat road with
a tailwind – I topped out at 40 kilometers per hour, and just let the wind
push me along the road. We arrived in a town just as a storm rolled in, and
from a cafe we watched as the desert turned into a series of shallow lakes
and flash floods. In a few hours, nearly all of the water had disappeared.

We spent a day hiking up the Todra Gorge, and then rode out to the end of
the paved road at Erfoud. From there, we hired a Land Rover and driver, and
went out to the dunes at Merzouga. That night, we watched the dunes change
colors from warm tones of orange and pink as the sun set. The next day, we
rode took a tour through the surrounding desert near the Algerian border and
then headed back out.

Week 10: Let’s go to the beach

Route: Merzouga – Essaouira – Tarifa, Spain

137 kilometers

After Merzouga, we said goodbye to Neil and took a series of buses to
Essaouira on the coast. We stayed in a clean hotel for a few days, walked on
the beach, ate seafood and did some shopping. Although we had some wonderful
experiences in Morocco, we were both ready to head back to Europe, so we
took a series of buses to Tangier, and after a short ferry ride we were
back in Spain.

That night, we celebrated with sangria and tapas (little Spanish snacks) in
a bar by our hotel. The next day, we rode along a beautiful coastal road to
the popular windsurfing spot at Tarifa. I could finally breath a sigh of
relief, because here I was just another person.

Next up: Bullfights in Seville and beaches in Portugal.