Saturday, May 10, 2008

London Morocco

After a mad dash collecting Visas in London, dodging throught the london traffic a la courier stylee I eventually caught the boat to Santander from plymouth. After days of rain in London and the dogged London fumes on my ill accustomed country lungs it was a welcome relief to be leaving the big city even on a 4am drizzly morning. The boat was a breeze, a cabin and pure luxury compared to what lies ahead of me.
After hitting Spanish shores I drifted through customs and headed off to the Picos De Europa. There are reported to be bears and wolves in these hills so seemed the obvios choice to stop for the night and find out for myself.However riding steadily upward through the cloudbase and mistys peaks at 2100m I thought I would stop and put on my waterproofs mistakenly thinking a part of the road was a tarmac, put the stand down and promptly watched the bike tumble over in the mud, while diving uncermoniously out of the way!

The picture tells a bit more of a dramatic story, but it took two of us to heave her back onto solid ground again amid much laughter and petrol!
We stayed the night silently under canvas by a beautiful vast mountain lake and watched the ospreys circling for fish and huge stary skies unblemished from the light polution we are all so used to, truly amazing.
From here it was an uneventful dash to Tarifa on the most northerly tip of Spain. The winds here are immense, the beaches unspoilt and huge and a haven for kitesurfers and windsurfers alike. So I eyed up the prices and if I cant find anything better in Morocco, I will be headiing back for a few days lessons, bleaching my hair and buying some flowery shorts, sick.
After catching the Tarifa catamaran I ended up in Morocco which was a total shock to the system after sedentary Europe; Everything is full on, its a minefield of sights,smells,dust;touts,traffic,prayers and takes a little getting used to, to say the least.On arrival at the port you get a taste for whats coming your way, tips here bribes there to get things going and to actually know what the hell to do. People here there and everywhere, this official that official, total chaos and madness. Every document has to be seen and stamped and checked and all my stuff was packed neatly at the bottom of my panniers under just about everything else. So what could I do but unpack the entire bike, amidst all this madness on to the concrete of the port customs. Somehow,God only knows I managed to get everything seen stamped,approved, checked, repacked and away without having to tip or pay anyone anything.
The driving here is something else too, no indiction, vans up your

arse, overtaking round corners, buses in the middle of the road, man, I went to turn left across the road to a cafe to ask directions and someone just overtook me from behind, how close I was having little wings I will never know, but it wasnt by far. Tip to any bikers out there, always use your lifesaving check over your shoulder before making any turns in Morocco.
Im now in a bussly hilltown called chefchouan in the Rif mountains. The medina here is so very beautiful, little white and blue washed houses and narrow lanes winding and carving up the hill side, with every sort of tiny shop you could think of, a goat cheese seller here, a cobbler next to him, a carpenter next to a shop selling dyes and herbs, truly a colourful and exotic mix. The only down side are the touts and Kif sellers, which puts a strange feeling into your heart, one of wariness and forced abruptness and closedness. Its frustrating because these few people can make you treat others with suspicion which is a feeling I really dont want but is hard to get rid of.

★ 3 Comments. | Skippy, Saturday, May 10, 2008 5:02 AM