When last we left our heros, Werner (our guide) was flying over the handle bars of his bike as we watched in shock and horror….

We start our bikes and race across the bridge to the other side. That looked like a really bad fall. As we are crossing the bridge Wern stands up looking a bit shaken, swearing, but largely unhurt. Thank God. As we get a bit closer we can see what went horribly wrong. Concealed behind the embankment, and not visible from our vantage point on the other side, is a concrete irrigation ditch. One that is exactly the width of a BMW front tyre.

As Wern came over the embankment his front tyre went into the ditch bringing it to an instant stop. However, there was still a lot of momentum on the bike which meant the back end shot up into the air like a bucking bronco, sending Wern flying and smashing the wind screen on the opposite side of the ditch.

After assurances from Wern that he is alright (surprisingly) we set about trying to get the bike out of the ditch. It takes three of us to muscle it out and get it to level ground. Amazingly the rim is not dented and the front forks are not bent. Man, these BMWs can take a beating! About the only thing wrong with the bike is the completely smashed windscreen, which we can easily live without.

Meanwhile, Wern is pacing back and forth admonishing himself in a stern South African accent, saying how ‘he should know better’ and ‘it was dumb to listen to us’. I have to agree with him there, it is pretty dumb to listen to us. Hell, I wouldn’t even listen to us.

After Niall the mechanic has a look over the bike and Wern collects himself we set off again down the piste. It continues to wind along the river bed through a few villages before heading up into the foothills. We climb higher and higher in elevation along switchbacks. It appears they are in the process of building a proper road through here, although we don’t see anyone working (a constant theme throughout Morocco). There is evidence of blasting and a fresh layer of loose shale rock on the path however, which makes things a bit interesting. We finally arrive at the top of the ridge line and decide to break for lunch while we have such a spectacular view.

 
Great Spot For Lunch

After lunch we continue along the piste. We patiently wait at each cross-roads as Wern trundles off in the wrong direction, stops when he realises nobody is following him, returns to the rest of the group and we head off in the right direction. To everyone’s surprise we actually make it to Ouazazarte without getting hideously lost. We find the rest of the group (who had taken the tarmac route) waiting for us at a pretty flash petrol station. We fuel up, throw some rubbish petrol station snacks down our throats, hydrate with some drinks, whack the side mirrors back on the bikes and get ready to press off for Marrakech. A long way to go yet and we still have to cross the Anti Atlas mountains.

We continue on the tarmac towards the Anti Atlas mountain range. As we approach the foothills the air gets noticeably cooler and we can see the snow covered peaks in the distance. Time to stop and rug up in the cold weather gear before pressing on.

 

The mountain crossing is spectacular. Amazing scenery with blind hairpin turns, switchbacks, and winding curves that seem to go forever. If God himself hand made the perfect motorcycle road and dropped in on earth this would probably be it. Okay, he probably would have put in more guard rails and fewer half-blind retarded truck drivers, but this is still pretty close.

The winding roads go higher and higher into the snow capped peaks. The twisting and turning roads with sheer drop-offs demand a lot of concentration, but it is great fun. We finally reach the top and start to descend down the other side passing small villages as we go only to start back up again. Another ascent back to elevation has more spectacular scenery on offer, made even more colourful by the rich rays of the late afternoon sun.

Anti Atlas Mountains

Finally across the mountains we descend into the valley on the other side. It gets noticeably warmer as we stop for fuel and strip off the cold weather kit. Not far now, only about another hour or so and we should be into Marrakech for a well deserved rest day for us and the bikes.

We make our way into the hectic twisting streets of Marrakech. It feels so odd to have all these people around after being out in the wilderness for the last few days. We weave our way through the city traffic to our campground. When we arrive we find they have permanently erected tents with proper beds, toilets and hot showers, more like canvas cabins really. Luxury!!!! Matt and Rick are already there and have the beer waiting.

After a proper shower and a bit of a relax we decide to go into the old part of town, the Medina, and have a proper feed after eating off the truck for the last few days. We meet up with Dave and Mihir (who has now been properly checked out and pain-killered up) and head into the centre of town for a meal.

The Medina is the old market place of Marrakech and is buzzing with stalls, music and street performers, very cool. We pick a restaurant overlooking the square and tuck into some food. Rick is not pleased to discover the restaurant serves no alcohol. The waiter explains that we are too close to the mosque and it is not allowed. He wants to go somewhere else but nobody else can be stuffed to move so we eat there.

 The Medina By Night

After dinner the group splits up with some of us (myself included) heading back to camp for a good nights sleep. Some of the other lads decide they are going to stay out and see what kind of nightlife they can scare up. Back to camp and a luxurious sleep on a mattress with real blankets. Snoooooore.