Memories of Morocco - Part IX - Anti-Atlas: our longest climb

Today will be the longest climb of the trip. So Monday morning after breakfast Scotty, Anne and I drive to out of the city to a mall/gas station on the outskirts of town where we unload our bikes. The others will be joining us later. Instead of Abdoul it is Mohammed who rides with us. After riding in the desert, our chains are in need of some oil and so this is taken care of before we leave.

At first the road is flat and busy by Moroccan standards. Anne is feeling good and rides ahead to catch up to Mohammed while Scotty and I hang back saving our energy for the climb. Shortly we regroup in a small town where the van stops. It’s time to eat an orange and strip off some clothes as the day is warming up nicely. Before long the road veers steadily upwards. It’s a very long climb with lots of switchbacks. Eventually the traffic lessens as we cross the beautiful landscape of the red sandstone of the Anti-Atlas Mountains. (The Atlas Mountains are north of the Anti-Atlas which contour the Algerian border south of Morocco).  I don’t have accurate stats but the climb takes us at least a couple of hours. Not that it wasn't breathtaking - actually it literally was - but I didn't bother to stop for many pictures. I had a good rhythm and didn't want to break it.

Anti-Atlas

When we spot the white cook van at the top of a rocky outcropping, it is a welcome sight indeed. Anne and I and accept tea and oranges. As Scotty approaches, he shouts out to Abdoul the cook that he is in the wrong spot. He must pack up and move to the absolute top of the mountain. Anne takes pity on him but Scotty is firm. So, off we go again, more climbing...

Anne and Sally at the top

Soon I am riding alone and keeping a hard pace, at least that's what my legs are telling me. Each switchback promises an end to the climb and no sooner it disappoints. Around each sharp bend more ascending is revealed. There is nothing to do but keep pumping the pedals, switchback after switchback. Then finally, the white van is in view! And the location is well worth the extra climbing. This spot is much better than the first, offering a panoramic view of the lower mountains and valleys.  We take more tea and some photos while lunch is being prepared. The van carrying the rest of the group is due to arrive soon.

While we are walking around the precipice, a bus load of tourist arrives to take in the view. With their heavy  English accents they ask us about our experience getting there by bike. Anne and I share some laughs with them as we take their picture and they take ours. They are behaving more familiar than you would expect from someone you just met. Some of the hilarious comments makes it feel like we’re in a Monty Python skit. Before we know it, they have all disappeared back into the bus and they’re gone.

There’s no sign of our group so we have lunch without them as there is more riding to do.  They arrive soon after we’ve finished eating. I am looking forward to long descent ending up in the small remote town of Imouzzar where we will stay the night.

View of waterfalls from our room

The three of us sit on the second floor terrace overlooking the road below. There is a high waterfall dropping down a massive rock face in the distance and we are surrounded by more mountains, this time with more green than we are accustomed to. A small river flows in front of the hotel. A short walk along a mountainside path takes you to a series of stalls with things to buy such as silver jewelry, wooden boxes and objet d’art, as well as snacks and drinks. After Anne has been gone for some time, I walk down the path to find her. She has bought some trinkets and is dithering about buying a really cool wooden tray with a handle; the whole thing that folds up small. The salesman drives a hard bargain but she eventually buys it. Then he sells me a bracelet and thumb ring. He is extremely pushy but he is also so good-natured and funny, it is hard to resist him.

Later we get assigned our rooms and nobody is happy. There is no hot water, no towels, not enough blankets and no heat and the rooms were filthy. It is as if the hotel staff was not expecting us. In a kind gesture typical of our driver Adboul, he gave Anne and I his personal towels. I was disappointed not to be able to shower after a hot and sweaty day on bike especially given the evening temperature which had cooled considerably. I cleaned up using cold water but my hair would have to wait till the next day. At 9:00 pm we sat in the dining room dressed in layers of clothes. In spite of the hotel’s many shortcomings, the meal was very good.

We go to bed feeling uncomfortably full once again but sleep soundly nevertheless. Fortunately, we will be riding from the hotel first thing in the morning.