Memories of Morocco - Part III - First day of riding

It’s Monday, day one of our cycling tour. We are all dressed for cycling: tights, warm jerseys, wind jackets and gloves. As we drive out into the countryside, we start to see mountains off in the distance - snow-capped mountains! Before we know it, we are driving the mountain pass, where unload the bikes. Scotty has picked a nice high point for us to start our ride – downhill here we come!

Abdoul is the front guide; Mohammed, the sweeper – they are both capable and experienced cyclists. Mohammed is referred to as "the skinny one" but really it's a matter of degree. 

And the fun begins! Off we go down a fast descent and already the views are amazing. You can still see the white-capped peaks in the distance. It is about 10 degrees with a light wind. At the bottom, the road curves right as it starts to ascend gently upward. Around the next curve and up and bit more the road levels off. Despite the fairly short length and the shallowness of the climb, I am winded. As more people approach, they are all winded too. Maybe it’s the shock of the first real effort, who knows, but it is hard to explain.

I can’t remember at what point I got permanently separated from the group but my prevailing memory of that day is riding alone through winding roads along a mountain’s edge, a green and intermittently populated valley below, and another wall of mountain to my right that will eventually block out the setting sun. My overall impression is that there is more descending than ascending, which is unheard of on any ride. I find it difficult to keep riding when there is so much eye candy; I want to keep stopping to take pictures. The mountains are red, rocky and dry.

In one of the villages, two kids run out to greet me. They are excited to see a cyclist and fascinated with the rear-view mirror attached to my sunglasses. So I let the older boy try them on. He poses proudly giving two thumbs up. The younger boy assumes a nice fighting stance. I take their picture and I’m on my way. I wish I’d thought to bring some "stylos" to give out as this is what they ask for. Candies too.

Just after a nature break, I spot Scotty across the divide. After he catches up to me, we ride together for a while but then he disappears as he likes to take the descents fast. I do too but I am careful on the sharp corners, of which there are many. There is usually nothing between you and the edge. Scotty estimates we have 15 or 20 km to our destination. I'm actually warm enough to remove my jacket. The day is getting long but we eventually make it to the Kasbah village of Ben Haddou before dusk. Sixty-five kilometers never felt so long!

It is late and we are not moving; so it doesn’t take long before it cools off again. We find our hotel and wait for the support vehicles to arrive with the other riders inside. I find out there has been a crash. Evelyn, who was following Abdoul, tried to mimic his cornering and slide out on some loose dirt, gashing her knee and grazing her arm. I would find out it would take more than a fall to dampen her spirits!

After settling into our rooms we met downstairs for a late dinner of Taine (a typical Moroccan way of cooking vegetables, meat and couscous), bread and olives. Oranges for dessert. Although the rooms are basic, the terrace outside overlooks the Kasbah – a type of fortress high on a mountaintop where it is easier to defend, provides a stunning view as the setting sun hits the foot of the mountain. Tomorrow we will walk up there and have a look around before heading to the next town.