Oh To Be Towed

On my way back to Rabat, Morocco

With the sun beating down on a 35deg C ( 95 f ) day and the heat off the asphalt coming in waves I casually thought to myself, as I passed a car stopped on the side of the road, what would I do if my motorbike broke down here? I was about to find out - with a little hesitation of the motor then a huge backfire the motor quit and I coasted to a stop - oh S#*T

I pushed Moto Naranja into a poor excuse for shade and weighed my options.

I decided to see what vehicles were passing with the hope of finding a pickup truck or even a donkey cart, anything to get me to a town. Out of the shimmering heat appear a tow truck!! I have heard about mirages appearing to stranded travellers in the desert but this was ridiculous.

Within 10 minutes of breaking down here I was on my way to Rabat with Abdellati. With the miracle of a smartish phone I was dropped off at a mechanics shop that works on Husqvarna off-road race bikes. My bike will now spend the winter with these two very competent French mechanics.

Well things could certainly have been worse because here is where I was riding the day before. This riverbed section of my route was loose sand and gravel for a distance of about ten miles - a lot of fun but one thing is for sure and that is there certainly was no Abdellati in his tow truck coming along here.

I did find a few good roads 

My Morocco adventure started in Tangier, after taking the ferry over from Algeciras in Spain. 

I mapped out a route from Tangier to Chefchaouen on back roads. Morocco has spent
a lot of money on infrastructure since I was last here ( 40 years ago !! ) and even a lot of the small rural roads have been paved. This area is the start of the Rif mountains and the main cash crop is weed, hash, marijuana, dagga, grass, -- my mind wanders as I pass through vast field of this green plant.

Chefchaouen

Chefchaouen is known as the "Blue City" with much of the old town painted this beautiful azure blue - very calming and charming. Evidently there was a large Jewish population in the town that painted their houses this color and slowly the rest of the town adopted this color as their own. 

 

On the way to Fez

Bab Bou Jeloud - Blue Gate

The ornate Blue Gate is the entrance to the old medina in Fez. This is a magnificent city with some incredibly architecture and also the heart of the leather industry that Morocco is renowned for.

STOP or at least Pause

Riding out of Fez I realized that my knowledge of the Arabic language was growing in leaps and bounds after managing to interpret that this was a STOP sign.

Rush hour on the trail

Near Midelt

I had some of my best riding on a track for which I had GPS directions from Midelt to Gourrama

This section threw everything at me from hard gravel to deep sand in the canyon ( earlier photo) I was concerned about having enough gas, especially as there was conflicting information about how far it was to Gourrama. It was also getting late in the afternoon and I was so looking forward to a shower after a very dusty ride.

Embraced by the locals

I stopped in a small village where I was told I could get gas and managed to buy 5 liters from the small store.

I made it to Gourrama just at dusk only to find that there was not a hotel, hostel or a place to stay in the town, which was surprising as it was fair sized. Not wanting to go back out into the desert to camp I started making enquiries at the gas station. The attendant, like all Moroccans was incredibly friendly and even offered for me to sleep on his bed in the petrol station. There was a new building right next door that, although unfinished, looked like apartments or a hotel. Then like magic a gentleman appeared who was the manager for the soon to be hotel and just like that I had a bed for the night, a hot shower and parking for Moto Naranja in the still to be completed lobby. As it worked out this was my last day riding in Morocco.

Duoro River Porto, Portugal

From the desert of Morocco to the beautiful city of Porto in Portugal was quite a sudden change. After having found a great workshop in Rabat and with a diagnosis of no compression which probably spelled new piston and rings I boarded a plane for Porto to meet up with my daughter Erin. Erin was there for a week helping to organize a music event.

A couple of days of good food, good music and great company I boarded a flight back to Colorado, via Frankfurt. After many hours of flying, and just a half hour to go we had to divert to Billings, Montana as the Denver airport was shut down due to a wild summer thunderstorm. Anyway fire trucks and many flashing lights greeted us in Billings as they took on more fuel while sitting on the runway. The ground crew could be seen taking photos of this huge Lufthansa 787 dwarfing their buildings at the tiny Billings airport - I suspect not a sight they see very often.

Now back home in Eldorado Springs my 2023 motorcycle adventure is at an end. Stay tuned in 2024 as my moto needs to be collected before the end of March in Morocco because the temporary import permit is only for 6 months after which Moto Naranja turns into a pumpkin.

Tilting at Windmills

 

Moto Naranja has been pulled out of mothballs, or maybe I should say cobwebs after spending a relaxing year in a shed in Grenoble, France. With a creaky start to my next adventure, due to a good dose of Covid, I felt a little like this old knight on his aging steed. South through France following the Trans European Trail ( TET ) I passed through Andorra into Spain where the windmills are now high tech wind generators. 

Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité

The first night on the road I spent in the little French town of Die, which some may remember was where I got to in 2020 just as the Covid epidemic started closing down the known world. In the shadow of the old church I came across this play being enacted and as far as I could gather it was something about that time in the late 18th century where they were lopping off aristocratic heads at an alarming rate.

Aermacchi Harley Davidson

I found this old beauty in some French town. Aermacchi was an Italian aircraft company that built Harleys under licence.

The Maestrazgo Region of Spain

It was great to get back onto the dirt roads with surprises around every corner and little villages looking like they were made for a movie set.

The sad thing was that many of these magnificent places were almost deserted, although it seemed that a lot of the buildings were well maintained. 

I quick stop for some repairs amongst the olive groves to sort out an electrical problem. Without power to keep all my navigation devices working, wandering around the Spanish countryside became a little tricky.

This was a typical farm track that I found myself riding on in northern Spain -fun riding. All may seem idyllic in this agricultural region, however apart from olives the main product is Parma ham. Now along with delicious ham comes a malodorous bi-product that at times had my eyes watering which was just not so bueno.

Hotel Reina Cristina

Just to prove that I do once in a while get a shower, here is a photo of an amazing old hotel I am spending a couple of nights at in Algeciras, Spain before catching a ferry across the Straits of Gibraltar to Morocco.