Blog Part 42, Losing Convenience
On a Day Ride
Most Oudes Were Dry
A Few Wet Oude Crossings
But Most Were Dry
Preparing for the Next Planting
Suburb of Tafraout
Tafraoute sits in south Morocco’s Anti-Atlas
Mountains. I used it as a base camp to explore the area on day rides without
luggage. Then I began a long arc to the east and north. The route began with a
rough road to Taliouine that took a whole day. There were many dry oude (river)
crossings where the road had been washed away.
The way to Ourzazate was clear and I arrived in time for lunch the next
day. The Dades Valley came next followed by the famous gorge of the same name.
It really was as spectacular as people had described. I found a Berber guest
house with a locked garage for the night. No one spoke French at the inn, only
Berber. In any case, I was the only guest. The language of gestures sufficed, a
price was negotiated and I settled in for the night.
In the Anti-Atlas
Palmerie in the Anti-Atlas
Anti-Atlas Palmerie
Anti-Atlas Scene
The Anti-Atlas Range
Desert Highway in the Anti-Atlas
Lower Dades Valley
Berber Guest House
View of Dades Valley from the Terrace
Dades Gorge
Dades Gorge
Dades Valley
Strange Rock Formations
In the High Atlas Range
I was trying to pre-ride famous routes in Morocco;
that way, I could be sure that Isabelle would be comfortable riding them when
we both returned to visit together. I was also building up a bank of useful places
for accommodations along the way. The next morning, I rode back out the gorge
the way I had come in. The road did continue to the north, the way I wanted to
go but everyone said that it was a rough dirt track after the Dades Gorge. I
wanted to check out the Todra Gorge anyway. Its mouth was about half an hour’s
ride to the east of the mouth of the Dades Gorge.
Todra Gorge
Todra Cliff Houses
The ride up the Todra Valley was really enjoyable
all the way north to the remote Berber village called Agoudal. I checked into
the lone hotel, simply called “The Kasbah”. Once again, I was the only guest. What
it lacked in refinement the Kasbah made up with its location well off the beaten
path; it gave a glimpse of highland Berber life, still unchanged by modernity.
Near Agoudal in the High Atlas Range
Agoudal
In Agoudal
Agoudal was located in a 15 kilometer-long fertile
valley at close to 2500 meters elevation. Inside the town there were no roads
only dirt tracks between the adobe structures. Roads weren’t needed; there
were no cars or even scooters to use them. People walked or rode a donkey to
get from place to place. Careful water management and strong sun allowed nearly year-long
cultivation in the valley even with cool high altitude air. Everyone was
involved in food production. Each morning I witnessed
a stream of chatty women walk past the Kasbah on their way to harvest crops. In the fields they sat as they pulled and picked with their hands. A few
people rode by on donkeys but walked back to town. The donkeys returned loaded high
with the day’s harvested crops.
The Kasbah
Working on the Kasbah
Preparing for Planting
The manager of the Kasbah spoke French well. He gave
me route advice for day rides. His routes proved to feature mostly risk and potentially
accident free riding. Both Isabelle and I were fed up with riding injuries. There
were a few rough sections on those day rides but the routes were filled with scenery
that was really worth the effort of the journey.
Highland Scene
A few days later I rode north to Azrou and a
wonderful campground called Euro Camping. It was thoroughly modern and well
run. It felt strange coming down from the highlands after having spent so much
time in Morocco’s south. There seemed to be people everywhere. Huge expanses of
cultivated fields spoke of mechanized farming. The city of Azrou was busy and
filled with clues concerning its level of secularism, beginning with peoples’
dress. The change from the highlands was a bit like the culture shock Isa and I felt coming down
from Bolivia and landing in thoroughly modern Salta, Argentina.
Erosion Patterns
Continuing north brought me past the Royal Palace
outside Fez then into the coastal mountains. Isa and I will visit Fez together
in the future. The suburbs of Fez reminded me of posh areas on Mont Royale in
Montreal. North of Fez, there were many industrial and mining towns. Once I
entered the coastal mountains towns and traffic disappeared.
In Forest Near Fez
The air became thinner and colder after climbing for
an hour. The road was filled with sharp-edged potholes and tight curves. I
stayed in first and second gear for much of the time. The map said the road was
paved and technically it was but two hundred kilometers took four times as long
as my time estimates. I got caught after dark in a 50 kilometer gravel
construction zone that descended toward the coast and to my campground. There
was no sign of a hotel or even a private house in the dark. The final 1.3
kilometers to the clifftop campground were over a rough, steep and twisty
gravel driveway. The driveway wasn’t especially difficult to ride but any amount of rain
would change that.
Interior Valleys of Coastal Mountains
And it happened. I sat up from 3-6 am, during the worst of the storm, with my back supporting the windward corner of my
tent. The wind was incredibly powerful. Things began to calm with the coming of
daylight. There was a significant break in the weather mid-morning. I took a
walk along that gravel driveway. The muddiest sections each had a way around
that was clear. I decided to make a run for it before the predicted second
storm wave arrived.
I got to tarmac without falling and continued west
along the coastal road. It was as much fun as California’s coastal highway.
Long and twisty climbs were followed by long and twisty descents; all-the-while
revealing dramatic views of the Mediterranean Sea.
Dramatic Views
I camped in the Municipal campground inside Tetouan
and rode to the ferry terminal the next morning. The crossing to Spain took just
two hours. Culture shock struck hard as I rode away from the ferry toward
Camping Sureuropa, beside the Rock of Gibraltar. Traffic was thick, comprised
of new looking, modern cars that were speeding everywhere. Advertising
billboards and electronic screens told of my arrival back in Europe. I stopped
at a supermarket and was amazed at the square footage and selection of products.
The campground looked sophisticated; the bathrooms so clean, there were toilet
seats and paper in every stall. You could drink the water, right out of a tap!
If you spend enough time in a place where
conveniences, even things you might consider necessities like drinking water from
a tap and refrigeration, are missing you begin to adapt. You stop noticing a
lack, stop thinking about deprivation and get on with living. You adapt to a
new normal. You also begin to understand the smiles and happy chatter of women
walking kilometers to the fields to work crops with their hands.