Days 14&15 05&06/05/2012: Cruising, Crashes and Carnage.
Top job as always Ditchwater
Thanks Petal. You my want to avert your delicate eyes for this post because its gets a bit unpleasant at the end.
An early departure from Chefchaouen was dictated by the sailing time of the ferry we'd decided to take for our return to Espania. After two weeks of hard riding throughout Morocco we had one more to complete to a hotel in Alhaurin el Grande. This wasn't our first choice but it was the only decent place to stay which is close to Malaga, and the airport, for those flying home on Sunday morning.
We didn't over do it last night. We took our own wine to the restaurant for dinner, the team had a last beer together in the hotel lounge, and later No Fromage, MrIFan and I had our final couple of whiskys or Pastis in the bar with a slightly heavy heart whilst discussing the last 13 days and what we're doing tomorrow night.
It turns out that 06:15hrs is very early for the chefs in Moroccan hotels and we caught them on the hop when we began to arrive for breakfast in the restaurant. Taking a place at the table one or two at a time relieved the pressure slightly but our morning waiter was clearly under stress delivering pots of coffee and the single glass of the delicious orange juice they allow per person. We're not complaing though because the same staff on duty this morning were the same staff who were tidying up last night after the last of their guests were going to their rooms.
After a last taste of doughy pancakes, cheese, olives, bread and honey it was time to clear our rooms, load the support vehicle with your overnight baggage and present yourself next to your bike for one last parade for Sunray.
It's just gone 07:00hrs and it is very quite now except for the hotel's Guardian, a random policeman, and a couple of hash dealers hoping to give you something to remember your time here: As if we need it...
It may be early but there is one unusul observation I make. It's a woman up a tree. What is she doing? A bit of early morning topiary or harvesting fruit? I may never know now but I'm guessing she's picking the new season's olives...
You see, there to the right. No ladder, no scaffold or Hi-Vis. A Health & Safety nightmare in the UK.
There's one more thing to do this morning regarding food and that's to make sure we get to buy a tagine to take home to practise our cooking skills with. We could have purchased tagines from day one but they would never have survived until now so we held our patience over the weeks and found a roadside trader outside of Chefacha' who had the real and useable items we wanted at the right price.
MrIFan advised us that the heavily decorated pieces will not last long in the oven and to choose wisely if you want to use it or look at it. I chose one to use....
...and a moment to have my picture taken as a RagHead.
As you should by now expect it was not incident free here. Once we had made our purchases and we were safely loading our pottery into the Land Cruiser Bill noticed his crash helmet starting to be blown off of his skinny KTm seat and took a lunge to save it but went right over the bike and skittled Gaz's (actually now Jono's) HP2 for one last pile of decked metal in Morocco.
We'd be better off out of here!
We rode for for a few hours to Tangier Med on what was supposed to be the fast route to the motorways and then toll roads but it felt like an age when suffering from post trip depression.
It was a real bummer heading back to the port but we had to leave for now, until the next time, and be content with what we've experienced and wait to board the ferry for the next couple of hours. It was cloudy at the port but the veiw over to Spain was not good and it looked very grim weather wise and, almost as soon as we were sailing away from the N. Africa there was spots of rain falling on the decks dispelling our thoughts of a sunny afternoon's riding along the Med Autovias.
Algercias was wet and in fact the whole of southern Spain was wet on that day. It was one more test of our mettle to have our first ride on genuinely wets roads in two thousand miles and perhaps get a little bit of water down the back of our necks. So it was out of the port, onto the autovia and looking for a convenient fuel stop to ensure the HP2 and TTR weren't going to run out and give us a straight run to the hotel, a shower, a change of clothes, and a night out for a meal from a menu with choices.
The fuel stop was simple but the exit wasn't. It was only a matter of a few hundred meters and a mini roundabout to get back onto the motorway. I was following Skygod and he and I entered the highway and set off with the sort of speed which takes you home after a long weekend under canvas on a field. After a minute or so it became clear that we were on our own and pulled over into the narrow hard shoulder. We decided to move on to somewhere safer and stopped at a layby for a limited discussion about what was going on.
It took about ten minutes for Steve to arrive and report that there had been a crash for someone just after leaving the fuel stop: It was Grez who had gone down.
Apparently
there was a fuel spill on the mini roundabout which caught Grez out and another couple of cars as well but, he had twisted his forks in the yokes and it was going to be one last trailer ride for Grez's bike and one more ride for him in the car.
We needed to get a move on because we had a table booked in a South African themed restaurant for this evening and we didn't want to lose it for being late. We pushed on as best we could through the rain, giving our bikes a wash on the way, and eventually arrived at the junction for Mijas which took us into familiar territory for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime ago. It was a shame but we have ride past Mijas to get to Alhaurin el Grande on the southern slopes of the Sierra Nevada mountains which face the Med
from the Costa del Sol. It turned out to be more of a shame when we started to ascend those hills when the rain stopped and we arrived into the clouds which produced it.
This was probably some of the most difficult riding I have EVER done. The visability was almost zero on a narrow and twisty steep mountain climb. Goggles because useless or misted, hands were cold and wet, and trying to keep sight on the taillight in front became as must of a challenge as staying on the road and avoiding the near invisible roadside stone walls. These last difficult kilometers of road riding could have easily separated the group with each individual's desire to make it to our destination but when riding as a team, we all kept an eye on those behind in our mirrors and ultimately everyone made to the hotel carpark for an animated conversation about what we'd just been through: Thankfully the F-Word swearing rule ended when we left Morocco otherwise there would have been three of us doing several tens of press-ups outside of that hotel's reception.
I must say, Well done to all. With tired bodies, worn tyres, second hand tyres and tyres we didn't want, it was good job well done to get through that unscathed (except for Grez in the car
. I know you would have done it.
)
After a quick turn around in our rooms it was off for a short walk, up hill again, to the
The Boma (the S.African restaurant). The clouds had miraculously cleared while we were getting ready for a proper Boys night out and we were all looking forward to it.
The Boma is lively place on a Saturday night and was well populated with English speakers when we arrived. It soon became clear that this was a popular place for the expats from the UK and the colonies living in this part of southern Spain.
We were straight onto to the cerveza when we arrived and gave our orders for a three course dinner. The food here was a delight after the repetious offerings in Morocco, The was a lot of chicken, pork ribs, steaks and burgers on our table for starters and main courses and of course a couple of bottles of vino tinto. The desert of Honeycomb Ice Cream was almost universally taken on our table and then it was time for some more wine. We were enjoying ourselves...
I don't know what he's doing but it's all over me...
We were even privileged enough to have group pictures taken by another punter who realised that we were on a night out and all should be included for posterity...
But we're not the only one's out for a good time tonight. The wine is flowing at our table while others are making the most of a Saturday night away from whatever they do here for their work and those on holiday for a couple of weeks...
The Table Dancer's look like they've done this before and...
...maybe at this location because the staff don't care.
Alas, we can't stay here all night because three of the group have to be at the airport by midmorning tomorrow and our tired bodies have had enough after an unccountable number of bottles of South Africa's premium Shiraz and therefore we'd better head back to the hotel. The walk back to the hotel, previously a short walk, was almost as difficult as the ride up the hills from the coastal roads earlier in our day. It was a stagger of gross proportions in the fresh night air and I must admit that all I can remember of this was trying my hardest to stay upright and be sure to keep up with the group I've worked so hard to stick to since leaving home. Only by luck and flaw did we manage to make it back to the hotel and not get runover on the road or fall over a wall.
It turned out that Matt had fallen over a wall but landed in such a relaxed state that he managed to avoid any injuries and went straight to bed, and my bed as it happens.
MrIFan tripped over something and by the morning his left foot was hanging off (it later transpired at home that he had cracked a bone in his ankle
) but it didn't stop him finding a place for a rest before bedtime...
Come on Old Chap! That can't be comfortable for your lower back.
Steve doesn't seem that keen on helping him out of there and I can see why.
The fact of it is that at this stage during our trip we had almost given up helping each other out of a hole and have regressed to nothing more than school boys laughing at each other.
In the morning I wondered who was responsible for this mess...
I don't think we'll be welcomed here later in the year.
I don't know how long He was there but it was an Awesome effort to extricate himself and get himself to his room.
Time for bed. Boing! As Zebedee would say...
At least Ian is maintaining his sense of humour.
After the carnage of Saturday night Sunday morning was bright and sunny. This didn't help us much though because there was a breakfast to be avoided, a run to the airport to be done for the flyers and a trailer to be loaded.
I managed to drag myself out of Matt's bed (see above...He'd taken mine.
) before I wet myself and get to the bathroom just in time. Now, it's nothing new to me that I need to get up early for a pee sometimes but the sight I encountered on the way back to bed made sure that I was now awake...
Oh Dear! I need my flipflops on my feet.
I hope none of that's gone into my travel bag.
To give him some credit he did attempt deal with last night's dinner and wine and all I can say is that I'm glad I wasn't the room maid on that day!
Bill, Grez Matt and Steve were all due to fly home today and even though Matt's flight wasn't until the afternoon he decided to go with the others on earliers flights to minimise the logistics. We all managed to congregate for our
fairwells outside of the hotel's entrance doors and load the baggage into the car before the troubles started again...
I didn't know Steve could move so fast.
It's not a quickie...
...and there's time to move...
...from place...
...to place.
"
Get on board a go you lot." We all shake hands and they're gone. Skygod takes then to the airport, Ian and I go for our morning coffee and after small breakfast I go and sit outside and send Gaz a text message after realising my own condition is worsening as the morning sun gets warmer:
"HELLO SUNRAY, THIS IS DELTA WHISKY, NODUFF OVER."
For those who don't know, a NODUFF message is military radio procedure for a medical emergency and it could be said that there were at least seven casualties on that morning and I had suddenly realised I was in that squad.
When Gary returned from the airport and had had his coffee it was a simple matter of loading six bikes onto a trailer, for the next two hours, before a humble departure from the hotel and one last difficult descent down a twisty mountain road and the road north towards Bilboa and a ferry home.
Well there's nothing more to add here except to say Thank You to the guys at AdventureBike Warehouse for the time you spent helping me with my new bike and the parts you supplied, and more importantly those with whom I travelled: You were a great bunch of Geezers and I look forward to seeing you all again the next time we get to go on an adventure.