13th June
8.30am start and almost straight away we head off north on piste across the desert floor - toward the range of mountains looming in the distance. These are brilliant fast trails on the wide valley floor and we blast along for countless miles at high speed. Pete veers off piste to ride on at the side of the trail as its safe here with little in the way of rocks and only sparse clumps of dried up brush to navigate - this really feels like Paris Dakar stuff as the pace is fast but safe and Pete signals to Paul to take the lead as Paul really is a 'speed freak' and loves to be riding at the limit. After several miles Pete loses site of Paul's tracks so we stop and Pete backtracks to try and pick up where he has gone astray - There are some hard packed dunes nearby so I go off for a play whilst awaiting their return - excellent fun but in this heat you soon get too hot to be doing jumps and hill climbs for any length of time. Eventually Pete returns pointing off to a ridge in the distance. Paul has seen us and is on his way back to meet up with us. In the meantime Pete and I have another play riding the dunes but again the heat ensures we don't stay here too long and regain the trail to continue to the mountains ahead of us. Reaching the mountains we ascend quickly to 7000 feet and on the way have another 'play' doing some serious hill climbing up some high and very steep hills which resemble impossibly steep sand dunes - the colour is the same but the sand is tightly packed. We all make it to the top but I take the wrong route on the way down and have to gingerly turn around on a slope of perhaps 45 degrees and not knowing if I would retain traction or be able to get back to the top meant a hairy moment or two - more sweating!
We at last reach the summit and stop on a ridge , we strip off our soaked clothes , lay them out to dry and take in the magnificent vista overlooking the mountains and plain we have just traversed. The colours and shapes of the mountains are awe inspiring.
Paul and Pete drying off
We suit up and descend quickly but I find I'm getting mentally tired and start making mistakes particularly on the sharp descending hairpins and also on the rocky river beds at the bottom. I wonder now on the sensibility of exerting so much energy earlier whilst playing on the dunes and I end up literally miles behind the others as I have to really slow down to navigate the tricky sections. Pete had previously explained that we could take the shorter piste route to our lunch stop or travel the longer but easier although somewhat boring route to Skoura on tarmac. When I catch the guys up I explain my situation and I elect to travel on tarmac the 40 km to Skoura whilst they take the piste route. The road is long, sweltering hot and straight as a die but I am content to let my fuzzy brain have a rest from the sustained concentration of riding the piste , I just nail the throttle and ride through the furnace heat, not seeing another vehicle for the whole journey to Skoura. I arrive at a cafe in the town and strip off and order a nice cold bottle of water - my 2 litres in my backpack had long since dried up. Around 10 minutes later I hear the distinct sound of the XR's - they must have also been nailing it to arrive so shortly after me - Paul testifies to this fact and looks completely shattered. The boys also shortly arrive and we all have a good meal at the cafe El Mawaid. Afterwards we try take a 'power nap' in a shady back room whilst Abdul Jaleel rides the bikes to the petrol station to fill up - Yes! again in his flip flops.
Abdul Jaleel - Skoura - Pete looks on
We set off on tarmac heading towards the mountains and see many villages , many magnificently situated built into the hillsides - all the dwellings coloured the same as the earth and rocks they are built on/from. Eventually we reach the piste on the bed of a dried up river bed - Pete explains that the last time he travelled this route the tarmac was in fact piste and had only recently been asphalted. However there's no asphalt now but lots of loose stones and pebbles lining the river floor - this isn't my best surface but eventually we rise up to a flat plain where we can make good speed on the smooth sand. Real desert landscape this - extremely fast and vigorous riding but we are all enlivened by the food and drink. There are lots of long straight sections through the yellow and brown terrain - mountains on either side and the bends were fast too with well defined berms on their outer edges. You really have to keep up the concentration though as ever so often there are nasty dips in the piste - washouts where water had once run down from the mountains - these are too wide and too deep to reliably jump and anyway as it said on Petes' brochure - No Stunts! . Paul would helpfully stop and wave when he reached one of these washouts to give me a chance of seeing them. In the middle of this vast expanse a young Berber lad appears , seemingly out of nowhere , carrying a water carrier on his shoulder. We stop and Pete chats to him in Arabic - he wants us to buy some of his drink but we obviously decline but he manages to blag a pen off Pete. The boy has a really cheeky face and seems to have an eye condition - maybe he is suffering from Bilharzia? - a water borne disease which is rampant in Morocco and one of the main reasons you don't swim in open water.
Pete with young Berber boy
At the end of the plain we reach signs of habitation and then further on - villages again with Kasbahs. Berber children come running out , as usual smiling and frantically waving as we speed by - they all seem so pleased to see us. We descend into another valley floor on a wide and gravelly piste and I slow down considerably to enjoy the fantastic scenery. Much more fertile now with greenery growing along the valley bottom and clear water flowing down a gorge we pass through. Entering a really beautiful area through a tunnel cut into the mountainside - we stop to take in the view and Pete explains that this is our stop for the night - the enchanting village of Tamalout. We ride on through the lower part of the village, cross the river and up to our Auberge where we quickly park up and the owner greets us with welcoming soft drinks. We go up to the roof to look out and down on the river and village - the sides of the river are planted with crops and young girls are bringing up bundles of greens tied across their backs, mules carry the heavier burdens up the hillside usually led by old women carrying sticks. Behind us the mountainside rises up extremely steeply and Pete keeps a lookout for the boys who will be coming down the piste in the Toyota - from the opposite direction to the route we have travelled. As the sun lowers over the western range of mountains the lighting becomes really sharp and the view over the village to the eastern ranges is truly magnificent the mountains look so close that you feel you could almost reach out and touch them - I have to say that this is the most amazing place I have ever been to and I feel really lucky to be here - In this place - Out of time - Paradise lost!
On the roof - Tamalout
After a shower Paul and I set off for a walk down to the river. A young boy follows us and although he speaks no English we let him guide us and with a mixture of hand signals and French we learn that his name is Hassan and he is on holiday from school. On the way we meet 4 young girls carrying produce on their backs - they stop Hassan to ask about us and as I see this as a perfect photo opportunity I get my camera out to a cry of derision from one of the girls - she makes it known that it will 'cost us' for a photograph. I borrow some cash from Paul and offer them 5 dirhams to be able to take a photo - they will have none of this and want 5 dirhams each for a group photograph - we settle on 5 dirhams ( about 30p ) for one shot of one person and I quickly take a hurried picture whilst they argue amongst themselves who is going to get photographed. All this is done in good humour and we all go away laughing. Hassan leads us down to the river itself and we have to be careful not to stand on the hundreds of frogs which are absolutely everywhere - they are even seen climbing up the earthen banks to the terraces planted with crops - onions, potatoes, carrots and these in turn are surrounded by trees - almond, peach, quince and fig. The noises are amazing - frogs croaking, insects chattering and strange high pitched squeaking from god knows what creatures? - a stork encircles us overhead as Hassan leads us a circuitous route over the river to the other side and into the lower village itself. We find ourselves in tiny alleys between the earthen houses all which seem to be connected together, children sit and play whilst groups of men sit atop hillocks lining the road talking and smoking - all the time there is a steady procession of women and girls carrying crops etc. through the village - methinks the men have 'got it good' in this culture - no room for feminism here! An old man riding a mule balancing a huge wooden plough on his lap threatens to squash us against the walls of a house but he is singing away to himself and everyone seems to be happy and smiling. Hassan shows us his house before leading us back to the Auberge where we exchange addresses , thank him and give him something for the excellent tour around his wonderful village. I can't help being left with the feeling that Hassan would give his right arm to be able to live in the UK - I am also left with the opposite, somewhat naive and romantic wish for me to be able to come and live in this magical valley.
That evening we communally dine on Tagine - this time the meat is a 3 month old goat and as usual the dish looks like a work of art but doesn't stay that way for long. We retire early as we are all tired and the generator is due to be switched off around 10pm.
Mileage: 200km piste / 30km tarmac