Via Mediterra - The Journey around the Med on a HP2

It is a tough ride out of that rocky labyrinth and we're appreciating any kind of refreshment.




Back on track we're climbing higher and higher into the heart of the Atlas mountains.





We're taking a lot of brakes to inhale this magnificent scenery. It's in places like this where the importance of almost everything degenerates into insignificance.

Can you see the bike on the trail?



It's also in places like this where you think you're completely alone but soon you'll find out you aren't. Here we're meeting a sheperd who came running down the hill as he heard the bikes approaching. Remi knows some Berber and Arabic and he finds out that the guy is in need of some petrol. But we don't know what he needs it for. There's no moped, nothing around...

He pulls out a tiny piece of cloth and dips it into Thomas' fuel tank. Then he takes the moistured cloth and ...




... puts it into his mouth! 1 He probably has an infection or any kind of teeth problem. So Remi asks him to let him inspect his mouth and check if we're having something more appropriate than fuel to cure whatever is there. But he refuses and as fast as he has arrived he runs back up the hill where he has come from...




Significant to the Atlas are the bare mountains and green valleys. It's there where creeks and rivers form lifelines in a deserted countryside.






Now this is one of my most beloved shots of the time in Morocco. To me it says everything about travelling. A vast and inspirational landscape, nearly deserted with a few signs of life, tires blow dust into the air and two buddies ride along knowing that whatever they do they can rely on each other.





Sun is setting and we're speeding up to reach todays destination: Imilchil.

See you there

Dirk

So do you just tripod the camera and put it on slow burst or something? What lengths you go to for those amazing shots...

Yep, that's it. I use a Canon TC 80N3 that can be set on interval, long exposure, timer or combined modes. That's all.

Nice, looking forward to seeing more tales from the trails.

Is this story still alive

Where did this guy disappear too??????

Maybe on the next tour

Hi everyone,
yes, the story is still alive but unfortunately I'm busy with some work. As soon as I find the time to continue the story I'll be back here.

Thank you for your patience!

Dirk

looking forward to more

Hi again,
I'll try to continue with the trip around the Med a bit more continuously ;-)

Arriving in Imilchil means arriving in another world to us. People are - even for moroccan standards - very poor. The climate is rough, vegetation few and the village is a collection of a few stores and restaurants. However, Imilchil became famous for the annual marriage festival. Due to the isolation of the tiny villages in the region and the restrictions of the Berber culture young men can't easily meet the ladies. The festival offers the opportunity for them to meet and make their decisions whom to marry.




Our host in a recommendable pension is Monsieur Bassou. He's an absloute gentle person and a qualified mountain guide with a lot of experience both in the French Alps and in the High Atlas.




After a quick breakfast we're setting of towards Agoudal where the road splits for a descent into two canyons.




The tar road takes us more or less quickly to Agoudal and we decide to have a second breakfast there.




The town is quite in the early morning hours. Few people on the road, some storks are repairing their nest.




Some children are watiching us as we eat and Remi knowing some of their language finds out that this girl, Kerima, is carrying her little brother. During the last winter they and all inhabitants of Agoudal had to leave the village. The winter was that harsh, the snow that high that Agoudal was completely cut off from the rest of the country. Food and fire wood were used up and the only chance to survive was to walk to Imilchil. 35kms on foot, no winter boots, no fancy GoreTex jackets ...




Watching these kids faces I was wondering what their future will be like. A question that I'm going to come across several more times. But those little ones often knew how to blow away my pessimism with a smile.




We say good bye to Agoudal and chose the track towards the Todra Canyon.




I'll keep quite now and leave you with these pictures of this massive, stunning scenery.













As the valley becomes narrower the first palmtrees remind us of the near civilisation.


The asphalt near the tight section of the Canyon has been swept away by the floods resulting from the melting snow in the higher areas.



It's already late as we arrive in the oasis of Tinghir. We haven't done many kilometers today. But it was a rich day.




Hope you enjoyed this section of the trip as we did.

Cheers

Dirk

Great pictures as per usual Dirk.
R.B

Thank you Rocky!

Proceeding from Tinghir our next destination is the sandsea of the Erg Chebbi. We get some fuel for the bikes at a brickyard ...




... and some morning fuel for ourselves.




Today is an incredible hot day and as we see the next village we're ready for another human-fuel stop. And our good luck is still with us ...




... because Remis rear tyre decides to deflate just in time at our picnic-spot in the heart of the village. At least there's some kind of shadow.




Because 10 hands are to much to work on the puncture I do what I probably can do best in the meantime: Look around and see what others are doing.




Todays heat leads to a misty sky that swallows the horizon.




Our water consumption reaches a first maximum though we're still riding on a tar road. The Sahara breathes straight into our faces.



Who ever has experienced an endless road knows how boring it can be. But there's something beyond boredom. If you don't find it, the road was not endless ;-)



To me after a while on a road like this I come to a state of trance or unmeant meditation. I'm not talking about a delirium, more of a liberation of my mind that was filled with the common daily thoughts. All these thoughts are now all blown away and thoughts, that have never been thought before come up, thoughts that haven't been thought for ages are reborn ...




And all over sudden: There they are! The pink-coloured dunes of the Erg Chebbi on the horizon.




We're trying to avoid the village and seek our way through the Hammada, the plain filled with sharp-edged stones.



Again, what a landscape! A black stony desert that radiates the heat of the day though the sun has already set and the sandy desert that looks so inviting to us.



Aahh. Now this is riding-paradise, hallelujah!



Whatever may happen on my journey: this end of the day was already worth everything.

Cheers

Dirk

We spend the night in one of the many little pensions along the westside of the Erg Chebbi. A sandstorm made the decision easier not to pitch the tent.




Our host is Youssef, a charming guy who says that there's nothing better than spending a night in the desert with a woman. And there are many women coming to his place :lol3




His place has a really nice interieur and we're pleased to stay with Youssef.




Breakfast is served in the atrium. That keeps most of the sand and dust ourside. Benj is not really awake and so it's Remi and me who decide to do a loop around the Erg. Should be something like 150kms.




Before we leave the village we bump into the celebrations of a wedding. It's only women including the bride around. I ask if I may take a picture and I'm allowed to point a the bride because she's the only one wearing a veil. All the others, and they were many, are hiding behind the camera and me giggling.




Look at that masterpiece!




Ok, time to set of! Along the Erg, especially on the west side, there are lots of Ksour, a kind of fortified village. In several of them there are hotels.




The further east we go the more desperate and isolate the area becomes. Tents of bedouins are the only signs of human life.




Seeking shade under a tree we meet this fellow. From our point of view he's pretty far away from everything. We're not surprised that he asks us for a lift ... into the direction we've just come from.




What shall we do? Follow our original intention to circuumnavigate the Erg or help this man? What would you've done?




We're giving him a lift to his friend Nasir. Nasir has been living as a nomad but was forced to settle down. The pasture for his sheep and camels is on both sides of the moroccan-algerian border. Depending of the time of the year people move from one of the rare good place to another crossing the border. Now the algerian army has become very strict about crossing the border illegally, he tells us. If they catch you, your family, yourself and your cattle is imprisoned. Under these circumstances he can't be a shepperd any more and he has built this tiny shop where he sells a few things and his family lives in.




Remi heads back to Youssef and the others. Me I'm riding north to see a special landmark called the stairway to heaven. On the way I pass through Rissani with it's magical city gate.




I'm riding without a GPS so I'm following a description to the stairway which is not connected to a major track or a road. From a distance I spot the characteristic triangle in the plain. How to get there? Straight!




Here we are! This thing was built by an artist called Hannsjoerg Voth. If you look closely to the wall you'll see some holes. These are windows of the rooms inside. Voth lives here for several weeks in the year. The entrance is on top of the stairway. Let's go upstairs!




Heyhey! What a panorama! And: Can you feel the silence?




The entrance on top is of course locked. But I am surprised to find something like an ironsight. What is that for? After I went back down I moved to the opposite side of the stairway and then I saw it: The sun. It went straight through the the little gap that formed the ironsite.



Cheers for today,

I hope you enjoyed.

Dirk

Ok, how have I not seen this before? Superlatives fail me, eagerly awaiting more....
Mark

kimangao said:

Hi everyone,
yes, the story is still alive but unfortunately I'm busy with some work. As soon as I find the time to continue the story I'll be back here.

Thank you for your patience!

Dirk

Click to expand...

Thank you for yours!

Superb stuff, and what a trip .

Thanks for posting it all up








*note to self* must get a better camera and some ones to stand behind it that knows what they are doing with it

Thanks everybody for comments and following!

From the stairway to heaven I'm not riding back to Erg Chebbi. Before Remi and me split up we've decided to meet again in Zagora. The French boys will make their way along the Algerian border meanwhile I will have a look at the Road of the Kashbas and another Gorge.




Once you follow the Road of the Kashbas you will immediately feel like being thrown back in time. There's almost no building that reminds you of the 21st century nor do the people. Only mobile phones and vehicles do.



Surprisingly most of these buildings are still inhabited.




I have a little look into the Gorge de Todra again. I'm still amazed of what water can do. Cut's like a knive ...




But then there is another Gorge right beside the Todra. The days when just a track made its precarious way through the Dadès Gorges are history. But even so, the road onwards to Imilchil in the High Atlas shakes off its asphalt after a few kilometres.




As I arrive on the edge of the canyon I see how a craftsman puts out a deal board. Before I realise what he's about to do he has placed the first one outside the tower that is going to be part of a hotel.




I am that scared that it takes me ages to fetch the camera and point it at that fearless worker.




The Road of the Kashbas ends in Ouarzazate. The town is a kind of moroccan Hollywood. A lot of movies that play in ancient times found their settings in the vincinity.




After a short break I'm back in the saddle to meet with Remi and his friends in Zagora. 160kms only. But they will take long time. Very long time ...



Shortly after leaving this track a little incident will confuse my timetable ...

Cheers for today

Dirk

Thank you all for your comments.

After i did some kms on a stony track I found that irritating feeling in the handlebar that tells you: Your front tyre will be flat in a minute. Ok, things happen, so let's start working!





The first little dilemma I'm running into is the absence of a main stand/central stand (or how do you call that in proper English?). There are only rocks around and I soon find a decent one to support the bike. That beast is as heavy as three beer crates with the slight disadvantage that you cannot drink it after work is done.

Next dilemma: The tyre sticks that tight on the rim, I simply can't get it of the rim.



To my surprise, two friendly Moroccans stop and offer their help. Highly aprreciated! We work for about 20 minuntes on the tyre and ... the d*** rubber still sticks to the rim. The younger of the Moroccans starts to pray to Allah, I shout out a collection of German swearwords and? The tyre is of the rim! Looking back to the situation I hope it was because of the prayer ;-)



I kindly thank the two Moroccans and they move on as I do some minutes later. Meanwhile the sun has set and I've done only a few klicks until I have that feeling in the steering again. NAAOOO! Not again!

Now that I know that I won't be able to fix the tube I decide to ride towards the lights in the horizon. 14 kms with a flat tront tyre. Maximum speed: 5km/h




At 21:00 I find the workshop of my confidence in Agdz. The mechanic is on his way to the Mosque but is willing to repair the tube before he leaves. Waiting for the job to be done I smell a nasty odour: Petrol! Seeking the origin of the smell I have to realise ....



... that it comes from my bike :huh
How comes? The tank is a prototype, it was nearly full when I had the puncture. Due to the heat from the engine (14kms in first gear) and no cooling wind, the plastic will have expanded untill it touched the burning hot oil-cooler. And that thing melted a slim fissure into the left tank that now lets the 11 liters follow gravity. I cut off the connection to this tank and make my way around the Med with now 23 liters. Should be enough anyway:lol3
(The series tank were lateron equipped with a heat protection shield and were given a greater distance to the oil cooler)



To keep a long story short: At 2 in the night I have the next puncture 1 Can that be true? After I vent my anger I start smiling: Everyone who does a longer trip knows that he'll encounter a certain amount of hassle and bad luck. But if that concentrates in a few hours that can only mean that the rest of the journey is free of trouble!




I arrive in the early morning hours in Zagora to meet again with Remi, Thierry, Thomas and Benj. But after this night I need a little nap first!



Cheers

Dirk
P.S: If you like Via Mediterra you may also like to contribute to Pyrenean Adventures - The movie. Any support is highly appreciated.