It could have been a sign to go back to bed when first thing the only key I had broke off in the pannier lock but the day rapidly rose up from the low point. The owner of Hotel Oudaias drove me to a locksmith who hand carved a replacement and barely let me pay for it,, we googled for any recent developments concerning our planned Assa to Smara route, met Peter who turned out to be ok and just running on Moroccan winter time, and collected our by now suitably bejewelled passports. Things were looking up so we headed out of town Casablanca-ward !
Petrol may be 2/3 of the price here but if you're going to burn it off along the autovia don't forgot to factor in the considerable toll charges, even if lucky enough to get a two bikes for one special from the grinning lass outside Bouznika! Also if planning to make rapid progress taking your gloves off and raking through your pockets for change every few 10s of probably isn't the best way to do it :/ The autovias are excellent but the constant tolls do undo some of their good work.
As usual our ride was curtailed by the sun sinking from the sky and we pulled off the road for Settat, just short of Marrakech. A group of guys behind the toll booth had the cab up and a cylinder head off an artic that had holed a piston, four hour job he said, no problem! His buddy then turned chat to finding the light of God, could have got quite involved but I told him my loved one, family and friends were my light, he seemed happy with that.
Further up the road the sides were lined with tall yellow buildings and rocky earth stained dark with years of oil spills, trucks and cars threw up dust pulling in alongside rusty skeletons of their retired predecessors as everywhere hammers were hurled at bits of metal and sparks flew from darkened doorways.
The activity built further in to town as it became a market and the streets narrowed and eventually disappeared amongst a swirling sea of people, donkeys and produce. 'Unnamed hotel/motel' the Garmin kept saying, what, in here?! Time to continue on foot, Robin was going in! What a job he did too, not only did he score a room for 100dhm on the roof terrace of a hotel but we could also leave the bikes in the lobby! After weaving through the crowds and down a street just wider then the KTM's panniers we were sorted, to top it off our stomachs were even ready to handle dinner. Ah did I mention the acrobatic stomachs Rabat had gifted us? If not less detail the better!
Petrol may be 2/3 of the price here but if you're going to burn it off along the autovia don't forgot to factor in the considerable toll charges, even if lucky enough to get a two bikes for one special from the grinning lass outside Bouznika! Also if planning to make rapid progress taking your gloves off and raking through your pockets for change every few 10s of probably isn't the best way to do it :/ The autovias are excellent but the constant tolls do undo some of their good work.
As usual our ride was curtailed by the sun sinking from the sky and we pulled off the road for Settat, just short of Marrakech. A group of guys behind the toll booth had the cab up and a cylinder head off an artic that had holed a piston, four hour job he said, no problem! His buddy then turned chat to finding the light of God, could have got quite involved but I told him my loved one, family and friends were my light, he seemed happy with that.
Further up the road the sides were lined with tall yellow buildings and rocky earth stained dark with years of oil spills, trucks and cars threw up dust pulling in alongside rusty skeletons of their retired predecessors as everywhere hammers were hurled at bits of metal and sparks flew from darkened doorways.
The activity built further in to town as it became a market and the streets narrowed and eventually disappeared amongst a swirling sea of people, donkeys and produce. 'Unnamed hotel/motel' the Garmin kept saying, what, in here?! Time to continue on foot, Robin was going in! What a job he did too, not only did he score a room for 100dhm on the roof terrace of a hotel but we could also leave the bikes in the lobby! After weaving through the crowds and down a street just wider then the KTM's panniers we were sorted, to top it off our stomachs were even ready to handle dinner. Ah did I mention the acrobatic stomachs Rabat had gifted us? If not less detail the better!
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