Fantastic...tell us more!
DavidHale
Registered user
Aaaaaaaaaaaaagh! Just when I get into the story you stop writing! Are you Dan Walsh in disguise?
snoopy
Guest
I'll try and get the rest done tomorrow 
DavidHale
Registered user
Ta! 
Great write up..
TERRY RYAN
Registered user
sounds like you had more fun without that tosser Gisxer man send him a copy of your adventure nice one so far
Neil McGuff
Registered user
Brilliant
Good write!
But looks like my Heidenau K60 promo has gone too worldwide by now, never imagined it could reach that far
Cheers, Margus
But looks like my Heidenau K60 promo has gone too worldwide by now, never imagined it could reach that far
Cheers, Margus
snoopy
Guest
Part 6: the heavenly valley
The next day I aimed to travel to experience the Gorge Du Dades, Tinehir for a refill and then off for some fun in the sand. When I got to Agduar the locals sent me off north and with the lack of signs I travelled in the wrong direction for a bit. Not good given I had 2 bars of petrol left. By the time I worked my way back to Agduar, having traveled around some flooded roads, I’d hit reserve. I stopped to chat to a land-rover driver who by co-incidence I found was on his way there. It was 64Km’s he said. Would the GS make it? Well I had no idea really, but I presumed it would be close.
I followed the land-rover at speed, it was a good ride but by the end of it I was covered in white dust. On the way to Gorges Du Dades I’d had to keep wiping the visor with the gloves because it got sooted up so bad. The land-rover stopped for a pit-stop in a small village and I headed on in economy gear, shugging up and down the windy road.
Gorges Du Dades is beautiful. Its obvious why it’s a major tourist attraction. At the bottom are inward facing cliffs to either side with a rustic river flowing alongside the road. I went straight past all this in order to get fuel at Tinehir.
However I travelled back and stopped at the bottom of the valley. There I met another Moroccan who was working for the Blue Peter foundation doing climbing with small kids. I’ve no idea how we started talking but one thing developed to another and I ended up going downstairs in one of the sellers stalls there to drink some Moroccan tea. We met up with some young Spanish girls climbing and over the offering of tangerine they practiced their English while I practiced my Spanish (one of three Spanish words I know is “Astalavista, baby..”).
Then later on while we were in a restaurant some kids came over. Again I have to say Moroccan kids are delightful – they are resilient, do not whine, or place demands like European brats. They had a sit on the bike and loved seeing themselves on the digital camera. As is always the case however they ended up trying to sell me something (their dad was watching eagerly from across the road!). So I put them to work… washing my clothes.
[ I should note, I did have a spare set… ]
The sun continued to beat down all day and the hours passed. There was a small breeze but the conditions were just heavenly. As all my clocks were wrong I’d give up on them. My mobile phone battery was dead and I realized I didn’t know what day it was!
I didn’t feel like I had to be anywhere, like I had any purpose or a life mission to fulfill. I was sitting with some unknown stranger who could have been a mate for years - and a bunch of young Spanish girls. All alone in Morocco, 23 riding a GS and my mam didn’t know where I was because I couldn’t txt her. It felt very real and stranger still it felt very right.
It was early evening by the time I left. My next stop was Erfoud. I stopped at another service area after spotting some GS’s and began talking to some Frenchys on there R80’s and a 650. We had a go on each others bikes and discussed the different characteristics off-road. Really nice people. They’d just come from Erfoud and before that Mezouga, and recommended the track they’d been on that day. I set off after a cola and reached Erfoud as it was getting dark. Just before entering the town there is a very neat hotel on the left hand side. It’s a hotel for westerners and that means air-conditioning and hot water. For 500 dir I booked a room with tea and breakfast all in. From sleeping on flea invested rugs the night before, this was some change!
The next day I aimed to travel to experience the Gorge Du Dades, Tinehir for a refill and then off for some fun in the sand. When I got to Agduar the locals sent me off north and with the lack of signs I travelled in the wrong direction for a bit. Not good given I had 2 bars of petrol left. By the time I worked my way back to Agduar, having traveled around some flooded roads, I’d hit reserve. I stopped to chat to a land-rover driver who by co-incidence I found was on his way there. It was 64Km’s he said. Would the GS make it? Well I had no idea really, but I presumed it would be close.
I followed the land-rover at speed, it was a good ride but by the end of it I was covered in white dust. On the way to Gorges Du Dades I’d had to keep wiping the visor with the gloves because it got sooted up so bad. The land-rover stopped for a pit-stop in a small village and I headed on in economy gear, shugging up and down the windy road.
Gorges Du Dades is beautiful. Its obvious why it’s a major tourist attraction. At the bottom are inward facing cliffs to either side with a rustic river flowing alongside the road. I went straight past all this in order to get fuel at Tinehir.
However I travelled back and stopped at the bottom of the valley. There I met another Moroccan who was working for the Blue Peter foundation doing climbing with small kids. I’ve no idea how we started talking but one thing developed to another and I ended up going downstairs in one of the sellers stalls there to drink some Moroccan tea. We met up with some young Spanish girls climbing and over the offering of tangerine they practiced their English while I practiced my Spanish (one of three Spanish words I know is “Astalavista, baby..”).
Then later on while we were in a restaurant some kids came over. Again I have to say Moroccan kids are delightful – they are resilient, do not whine, or place demands like European brats. They had a sit on the bike and loved seeing themselves on the digital camera. As is always the case however they ended up trying to sell me something (their dad was watching eagerly from across the road!). So I put them to work… washing my clothes.
[ I should note, I did have a spare set… ]
The sun continued to beat down all day and the hours passed. There was a small breeze but the conditions were just heavenly. As all my clocks were wrong I’d give up on them. My mobile phone battery was dead and I realized I didn’t know what day it was!
I didn’t feel like I had to be anywhere, like I had any purpose or a life mission to fulfill. I was sitting with some unknown stranger who could have been a mate for years - and a bunch of young Spanish girls. All alone in Morocco, 23 riding a GS and my mam didn’t know where I was because I couldn’t txt her. It felt very real and stranger still it felt very right.
It was early evening by the time I left. My next stop was Erfoud. I stopped at another service area after spotting some GS’s and began talking to some Frenchys on there R80’s and a 650. We had a go on each others bikes and discussed the different characteristics off-road. Really nice people. They’d just come from Erfoud and before that Mezouga, and recommended the track they’d been on that day. I set off after a cola and reached Erfoud as it was getting dark. Just before entering the town there is a very neat hotel on the left hand side. It’s a hotel for westerners and that means air-conditioning and hot water. For 500 dir I booked a room with tea and breakfast all in. From sleeping on flea invested rugs the night before, this was some change!
STUBBS
undead
great write up. looking forward to the next bit, perhaps at the end you could tell us what you took, what you'd take next time, it would help us long trip virgins in planing their own trips, keep it up
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10 out of 10...you kept me up until 2.00 am reading this !!!
Well done that man, a true role model for many a GS rider.
BTBR
I can't help thinking that this is an object-lesson in how NOT to tour Morocco!BTBR said:
Well done that man, a true role model for many a GS rider.
Greg
snoopy
Guest
Greg Masters said:
Sorry Greg have I offended you? Sent you a PM. You are of course right on many parts, and the conclusion will break down what I did right and wrong. For my first attempt I didn't do so bad
snoopy said:
Just ignore him, the grumpy old git, his incontinence pants must be overflowing.
My point being that at least you have had a go, rather than sat on yer arse in the pub talking about it.
For sure you will do things a little different next time.......BUT you have done more than most people will ever do in a lifetime.
Personally I admire you, as I like a planned route, with a time table and things booked in advance etc etc.
Thats just the way I am, very sad I know.
BTBR
Attachments
BTBR said:Just ignore him, the grumpy old git, his incontinence pants must be overflowing.
I'll deal with that tosser-worthy remark later!
Greg
Greg Masters said:
snoopy said:Sorry Greg have I offended you? Sent you a PM. You are of course right on many parts, and the conclusion will break down what I did right and wrong. For my first attempt I didn't do so bad
Andy
No, of course you haven't offended me and it's really great that you went on this trip, but I truly don't think that your experience is a model that other people should base their plans on.
Your original plan to ride through France and Spain in 2 days, and then camping, showed IMHO a degree of, at best, unworldliness, at worst a naïve massive underestimation of just how far it is, and, worse, the risk that you pose to yourself and others by riding when you are, inevitably, so tired. But, I was pleased to note that you listened to the advice and changed your plans.
However, you didn't have a map.
You didn't know that Ceuta was a Spanish enclave.
You got absolutely fleeced at the border - I personally spoke to you about that before you went and suggested how you might approach the situation.
You're riding on routes taking you well above 2200 metres in early April and you were surprised when you found snow!
You ride up tracks, on your own, drop your bike and then spend 'hours' (your word) trying to lift it.
You ride into a wall when you can't see where you're going.
You pick up a dose of Kangaroo Knob Rot (or something similar) and haven't seen a doctor yet.
Your Mum didn't know where you were.
Your boss didn't know where you were either (from your earlier words)
You're riding to a different continent and haven't even checked you tyre pressures (somebody else's words - which now seem to have been pulled).
The impression I have is that you were totally unprepared for this trip and appeared to have no contingency plan if anything went wrong.
Each to his own, but this is NOT how to set about a tour of a third world country. If the fleas don't kill you, you appear to have come away lightly despite all your inexperience.
Greg
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