1st to 15th September.
Eight bikes, one Land Rover and ten people (including Bill and myself in the Land Rover support truck).
Two bikes were transported down in the trailer by Bill, the riders flew in to Marrakech, the remainder made their own way, some were including the two weeks in a longer trip, others rode down specifically for the tour.
Saturday 1st, saw everyone gathered at the Marrakech hotel where the trailer and unwanted luggage etc would remain under guard.
Those of us that flew in that day had a few hours forced acclimatisation in the car park where last minute fettling took place.
Ken, who was to become known as "Ken-eville" for his 'attacking' approach to some of the pistes, or "Indiana Ken" for his pursuit of fossils, tries out the 1100GS hire bike (he rode down with Wayne (V-Strom) and Steve M (1200GSA) on his Triumph.
He's already starting to look proud of his "new" mount and that's before he was impressed by its capabilities during the next two weeks.
Those not on Conti TKC's already were taken to a nearby tyre fitter where the swap was done.
Steve M with his 1200GSA newly shode with TKC's.
Wayne's modified Strom now sporting knobblies to complement the jacked-up suspension.
There followed some 'pre-tour bonding' for some.
Left to right: Tony (Yamaha 600), Andy in the foreground (R1200GSA) minus his pillion Diane (taking the photo), Bill (Fanum), Dean (Honda Africa Twin) not yet displaying his camera-whore credentials, Ken, Steve M (R1200GSA) and Steve D (R1200GSA).
Once the support Land Rover was sorted with everything stowed for the tour, unwanted luggage stowed in the trailer along with Ken's Triumph, we were taken by our "leader" to sample the delights of downtown Marrakech.
As was to be expected it was an assault on the senses. The sights, sounds and smells of the busy Medina and Souk are an excellent introduction to Morocco. The throngs of people milling around interspersed with horses, hawkers and the sights and smells of the food stalls exceeds what the imagination can conjure up.
Some sampled snails from a stall as an appetiser before we found a food vendor to satisfy Bill's gastronomic demands (substantial!).
After a wander through the Souk, we headed back to the hotel and a last beer before bed.
Day Two.
Breakfast (such as it was) was despatched and then it was load the Land Rover with riders luggage, all to a nearby fuel station where we all filled-up and bottled water purchased in substantial quantities. Bill then led the convoy out of Marrakech and south along the N9 to Tizi N Tichka.
Lunch was taken on the cafe terrace.
Berber omlette (it tasted much better than it looked).
After lunch, I pushed on down the N9 heading for Ourzazarte to that nights hotel while the riders took the piste after Tizi N Tichka to Ait Benhaddou.
I have the photo's taken by the riders on this piste but as I wasn't with them, I'll leave it for the participants to provide narrative at a later date (some will not be back for a few days yet).
Whoops!
Meanwhile, I'd been on to the hotel and complying with our Leader's instructions, I was to RV with the riders at Ait Benhaddou.
Bill had stabbed a finger at the map and pointed out a road that turned off the N9 with the words, "It's okay, it's tarmac."
I had duly noted the indicated junction and headed back towards it (passing another turning signposted Ait Benhaddou on the way. I assumed that this particular road wasn't suitable for the Land Rover! ).
Arriving at the finger-marked junction on the map, my Navigator did indeed show a road but what I was looking at was a piste for as far as I could see and the sign said 16 km.
Oh well, maybe it was tarmac further on?
It wasn't too bad for much of the distance.
No sign of tarmac and the further I went, the worse it became. It was slow going and in three places I had to get out and find the best route on foot. In a couple of places the piste had been undercut by run-offs. Heart in mouth time!
Eventually I could see the tarmac road that the piste joined. The only trouble was, between me and it was a wadi. Getting down into it was easy enough but there was a fairly steep but short step-up to get out. The wadi was strewn with medicine ball sized boulders that reduced the available navigable route.
Someone had packed some boulders into the step where it was crumbling. My first attempt was too square-on. The Landy wasn't having it. I had visions of being stuck here or trying to turn around and retrace my steps.
To be honest, a couple of the sections I'd negotiated to get here were bad enough not to seem attractive for a second time.
I added some more boulders to the shored-up section and carefully reversed up the wadi to attack the step at an oblique angle (those years of driving Land Rovers in the army and your taxes were not wasted!).
The old girl dragged herself up and out, albeit with some slightly alarming rolling at times!
It doesn't look much in this photo but you can see my tracks from the first attempt.
Regaining tarmac, I turned and headed towards where the piste taken by the bikes would join and was quite surprised to see an old British army Bailey Bridge spanning one wadi outside a village.
Using the skills acquired from watching Tonto in the Lone Ranger TV series, I found TKC tread patterns in the soft surface at the end of the piste and realised that the bikes had already passed.
Retracing my route and on to Ait Benhaddou, I drove through the town and took the obligatory photo's of the "Gladiator Town" beside the wadi.
No sign of the bikes but a text message from Bill revealed their location, feet up, drinking cold cokes nearby.
I set off for the hotel ahead of the bikes and thought I'd go back to where my little adventurous piste joined the tarmac and 'waypoint' it for the future.
The riders meanwhile had set off at a lick down the road that I should have approached on and I was playing catch-up having to show them the way to the hotel!
I was pressing on and approaching Ourzazarte when I fell foul of a speed trap!
Sods law! That's the first time since 1977 that I've been pinged for speeding and it happens in Morocco!
Adopting the most grovelling manner, I offered a Salaam Wassalaiakum Shareef, looked suitably puzzled when I was shown the speed readout of 74 kph in a 60 limit and sent on my way with a polite warning and a salute! (They don't do themselves any favours do they? )
I found the bikes fuelling-up in Ourzazarte and then led them to the Hotel La Vallee.
There is a walled and secure area where the bikes can be parked but two (Andy and Steve D) took up the offer to park inside the building.
Andy launches his 1200GSA up the steps.
La Vallee is a nice hotel. The food was good and the staff very accommodating, nothing seemed to be too much trouble. Only the car parking guard/attendant having been given a cap to signify his position of importance was true to form not happy unless vehicles were parked within an inch of where he deemed suitable!
Day Three
Another early-ish start, breakfast done and dusted, baggage back in the truck and I had to retrace my route back towards Marrakech before swinging East towards Beni-Mellal skirting Marak on the way.
This was a pretty uninspiring route by road once I turned off the N9. Worse was the fact that Beni-Mellal is pretty uninspiring too! It's a modern town by Moroccan standards. Most of the hotels were either modern bland affairs or fronted onto busy streets with no off-street parking. Well at least those that I could find. The place was very busy and it was proving to be quite difficult to drive the Landy around somewhere strange whilst negotiating the throngs of people, mopeds, carts and cars simultaneously looking for somewhere to stay.
In the end, thinking that the riders would be turning-up at any moment, hot, tired and dusty, I opted for one of the modern, characterless four-star options.
Hotel Chems had the advantage that it was just within the town limits on the road that the bikes would come in from, it was securely walled and gated with security patrols and I was able to negotiate a reduction for the group on the price of the rooms and the Plat de Jour.
The rooms were good and the restaurant was open until 10.00 pm. Plenty of time for the riders to arrive, shower and have a beer before dinner (or so I thought).
I advised Bill and as it was 5.30, I was surprised to hear that they were still at least two hours away!
I unloaded the baggage and moved it to the rooms, showered and then drove out onto the main road to await the arrival of the bikes to show them the way into the hotel.
Just before 9.00 they rolled-up! I'll leave the others to explain.
The staff were obviously looking to get away but they did provide a good meal and everyone was fed and watered, even if the later arrivals had to take whatever was ordered for them in case they were too late.
A long day for everyone. Most were suffering from the Moroccan microbe effect. Andy was probably suffering from the early stages of heat exhaustion but at this time it wasn't apparent. We all just thought it was the stomach bug but to make things easier for him, it was decided that next day Diane would travel in the truck with me.
(Right I need a break. More to follow later).
Eight bikes, one Land Rover and ten people (including Bill and myself in the Land Rover support truck).
Two bikes were transported down in the trailer by Bill, the riders flew in to Marrakech, the remainder made their own way, some were including the two weeks in a longer trip, others rode down specifically for the tour.
Saturday 1st, saw everyone gathered at the Marrakech hotel where the trailer and unwanted luggage etc would remain under guard.
Those of us that flew in that day had a few hours forced acclimatisation in the car park where last minute fettling took place.
Ken, who was to become known as "Ken-eville" for his 'attacking' approach to some of the pistes, or "Indiana Ken" for his pursuit of fossils, tries out the 1100GS hire bike (he rode down with Wayne (V-Strom) and Steve M (1200GSA) on his Triumph.
He's already starting to look proud of his "new" mount and that's before he was impressed by its capabilities during the next two weeks.
Those not on Conti TKC's already were taken to a nearby tyre fitter where the swap was done.
Steve M with his 1200GSA newly shode with TKC's.
Wayne's modified Strom now sporting knobblies to complement the jacked-up suspension.
There followed some 'pre-tour bonding' for some.
Left to right: Tony (Yamaha 600), Andy in the foreground (R1200GSA) minus his pillion Diane (taking the photo), Bill (Fanum), Dean (Honda Africa Twin) not yet displaying his camera-whore credentials, Ken, Steve M (R1200GSA) and Steve D (R1200GSA).
Once the support Land Rover was sorted with everything stowed for the tour, unwanted luggage stowed in the trailer along with Ken's Triumph, we were taken by our "leader" to sample the delights of downtown Marrakech.
As was to be expected it was an assault on the senses. The sights, sounds and smells of the busy Medina and Souk are an excellent introduction to Morocco. The throngs of people milling around interspersed with horses, hawkers and the sights and smells of the food stalls exceeds what the imagination can conjure up.
Some sampled snails from a stall as an appetiser before we found a food vendor to satisfy Bill's gastronomic demands (substantial!).
After a wander through the Souk, we headed back to the hotel and a last beer before bed.
Day Two.
Breakfast (such as it was) was despatched and then it was load the Land Rover with riders luggage, all to a nearby fuel station where we all filled-up and bottled water purchased in substantial quantities. Bill then led the convoy out of Marrakech and south along the N9 to Tizi N Tichka.
Lunch was taken on the cafe terrace.
Berber omlette (it tasted much better than it looked).
After lunch, I pushed on down the N9 heading for Ourzazarte to that nights hotel while the riders took the piste after Tizi N Tichka to Ait Benhaddou.
I have the photo's taken by the riders on this piste but as I wasn't with them, I'll leave it for the participants to provide narrative at a later date (some will not be back for a few days yet).
Whoops!
Meanwhile, I'd been on to the hotel and complying with our Leader's instructions, I was to RV with the riders at Ait Benhaddou.
Bill had stabbed a finger at the map and pointed out a road that turned off the N9 with the words, "It's okay, it's tarmac."
I had duly noted the indicated junction and headed back towards it (passing another turning signposted Ait Benhaddou on the way. I assumed that this particular road wasn't suitable for the Land Rover! ).
Arriving at the finger-marked junction on the map, my Navigator did indeed show a road but what I was looking at was a piste for as far as I could see and the sign said 16 km.
Oh well, maybe it was tarmac further on?
It wasn't too bad for much of the distance.
No sign of tarmac and the further I went, the worse it became. It was slow going and in three places I had to get out and find the best route on foot. In a couple of places the piste had been undercut by run-offs. Heart in mouth time!
Eventually I could see the tarmac road that the piste joined. The only trouble was, between me and it was a wadi. Getting down into it was easy enough but there was a fairly steep but short step-up to get out. The wadi was strewn with medicine ball sized boulders that reduced the available navigable route.
Someone had packed some boulders into the step where it was crumbling. My first attempt was too square-on. The Landy wasn't having it. I had visions of being stuck here or trying to turn around and retrace my steps.
To be honest, a couple of the sections I'd negotiated to get here were bad enough not to seem attractive for a second time.
I added some more boulders to the shored-up section and carefully reversed up the wadi to attack the step at an oblique angle (those years of driving Land Rovers in the army and your taxes were not wasted!).
The old girl dragged herself up and out, albeit with some slightly alarming rolling at times!
It doesn't look much in this photo but you can see my tracks from the first attempt.
Regaining tarmac, I turned and headed towards where the piste taken by the bikes would join and was quite surprised to see an old British army Bailey Bridge spanning one wadi outside a village.
Using the skills acquired from watching Tonto in the Lone Ranger TV series, I found TKC tread patterns in the soft surface at the end of the piste and realised that the bikes had already passed.
Retracing my route and on to Ait Benhaddou, I drove through the town and took the obligatory photo's of the "Gladiator Town" beside the wadi.
No sign of the bikes but a text message from Bill revealed their location, feet up, drinking cold cokes nearby.
I set off for the hotel ahead of the bikes and thought I'd go back to where my little adventurous piste joined the tarmac and 'waypoint' it for the future.
The riders meanwhile had set off at a lick down the road that I should have approached on and I was playing catch-up having to show them the way to the hotel!
I was pressing on and approaching Ourzazarte when I fell foul of a speed trap!
Sods law! That's the first time since 1977 that I've been pinged for speeding and it happens in Morocco!
Adopting the most grovelling manner, I offered a Salaam Wassalaiakum Shareef, looked suitably puzzled when I was shown the speed readout of 74 kph in a 60 limit and sent on my way with a polite warning and a salute! (They don't do themselves any favours do they? )
I found the bikes fuelling-up in Ourzazarte and then led them to the Hotel La Vallee.
There is a walled and secure area where the bikes can be parked but two (Andy and Steve D) took up the offer to park inside the building.
Andy launches his 1200GSA up the steps.
La Vallee is a nice hotel. The food was good and the staff very accommodating, nothing seemed to be too much trouble. Only the car parking guard/attendant having been given a cap to signify his position of importance was true to form not happy unless vehicles were parked within an inch of where he deemed suitable!
Day Three
Another early-ish start, breakfast done and dusted, baggage back in the truck and I had to retrace my route back towards Marrakech before swinging East towards Beni-Mellal skirting Marak on the way.
This was a pretty uninspiring route by road once I turned off the N9. Worse was the fact that Beni-Mellal is pretty uninspiring too! It's a modern town by Moroccan standards. Most of the hotels were either modern bland affairs or fronted onto busy streets with no off-street parking. Well at least those that I could find. The place was very busy and it was proving to be quite difficult to drive the Landy around somewhere strange whilst negotiating the throngs of people, mopeds, carts and cars simultaneously looking for somewhere to stay.
In the end, thinking that the riders would be turning-up at any moment, hot, tired and dusty, I opted for one of the modern, characterless four-star options.
Hotel Chems had the advantage that it was just within the town limits on the road that the bikes would come in from, it was securely walled and gated with security patrols and I was able to negotiate a reduction for the group on the price of the rooms and the Plat de Jour.
The rooms were good and the restaurant was open until 10.00 pm. Plenty of time for the riders to arrive, shower and have a beer before dinner (or so I thought).
I advised Bill and as it was 5.30, I was surprised to hear that they were still at least two hours away!
I unloaded the baggage and moved it to the rooms, showered and then drove out onto the main road to await the arrival of the bikes to show them the way into the hotel.
Just before 9.00 they rolled-up! I'll leave the others to explain.
The staff were obviously looking to get away but they did provide a good meal and everyone was fed and watered, even if the later arrivals had to take whatever was ordered for them in case they were too late.
A long day for everyone. Most were suffering from the Moroccan microbe effect. Andy was probably suffering from the early stages of heat exhaustion but at this time it wasn't apparent. We all just thought it was the stomach bug but to make things easier for him, it was decided that next day Diane would travel in the truck with me.
(Right I need a break. More to follow later).