Morrocos baptism has been magic and tough!  New cultures and cuisines. The constant of Morrocans happiness and helpfulness. Stray cats, dogs, camels and donkeys galore. Finding peace in the spinning of our pedals, the sweaty-ass climbs and the Atlas mountain vistas. Tempered by; Heat. Hubbub. Hills. Food Poisining. Farewells. Sleepless nights. Keeping up with ourselves, a life in transit. 

Ireland and England was hectic-bliss. Never enough time.  Lots of loved ones missed. Plenty of life happens in the time between our visits, the constant inevitability of change. Grounded by time spent with, and through the reflections and voices of those we love.  Often feeling like no time has passed, picking up where we left off.  We both felt the pull of our northern hemisphere peeps as we boarded the flight for this next leg.

Landing in the city of kite-surfing, beach camels, cats for Africa, calls to prayer, medina magic and tagine-the-house-down!  Essaouirra, Morocco.  Shaped by Atlantic winds, waves and trade. The sights, sounds, smells and tastes knocking our senses back into cycle-life. 

The first four days, a chance to rebuild the bikes, explore the medina and tune in to the African ryhtm.  Morroco is mainly a dry country in relation to alchohol, which makes it way more chill than the UK and Ireland (our livers have just about recovered).  Avoiding the heat of the day people throng and meander the streets, shores and towns in the cool of the evening.  Mint teas and watching the world go by hauled up in ‘mama’s cafe’s’, has been our metronome.

We had a week and a half cycling the rugged coast from Essaouira.  Coastal towns our resting spots. From Sidi Kouki to Tafedna to Imsouane.  The Atlantic Autumnal tides bring gorgeous waves on spectacular beaches, topped off by hordes of surfers on every break.  Each town has it’s own character beyond the tides, all united by masses of development, bustling ports and pesky stray-dogs determined to obliterate a good nights kip.

The secret spread between these towns, ramshackle desolate dirt road cycling.  Cliff roads with only us, the sand, sea and odd hobbled camel. This silence and freedom, the draw that brings us back to the peddles.   

Imsouane was our first day off, where a ‘treat’ at a western style cafe landed me in the shits, literally.  Violent food poisoning’s not fun at the best of times. On a saddle, heavily padded shorts, 35 degree heat made for a heady concoction.  Luckily it was only two days cycle to Taghazout then Agadir before another rest day.  We’ve learnt to stick to the (well-cooked) Tagine’s and stocked up on gas for our sturdy cooker.  In a country built on bread, maize pancakes and rice have been fuelling and re-blocking TT.

It would have been a flat, hot two day cycle from Agadir to Oulad Berhil to begin our ascent into the Atlas mountains, so we opted for the bus.  Hitting the hills for our first climb into Algou tizi n’test was an awakening to the destruction wrought by the Sept 2023 earthquake.  These mountain villages, often with houses built with mud and straw, crumbled on top of each other.  The Altas mountains a rocky, arid, often barren landscape, as crumbly as the houses themselves.  Tizi n’test was one of the worst hit areas. Most families still in taurpaulin villages.  Plastic temporary satellites as the rebuilds continue. 

The spirit of the Moroccan people shines through.  Stories shared with cafe or hotel proprietors who lost families and friends, still can’t do enough for the people who travel here.  Their positivity in the face of loss, both astonishing and life-affirming.  How much we take for granted in the west, from turning on a tap to get drinking water, robust building codes, social infrastructure and equal outcomes and opportunities for most people…albeit a work in progress. It’s been a tough readjustment to bike-life in Morroco, but without this perspective we’d be far less rich in body, mind and soul.

Bridging our first pass the next morning, a mainly 70km downhill started with delicious tarmac.  The mountains closing behind us, away from the crowded coast, cycle touring as we like it began again.  Tarmac was soon consumed by landslide earthquake belches, taking out kilometre stretches of road.  Turning the going to rubble that would rival our Himalayan touring. A headwind hit and Brians saddle broke in consequence of the bumpy terrain.  Reaching Ouirgane we splurged 35 Euro on a B&B with a pool, cooling butts off after a banging day in the saddle.

Ten years on from our last cycle adventure, we’d originally planned a similar pace.  Changing surroundings every night. Waking up in a new bed/campsite.  Packing re-packing, planning routes, cooking and heading off for 4-7 hours of tough cycling each day. It’s a wonderful and intense way to travel.  With both our tummies still adjusting, acknowledging the best made plans are always flexible to change and admitting we’re not as young as we once were….we’re knocking the pace down a touch #sensiblesally.  Longer breaks to fully recover. More opportunities to be still and relax.  Properly refuelling and recharging again for the daily churn and change.

Before a longer break from the bikes a final 1000 metre climb to Imlil awaited.  Headphones on, lowest gears engaged we spin-classed the metres out.  Imlil is a wee jewel in the Atlas.  Lush walnut and apple groves adorn the banks of mountain streams. Bright green webbing between sandy coloured buildings and rocks.  Shaded bustling streets with walkers, hawkers, cafes and people living their rural lives. 

Smoking charcoal BBQ’s grilling meat in the mountains and sardines on the coast is an ever present Moroccan sight.  Joined by heavily laden mules as the vehicle of choice.  Carrying the luggage for autumns tourists, the bounty of apple orchards from precipitous mountains shelves to the main roads and most often, the vessels for building materials for the worst hit villages from the earthquake.

We’re nestled above Imil in Tamatert. Spending days mini-hiking, watching goat herders leave and return at dawn and dusk like crepuscular commuters and yesterday, helping a family carry foraged walnuts back to their home.  Life here takes time, it’s practical and more simple.  As we slow down we realise how much of a rush we seem to be in the ‘developed world’, or is that just me….

On Wednesday we descend back to Asni before catching a bus via Marrakech to Boumalne Dades.  Keeping in mind the new pace, there’s too much ground to cover before we catch the ferry from Tangiers.  Embracing the busses and in the mean time, a couple more days to turn-it-down in Tamartet.

A big thanks to everyone who looked after us in Ireland and England.  Your homes, hearts, hospitality, chats, laughs, time and love are what mean the most to us.  We’re all very lucky to have each other to share this journey with, and fingers crossed….long may it continue! Final shout out to Ray and Ellen who tied the knot when we were home, a fabulous love-filled Ireland episode, thanks for the fab time and fantastic memories 🙂

Over and out for now

T&B / D&H