Run to The Hills

Well it seems like an age ago since i last wrote in Rabat.
So much has happened, I have met so many different people, in many many places and there has even been some exciting drama to keep the reader entertained.



Agrandir le plan

I am currently close to Tafraoute in a stunning valley in the Anti Atlas mountains and enchanted by the glorious natural beauty of the place and dramatic scenery that just blows me away on every corner or over each new high mountain pass. The hills are arid rocky pinky red coloured formations while in the valley, where surely sometimes a river flows, there are dates palms and argon trees from which they harvest their cherished Argon oils.

It's great to be riding in these more remote places and this time of year there are very few tourists about. However even when you think you are absolutrly alone miles from any where there will allways be shepherd about like the dude above looking after his flocks even on the highest peeks he'll be there to greet you.

So i.m jumping ahead, what has happened on the road since Rabat...... , ohps, I can't find the question mark key on this arabic stylee keyboard.
Well the first few days were pleasent enough cycling through farmland south from Rabat through Rommani, Oud Zem and passed Beni-Mellal. Here I found myself on some busy roads with loads of trucks and busses so the cycling was not much fun some of the time and the weather was pretty dull as well. Just passed Beni-Mellal on the main road to Marrakesh a car pulled out in front of me and sent me flying over the bonnet into some kind of ninja role on the tarmac and I landed on my feat only slightly bruized but well shaken. Yes capoeira saved my life! The bike also was miraculously unharmed but my guitar took the brunt of the collision with the road and saddly was this time beyond repair. Now at this stage I would ensure all my family members that i'm absolutely fine and there is nothing to worry about!
The guy driving the car was totaly unhelpful and seemed unconcerned as to my well being but instaed only how he was going to weasel out of the situation, but the police were great.

Yes, thats the guy above......ggrrrrrrrhhhhhh.....

In the end i had to let go of any idea of getting any compensation out of him and set off just very glad to be alive. This was deffinitly a low point on the road and came just when i was already a bit fed up with everything anyway. But funny how things work out, for just after the accident i set off to look for a room for the night but the hotel in the nearby town was way to expensive; and then came along Hamid. As if he really was a manifestatioin of my guartdian angel, he invited me to stay with his family out in the sticks. So just a few hours later here i was in the bosom of a Morroan family being completely spoilt with endless tea, biscuits, tajhines and couscous and here they are, Hamid with his lovely Ma and Pa.

I ended up staying for three days taking it easy and relaxing into the rural life of a village in the olive grooves in the shadow of the Atlas mountains that loomed way above us. It was hard to leave but the calling of the mountains was ever present, however the weather turned and the rain fell forcing me to rest up and be spoilt for a little while longer. The family didn't want me to go at all and the thought of me on my own in the snowy mountains worried them as if i was their own son.When i finally did make my move Hamid's mother had tears in her eyes and the love of a family home touched me deeply but i felt revitalised ready for the road once again.

I made a slight detour to go into Marakesh to se if i could find a new guitar to keep me company upon the road. As you may know Marakesh is a fairly bonkers Morrocan city with its fair share of hassle so i didn't stick around to long. I ended up buying a guitar from a dude who had photos of himself with Jimi Page back in the day so i also felt happy that my trusted guitar found a good resting place in Marakesh as he took it as part payment.

 

And so to the mountains i did peddle. It had been raining for the last  four days in Marrakesh but up in the mountains it had been snowing heavily and so on the clear blue sky morning that i left town the fantastic snow capped peaks could be seen even from the city. I took it nice and easy and spent 3 days cycling up the hills towards the pass of Tizi-n-Test which at 2100 meters was the highest point of the my whole journey south and beyond. there was also another day of rains that slowed things down but the day I crossed over the pass was wonderful mix of spectacular sunshine and snow storms on the pass its self.

Crossing the Atlas felt like a significant moment in the journey. As is often the case the southern side of the mountain range was very different and much dryer than the north and from here on through the Anti Atlas and towards the great Sahara desert its just going to get dryer and dryer. For thats where i'm heading next; to the coast and then south to the desert.

This part of Morroco is home to the Berber people who are the original inhabitants of this region befor the Arabs moved in to the more northern parts of the country. They are the indiginous and are very keen to point out how they are different from their Arab neighbours. Having got further south the general vibe has become much more friendly and laid back and the Berber music has a great rootsy Afro feel well worth checking out. 

Here's a couple folk i met along the way keeping me entertained.

Much Love to ya all and see ya for the next exciting instalment of my bycicle wonders.

Ed

Rabat and beyond

This place is such a meeting of the new and old Morroco.


Agrandir le plan

I'm in Rabat, the capital of the country, apparently where the king lives and thankfully it's a very mellow city with very little hassle, but plenty of lively street life. I'm staying in a little hotel literally in the walls of the old madina. My room looks out over the wall of the old city to the modern part with wide streets, cafes, banks and further out all the embassies uncluding one for Mauratania where i have just picked up a VISA for 3 months. I had to explain that I was on a bike and it would take more than a month to get there and cross the desert to Senegal. Whilst sorting the bla bla at the embassy i met all sorts of other people heading that way. They did all think i was mas to be cuycling but it's good to know there's plenty of folk traveling that road.... After all the foriegn office does tel you not to. But if you followed all their advice you would be scared to leave the house at all:

Since i'd arrived in Morroco i had spotted the odd cyclist in our traditional spandex uniforms speeding about the roads and wondered if they were actually local lads..... And they are. It seems like Its getting quiet popular here and these two i met on the way into Rabat were so friendly chatting together as we cruized into town. I learnt alot about how you ride in Morrocon cities with these two aswell. It's all about the flow man ~ and not so much about traffic lights and junctions but we already knew that hey...

The ride from Checfchaouen took me out of some beautiful mountains to roling farmlands and then for a day of absolute flatness through fertile fields with rich black soil. Every where people were plowing with tractors or horses, while endless streams of donkey carts collected the veg and grasses returning to the towns loaded up. I'm sure in the region where they grow all the beatroot the donkey po on the road was a radient purple red colour; funny, the things you notice while peddling along.

evening game of football

Oh yeah, and you can buy anything here on the road side......

I may not get round to writing for a little while now as i'm going to be heading inland over the atlas mountains, then the Anti Atlas and south towards the desert.... at least thats the plan, so who knows whan i'll get round to sitting at a computer again.

Now the journey really begins.....

AFRICA.......

Yes Yes Yes,
Africa at last, and everything changes.


Agrandir le plan

So much has happened since my last post its hard to know where to start. Sitting here in this little internet cafe in the old madina in Chefchaouen. and on all the other computers teenage boys are on face book or watching music videos or football on you tube. Out side the tiny streets are painted blue and I'll try to recount the last few days.

After Jerez i took to the Atlantic coast south of Cadiz and braved gale force winds and wild storms that blew off the sea. First to Puerto Real through some marsh land, farms, and sad looking waist land.

I had wondered if it was actually wise to travel on that day but the weather turned out to be so dramatic it was great entertainment the whole way passed Chiclana de la Frontera, Conil de la Frontera and to Canos de Meca where it turned out Nelson Defeated the French and Spanish at the battle of Trafalga. As Nelson was a Norfolk lad i had an extra feeling of pride as i gazed out across the stormy seas untill the wind became so strong that my bike which was lent against the light house railings was blown over on top of the guitar strapped on the side. The whole thing happened in horrible slow motion yet there was nothing i could i do. I knew it was risky carrying the guitar on the bike like this and that this could happen at any moment but why now just as we reached the final days in Europe....... Well this all sounds very dramatic and it was for a while, however the next day i bought some super glue and glued up the cracks once again and there's plenty of life in her yet.
The next couple of nights were spent camped out with other characters of the road:  A Belguim couple driving an old merceedes camper to Mali...... That's funny, that's where i'm going on my bike; so we shared stories and eat wholsome food in their van sheltering from the rains.

The next night i camped just north of Tarifa with these crazy cats in the Casa de Porros. These guys really are living their dreams in vans on a kite surfing beach in the south of Spain. Their dilapidated caravan looks out across the straights to Morroco, Africa and beyond. There are van dwellers from all over hiding out on this little piece of land by the beach on the edge of Europe, and that's definitly how it felt. I sat and gazed across to Africa with just a little fear of what may lie ahead but eager to cross the waters and start the next chapter of the journey. As it turned out, i spent the following few days in Tarifa awaiting a package of the new video camera at the post office before i could catch the boat so i had plenty of time to gaze and wonder, and enjoy some stunning sun sets.

And then my boat came and suddenly the journey stepped up to the next level. I landed in Tangers at midday and decided to head up into the hills as I now had a few days free before i could get a Mauratania visa in Rabat. So I ended up cycling the110 km up the Riff mountains almost a 1000m to arrive in Chechaouen and arrived on the edge of darkness. In My first day cycling in Africa i was greeted with waves, thumbs up, cheers and beeping of horns probably more times than the entire cycle across France, Spain and Portugal. This is going to be something quiet different. The day was quiet full-on though, so i am just acclimatising here for a couple of days getting used to a new way of life before the 3 day ride to Rabat. This is a beautiful laid back town with a stunning old blue medina and plenty of guys calling out; hey my friend.... let me sell you something...
I guess I'll get used to that as i am now a white man in Africa once again, with all it's pros and cons.

Many, many other tales to tell.
Many more yet to unfold
To Africa and beyond.

10 days in Sevilla

Well i could have stayed here a whole lot longer and i did meet a bunch of English folk who have done exactly that. Life just seems a bit easyer, the weather is good, the rent is cheap, and people seem to have plenty of time to sit about the place in bars and cafes drinking the day away.
When I first arrived befor it rained i had mentioned how dry the landscape had been on my journey down and Pablo replied that it didn´t worry them as they didn´t drink water any way. Its true; coffee and beer at different times of day seems to do the trick.
So what did i do with my time in Seviila? Well i stayed with Jorge, who some of you may rememeber from Brighton capoeira 5 years back and Marta his lovely girl friend. They were fantastic hosts and so kind to let me stay for so long. They are still on the Capoeira tip and we had some fun leaping about with the group here. I even gave a class for the crew and did i lot of 'cup-oeira' together on the streets.
I also did get to check out a bunch of flamenco shows, both in the traditional Penas and some late night sessions.

They seem to have a fairly standard form with one ridculously skilled guitarist, a couple of passionate singers and a dancer caught in the throwes of exctatic creativity expressing their very souls to the world. The best performances also had half a dozen ´palmieros´ who clapped mental poly-rhythms that worked together with the foot stamps of the dancers to drive the whole show. Sometimes at the end other people would get up and sing and dance aswell and there is strong energy of a culture very much alive and kicking. There are obviously lots gigs for tourists going on but this is a living culture that the people here love and are very proud of. And long may it be so. And check it out, here it is going on at a zebra crossing!

I´ve been completely blown away with some serious musicianship of the guitarists and took a few classes that twisted my little neurons into knots and left me with plenty of home work to do. It feels like starting all over again, but you gotta challenge yourself sometime hey!

And talking of challenge myself I had a great day at the beach remembering how i was never very good at surfing. Jorge and i got quiet excited about the fact that my funky little go-pro video camera was also water proof and great for filming water sports so we strapped it onto the front of the surf board and tried it out in the shollows just to be safe. However the first little wave knocked it right off the end of the board and into  the murky waters. It sank and disappeared, never to be seen again. Ohps! Thankfully the lovely Visions movie crew are sending me another one so i can carry on making my road movie when it arrives....

I started to feel quiet settled in Sevilla but remembered that i had another mission ahead of me so I´ve packed up my bags and hit the road again. I am writing this in Jerez de La Frontera, 100km further south, that some people say is meant to be the real birth place of flamenco. I may stay a couple of days to find out for myself befor moving on to Tarifi and catching the boat to Africa!

Oh yeah, i did want to mention one thing about travelling by bike. You do get to see every inch of the landscape and its not allways pretty. Having enjoyed the city life of central Sevilla for a while I was struck by how the land was such a mess for a good 20km travelling away from town. I felt quiet sickened by the carnage that urban life creates but we tend to be blissfully unaware while enjoying it's bright lights. I know i´m quiet an idealist but i have found my self imagining how beautiful many of the landscapes i have cycled through must have been even just 50 years ago befor our modern world mashed it up so badly. Endless monoculture farming or the overspill from growing cities.

Any way ever onwards and south wards i go......