Got up early and took the ferry across the Gibraltar Straights. Upon arrival at Ceuta (on the African continent but still Spanish territory) there was 10 kms or so to cycle to the Moroccan border. It took about an hour to get through, not that there was a huge crowd but they take your passport inside and let you wait wondering what's happening... Eventually, you get it back stamped... All the while, a bunch of hustlers badger you about taxi rides, hotels, food, etc...

From the border, Tetouan is about 35 kms away, all on relatively flat terrain. Tetouan is just at the edge of the Rif mountains. The road was surprisingly good though you shared it with everything from camels to mules and carts, bicycles, mopeds, cars, trucks and buses... And when I entered Tetouan the horde of hustlers were back pestering me.

From my first glimpse of Morocco, I didn't feel safe camping. Vagrants are everywhere on the road. In fact, the unemployment is so high (50%) that a lot of people just wander from place to place looking for work. The roads are therefore filled continuously with people. A room in a pension only costs the equivalent of about Can$7 per night, therefore there is no need to camp, in fact, a camping site is more expensive than that in Canada.

I get myself a room (and am allowed to take Titus inside) then go wandering the city and its medina.

Tetouan, in my opinion, is the prettiest little city in Morocco.

Morocco used to be a French colony, hence everybody speaks French, which made it easy for me to communicate. I ended up spending another day in Tetouan exploring and getting used to Morocco. The food's great here and cheap as well... harira (a delightfully spiced vegetable soup), tajine (which is basically couscous with veggies and meat), beautiful puff pastries (better than in France), nougat and of course Moroccan mint tea (strong green tea boiled forever poured in a glass on demand with lots of sugar and filled with fresh mint leaves) which is delicious and became my standard drink here. In fact, all through Morocco, I'd often take breaks from cycling at little teahouses for pastries and mint tea.

I left Tetouan and cycled due west, across the Rif mountains to Tanger. Although the first 25 kms were all uphill, it wasn't too hot and the altitude gain was only about 340 meters. A nice ride.

Tanger was a disappointment. It's a big port city on the Atlantic coast, seen above from the northeastern side... Pretty seedy and not too clean. I only stayed a night here and continued on my way down the Atlantic coast.

Cycling south along the Atlantic coastline, it took me a while to get out of Tanger as the city just stretches on and on. The road was level at first then turned hilly.

I passed through this charming little fortified coastal village about 45 kms south of Tanger. A village of mostly fishermen, Asilah's atmosphere is laid back and I spent a couple of hours sipping mint tea and eating pastries before hitting the road again.

The coast is beautiful and slightly less arid than the interior... Lots of clouds, raining at sea... but it hardly ever rains in the interior.

Larache wasn't very interesting, so I only spent the night there.

I tried to get an early start out of Larache but couldn't leave since the people at the hotel were still asleep. By 9AM I woke them up to pay and leave but they couldn't make the change for 200 Dirham (about Can$25) so I had to go and find a bank. By the time I left it was 10 AM. Too late to try and cycle down the coast to Kenitra (on the way to Casablanca) as it gets dark around 7 PM (2 hours difference with Spain) and there's very little between for accommodations and such, so I decided to leave the coast and head into the valley between the Rifs and Middle Atlas mountains towards Meknès with a night stop-over at Souk-el-Arba.

The ride was nice, not too hot, and though mostly uphill I had the wind at my back from the Atlantic.

In Souk-el-Arba, there aren't any hustlers... or any tourists. I took a room at a tavern. The tavern itself has no windows, as Muslims aren't allowed to consume alcohol, so that passers-by can't see who's inside.

I started out early and covered the 62 kms to Sidi Kacem by noon. The road had been relatively straight, level and featureless. Had mint tea and pastries, then started out on the second, much hillier, half to Meknès.

Meknès, past Imperial City, is pretty colourful and I spent an extra day here exploring around and nursing a little bout with the "runs".

The Medersa Bou Inania used to be an Islamic school where students would study the Coran to become priests. The intricate carvings are just beautiful... Aren't they ?

Just below, are photos of a Mosque in Meknès, the Moulay Kmail Mausoleum. Like all cultures, even though life may be harsh and poor, Moroccans spend lavishly on their religion...

A couple of delicious new dishes I sampled in Meknès were the "bessara" which is a thick soup of crushed chick peas served piping hot with a dollop of olive oil and nutmeg, usually eaten for breakfast with "reif" which is a flat bread fried in a little olive oil and spices. For dinner on my second evening in Meknès I had "pastilla" which is a pigeon meat, vegetable and nut pie in a very light, thin and flaky pastry, sprinkled with powdered sugar and sliced nuts... I just love Moroccan food !

In the morning I had the "runs" again, but took a couple of "Imodium’s" and left anyway east towards Fès. The road was pretty level and I made good time, arriving at Fès by early afternoon.

Fès was the current Imperial City... and I didn't find it too welcoming... The population was arrogant, high in self-importance and not helpful at all... after having all kinds of trouble finding a secure place for Titus and spending a night there, I left...

I found a mid-range hotel (about Can$25 for the night) with a private bathroom since I still had the "runs", but they didn't want anything to do with Titus. A hustler outside told me that I could park it at a tire dealership nearby and went to get the watchman so we all went to secure Titus, then I went to settle in my room. When I came out to go for dinner, the hustler was waiting outside and said that he would move my bike somewhere inside for the night... I didn't like that so I told him I felt sick and went back into the hotel. I waited a bit, looking through a window, till the hustler left and went to see the watchman by myself. He was agreeable for me to lock the bike up near his guard dog for the night, so I left for dinner.

The Imodium instructions said that I shouldn't eat any greasy stuff, fruits or vegetables... only clear unspiced soups... Well, that doesn't leave much in Morocco... I found a restaurant with meat and eggs and settled for an omelette and liver with rice... I couldn't finish my plate, not feeling too well... the waiter took my plate, went into a corner and finished my meal !

In the morning, when I went out for breakfast, the hustler was outside waiting for me and said that the tire dealership owner wanted me to take my bike away... I went there and pleaded to the owner, but he didn't want the responsibility, so I took my bike back to the hotel. The hotel still wasn't helpful and I tried a couple of others without any success... I was getting fed-up, so I packed-up, took another Imodium and left Fès...

Well, there's nothing between Fès and Taza for 120 kms. The ride out of Fès was gruelling... Really hot and the first 10 kms where a climb of 575 meters... By 1PM, I had cycled the first 60 kms and was tired. So I took a break before cycling up the next pass (about another 500 meters).

The southern edge of the Rif Mountains from across a hydroelectric reservoir.

I took a break, from the heat and cycling uphill, in the Middle Atlas mountains between Fès and Taza, joking around with the locals. A kind threesome offered me a ride in their pick-up truck to the top of the next pass.

That was nice... and it left me only about 20 kms more to cycle to Taza and it was all downhill.

Taza is pretty desolate. A large village at the edge of the desert. I find a place to crash (very basic, no showers nor hot water, no sheets, but I can take Titus in my room) and treat myself to some Moroccan nougat before dinner. During dinner, I study my maps. There's nothing but desert between Taza and Nador, a distance of 194 kms... I'm sick and don't feel up to cycling such a distance in a day even though there aren't any steep grades... And I'm not sure about the advisability of camping alone in the desert, so I resolve to take the bus in the morning to Nador.

In the morning, I had breakfast with a young French guy doing irrigation work in Taza and his Moroccan neighbour while waiting for the bus to Nador. The Moroccan guy was going to Nador as well, so I was glad for the company. The tickets are purchased at the bus and the attendant told me the fare was 200 dirhams. The Moroccan with me argued in Arab with the attendant and told me that the fare was really 40 dirhams plus 20 more for the bicycle. I gladly paid, but later noticed that the Moroccan accompanying me never paid, so I guess the 60 dirhams included his fare... ! Oh well... you can't avoid getting swindled a bit... it would've been worse with the attendant.

The ride took 3 hours and a bit... The bus first rode east to Guercil (just a few rinky-dink houses in the desert) then to Taorit (another small bunch of houses in the desert) and then turned north to Nador... At Guercil the Sahara was apparent, and the rest of the way only little shrubs here and there, the rest, sand and rocks... It would have been a long, hot, killer bicycle ride in my current state, dehydrated with the "runs".

At Nador, I got rid of the Moroccan guy who was insisting on getting me to a hotel or restaurant, and cycled my way up to Melilla stopping on the way for "reif", honey and mint tea. At Melilla (Spanish territory on the African continent, like Ceuta), I took a room for the night waiting for the ferry to Almeria, Spain the next day.

Morocco is a beautiful country... Mountains, valleys... cities with a nice mix of old and new... Nice food... Superb tea... And nice people or so I thought... I had more human interactions in Morocco than in France, Spain or Portugal...

At first I thought that it was because so many had no work and hence weren't hurried... It kind of fit... France is the most hurried, then Spain, Portugal is more relaxed and Morocco is almost sleepy... and so goes their economies.

But after a while, once you've sifted out the obvious hustlers, you find that the remainder are still hustling you... just in a less obvious way... they don't ask for anything... get friendly...and know that, invariably, if you have tea, you'll offer them one... a pastry, whatever else... They're poor and they hustle... some more subtly than others... But then, if you come right down to it, any human interaction is give and take... So they still come out as a warm people.

Their roads, believe it or not, are better than Portugal's... It was a pleasure cycling in Morocco... No rain, or very little of it and it doesn't last... lot's of sun... interesting mix of vehicles... you pass camels (I only saw the one bump kind), mules with and without cart; while cars, trucks and buses pass you without much fuss... Lots of people on foot either walking, working (herders with sheep or cows) or resting by the roads everywhere... so you can stop and chat (most people speak some French as my Arabic never got good enough). You invariably have mountains, cultured valleys or small villages to look at and can easily stop for mint tea every 30 kms... and they make their mint tea with lots of sugar so it keeps you going strong...

The distances are very long though between settlements large enough to have a hotel or some kind of accommodation... and with so many vagrants on the roads it isn't really safe to camp in the middle of nowhere...so you're limited in the north to cycling less than 100 kms or if you skip one village with a hotel, the next one will be too far to reach in the same day... Anywhere else, distances are beyond 100 kms in between... which makes it unsuitable for cycling unless you're with a group large enough to offer each other some security while camping.

The accommodations though... and the main reason why I stayed only 10 days or so in Morocco... are barely better than camping out, and only because you get some security and if it rains (as it often does at sunset as the air cools down and the clouds coming from the Atlantic coast condense) at least your gear stays dry.

The better hotels, with in suite bathrooms and hot water (as I targeted when I had a bout of loose bowels for a couple of days) won't have anything to do with your bike. The difference between the have's and the have not's in Morocco is pretty striking... and the have's are very pretentious... If you're travelling by bike, you're poor and you shouldn't even be here... they'll take you if you pay cash in advance... but find a place outside on your own for your bike... and Morocco is not the place to leave your bike outside alone at night!!!

Cheaper hotels will always find a way to accommodate your bike. Incidentally... the bike was not a problem anywhere else so far during my trip even at nice hotels other than in Morocco.

Truthfully though, the cheaper hotels in Morocco are filthy... you wouldn't walk bare feet in them... most only have shared squatter's toilet and no paper... when they have a shared shower, it's most often cold... they're unheated and it's not warm in the morning in Morocco in early May... the sink the room often comes with invariably has no plug (and you can't find a plug if you went out to try and buy one... I tried) which makes it difficult to do a laundry... but you wouldn't want to do one in the sink anyways... in fact you wouldn't want to put your hands in the sink to clean it to begin with... The beds often have no sheets, just a couple of blankets over the mattress... and you know that they haven't washed the blankets after the previous customer left...

So after 10 days, I stank... my clothes stank... so I got out of Morocco... I'm too old for this !!!