SteveD said:
;D :thumleft:
Right Around Africa
- Thread starter jorust
- Start date
;D :thumleft:
Orangeswifty
Race Dog
How lekke to be in Casablanca!
Lots of history around you
Take it all in and keep the memories
safe travels bokka!
:thumleft:
Lots of history around you
Take it all in and keep the memories
safe travels bokka!
:thumleft:
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Casablanca?
Is that like the new "Slegs blankes"? or opposite?
Is that like the new "Slegs blankes"? or opposite?
Dogboxelectric
Race Dog
>>Thump°C said:
Maybe it means "WHITEHOUSE"?
jorust
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Yep, Casablanca = Whitehouse. :thumleft:
Getting my bike back today! Woohooo! :ricky:
Will report on what work has been done on my scoot and post pics later.
Might also be looking at a bit of a change in route from here. Where I was originally planning on hopping over to Spain and then back down to Algeria (due to border between Morocco and Algeria being closed), I might now go from here directly to Tunisia. Having some troubles with getting a Shengen here. :-\
Getting my bike back today! Woohooo! :ricky:
Will report on what work has been done on my scoot and post pics later.
Might also be looking at a bit of a change in route from here. Where I was originally planning on hopping over to Spain and then back down to Algeria (due to border between Morocco and Algeria being closed), I might now go from here directly to Tunisia. Having some troubles with getting a Shengen here. :-\
SteveD
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All healthy then? The poor virus had no chance, you are invincible 
Cheetah
Race Dog
:sip:
Respect ! Living the dream :thumleft: Good luck.
Respect ! Living the dream :thumleft: Good luck.
Buff
Grey Hound
Gees, you've make great progress Jo :thumleft: Keep your focus strong and stay concentrated on that bike, we want you home safe & sound so we can hear all about it :thumleft:
Dogboxelectric
Race Dog
Cant wait to read what you have to say about Libya, drop a flower for Anton Hammerl, ask Shane Robinson about it.
jorust
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Laayoune to Rabat
I left Dakhla around 09:00am the next morning. Riding out on the peninsula heading North I noted a train on the tracks to my left. A caravan of camels was lazily shuffling through the desert sand. On top of the train I noted men standing with their robes blowing in the wind, like something out of Lawrence of Arabia! And then I think to myself: just a few months ago, Morocco seemed so far away. I romanticize scenes of being swept off into the desert by an Arabian prince whilst sweeping through the South of Morocco with DAX faithfully roaring underneath me as I steer us further north.
The stretch from Dakhla (pronounced Daghla – ‘g’ as in gooi) to Laayoune is about 540 kilometers and the road leads you all along the coast. For the first time in a long time I am actually cold! Riding next the coastline with the wind blowing in from the ocean turns it into a huge natural air conditioner! The day is fairly uneventful but I am happy riding along with a feeling of absolute contentment. There’s a certain feeling of calmness here.
The ever-present control posts carry on throughout. Though I never have any problems. I get stopped at each and every single one, but I just greet the officers with a friendly smile and hand over my paperwork. They return my greeting and react with astonishment when they open my passport. “Vous êtes une femme?” (You’re a woman?) I smile and just nod. They never ask me to take off my helmet like in Central and West Africa. Seems the guys are more trusting up here.
The coastline is dotted with men casting their lines into the ocean down below. The wind is insistent and I contemplate stopping to take out a jacket. The road is starting to carry more traffic and I can feel myself getting closer to the bigger towns. Whenever I do stop for a break, passersby greet me by hooting and waving, carrying a smile on their faces. I also start passing through small towns more frequently.
Just before entering Laayoune I am stopped at yet another security control point. Here they keep me for almost half an hour. I do not really understand why? They keep asking the same questions over and over – where are you heading? What is your profession? (Always a tricky one – apparently ‘adventure motorcyclist’ does not exist as a profession? Says who??? LoL) I am asked where I will be staying in Laayoune? Luckily I do know where I will be staying as one of my best friends in Rabat, Larbi Sbai, had organized for me to stay at his cousin’s hotel in Laayoune. I tell them that I will be staying at the Parador Hotel and that my contact is the owner, one Abid Sbai. With this they immediately hand back my passport and even give me directions to the hotel. I thought it all to be very odd!
On route to the hotel, a car stopped next to me and asked whether I was looking for Parador Hotel? This left me really puzzled. They told me to follow them, which I did. What happened next I really was not expecting! As I pulled up in front of the hotel a sort of welcoming committee was waiting for me. The owner of the hotel as well as the staff and a television crew. I was a bit stunned. They gave me a warm welcome and then took me on a quick tour of the town with the television crew in tow. In the middle of town there is a big square where, especially in Ramadan, people come together. I conducted an interview with the crew and afterward we returned to the hotel.
I was given the residential suite and the hotel staff helped me unload my bike. Later on I was back outside working on my bike. A strange site in these parts I’m sure. A few men came to stand and watch, asking about my journey. I even met a bunch of guys from Ghana. I had a wonderful evening meeting people over dinner and being taken on a tour of the town at night. A family welcomed me into their home where I drank tea with them (the wonderful Moroccan mint tea I have come to love) and ate all kinds of wonderful food. Once again back at the hotel everyone gathered to watch my interview from earlier on, they were already broadcasting it!
Next morning I was packed and ready to go around 09:00am. Abid was there to bid me farewell and lead me out of town. Laayoune is a small town, but navigating through it can be a little tricky. It’s a bit like a maze and if you don’t know where you’re going you could easily find yourself going in circles. This busy little town remains one of my favorites!
The next stretch was from Laayoune to Agadir – about 600 kilometers. The surroundings started to change a little and instead of flat desert-like typography it now changed to more ‘mountainous’ scenes. The road started snaking through and around more hills and it was a nice change in scenery. I stopped for a break about 200 kilometers into the ride. Next moment a KTM pulled up next to me. He waved (the rider, not the bike) and asked whether everything’s okay? A quick introduction followed as he got off his bike and lit a cigarette. We inspected each other’s bikes. Very little was said. And then, as if we’d been riding together all this time, we gave each other the nod and got on our bikes to carry on toward Agadir, together. (Remember what happened the last time I rode with someone?)
I was later able to figure out that he was a psychologist from Italy and that he had ridden down to Mauritania for a holiday. He had ridden most of Northern Africa and was now on his way back home. He didn’t seem too happy about it though…the having to go home part. He was a real gentleman though. When we stopped for fuel, he bought us each a cold drink. We stood chatting, giving each other the nutshell version of who we are and what we do.
I led our two-man pack as we made our way, snaking through the hills and plunging down into valleys. It was evident that we were closing in on the bigger cities as the road started carrying more traffic. There were two memorable mountain passes where we had to leapfrog a few trucks slowly making their way up some impressive inclines. Riding on these roads can be a bit like playing Russian roulette. Everyone is impatient and you have a line of cars behind you, honking for you to get past the truck so they can pass as well. If you take too long, they’ll shoot right past you with colorful hand signs! No matter if they can see whether there is a vehicle approaching or not. Though, apart from the few close calls, I loved this stretch between Laayoune and Agadir. It really is beautiful!
We finally arrived in Agadir just as the sun was setting. Once again, I had a hotel and contact name and now had to set out finding it. My Italian companion proved to be a walking, talking GPS and had us parked in front of Hotel Royal in no time! Although he had planned to stay at another hotel, he negotiated with the concierge and booked a room for the night. We unloaded our bikes and each settled into our rooms. I had dinner with the owner of the hotel later on that night. I went searching for my KTM friend but could not find him anywhere. He wasn’t in his room and I figured maybe he had gone out to search for something to eat. Being Ramadan, the hotel wasn’t really serving food but made dinner especially for me.
The next morning I was up, loaded and ready to go around 09:00am again. I still had loads of fuel in my fuel cells and decided to fill up the bike using that, seeing as I wouldn’t be needing to carry extra fuel again for the next month or so. I waited around for a while, hoping that I’d see my KTM friend to wish him Godspeed. Alas, I eventually had to get going and left a note on the KTM.
My GPS was directing me to the “old” road between Agadir and Rabat. I decided to take the highway. I haven’t really been on a highway in quite some time and although the adventurer in me was telling me to seek out alternative routes…I was tired and wanted to see my friends in Rabat.
I made my way past Marrakech, through the mountains, past Casablanca and on towards Rabat. My good friend Larbi was waiting for me when I arrived and led me to my new home in Harhoura, right on the beach! I spent a week in their beach house just relaxing and having some me-time. Not like I really need it, I have me-time all the time! After Ramadan I moved in with Larbi and his family in the city of Rabat and this has now been my base for the last three weeks. And what a crazy three weeks it’s been!!!
I left Dakhla around 09:00am the next morning. Riding out on the peninsula heading North I noted a train on the tracks to my left. A caravan of camels was lazily shuffling through the desert sand. On top of the train I noted men standing with their robes blowing in the wind, like something out of Lawrence of Arabia! And then I think to myself: just a few months ago, Morocco seemed so far away. I romanticize scenes of being swept off into the desert by an Arabian prince whilst sweeping through the South of Morocco with DAX faithfully roaring underneath me as I steer us further north.
The stretch from Dakhla (pronounced Daghla – ‘g’ as in gooi) to Laayoune is about 540 kilometers and the road leads you all along the coast. For the first time in a long time I am actually cold! Riding next the coastline with the wind blowing in from the ocean turns it into a huge natural air conditioner! The day is fairly uneventful but I am happy riding along with a feeling of absolute contentment. There’s a certain feeling of calmness here.
The ever-present control posts carry on throughout. Though I never have any problems. I get stopped at each and every single one, but I just greet the officers with a friendly smile and hand over my paperwork. They return my greeting and react with astonishment when they open my passport. “Vous êtes une femme?” (You’re a woman?) I smile and just nod. They never ask me to take off my helmet like in Central and West Africa. Seems the guys are more trusting up here.
The coastline is dotted with men casting their lines into the ocean down below. The wind is insistent and I contemplate stopping to take out a jacket. The road is starting to carry more traffic and I can feel myself getting closer to the bigger towns. Whenever I do stop for a break, passersby greet me by hooting and waving, carrying a smile on their faces. I also start passing through small towns more frequently.
Just before entering Laayoune I am stopped at yet another security control point. Here they keep me for almost half an hour. I do not really understand why? They keep asking the same questions over and over – where are you heading? What is your profession? (Always a tricky one – apparently ‘adventure motorcyclist’ does not exist as a profession? Says who??? LoL) I am asked where I will be staying in Laayoune? Luckily I do know where I will be staying as one of my best friends in Rabat, Larbi Sbai, had organized for me to stay at his cousin’s hotel in Laayoune. I tell them that I will be staying at the Parador Hotel and that my contact is the owner, one Abid Sbai. With this they immediately hand back my passport and even give me directions to the hotel. I thought it all to be very odd!
On route to the hotel, a car stopped next to me and asked whether I was looking for Parador Hotel? This left me really puzzled. They told me to follow them, which I did. What happened next I really was not expecting! As I pulled up in front of the hotel a sort of welcoming committee was waiting for me. The owner of the hotel as well as the staff and a television crew. I was a bit stunned. They gave me a warm welcome and then took me on a quick tour of the town with the television crew in tow. In the middle of town there is a big square where, especially in Ramadan, people come together. I conducted an interview with the crew and afterward we returned to the hotel.
I was given the residential suite and the hotel staff helped me unload my bike. Later on I was back outside working on my bike. A strange site in these parts I’m sure. A few men came to stand and watch, asking about my journey. I even met a bunch of guys from Ghana. I had a wonderful evening meeting people over dinner and being taken on a tour of the town at night. A family welcomed me into their home where I drank tea with them (the wonderful Moroccan mint tea I have come to love) and ate all kinds of wonderful food. Once again back at the hotel everyone gathered to watch my interview from earlier on, they were already broadcasting it!
Next morning I was packed and ready to go around 09:00am. Abid was there to bid me farewell and lead me out of town. Laayoune is a small town, but navigating through it can be a little tricky. It’s a bit like a maze and if you don’t know where you’re going you could easily find yourself going in circles. This busy little town remains one of my favorites!
The next stretch was from Laayoune to Agadir – about 600 kilometers. The surroundings started to change a little and instead of flat desert-like typography it now changed to more ‘mountainous’ scenes. The road started snaking through and around more hills and it was a nice change in scenery. I stopped for a break about 200 kilometers into the ride. Next moment a KTM pulled up next to me. He waved (the rider, not the bike) and asked whether everything’s okay? A quick introduction followed as he got off his bike and lit a cigarette. We inspected each other’s bikes. Very little was said. And then, as if we’d been riding together all this time, we gave each other the nod and got on our bikes to carry on toward Agadir, together. (Remember what happened the last time I rode with someone?)
I was later able to figure out that he was a psychologist from Italy and that he had ridden down to Mauritania for a holiday. He had ridden most of Northern Africa and was now on his way back home. He didn’t seem too happy about it though…the having to go home part. He was a real gentleman though. When we stopped for fuel, he bought us each a cold drink. We stood chatting, giving each other the nutshell version of who we are and what we do.
I led our two-man pack as we made our way, snaking through the hills and plunging down into valleys. It was evident that we were closing in on the bigger cities as the road started carrying more traffic. There were two memorable mountain passes where we had to leapfrog a few trucks slowly making their way up some impressive inclines. Riding on these roads can be a bit like playing Russian roulette. Everyone is impatient and you have a line of cars behind you, honking for you to get past the truck so they can pass as well. If you take too long, they’ll shoot right past you with colorful hand signs! No matter if they can see whether there is a vehicle approaching or not. Though, apart from the few close calls, I loved this stretch between Laayoune and Agadir. It really is beautiful!
We finally arrived in Agadir just as the sun was setting. Once again, I had a hotel and contact name and now had to set out finding it. My Italian companion proved to be a walking, talking GPS and had us parked in front of Hotel Royal in no time! Although he had planned to stay at another hotel, he negotiated with the concierge and booked a room for the night. We unloaded our bikes and each settled into our rooms. I had dinner with the owner of the hotel later on that night. I went searching for my KTM friend but could not find him anywhere. He wasn’t in his room and I figured maybe he had gone out to search for something to eat. Being Ramadan, the hotel wasn’t really serving food but made dinner especially for me.
The next morning I was up, loaded and ready to go around 09:00am again. I still had loads of fuel in my fuel cells and decided to fill up the bike using that, seeing as I wouldn’t be needing to carry extra fuel again for the next month or so. I waited around for a while, hoping that I’d see my KTM friend to wish him Godspeed. Alas, I eventually had to get going and left a note on the KTM.
My GPS was directing me to the “old” road between Agadir and Rabat. I decided to take the highway. I haven’t really been on a highway in quite some time and although the adventurer in me was telling me to seek out alternative routes…I was tired and wanted to see my friends in Rabat.
I made my way past Marrakech, through the mountains, past Casablanca and on towards Rabat. My good friend Larbi was waiting for me when I arrived and led me to my new home in Harhoura, right on the beach! I spent a week in their beach house just relaxing and having some me-time. Not like I really need it, I have me-time all the time! After Ramadan I moved in with Larbi and his family in the city of Rabat and this has now been my base for the last three weeks. And what a crazy three weeks it’s been!!!
jorust
Race Dog
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And now I've come to a crossroads. Again! lol
I swear the politics up here are worse than Central and West Africa put together!
Here's the problem: The Morocco/Algeria border is closed. I knew this beforehand as it's been closed for a number of years now. So I thought, no problem - hop over to Spain and then on to Algeria and continue. But now I'm running into all kinds of issues. Getting a Shengen for Spain is proving to be a headache as they're trying to tell me I have to get it in SA.atch:
Algeria doesn't seem all that keen on letting me ride through their country on my own either. :sip:
The only other option is to head for Tunisia directly. Snag....that would mean getting on a plane. There are no ferries from here to Tunisia directly. And the plane option really isn't an option. Would cost an arm and a leg.
For some reason, as with Liberia/Sierra Leone etc, my gutt is telling me that Algeria is not a good idea. I don't know why. My gutt doesn't give reasons. :bueller:
Sigh....
And to top everything off my visa for Morocco expires in 2 days! (I'm not too worried about that though...no biggie)
Okay, I'm gonna go have a beer and ponder my fate. :thumleft:
I swear the politics up here are worse than Central and West Africa put together!
Here's the problem: The Morocco/Algeria border is closed. I knew this beforehand as it's been closed for a number of years now. So I thought, no problem - hop over to Spain and then on to Algeria and continue. But now I'm running into all kinds of issues. Getting a Shengen for Spain is proving to be a headache as they're trying to tell me I have to get it in SA.
atch:Algeria doesn't seem all that keen on letting me ride through their country on my own either. :sip:
The only other option is to head for Tunisia directly. Snag....that would mean getting on a plane. There are no ferries from here to Tunisia directly. And the plane option really isn't an option. Would cost an arm and a leg.
For some reason, as with Liberia/Sierra Leone etc, my gutt is telling me that Algeria is not a good idea. I don't know why. My gutt doesn't give reasons. :bueller:
Sigh....
And to top everything off my visa for Morocco expires in 2 days! (I'm not too worried about that though...no biggie)
Okay, I'm gonna go have a beer and ponder my fate. :thumleft:
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