Escape from the Sahara

Bends in the road, curves, ups an downs, earth and green stuff, palm trees, even water, this wasn't desert any more! We turned right out of Tiznit and climbed in to the hills towards Igherm. The road swept and rolled through villages and and over summits, mostly good quality Tarmac it was an endless rollercoaster compared to the thousands of miles we'd just ridden. Contrary to the warnings though it was hot, very hot, one local told us the weather was unstable just now, it had just been raining hard the other day.
And it was nice to feel welcome again, kids shouting and waving and groups of village elders returning sageful nods. Only the women who seemed to be working hard everywhere were more reserved; in the first village all wearing black with gold hems, covering their faces as we approached and from there on dressed like bright coloured Japanese ninjas, all but the eyes veiled up. A lot of villages were dotted with billboards showing photos of the king.
As evening drew around us we found a track to a phone mast on a ridge and getting away from the road. Ruins of what looked like a walled farm complex sat on the summit and all around us were piles of eroded rocks, riddled with veins of hard quartz like medical teaching aids. Again we slept under the stars, this time looking across several valleys and villages.
The sound of a savage battle awoke us, it was impossible to tell who was winning; the donkeys or the cockerels in the villages below, both were making equally good efforts! With golden sun breaking across the rocks we got an early start to cross the Atlas mountains. Gert and Remmie has texted to say they would be in Marrakech the previous night so we arrange to meet them around midday, what we didn't factor in was the road ahead! 200kms, mostly single track, partly gravel, often victim to land slides and subsidence and climbing to 2400m up a near vertical wall of rock. This wasn't built by the Swiss, nothing was blasted through, it clung to the outside edge of every projection and only sometimes was a 10 inch wall there to hide a little of the fate awaiting the unwary! I've ridden a good share of Alpine roads but this was the first mountain pass that really gave me a touch of the vertigo wobbles.
With luck but also a little disappointment we found the northern side of the pass to be gentler gradients and easier on the tyres, brakes and survival instincts. It unwound from hairpins to rollercoaster to plains and by early after noon we arrived in the outskirts Marrakech.
Wide streets and the gps it was quite easy to find Camping de Relais where we had planned to meet Gert and Remmie. But as we got nearer we spotted them going the other way, a note left at the camp site said they had headed in to town and were then going to head south, it didn't look like our paths were going to run parallel after all. Right after that the KTMs fuel pump problem seemed to return, it was popping and banging and cutting out again, we just managed to limp in to the camping site.
Relais wasn't cheap but we treated ourselves to a 'nomad' tent, the PVC smelt like a bouncy castle in the sun but it was nice inside and over looked the blooming garden and pool. But one thing more than the others we were very aware of was this place was hot, we were baking without any breeze! In the slightly cooler evening we hauled the left tank off again and the fuel pump out, no obvious signs of plastic shavings this time but we tried giving the tank a good wash out just in case. After a swim the next morning I took the other tank off as well and began a battle that would last until the afternoon to pull the subframe straight and get the tanks fitting right without pinching the fuel hoses again. Luckily Chris came over to say hello, a young guy driving a 4x4 Transit camper south on his own (brave lad!) with an awning to get out the sun and a selection of bigger tools! He even had a bottle jack to spread Robin's pannier rack back out! Parked beside Chris were Jason and Claire in a most impressive UniMog camper that looked like it could go pole to pole without even noticing, their site is www.moglet.co.uk
By the time everything was shipshape again the head of the day was intense. Riding in to town to see the ruined Palac de Balaii, amongst the chaos of Marakech traffic with scooters coming out of both armpits, was all just too much and we gave up, settling for a walk instead and trip to the local supermarket. Luckily they sold both beer and ice-cream and after two lollies and riding back through a thunderstorm we had a barbecue with Chris, part way making up for all the beer denied to us over the last few weeks.