11th june
8.0am - Peter picked us up in his support vehicle - a Toyota Land Cruiser and whisked us off to his house to pick up our bikes. Peter suggests that Paul and I take a couple of the XR400's whilst he rides an XR250. I am a little apprehensive about this as I can only reach the floor on one side of the bike and that being on 'tip toe' - my own bike back in the UK is a Serow which is ideal for 'shorties' like me. We also meet the 2 'boys' - Petes backup crew: Abdul Jaleel and Moustafa who fill up our water bladders for us and start the bikes for the first time. A quick kiss from daughter Zahra ( a Moroccan custom ) and we are off for a short route on tarmac and then quite quickly on to the Piste. Now Paul had never ridden off road before but was quite experienced on the race track having won his first race at the Jamie Whitham race school in Thailand last year - this had led me to expect that it would be Paul who would be 'bringing up the rear' BUT! - Peter shoots off like the proverbial 'robbers dog' with Paul in hot pursuit leaving me in a cloud and trail of dust. I let them get ahead - mainly so I can see the trail and not just eat dust - and blast off after them as quickly as I can/dare.
Dirt biking heaven
I'm used to pottering about the Yorkshire Dales and Peak district on my trusty Serow with an occasional fast blast on tarmac between trails but these guys were off at enduro speeds and I was mounted on a beast on which I couldn't even 'dab' a foot down. Nevertheless I carry on after them for several miles through barren but strangely beautiful scenery where eventually I find Pete and Paul waiting for me at a small Oasis. Pete says it isn't a problem that I can't / won't keep up but to go at my own pace and that they will always wait for me to catch up - however I explain that part of the problem is my lack of confidence with the 400's height so we simply swap bikes and are off again.
My confidence grows with the more familiar 250 - my friend Chris has one in the UK so I know the bikes characteristics although Pete had swapped the standard 48 tooth rear sprocket for a 45 tooth which made the bike more tractable and less likely to rev out - also the baffles had been removed on all the bikes.
We head off and I soon catch the guys up at a dried up river bed - not suprising as there had been no rain for 3 years. Pete suggests we travel up the river for a bit on very soft sand - Yeah! this was more like it - I leave Paul behind as he had never been on the 'soft stuff' before and was unsure of the way to tackle it - I closely follow Pete and nail the throttle in top gear with the back end squirming all over the place - loads of fun - grin factor 10! - at least if you come off on soft sand its a soft landing. We travel for a couple of miles up this bed with the trail visible on the left hand side sometimes hitting 'big air' on rises in the sand - at one section there is half a dozen or so large, deep cross ruts spaced roughly a metre apart, which I don't see until I am almost on top of them - my backside lifts straight off the bike and somehow I mange to get across them and stay on the machine - heart racing I carry on - reaching Pete at the trail where we wait for Paul to catch up. Pete suggests that Paul takes the lead and follows the trail whilst we follow on behind. A little further on Pete turns off piste and drops down into the river bed, the same high speed thrash across the 'soft stuff' brings further grins to my face until I hit a large, partially buried rock which causes a real 'tank slapper' but again somehow I manage to stay on the bike but this time with a higher concentration on what lies ahead instead of glances to watch the scenery on either side. We catch Paul up at a junction in the trail and climb up out of the valley floor - reaching our lunch stop at Tazenakht. We Strip off our now soaked gear and consume sugary drinks and lamb brochettes - pieces of lamb on skewers grilled over charcoal accompanied by chopped tomatoes with coriander and freshly baked flat bread - Nice! , and we sure do need to replenish the energy lost.
After lunch we set off onwards and upwards into the mountains - it looks like we could have been on the surface of Mars - beautiful, desolate and remote - earily silent when we stop the bikes for a break - women leading donkeys laden with brush , the mountains all shapes and sizes , the countless children in the villages running down to wave at us , smiling happy faces and the girls! - stunningly beautiful with large dark eyes and hennaed decorated hands and feet. In one small settlement , on the brow of a hill , we come across the whole village gathered at the side of the road and I glance the sight of a man bent over a child or lamb on a carpet - Pete later told me that this was probably a naming celebration and the man was either performing a circumcision on a child or the ritual sacrificing a lamb for the same ceremony.
We stop for sweet mint tea at Anzal - a small settlement resembling a ghost town in a Western film - the village mainly consists of a large court yard with houses down three sides - seemingly all connected together. Behind one of the old shuttered doors was an upstairs room , we sit on old raised covered benches which run around the walls and the proprietor serves us with tea and a plate of local almonds , he also provides top up petrol for the bikes from an old tin can. We thank the old man and as we leave the kids came out and wave us on our way. As I ride on I am left with a feeling of wonderment and admiration for these poor but proud people who manage to survive and make a living in such a remote and isolated place.
me and local boy - Anzal
The piste takes us up to 6000 feet and the terrain becomes much more fertile with trees dotted on the slopes of the mountains and even some grass growing in the river beds , horses too and sheep - all skinny but fast. Again I let Pete and Paul blast on and I keep my own pace so I can enjoy the stunning scenery all around me - I still don't feel safe cornering at high speed but am slowly gaining confidence , even steering using the rear wheel - roosting around the uphill hairpins. On one descent Pete stops at a hairpin and spying a goat track asks if we want to try what looks like a shortcut down the mountain - of course Paul and I agree and set off down the narrow 18 inch wide track - now what looked like a track from the safety of the piste soon deteriorates into a deep rut which almost swallows the wheels up to the footrests. Compounding this - the rut has a steep and nasty drop-off on the left-hand side. So paddling madly with my right foot against the hillside and not daring to look down to the left I follow Pete down the hillside - this is really exhausting in the afternoon heat and having lost sight of Pete and no sign of Paul behind me I somehow drop down and end up in a newly plowed field - with no visible way back up to the path. Eventually Pete must have turned around and is caught looking down at me from the path several feet above me - there is a steep banking leading up to the path so - into 1st gear , up on the pegs and I 'go for it' - well I make it to the top all right but the path isn't wide enough to get the length of the XR onto it , I brake with the rear wheel still on the apex of the banking - the camber of the path is such that I start slipping backwards down the bank - praying for a soft landing and heart in my mouth I slip right back down the slope only dropping the bike at the bottom. No damage to me except my pride and a bent footrest on the XR - Pete slides down the slope and starts the now flooded bike for me and rides it back round the field and onto the path . Cheers Peter! We somehow manage to get down to the piste and wait for Paul who arrives soaked in sweat - his first ever rut experience completely knackering him. "Ruts and soft sand I don't like" exclaims Paul .
Yet again I let Pete and Paul take the lead and reaching a dry reservoir I take the wrong turning , realising there are no bike marks on the trail I turn around and some locals direct me back to the trail - I catch up with the other two and we carry on. The piste soon gets quite wide and I end up eating dust as I get covered in Pete and Pauls dust trails as I somehow manage to keep up with them until eventually we reach a stretch of tarmac which leeds us to our Auberge at Aulouz.
Auberge at Aulouz
The Auberge was recently renovated and had been lovingly restored to offer simple but comfortable accommodation - an open ( to the sky ) central area/courtyard ( even had a stream running through it ) with rooms running around the sides on 2 levels. My room has the bed on the floor on brilliantly patterned rugs - sitting under my window writing my journal - there's no electricity here , candlelight - wall hand paintings of colourful flowers in bowls - thatched roof above my head with huge poplar beams - strange insect noises outside coming from the date tree outside my window - Wonderful! Pete and 'the boys' have rejetted one of the 400's and after showers by candlelight we all sit down in one of the upstairs rooms and by gaslight we all tuck into a communal meal served on a large earthenware plate ( Tagine ) - couscous, chicken, pumpkin, and fresh vegetables. The heaped plate looks like a work of art and it is almost a pity to demolish it but this we do , and with a desert of fresh fruit we retire early to our beds dreaming of the days experiences.
Mileage: 180km piste / 60km tarmac