Marocco 2023
As I went to Africa
This is a continuation of last year's travelogue, where I couldn't go due to our baby's health issues, but this time it worked out! You can find a partial gallery below, or the complete one at link.
„Day one“
Morocco, You just have to experience that.
Yes, I know, many of you will say... Another one who rushed into Morocco. But you know what? If you have even a tiny bit of a travelling spirit, it will enthral you and feed your mind for a long time to come. It's a strange, harsh, inhospitable, and at the same time green, area of Africa that will, whether you like it or not, etch itself into your memory.
The idea of Africa sustained me last year too, but due to our little one's health problems, I dismissed it from my mind and at least took a trip to France. But fate intervened, and this idea has been haunting me this year as well. Well, sometimes you can't help yourself, even if you try to suppress it 🙂
No, so I announced my plans at home. Understanding wasn't exactly forthcoming, but there wasn't a definitive no either. They probably know it's a losing battle. And with this, I must greatly thank my girlfriend and our daughter for their absolute tolerance. Hmm, they know it will be similar year after year because you can't stop. Travelling is such an intensely experiential matter that sanatoriums should be set up for it 🙂
But enough preamble, let's plan.
It started with approaching Motogbox, because let's face it, you won't manage to do as much in 10-14 days as you've taken on.
I have tentatively agreed on a date. He has reported his holiday and purchased a flight ticket to Malaga. The basics would be...
I left planning my trip until the last few weeks before my flight. In the meantime, I Googled, read, and pestered. Well, actually, within Africa I only wanted to visit Chefchaouen for a few days, and then continue home via Portugal. However, the power of social media put a bee in my bonnet to enjoy the unknown Morocco more, and it was a dilemma, because this is a country with one big unknown for me, inspiring respect. Then I received a call from Mr. Efler, who also got me excited about a deeper trip into the interior, and I also received a lot of advice from Zdenko Kučera, who had been there and patiently answered my questions over the phone. He was actually the final trigger 🙂
And so the destination was chosen, the Sahara or the Merzouga area, where there is a lot, a lot of sand. The goal was therefore clear: to experience the desert, the dunes, the camels, the sunrise... On Google Maps, I was looking for a suitable place for my one-day stay in this hell 🙂
Merzouga activity camp won, which had great reviews. Accommodation was only available in tents. I didn't really realise at the time that not a single thread on me would stay dry in the tent. But it's okay, it was a huge experience. I knew I would arrive there on Wednesday and then have 2 days to return to the port.
The plan was actually like this: Sunday – 18.06. departure to Malaga, Monday – arrival in Chefchaouen, Tuesday – transfer day to Merzouga, Wednesday – Merzouga, Thursday – crossing the High Atlas, Friday – arrival at the port. And what happened next was meant to be down to chance... and it was... 🙂
Our princess had her measles vaccination three weeks before we left, because why wouldn't you complicate your departure, right? The first week nothing, brilliant. The second week, she got sixth disease. The third week, vaccination symptoms appeared, and the day after we left, teeth came through on top of it all. That sixth disease really took it out of us, the little one cried through days and nights, and it looked like I wouldn't be going anywhere again. But all the saints were on my side, and I flew.
The motorcycle had a service done two weeks before I left, and a few days later I took it to Brno for collection (I had two days to pack the bike, what a nuisance). Subsequently, there were two weeks of peace in the family 🙂 🙂 🙂
„Start from Malaga via the port to Chefchaouen“
D-day had arrived, and from the morning, I was overcome with nerves about the departure, check-in, boarding, and disembarking. You won't believe it, but my other half even offered to drive me to the bus station. At the airport, I was a bit chaotic for a while as I didn't actually know where to go, but everything turned out well, and a few hours later I was sitting on the plane. And that's where my first adventure began.
The flight was pleasant at the beginning, then storms and turbulence came later. Exiting the plane was into overcast undercast skies, puddles everywhere, the storm was obviously coming from here. Another stress ensued, via the Hopin or Uber app to order a taxi. But the experience was that for about 13€ I waited maybe 40 minutes. Eventually a local businessman spotted me and offered me a ride for 30€. He obviously knows his stuff and is taking advantage of the situation that it's hard to find a ride for a few pennies. At that point I was glad he took me and I arrived at my accommodation in border time. After unpacking, I ran to the grocery store to buy drinks and sustenance, hit the showers, eat and sleep. The next morning I got up at seven and had breakfast on the patio under a twinkling sky. De Moto is 4.5 km from the hostel, they open at 09:00, so I had already planned a hike with my backpack beforehand. That's actually how I chose my accommodation. Although it was morning, it was already muggy, at least for me. I had a coffee on the way and arrived at the shop a little after 9:00. The guys pushed out my moto and offered me a place to change. Let me tell you, by that time, I was leaking before I got on the moto. I choose Algecirias and the harbor as my first destination for today. I was sailing with Balearia and had bought my ticket in advance, although it could be bought at kiosks and gas stations along the way. However, being ignorant, I didn't want to risk it. The ticket cost 53€. I found the port on a whim and I was worried about how I was going to find it. The signs were really cool. I arrived about 90 min. before embarkation. I stood in line for a while, after checking in, I got into the semi-position and soon got on the ferry for the first time with my moto. I had some respect for it, but everything was fine. I bought a coffee on the boat, and just waited for the coveted African shore with the port city of Ceuta, which still belongs to the Spanish.
After about 15 minutes of driving, I reach the border. A Moroccan customs officer directs me to the lane for motorcyclists, and here the unbelievable ordeal of checks began. I've never experienced anything like it. Several checkpoints, and helmet off every time, passport check, luggage check, really annoying. I spent the most time at the last checkpoint, as the chap was filling out some papers + a card that needed to be handed in when leaving for the EU. After this check, real Africa, or at least continental Africa, began. A few deep breaths and I set off. The temperature was pleasant, around 25°C at the moment.
The first city, whose name I actually don't even know, took my breath away (now I know, Fnideq). Smiling, waving police everywhere. Perfectly mown green grass everywhere. I swear all the blades were the same length. Absolute cleanliness everywhere, the beaches were really nice, the grass was diligently watered. Women with brooms everywhere, and they seemed to be sweeping the lawn too 🙂 A really nice place, maybe even for a holiday. I was mega surprised. The omnipresent Moroccan flags also made it clear where I was.
My first stop was planned for the city of Tetouan, where I wanted to exchange money, buy a SIM card, and get medicine for diarrhoea. And here my mega enthusiasm completely evaporated. The traffic, I'd only seen something like it in a travelogue on YT 🙂
There even came a moment when I parked the motorbike, rudely on a bus stop, and took a moment to catch my breath from the uncontrolled chaos. Honestly, everyone everywhere, cars, trucks, barrows, vans, taxis, buses, women, men, donkeys, dogs, crisscrossing. What the hell, you have to experience it. But! Strangely, no one scrapped me, not even at the roundabouts, which for me will remain an eternal mystery 🙂
I had my currency exchanged fine at a pre-selected exchange office. I’d also bought a SIM card, and the lads even got it set up on my phone, but the data didn't work. I later found out it was a SIM card with no credit, which I needed to top up. But I didn't have the energy to deal with it on the spot. All that was left were tablets for diarrhoea. Following advice, I wanted to buy local medicine, which was supposed to be more effective than our own. And you know what I got? Imodium, almost identical to the one I'd brought from home…
My next and final stop was the accommodation „Hotel rural casa linda“, which was about a 25-minute walk above Chefchaouen, as the motorbike could be parked quite easily just above the hotel. I had the town below me as if in the palm of my hand. The nature between the towns was beautiful, wooded, green, I was amazed at how much greenery was found here. The temperature climbed to around 29°C, which was still acceptable. I wandered around the town for a while looking for the right turn into the hills, which the local lads immediately noticed. You probably know what they offered me first... No, it wasn't hashish, that was second. Marijuana was first 🙂 The lads were fine with it and accepted that I wasn't interested and didn't bother me again.
Upon arrival, I was greeted by the hotel owner, who clearly has nothing else to do and patrols there non-stop. The hotel was about 50 metres from the car park, but he assured me the location was absolutely safe and that he had a balcony to his bedroom in the house where he lived, right above the motorcycle. After a longer discussion, I finally went to check in and unpack. My eyes lit up at the sight of the pool, and it was the first thing I did – I splashed into the pool. It felt like paradise though. It was truly peaceful there, with seating overlooking the town. In places, it was reminiscent of Tuscany.
After sunset, I set off on foot to the medina, hoping to get my first taste of Tahini and see the blue city for myself. It was about a 25 min walk downhill. Somewhere along the way a guy was painting a fence blue, like any other time 🙂 He asked me if I needed anything, as if he knew I had a broken sim card. He directed me straight to the little shop next door, saying they would help me. I then found out they didn't have credit, so I turned around to go into town. The local painter didn't give a damn and came back to the shop with me, aaale they found the credit, they even helped me conquer it, but it made them uncomfortable and what surprised me, for 30 minutes of their help they wanted nothing at all, they did it selflessly. I only paid a credit for about 1€, with which I dated the whole 5 days with navigation. Google proved to be the best here. Maps.cz loved to freeze and induce heart attacks in me. When you are driving 30-40 km and suddenly you find out that the navigation has frozen... When it happens to you in Austria, you don't deal with it. But somewhere among the desert it can j.... you. 🙂 The city is really blue, my first drag was perfect, I paid 8€ for dinner after conversion. Under the cover of darkness I drifted back to the hills where the hotel was. I think the city has its charm in the evening and it's probably livelier then, just because of the temperatures. It's definitely worth another visit
„Layover“
I get up at 07:00, I want to get out before it gets too hot. My accommodation is arranged, including breakfast. And here I stumble upon the Moroccan way of life. They take their time, they don't rush anywhere. It's 8 o'clock and nobody's around 🙂 Oh well. At least I have time to admire the surroundings. By 09:00, I'm literally stuffed; they really serve food generously here, they don't skimp on anything. Their flatbreads are amazing. Around 09:30, I finally get on the motorbike and set off towards Ksar Timnay Hotel, which is a stopover before Merzouga.
The journey was surprisingly pleasant, almost empty, and I truly enjoyed it. Greenery prevailed everywhere so far. The entire trip is actually one big experience. Scenery I had previously only seen in films. I was surprised by how many donkeys were grazing all around.
My smiling demeanour was interrupted in an instant by a sharp pain. As usual, a bee on my chest under my jersey. I tell you, it was such a rapid stop and dismount (like when you get caught with a terrible stomach ache while riding), not pleasant, but it's all part of it. With gloves on, I pulled out the stinger and a bit of the bee, smeared on a kilo of Fenistil, popped an allergy tablet, moaned terribly for a while, and with considerable pain, got back on the bike and carried on. Now, as I write this, a strange thing occurred to me. Whenever I've stopped just for a break, someone usually stopped to chat, or they offered me local „specialities“, but now, when I really needed it, and also later when I stopped and laid the bike down, nothing... Everyone just walked by without noticing.
But after just a few minutes in the saddle, I was enjoying nature again. At one point my sledge fell off when I found monkeys resting in the mountains on the road, you don't see that just like that, I slowly round them and continue on. At some point I notice the vegetation dwindling and the temperature rising. Fortunately I'm feeling at a higher altitude, so it's acceptable. I find a plateau with a promising view. I leave the bike on the side of the road, take phenistil and a snack and walk about 100m to the edge where I sit down, lube up the bobo 🙂 and eat. I take in the completely different scenery and relax. I settle back on the moto and continue. The navigation says 100 km straight and then right at the roundabout 🙂 Along the way I perceive the broad plains where there was no one for many kilometers. Occasionally I overtook an old steaming steamy truck, loaded to twice the height of the car itself. Also a fascinating sight. Cars loaded with something. Mostly gigantic onions, straw, coca-cola, but also a mixture of people, animals, mattresses. It's mind-boggling in places. I also notice that there are not classic buses, but smaller vans or taxis, and it seems like a shared transport, whoever is on the side of the road, we'll load them up. The greenery is dwindling rapidly, trees are being replaced by rocks and sand. In many places I came across road workers, I was surprised at how many sections they were working in the heat and laying new asphalt. Hats off to them indeed. I arrive at the accommodation at a pleasant time, which doesn't happen to me. I look for the reception desk, the guy fills out the paperwork and leads me to another, empty boda boda, where I have typical accommodation. I check out, change and guess what, I escape to the pool. In there, the receptionist just gives me lengths and warns me that the water is cold. I don't understand. Didn't he see that I'd arrived dressed up, sweaty, drenched on a motorbike? Cold water is the last thing that would bother me. I soak in there for an hour or so and it's time to go taste another Swamp. I order a Coke and a coffee to go with it and soak up the experience. With a full belly, I leave for the hostel.
„Arid Sahara“
Morning, the usual routine, packing, a typical Moroccan breakfast, and I'm off on new adventures towards the Sahara, or Merzouga.
The landscape is already different, and I can't wait for the sand dunes. The temperature is somewhere else now and it's starting to be uncomfortable, but never mind, I'm enjoying the view. I pass various canyons, and at one rest stop, a local stops by me and seriously offers me two camels for my Guzzi. I can't believe my ears. How would I even bring them back to Slovakia???
I carry on, taking photos every so often. The greenery has long since disappeared, replaced by local oases. It’s fascinating how some places can be brought back to life. In one spot, I find enormous lakes with no soul in sight – this could be that lake: Dam’s landscape | ⴰⵙⴽⵙⵓ ⵏ ⴰⵎⴷⴰ. I was genuinely surprised that no one was on its shores. The towns were already different, clearly facing the brunt of the sun and heat. They were therefore half-empty and scorching hot. But I still encountered groups of people. It was always most lively in the larger towns, where even the high temperatures didn't completely paralyse local life. The towns thinned out, the temperature started to reach the 40s, hinting at the approaching desert. And so it was. Suddenly sand, dunes, a strong hot wind – I had sand everywhere and still find it in some things today. The wind was so strong that at times it tossed me about too. Add to that sand on the roads, not pleasant at all, I tell you. According to the navigation, I have a few kilometres to go to the campsite, so I switch on mobile data to guide me where I need to be.
I descend from the asphalt road to a trampled gravel and sand road and here begins another adventure. This is where I realised my big mistake, I hadn't selected or set the mode to off. The motorbikes were flying horribly under my butt, here I realise that I would need to do some adv course at home to be able to enjoy such surfaces more. The roads here were not marked at all, car tracks in all directions. Where the fuck is my campsite? It wasn't long before I was up to my gimbal in sand. Terribly treacherous terrain for an ignorant person of my caliber 🙂 Dressed, baked, loaded, in 43°C foot digging moto style: hands holding moto by the trunk, foot digging out sand, then switching to handlebars, moving back 3.4 cm, switching back to trunk, digging out sand, and continuing like that until I get to a paved surface. On the last few metres I master this way of riding a few more times. I also invented such swear words and their combinations that our language doesn't even know by mistake 🙂 I come to the campsite, I ask the guys on the other side if I am right, no no, you have to go back the way you came and turn right there somewhere. Kuuuuur.a fix. Under the gas, with my ass dancing, I come to the next kepmo, I get stuck in, fuck.m on it, I'll leave it there even if it's the wrong campsite again. I fold my helmet, head out between the tents. Dog barking everywhere, nobody anywhere. The camp was a tent camp by the way, in the desert... I find 3 corpses lying under the shelter, one gets up, comes to me, I ask him if I'm right. He smiles at me saying yes. I ask him what am I staying here alone, he says yes. I put my hands on my face saying, I am so stupid man. Who stays in a tent in the desert where it's 43°C during the day? Jaaa. But then again, I'll probably never forget it. He shows me my tent, I go drop my stuff in it... That was probably enough for tears. I broke out in a sweat, immediately, it was probably 50°C there too. I went to take my stuff off the moto, I didn't even care anymore that it was in the sand up to the gimbal 🙂 Heat, terrible heat. I unpacked, I didn't even try to close the door in the tent. Apparently the guys saw I was KO, so they brewed extra strong mint tea and offered me a bed under the palm shelter. I lay down there and didn't move for several hours. The tea was great. Meanwhile, the corpses from the tent had woken up and were working on repairs in the camp, in the kitchen and wherever. Like it was 20°C in there. After a while, the owner stopped by, wanting to console me that it would be more pleasant as the sun went down and I should go for a barefoot walk on the surrounding dunes. In the meantime, the FR family, who were also staying in the tent next door, got there and went snowboarding in the dunes. As the sun started to set, the temperature really dropped, down to 38, down from 43... I was still about 50 in the tent though 🙂 Eventually I did head out into the dunes behind the campground. It was a very powerful experience. In the meantime, we still agreed to have dinner. Otherwise, hats off to the guys. They made soup, tahini, rice, potatoes, veggies in the heat and in the tent kitchen. I don't get it. Back from the dunes I take a shower, meanwhile the camp has prepared for the night life, two tables set up, the other for a neighboring family. It was all incredibly nicely prepared. It's clear to me that they only live off nutters like me, that's why they're trying to 200% They started bringing food to the table, until I begged them not to bring so much, I can't eat it all after all. They didn't let on. When the food was flowing out of my ears, they brought coffee, water, cleaned up the set, brought drums and the pleasant Berber „spectacle“ began. They tried for my interaction, but they didn't break me. The family next door didn't have the same determination and they drummed along. We then got into a conversation with the owner where he described to me the really tough life in the desert. Really hard. Here I must also mention my thought processes, where I became aware of the petty things we think about, material and immaterial desires. Here you see children who are barefoot, in tattered clothes, and with primitive toys made out of junk from the garbage dump. The boy had a toy car made out of a plastic motor oil bottle, wheels and string. At times a sad and powerful sight. The flip side. I met an awful lot of people playing with cell phones in their hands. Even where I would have absolutely not expected it. Another, very interesting fact is that even deep in the desert there was still perfect internet signal, I even had wifi 100 meters from my camp in the desert. Coming back to those cell phones, I had the urge to take a little pee. Huge empty plains all around. A rock about 3m to my right, I stop, run behind the rock, unzip, and there's jeeeb, a guy with a cell phone in his hand, you wouldn't understand. Even on scooters, gas in one hand, cell phone in the other :). Back to the desert. Before going to the tent, I arrange an adventurous camel ride into the desert to see the sunrise. A guy shows me where to be ready at five in the morning behind the campsite. I lie in bed in the tent, not even trying to close the door, my shirt draped over my forehead, leaking like shit. I get up at 04:40 in the morning with a strong wind, sand everywhere. In pitch-black darkness and sepulchral silence I leave for the agreed place. I tell myself that if I meet this Berber with a camel here it will be a miracle, I don't believe it, maybe I misunderstood him. How could anyone come here in total darkness, in the wind, sand whipping up from below. And fact, 4:55 I see a tiny light nearby and the sigh of a camel 🙂 Unbelievable. We shake hands, introduce ourselves, he tightens the saddle and shows me how to mount. The feeling when the camel lies down or stands up with you is also an experience. And we've even headed into the depths of the dunes in total darkness, the gentleman just shining his cell phone. For exactly an hour he led me into the desert. We stopped under a big dune, he gestured for me to go up, wait for the sunrise and enjoy it. So I did. I tell you, everyone should experience that. Being up there alone, with the waking sun gradually watering the tops of the dunes is just „ohs (awesome)“. I enjoyed the solitude of the dunes for an hour and we drove back for another hour. Berber, meanwhile, lay down next to the camel, stroked her muzzle and gave her some kibble to eat. It was obvious that he liked her. Upon arrival, necessary packing, another shower. I ask the owner not to bring too much for breakfast. After a while he brought breakfast, but if this wasn't enough for him... I don't want to know what a lot is. 🙂 By the way, the toilet and showers were shared in the tents. The roof and the separate walls were made of tarpaulin, BUT, the floors were tiled and the toilets were ceramic, with flush. You've never seen that before. In the desert.
„Move to Fes“
The owner offered to unnavigate me to the asphalt road. He gestures for me to follow his car and follow his trail, and it really helped quite a bit, no digging. Today, for the first time, I had my trip planned out so that I didn't actually have a plan. My goal was to get to the port of Ceuta and I had 2 days to do it. The only thing I had in my navigation was the Great Atlas Mountains with the Todgha Gorge crossing point, which I had read was already horribly overrun, full of tourists and pushy vendors. It really is. I didn't feel the need to stop there at all, although I was annoyed that I didn't get a selfie with Guzinka. That's why I pass this place without stopping. Well, then it came. After about 15 - 20 km people disappeared, but completely. A wasteland, maybe 200 km no traffic, no towns, total emptiness. Occasionally two ghosts appeared on the road on one broken down scooter. In places I came across fascinating green oases in the total emptiness: grass, some wheat, heaps of onions, some tufts of grass for donkeys. Breathtaking scenery. And then nothing again for a long time. Roads, you just have to experience it, you're driving on tarmac, at a bend the whole road disappears and there's gravel or a deposit of rocks from the next hill, or sand, after 100 metres tarmac, as if nothing. As soon as it appears, it disappears. That taught me to anticipate horribly and drive really carefully. Villages that I first thought were movie sets from when Indiana Jones was being filmed. I tell myself that if I get a flat tire here, I'll be dismembered. But they were just villages made for hard African life. In one village, a guy with a bottle of petrol and a funnel beckons to me, and I wonder in my mind what the hell he's waving at me for? Ah, gradually I found out why. You won't really find a single gas station far and wide. Thank God and the Italians that the Guzzi has a 23 litre tank. I was also very lucky to have refuelled. But gradually my ass got so tight that I went with an average consumption of 3,6l and reached the pump with a range of - 80 km from the moment, which showed a range of 0. Here you really need to prepare and have a decent supply of petrol if you have a small tank. If I had run out of gas in those mountains, I would have been in decent sh.crap.
As time went on, I began to wonder where I was actually going to go, where I was going to pass out if I arrived within a day. I didn't want to end the journey just yet, I was itching to move on. But at one point I had to stop and decide on the direction of Fes or Meknes. I stopped on the side of the road, by the way, in Morocco you don't have affalt roadsides, you have gravel roadsides. I lower the side stand, sit on the moto, stare pleadingly at my mobile and suddenly j.b on my right side. My first facilitation and with such an awfully big schoolboy error. Simply a crooked roadside. Moron I am, let me tell you. The protective frame did its job on the 100% + took it's toll on the side case. I've seen plenty of videos of dudes lifting their gees, I'll give it that. Oh no I won't. Heavy it was, very heavy. I didn't give it up. So I buckled myself in, backwards, like in the instructions, and held it off the ground as long as I could so I wouldn't lose gas. With my other hand I waved for help to all the passers-by, but I guess I just got a wave back 🙂 Until at one point a car with a Coca-Cola bottle stopped, a young guy got out and helped me get the moto on the stand. Then he ran to his car and came back with his mobile. He shows me pictures of his R1, and that he is a biker too. And that's why he actually stopped me. I hereby thank him once again from the bottom of my heart. I'm a bit wiser again. The Guzzinka is not for heavy terrain, maybe for someone with experience, and that's why I admire those who ride heavy „cows“ off-road. I don't understand how they lift it then. And I'm no tintie. Just hats off to you. That's why I have thoughts in my head about the KTM 790 so far, but the KARDAN and cruise control is a very strong link to the Guzzinka.
So this is the moment to decide where my steps will lead. So I choose Fés, straight to Booking. I find a place called Blue Sky, for some 40€ with breakfast and checkin until 23:00. I confirm the reservation and flee. Meanwhile, I notice a message that they don't have parking. But I don't have time to deal with it anymore and I'm hoping to get there as soon as possible. I had no awareness of this city at all. But the night arrival totally killed me 🙂 It's a gigantic city with even more gigantic traffic. Cars, buses, scooters, trucks. Carnage. And the biggest carnage was the roundabouts. 3-4 lanes in front of them, you get into the roundabout, all the lanes suddenly disappear, you get out and the lanes are back again. I noticed a strange thing a few times. I get into the roundabout, alone, everyone is standing, looking at me like I'm crazy, why? Why am I alone in the roundabout. I look in my rear view mirror and there's a traffic light, still with a red light 🙂 The cops were standing behind the roundabout and just gave me a nod. And the irony is that no one even honked at me. The cops who are on every corner didn't stop me, no one wanted to push me out. (Otherwise, about those cops: they're at the beginning and end of every major town, and they only stop locals. Tourists like me, for example, they just wave with a smile).
Around ten o'clock I reached the place where the hotel was supposed to be, but I didn't see it anywhere. Sure enough, right away a local came up to me and asked me if I had a place to stay and how he could help me. I tell him that I have a hotel, but I can't find it. After finding out the name of my hotel he tells me that it belongs to his cousin, I have a good choice and takes me to him. Really, it was about 70 meters from there. The street was terribly busy, lots of people and cars. I say to myself, where am I going to leave my moto? The owner of the hotel came right away, tells me to check in, unload and about 100 meters away there is a covered paid parking lot and for some 5€ or so I can park there until morning. So I was glad that this was also possible. There was a restaurant attached to the hotel so I unpacked, changed and ran downstairs. In the end, it was the chicken burger with veggies that won it, yay, veggies. But it wasn't until halfway through the burger that my friend warned me over the news to watch out for the veggies. I had successfully avoided that the whole time, as I had avoided anything that might have come into contact with Moroccan water without cooking. Holy shit. I fall asleep in the evening with my ears plugged and the air conditioning on. I wouldn't have fallen asleep otherwise. To this day, I still don't understand the mindset of Moroccan engineers when designing bathrooms. Water everywhere, but that everywhere.
„Transfer to the port of Ceuta“
I wake up at ease in the morning. Actually, it's not so much at ease. I'm actively texting with my girlfriend; in fact, we've been texting throughout the entire trip, discussing our little 18-month-old princess. At one point, the sixth disease, post-vaccination symptoms, and troublesome teething all coincided. She doesn't sleep at all at night, and during the day, she's a little grump. My girlfriend is absolutely exhausted, so with humility, I'm changing my plans, cancelling the original plan for Portugal and Spain. The destination is therefore Ceuta, and then it's straight home via motorways, so I can be with them as soon as possible. Regardless, many would have thought of me as selfish, spineless, for embarking on such a journey even though I knew about the potential pitfalls. Oh well.
I'm quickly buying a ferry ticket. Of course, in my haste I picked a time I definitely won't make, why wouldn't I create stress artificially, right? Luckily, a few emails during breakfast will sort out a change of time to the correct one. Thanks FRS Ferry.
I'm getting on the bike and trying to get to the harbour as quickly as possible, after all, I don't know what awaits me at the borders.
So I'm walking, walking, when suddenly that thing, the vegetable, woke up. I broke out in a sweat, a cold sweat. My sphincter clenched so tight you couldn't even fit a hair in it. In a moment I stopped, already braking, looking where I could relieve myself. But you can't just pull over anywhere in town. Instantly I shovelled 2 Imodium tablets into myself, washed down with Coke, a superb helper for intestinal problems, by the way. And then I was thinking, either I'm going to put on a show on the roadside here, or it's going to leak out of one of my trousers while I'm still moving. All the saints were with me. The cramp eased, but not completely, so I wouldn't get used to it. And so, with sweat on my brow but without a defect in my trousers, and with stomach cramps, I carried on. The countryside had turned green again here, hills, grass, trees everywhere. A terribly beautiful scenery, to which I must definitely return, because with the thought of shitting myself, you can't really enjoy it.
Upon arriving in the town of Fnideq (google it, it's a really nice and clean place), I know the border isn't far now, and the stress slightly subsides. But upon arriving at the border, along with the heat and the queues, the stress is back, along with the thought of liquid crystal. So I reach for more Imodium, wash it down with cola, and stand aside in the shade, waiting to see what happens. By the way, after this dose of Imodium, the next time I'll empty my cargo will be a few days after I get home, but you probably didn't want to know that. It looks like we might move up one car, so I get on the motorbike and move forward. Unfortunately, I have luggage, so I can't wriggle into the front spots. At that point, a guy gets out of about the 5th-6th car ahead of me and shows me why I'm not going forward. I gesture to the car in front of me, saying I simply can't get through. He then approached and apparently told the driver to move aside. They did, and the cars in front of them did too. He even helped navigate me around the tight lamps, and suddenly I was second in line. Unbelievable. Again. 🙂
The exit check was terribly long-winded, they checked everything and absolutely everyone, they searched my luggage, I handed over my card, and only then were they let into the EU. I said to the Spanish customs officer that Morocco is nice, but the EU is the EU. With a laugh, he let me through without a check.
Beyond the border, I park, open the booking app and look for suitable accommodation; I've had enough today... I find the Hotel Rural Los Jarales above the town of Istán in the hills, where I arrive around nine in the evening. I have a three-course menu in the hotel restaurant for about 25€, as it can't be ordered otherwise. But the view from the restaurant of the nighttime town was worth it.
„A pointless move home“
My accommodation is without breakfast, as I want to leave early. And there are mostly only motorways to go. I have only one destination today, and that is Andorra. The destination was about 1 200 km away, the 90% motorway. Somewhere in the hills at the end of Spain, I open the booking again and see where I fold. So Andorra is not one of the cheapest destinations. I find a hotel: the Hotel Les 7 Claus with arrival around 22:00. During the drive they text me back to say they apologize but they can't arrange parking for me, I only managed to describe to them that I have a moto and didn't deal with it any more. Upon arrival, my aunt reassured me that they had a garage and for 10€ I could park there. I arrived in Andorra in the evening, so I didn't take much notice of the surroundings and the whole city. The traffic reminded me a bit of Gibraltar. For dinner I ate what I saved on the way :), I didn't have breakfast again as I wanted to get out as soon as possible. Today the goal was to drive as much of FR as possible, on motorways of course. In the morning, as I drove through Andorra, I was blown away by the architecture and also the scenery. Andorra is definitely worth a separate vacation. A very nice little country. The crossing to FR was very nice, surrounded by mountains and nice mountain scenery. Followed by the French countryside which is also very nice, traffic was minimal, they let motorcyclists in from a distance. I had a really good ride there. I had a late breakfast somewhere in a backwater town in Mekács. There was still a bit of country road leading from there, I could spend days on those. And then the merciless highway. Otherwise, almost everywhere on the highways, I was haunted by temperatures of 30 - 35°C. So frequent stops for fluids were a necessity. Arriving at the motorway was characterised by a huge mega funnel where the 3 lane road widened to perhaps 100 lanes, after buying a ticket the funnel shrunk again 🙂 It was my first contact with a toll gate, which scared me a bit how I would handle it, but paying by card was hassle free just about everywhere. The amount I left there was close to 100€, so enough for me. Which pissed me off a bit that I was passing the countryside, but whatever, next time. Another thing that fascinated me are the rest stops on the highway. I haven't experienced a better one anywhere yet. Lots of space with benches, woods, space for e.g. a tent, caravan. Despite that, the journey went quite briskly and fatigue didn't bother me. Guzzi is really comfortable bike in combination with cruise control. In the evening, around nine o'clock, I started to think where I would lay my head. I wasn't too happy with the Booking, accommodation for 130€ and more was too much for me at the moment. So I chose the alternative of finding a resting place with a bench and a backrest. That I pull out my sleeping bag and don't deal, hmm, didn't find it 🙂 Half a night later I had enough and found a resting place with a forest. 30 minutes after midnight I had my tent set up (first time in the whole trip), I threw what I could into it and went to sleep. But it was hot as shit, there were trucks in the parking lot a short distance away, cooling, I mean, humming all night, and to make matters worse, a car pulled up somewhere across the street from me and shined a light straight into my tent. Annoyingly this 🙂 + I wasn't happy about the reputation of rest stops and motorbike thefts, so I kept snooping out. The provocateur changed his mind after some time, so I could continue sweating undisturbed in the tent 🙂 By morning I was already up at six o'clock. I wanted to pack it in before the place started swarming. I also used the cooker for the first time 🙂 and brewed some coffee. I finished what I could, ate what the ants hadn't eaten the night before and off I went to Germany. Germany was just highways, Austria detto. In Germany I was surprised by the amount of road closures, reconstructions, restrictions. It was not even possible to fly there. Rescue lanes didn't say much to them either, but OK, they let the motorbike through, they didn't honk at me. The transition to the AT was sometime in the early evening. I took my last major break and then it was on to Vienna. Before Vienna, I gave the last refueling, bought some buns and schnitzel for a late dinner and headed home. Around Vienna it started, exactly what hadn't hit me the whole trip. 3 lanes, going in the right lane, and an Octavia sticking close behind me. From Slovakia (Sobrance). A little further on, another car squeezed in front of me. From Slovakia (East). At the Kittsee - Jarovce border the car opposite flashed the high beams, yes I was packed, so it probably lit up a bit, I flashed to let him know I didn't have the high beams on. And the jerk turned the high beams on hard. From Slovakia (Galanta) From this one can make a judgement that we are really intolerant pigs. No collision in the whole time, not even in Fez, but you arrive in SK and you know you're home 🙂
I got home around one in the morning, had a shower, a roll with a schnitzel, and went straight to bed. As time went on, it all started to sink in, and euphoria from the whole trip set in, which is still feeding my mind these days and will for a long time to come.
The trip was a very memorable experience for me, and I recommend it to everyone, even if you're travelling alone; you are master of your own destiny. When the little one grows up, I will definitely return to Morocco, along the west coast and back via the Atlas. Which, at the time of writing, is likely quite damaged by the earthquake, which I regret, as it’s not easy for any of them.
