Moto Maroc Sept 2010 - Salaam and thanks for all the fish

[Shadwell]

si,

i reckon you should put the photos of daz's bike on its side in full glorious colour and as large as the page will take

 

[Duchess]

Just come across this one, fab report ... thanks for taking the time to post and share it with us

Keep going.

 

[Paul G (BHT)]

Excellent writeup so far Riz

 

[Monsieur]

Great read - thanks for sharing

 

[Tonibe63]

I wouldn't bother about the lack of feedback, I'm writing this for those of us that went, it's a personal thing..
Of the several hundred views, at least there have been no negative comments
(maybe my narrative is too long, and I should have used more pictures and less words

Fantastic write up.
Like you said it's best to write for those that went because they are the ones that the memories mean the most to. I did a similar report on our club site after a trip in 2009 and I still regularly reread it just for the fantastic memories.

 

[Riz Sauvage]

Thanks for the kind words, now, let's continue the story, there's a lot to still tell.

 

[Riz Sauvage]

September 16th - Getting down the mountain

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It was 2 of the most uncomfortable hours sleep I've had in a while.

Thankfully Darren didn't snore, either he was too tired, or I slept through it, that was some small relief at least.
My ribs hurt, and I couldn't get comfortable, and without the sleeping bag, I was freezing cold, so for the next two and a half hours I tossed and turned, waking just before 6, without the aid of the dulcet tones of "La Nouba" coming from the iphone.

Surveying the muddy mountainside in the early light of dawn, I can honestly say, and without any embarrasment, that I felt physically ill at the prospect of getting the three of us safely out of the mountain. I am a fairly confident, and capable offroad rider, but knew that the ride up here had taxed me in the dry, let alone now, with everything waterlogged and muddy.
Darren too, had confided in me that he'd lost his confidence after the tumble, so I knew that it was going to be a real test for the three of us... Like I said, It made me feel physically ill. Along with the fact that unlike my own compo rations that tend to block the system up, Darrens chicken casserole from last night had decided it was time to vacate the premises, and a panoramic dump was in order.

It hadn't long been light, and we'd started packing up the kit, when we spotted Jason approaching on foot, with a local shepherd.
As it transpired, he had dropped his bike twice, and some nomad sheperds had come to his rescue, helping him right the GS, and taking him in for the night, giving him a place to sleep in their tent.
They had been fantastic, cooking him a hot meal, and baking bread for him.

Jasons' french was better than ours, and he and the nomad had established a good rapport. The nomad had made it clear though, that it was too dangerous to go forwards towards Tilmi, and that we had three hours maximum before the storms hit the mountain again, so we had little option other to backtrack to Agoudal, and back down the Todra. Dissapointing, but in light of the situation we were in, it seemed like the safest option.

I knew the track back was going to be difficult, setting off was the hardest, as it was uphill, and everywhere was just so muddy, the Grand Wazoo went down within a hundred yards, riding the pegs, there was no warning, one minute up, the next, sideways and on my back. This did little to inspire Darren, who dropped his GSA twice, then got bogged down.
Eventually, we made it to Jasons bike, and firmer, though rockier, and rutted ground.

The ride out took us 4 hours of hard slogging. On one of the rockier decents down a narrow path, a jutting rock caught the nearside pannier, spinning the big bird 180 degrees, and sending me off over the front and into the rocks. Thankfully that would be the last time I'd lose control of the Grand Wazoo, but both her and I had taken a bit of a battering in the space of 12 hours.
Darren, getting target fixation on a steep drop, dropped the GSA in a very tricky spot. Thankfully more sheperds appeared, and helped him recover it although it did look like they were all going to go over the side at one point.
They didn't ask for reimbursement, but we paid them well, likewise did Jason with his hosts, hopefully continuing to pave the way for any other travellers that needed help in future on the Atlas.

We reached Agoudal, and took a breather. My panniers had taken a licking, and were in need of some repair, Jasons mirror was off, and Darrens was dangling by threads as well. We were cold, and muddy, the bikes looked like hell, but we were back on solid ground, now for the Todra gorge, again.

We made Tinerhir by 3pm, refuelled, restocked our water supplies, and set of for Ouarzazate. Bikershome was to be our only B&B during the course of our trip. I'd been in correspondance with Peter before we left, and had co-ordinated our arrival from Merzouga, two days earlier. We were hoping to rendezvous with Shad and Alan there too, like we'd arranged back in Erg Chebbi.

As we left Tinerhir, the storm hit, and followed us out along the N10 to Boumalne.
From there on, the weather wasn't so great, nothing like the 45 degrees of Erfoud and Merzouga. Stopping for a smoke outside El-Kelaá M'Gouna, I retrieved a text from Alan to say that He and Shad had made bikershome, and were off into town for food.

<span style="font-weight:bold;">Timecheck: 16:00</span>. I estimated that we'd be in Ouarzazate by 5.

As we hit Ouarzazate, I was point, followed by Darren, with Jason bringing up the rear. The storm had now hit us again, and along with the rain, came severe cross winds. Looking in my mirrors, Darrens' two spotlights showed a 45 degree angle to the road. It was a feat in itself, struggling to ride at that angle, and whenever a passing car broke the side wind and we lurched violently to the left. Visibility was limited, but soon enough, and on time, we rolled into Ouarzazate, wet, and minus Jason.

We waited with hazzards on, in the rain, in a layby on the edge of town, 20 minutes later, and Jason arrives, he's waited the crosswinds, and the storm out. We waste no time in getting to Peters place.
As if we're expected, everyone's outside to meet us, along with Steve and Ewen, 2 guys from a party of 4 that had gone ahead of us several days earlier from Portsmouth.
We park up in the garage, not before Jason ingloriously drops his bike on the gravel outside. We are just so worn out and tired, it's no wonder.

Shad buys us three muddy travellers a cold beer, and we go inside to shower and clean up. Bikershome is fantastic, our hosts Peter and Zineb are some of the nicest people you could meet, Peter offers me the use of the workshop to repair the panniers and bikes, first on the list of jobs for the morning.

For the time being, we chuck our gear in our rooms, shower, eat, smoke and drink...
I was glad to see Shad and Alan again, and the 5 of us regale each other with tales from the last two days. Steve and Ewen are introduced, and they tell us about their travels, and their falling out with the other two they were riding with. (petty things like losing a fork, and riding speed etc) It made me realise how lucky we were to still be together this far into the trip.

None of our little group were without fault though, however, I was thankfull that we all seemed to be at least tolerant of each other, and their faults, and this was what had kept everyone together so far.

Despite having had 2 hours sleep in two days, and having promised ourselves an early night, we're all up till 11pm, chatting, and planning the route from here tomorrow.

Shad and Alan plan to head for Marrakech along with Steve and Ewen. Alans' girlfriend has flown out, and he'll be staying in Marrakech with her until the 20th, when he's hoping to rejoin us somewhere over on the continent again.
Shad plans to head for Casablanca, and my plans were always to head for Demnate, and the Cascades D' Ouzoud.

My chest and right hip are a hue of mottled black and green, and it hurts to laugh, cough or sneeze, but tonight, we're warm and dry.....

Tomorrow we repair the bikes.

 

[MattW]

Brilliant report - thanks for taking the time to write it up

Looking forward to the next instalment...

 

[David Lee]

Excellent stuff

 

[Riz Sauvage]

September 17th - The road to Demnate, and disaster again.

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Well rested, we woke to a scrumptious breakfast laid on by Zineb. Shad and Alan were packed and ready to head for Marrakech with Steve and Ewen, I knew where I was going after I'd fettled with the Grand Wazoo, Jason and Darren joined us for some map reading, and decided to come with me to the Cascades, then on to Meknes, via Kasba Tadla and Khénifra.

After the shambolic ride through Féz, I had no wish to see Marrakech, I would come back via 4 wheels and do some sightseeing there. Jason and Darren were in agreement, there were far more "un-touristy places yet to see.

We spent the next few hours tinkering in the workshop, and drying our wet gear in the morning sun. Bikes eventually repacked, and panniers as good as new, we bade Peter and Zineb goodbye, and headed out of Ouarzazate back up the N10, to find the R307 which headed over the Atlas and out to Demnate.

<span style="font-weight:bold;">Time check 12:00pm</span> I reckoned that we'd easily make the Cascades by early evening, and pitch camp somewhere around there.

For the second time on the trip, I couldn't have been further from the truth.

The R307 lies just outside Ouarzazate, (about 19km), right at the end of the long bridge into town, we turned off, and headed towards Assermo.

30 minutes later, and the sky over the Atlas was looking decidedly ominous, I could see heavy rain in the distance, the only clear sky, well, clearish, was behind us.
We pulled over to pop our liners in the gear, and for Jason to pop his waterproofs on, and we headed right into the storm. <span style="font-weight:bold;">(Warning No.1 ignored).</span>

Just short of Assermo, Jason, who was riding point pulled up in the middle of the road, I was a fair distance behind, and Darren, behind me. As I approached, the road surface had changed, gravel? I braked, but no response, the Grand Wazoo held her line, then started snaking towards the stationary Jason.

Ice, everywhere, the road was covered in olive sized hailstones, how on earth we all managed to stay upright, I wont ever know, I went off-road, sailing past Jay on the loose shoulder, letting the Big Bird stop under her own steam, closely followed by Darren, also trying desperately to dodge the road hogging Jason.
We stopped and had a smoke, and contemplated our next move.
A local on a scooter came up to us, and with our mishmash of Anglo-Moroccan, we understood that he was trying to tell us that it was too dangerous to ride up into the mountain.
So, we took pictures of the hailstones, and turned the bikes around and headed back to the safety of Bikershome...

No, we didn't.... In fact, we did the complete opposite.

The river running alongside the road we were on was raging, and starting to flood over the road, so we did the sensible thing, and rode through the washout, and up into the Atlas. (Jason under protest I must add)

<span style="font-weight:bold;">(Warning No.2 ignored).</span>

We covered about 15 miles through the steep passes, the road surface was deteriorating, and wet, but looked clear. Near the top, there were several sharp S-bends, Jason had had enough, and pulled off to the side. Admittedly, it was raining, not very heavily, but we were cold and wet again. I knew that there were no villages or exits from here until Demnate, and looking at the thunderous sky overhead, I decided to leave Jason here, and recce the next mile, to get an idea of the road, and conditions. I set of, with Darren behind me.

We'd just made the half mile mark, and the heavens truly opened, visibility was bad, and the driving rain was desperately trying to batter its way through the goretex.
I pulled over to have a chat with Darren, and suggested we get back to Jason, and hole up for a while.
No sooner had I said that, than out of the corner of my eye, I saw mud and debris starting to slide down the side of the mountain, coming right for us.

What amazed me afterwards, was the fact that in the space of thirty seconds, a landscape can so completely change.
I gunned the Wazoo into life, and turned her around, pointing her back up the road towards higher ground. I was riding the pegs, so had no clue as to how Darren was faring, I was single minded... I needed to get the hell out of there fast.

The landslides hit all at once, twenty foot wide sections sliding down onto me as I rode through them. The cylinders disappeared under mud, rocks and water, but blind panic I think, kept the throttle open, and the clutch slipped enough not to drown the big bird.
With each successive hit, I was being washed closer to the edge. Three huge slides hammered us, but like a bucking bronco, the Grand Wazoo got us both through to the high ground.

<span style="font-weight:bold;">High ground.</span>
That was no more than a 15 foot by 4 foot strip on the outside edge of the road, with a sheer drop to the right.
Jason had managed to get there before the landslides hit, and was now panicked, certain we needed to call for rescue.
After the Atlas incident two days ago, I was the opposite, having just evaded being washed over the edge of the Atlas, I felt great, albeit cold and wet, and had a trusty fold-out spade with me, (latrine duties) which I felt may now come in handy.

I didn't need to look behind me for Darren, I knew he would have gone down, as he would have caught the worst of it, how badly though, we were about to find out.
Looking across the mountainside, I saw him hollering, about a quarter mile back from where we were. We took the spade, and went to get him.
The rain had stopped, and the full scale of the carnage was evident. We were not getting off the mountain in a hurry, and yes, we were in serious trouble. Ahead of us, the road was completely blocked by three major landslides, something to deal with later.
However, the worse was behind us, on the way back to Darren. Another three slides blocking the road, the smaller ones being 30 foot wide, 3 foot deep at the mountainside, and 1 foot deep on the drop-off side, but the final one being at least 60 foot wide, having wiped out the whole bend in the road, and being 4 foot deep mud at the shallow end.
That monster still had a fast flowing river of debris flowing through it, and shooting off into the abyss below.
We circumnavigated it, by climbing up the mountain, and over it much higher up. How in hell we were going to get Darren’s bike over it escaped me for the time being.

We found Darren about 100 foot from the huge slide, he had no clue what was waiting for him up ahead, but for the time being, that would have to wait, the sight of his bike off the road, and front end hanging over the cliff worried me.
Thankfully he was alright, and unfazed by the whole thing, and as we would later find, the big GSA hadn't sustained any damage.

Darren’s bike had been completely submerged under mud and water, and looked a sorry state, the fast flowing waters had carved ruts out underneath it, and it was in a very precarious position, and to recover it, we would have to go further forward before we could go up onto the road again.
Out came the spade, and we filled in the ruts, and cleared a fresh path back up onto the tar. With all three of us pushing and pulling, me on the throttle and rear grab rail, Jason on the clutch and pannier frame, and Darren heaving on the rear, it took all our strength to get the bike up onto the road, but we did it, and then showed Darren what lay ahead.

He was a champ, undaunted by the prospect, we parked his bike in front of the monster slide, and walked out a route. By now, the water had subsided, and all that was left, was rock, mud, and loose shale. 8 foot deep, sloping to 4 foot, and 60 foot wide. It couldn't be ridden, one wrong move, and someone would be over the side, the bike was just too heavy, even with Jason astride, and Darren and Myself heaving, it was just burying itself, and burning the clutch.

Same procedure again then, this time Darren and Jason sharing clutch and throttle duties, and me heaving at the back. Filthy work, I was spattered head to toe by the end of it, and felt sure I'd punctured a lung, but we got the bike through, and through the next two as well, eventually getting all three bikes together.

By this time, there were a few more people about, several local vehicles were up there, facing the same problem as us. I found them different to any other Moroccans we'd met on the trip, they looked different, spoke no French, and were not friendly. They didn't offer to help us, so we returned the favour. Every man for himself.

We still had three further landslides to contend with, so with all of us mucking in, we made it out of the Atlas, and back down to Assermo, where we stopped for a break.

We stopped an approaching 4x4 with a German couple, Max and Petra, warning them of the impassable state of the road. They too were on the way to the Cascades, having been flooded out at Aít Benhaddou, and Telouét earlier that day, and that route impassable, they were now trying from here.

They offered to make us a coffee, and shared dates with us, it was a welcome break, and we enjoyed each others company for 30 minutes or so, before heading off back to the N10 again.

At the junction of the R307, and the N10, we decided to double back on our tracks, and head for Errachidia again. the skies over Ouarzazate looked menacing, at least heading back East, offered the promise of warmer weather.
We set off, but soon ground to a halt again. Traffic was backed up everywhere, the N10 was washed out, fast flowing rivers surged across the roads, and police were on hand, directing bigger vehicles through the wash. We went to inspect, walking to the front of the queue.
Tree branches and debris were being washed across the road. Darren waded out, and reported a depth of 2 foot, the policeman turned to me and said "Moto, put put put, ok" Off I went to get the Grand Wazoo, and rode to the front of the waiting traffic, and with second gear selected, braved the river.
The current was strong, and the comforting rumble of the remus soon turned to a burble as it disappeared under water, but we emerged safely out the other side.

Jason and Darren followed suit, and we set off again, making several more similar crossings, before darkness hit us once more, and after 2 more crossings by headlight, we decided to call time.
We were just short of Skoura, and I spotted a half built house at the side of the road, we pulled over, and parked under the convenient veranda, and set about erecting a windbreak, and pitching tents.

We'd just settled down, with stoves on the go, when the owner pulled up in a small car. Having no idea what to expect, we just greeted him, smiled lamely, and got out of his way, as he attempted to access the building via the front door that Darren had tied his guy rope to.
He undid the guy rope, retrieved a rucksack, and tied the rope to the door again, he smiled, but didn't say anything, and went back to the car.
I dug a pouch of tobacco from my gear, and went over to the car and offered it to him, and he gladly accepted it, a fair trade, his dry porch, for a pouch of tobacco.

Darren and myself shared a brew of redbush before calling time, it had been another adventurous day, we were now warmer, and with our bellies filled with compo rations of chicken curry, and mixed fruit for desert we retired for the night, hopefully tomorrow will bring warmer temperatures.

 

[Dazza2]

Excellant reading Si,it certainly brings back the memories.
Keep this up and you`ll have a xmas No1 at waterstones.

 

[Duchess]

Christ you guys really did have a true adventure, somebody was clearly watching over you all.

Thats a really indepth report, I'm thoroughly enjoying the read so far.

Keep going ....

 

[Shadwell]

i stil reckon you 3 got all the bad karma on this trip becase jason threw that rock at a toad.

me and al were so close to you at times but we did not get anywhere near the drama you did.

si, i got hold of 2 of them things for you today. and 3 boxes of grub so you wont be hungry for a while.

 

[barneydinosaur]

We weren't too far from you either at times and didn't manage any drama whatsoever. Makes for good tales in the pub tho.

 

[Riz Sauvage]

i stil reckon you 3 got all the bad karma on this trip becase jason threw that rock at a toad.

me and al were so close to you at times but we did not get anywhere near the drama you did.

si, i got hold of 2 of them things for you today. and 3 boxes of grub so you wont be hungry for a while.

Thanks Shadwell, you're a star... (not at all a bit dim and distant) LOL,
Yes, I blame J for that one..

Hope you're well my man, looking forward to hooking up at some point.

 

[Edventure]

Excellent ride report and great adventure, one for the hall of fame!

 

[Riz Sauvage]

Shad, Alan, and the very expensive Riad Alma

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Once more, leaving Myself, Darren, and Jason, in the abandoned building alongside the N10, we'll take a look at how our two soft travelling companions fared on the road to Marrakech.

Shad and Alan had made tracks for Marrakech, where Alan was to hole up with his girl Jill, who had flown out to see him, and Shad would go on to Casablanca, and spend some time heading up the coast, and us, well, you know where we are.

Alan, gives this account of their ride.

<span style="font-style:italic;">
"After meeting up with the Nomad wanabees at bikers home, and giving them all the sympathy I could muster up from my little finger, especially after having to suffer the indignity of a double bed and hot food myself.
Shads and myself started to make plans for our second break away, this time to Marrakech, where I had made plans to meet my Girlfriend, Jill.
After some advice from Peter we decided to turn right off the N9, heading towards Áit Benhaddou, and take the piste to Telouét.

Whilst at Bikershome, we met Steve and Ewen. They had been in touch with Si via the UKGSER website before the trip, so this was a good time for all to catch up and swap stories over our first beers in Morocco. 3 beers later, light headed and agreeing on leaving times, plus adding Steve and Ewen into the next day’s journey, I headed off to bed with it raining (9.30).

Up early the next morning (6am) bikes packed, chain lubed, fuel and oil checked, which was now becoming quite a ritual with the problems I was having, the four of us set off. Going out of Ouarzazate joining the N9, and passing the film studios which were very much closed at this time of the day. We found the right hand fork and stopped to make a decision, was it worth risking a piste after all the rain over the last few days and the stories of the night before. Or take the more sedate paved road. Decision made we stood up on the pegs and road onto the dirt.

For the most part the road was graded and made for a good ride through typical Moroccan villages with their mud huts and satellite dishes. All along the piste you could see signs of progress with piles of gravel, ready to turn yet another piste into a road which will no doubt benefit the locals but takes some of the fun out of travelling through these places. Traversing the side of a bloody big hill with sharp turns and big drops, once down the other side we found the rain damage that so many people talk about which Shads and me had yet to see, with washed out roads or layers of thick sloppy red mud. Progress slowed but not drastically, there where a couple of slippery moments but we all held our own and stayed on 2 wheels.

As we closed in on the N9 we could see the dark clouds of yet more rain, now it was hard to tell if these dark clouds where heading towards us or we where riding into them either way, getting wet was our only option.
While we were all getting wet riding some great valleys through the Atlas mountains, we reached the summit and thought it best to stop for some liquid heat and wait for the worst of the weather to pass us. Whilst waiting for our mint teas the 2 Welsh lads on 250’s turned up, yet more stories swapped and the Welsh duo filled us in on the events of the unlucky 3 left at bikers home repairing bikes and energy levels. With clear skies in the direction we were headed we braved the last of the rain and made our way down the other side, and towards the sun.

We stayed together as a group until I needed fuel on the outskirts of Marrakech where Steve and Ewen made there own way into the city and found a hotel. Shads had booked his hotel the day before in a road side café, which was in the middle of nowhere but had a 50” plasma tv, satellite, phone and Internet plus the standard mint tea. I had already booked Jill into Riad Alma and she was there waiting for me to arrive.
I had the address written down and that it was somewhere near the airport. Shads hotel was also on the south side of the city so I decided to follow him to his hotel then make my own way to meet Jill." </span>

So, with Alan tucked up in his £600 hotel, Shad cracking Budweiser's, getting massaged, and watching DVDs in the Ibis at £60 a night, and Myself, Darren, and Jason in our tents on the front porch of a half-built house on the way to Skoura, which we'd traded for a pouch of Drum tobacco, that's very much how the 17th of September ended.

Tomorrow would see a mammoth push from us three "Nomad Wannabees", as we head back up North, trying to dodge the bad weather that was coming in from the West.

 

[lost@sea]

Your making my hart bleed Si. Thanks for sorting out the report. The rest of it is all spot on and bringing back happy thoughts, while i am in this dark place.

 

[Riz Sauvage]

Ahaa.. still on curfew in that dark place then diva?
Nice of you to join us humble riders here, even though you do have tuning forks on your tank ;-)

Stay safe out there man, we have many places yet to ride Gringo..

 

[Phluppe]

Holy crap, what an adventure

Me, and 3 freinds did the same route you guys did, Todra to Agoudal and down to Msemrir, than too Bikershome, and from there using the road through Assermo towards Ouzoud.
We just did it a week after you guys, and what a difference, lovely weather all the way.
The road to Demnate was still showing traces of those floods, although they were easy to pas now.

I truly didn't wanna have been in your places, don't know if me and my mates would have stayed so calm in a situation like that

Grtz, Philip!

P.S: Can I borrow one picture of the floods from you, I'm writing my own ride report? Sorry it's in my native language, don't think a lot of you guys speak Flemish.