Memories of Morocco - Part IV - Dadès Gorges

Kasbah

Day two of the cycling tour promised to be even better than the first. We walked across the road and down a path that led to the river. Scotty wanted to cross the river barefoot but we opted for the quick and easy route: over the footbridge. We followed a narrow path along the foothill which was lined with fabrics, jewellery and artwork for sale. “Just look, good price!” The path wound its way around and up to an opening in the wall. From there it wasn’t far to the top. From this vantage point, you could get a 360° view of the surrounding valley.

A gentleman sat in the shade playing an odd guitar-like instrument. For the privilege of taking his picture, he expected, and got, payment. On the way up, Anne and I were attracted to some paintings that were created using saffron and tea. By heating the paper, the colour emerged from the painting: saffron became a brownish yellow that depicted the camels and desert background appropriately. We returned to the artist’s hut to purchase some of his work.

After the visiting the Kasbah, we once again loaded into the vans and set off to our next starting point. It was a beautiful, warm day suitable for riding in shorts and short sleeves. We were let out in a parking lot in Taslmante Valley. The riding was hilly but not as high elevation as the first day. The lowlands were rubble arid expanses leading to the highlands. A couple of hours later we stopped near a river for lunch under the trees. Some local boys and girls looked on as Steve worked on his bicycle while lunch was being prepared. I engaged one boy in a sparring match.

Sparring

After lunch we headed back down the road and turned up the mountain on our first dirt road. It led along the hillside through a village. The road opened onto rolling hills. The road was hard-packed dirt and rocks and sometimes dipped and curved into small, dry streambeds. It was fun to ride. I waited for Adboul to catch up before moving on. Good thing because he knew where the nomads caves that we were going to visit were located. I would have ridden right past, the caves being hidden below the level of the road. The nomads were expecting us for tea.

Some time later, Scotty arrived pumped telling me how well Donna and Steve were negotiating the tricky dirt roads. No sooner had he said this one of the support vans arrived carrying injured passengers: Donna wiped out and sustained a deep gouge along her forearm; Steve fell and broke several ribs. A very unfortunate conclusion to a grand day of riding. They bypassed the nomad experience to take care of their injuries.

We went inside the cave and sat around its perimeter while they poured mint tea in small glasses. Abdoul and Adboul 2 (the driver/cook) were showing the old man some pictures on their phone. But his eyesight was failing so I lent him my clic-it glasses that I wore around my neck. What an anachronism!

When we left the hospitality of the nomads, Scotty and I took off down a long descent while the others followed in the van. Scotty had Evelyn’s GoPro camera attached to his helmet so I led the way. It was getting late and the temperature was dropping so I borrowed Adboul’s blue windbreaker. It was good contrast to the red rock all around us. The descent was a gas but not long enough. We rode into the town of Youl until the van pulled over and we had to get in. Daylight was running short and we had to get to the next town, Dadès Gorges, before dark.

Dadès Gorges was breathtakingly beautiful, road contoured the river, both etched their way between the towering walls of rock on either side.

We arrived at Hotel Babylon Dadès which overlooked a river below and a massive mountain face on the opposite side. Although the hotel was fairly new, built into the rock wall, it had amazing ambiance like, I imagine, something from past. Decorative floor lamps created mood lighting down the halls and the stairways. The faucets were made from kettles tipped down towards the sinks. These were lined up outside the toilets. The doorways, windows and mirrors were lined with stonework and topped off with archways. Many of the walls had embedded stones. We were lucky to be spending two nights here.

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.

Memories of Morocco – Part II – More in Marrakech

Sunday we spent the whole day in Marrakech. After sleeping in and having a traditional breakfast of bread and jam, mint tea and fresh squeezed orange juice, Anne and I went for a walk to see the Bahai Palace. It was a warm and sunny day. We wandered the open concept palace with many others. Moroccan building interiors are intricate and highly decorative, with multi-coloured tiles set in complex patterns. Within the palace walls, there is a 2-acre garden with rooms opening onto courtyards. We find a turtle living in the garden.

Next we stopped across the street for a smoothie for Anne, and an orange juice for me at a streetside stall. Then we ventured across the street in search of the Artisanal Complex, Morocco’s version of a department store. Unlike the souks, there is no negotiation; prices are fixed. We wandered the three levels of the store and headed back. The skies had clouded over and the temperature had cooled. Not ten minutes after getting back to the hotel, the skies opened up and it poured for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening.

Three young women from Toronto arrived that afternoon: Charmaine, Evelyn and Wei. As a group, they were dubbed “The Girls”.  Around six, we were all rounded up and loaded into a van which drove us to a nearby parking lot to choose and set up our bikes. I shivered in the wind and rain as the guides worked on each bike. I looked for the shortest head tube I could find and nabbed the silvery Rockrider. By the time we got back I did not feel like going out into the rain again so I had dinner solo in the hotel while the others went to the Clock tower for some food and live music. My pasta with mushrooms was scrumptious and good fuel for the next day’s ride.

The next morning we got up bright and early for 7:00 breakfast. We loaded all our bags into the support vehicles and headed into the countryside for our first day of riding. We had a white Mercedes Benz van which carried bikes on the roof and food and cookware inside. A Ford mini-van carried nine people plus luggage and a smaller SUV carried 5-6 people and also had a bike rack on the roof and bags in the back. With three vehicles, three drivers - natch!, one cook, and 2 guides, we were well supported for the next ten days of traipsing around the Moroccan countryside by bike and by van.

Our cycling adventure was about to begin!

Memories of Morocco – Part 1: Arriving in Marrakech

Scotty Robinson, a Toronto-based tour guide operator, owner of OffBeatRoads, organized a 14-day bike trip through the heart of Morocco in mid-March. This was his second time doing this particular tour. My travelling companion Anne and I were in. Lured by the promise of an exotic, far-away country, sunny weather and some early spring cycling we landed in Marrakech on the morning of Saturday, March 18^th  to blue skies and warm temperatures, much to our delight.

Scotty’s tours are well organized and leave no detail uncovered. But when we arrived at the airport, one of his helpers who was supposed to pick us up missed his timing. A helpful bystander used his cell phone to call our hotel and arrange a shuttle to pick us up. A 15-minute drive later, we were let out of the shuttle van on a noisy, bustling street. Our bags were loaded onto a cart and short, sturdy Moroccan man hauling our luggage, led us down a side street lined with shops whose wares were spilling onto the roadway. Intermittent motorbikes and bicycles sped past us as we made our way down the narrow path. We turned down several dinghy alleyways not sure what to expect when we arrived at a small but intricately carved door.

Moments later the door opened, and we entered the riad (guesthouse) stunned at the disparity between the outer and inner walls. The riads here typically have rooms around the perimeter of an open courtyard. At this riad, at the upper level, there was a heavy plastic tarp covering the opening in case of rain. There was enough of an opening for small birds to get in.

Once checked in to our room on the second level, I ventured up to the terrace on the roof of the riad to find our fine leader, Scotty, sitting in apparent meditation, head in hands, on the edge of his lounge chair, the hot sun beating down on his browning back. My first introduction to him was delayed as he didn’t respond to my footsteps and I was reluctant to disturb him. Shortly Anne arrives and utters his name and we introduce ourselves. Scotty has thinning, sun-lightened hair pulled back in a small ponytail. He wears a friendly smile.

After a brief sunbath, Anne and I head to the Souk (market) to see the sights. If you show the slightest interest in any of the wares, you will be strongly encouraged to come inside and take a closer look. “Just look, no problem.” “Good price!”, were phrases we would hear over and over again.

In the open square, we spot a snake charmer and then a man with monkeys, which draws us near. Before I realize it, the man places the small monkey in one arm, then an older monkey in the other arm. On a leash and wearing diapers, these monkeys are unusually subdued. It made me sad to think how these poor monkeys must be treated and what an awful life they must have. We paid for pictures but all I could think about was how sad they were.

Back at the riad, we met some of the tour group members: Donna and Steve, Jackie, and Brian. And later Mark, a lone traveller arriving from Turkey. All from Toronto.

We ended the day with a delicious meal in a restaurant we found in another dark, forbidding alley. There was a musician playing guitar and the food, our first exposure to Moroccan cuisine, was tantalizing. We learned about the common practice of serving mint tea in a unique way: by pouring it out of a silver teapot raised high above a small, decorative glass, the purpose being to make the tea froth. On its own the mint flavour is overwhelming but I came to truly enjoy it with a bit of sugar.

That was our Saturday. Twelve hours of sleep that night went a long way to undoing any jetlag. The rest of the tour group would arrive on Sunday. Monday, we would finally head out into the countryside in a vehicle that would drop us in the middle of nowhere to begin our adventure.

The snowball effect – Reflections on the fitness habit

For those who aren’t devoted fitness fanatics, there often comes a turning point where one realizes that now is a good time to start getting in shape. Maybe life was too hectic with job, kids and their activities, but now there’s more time and you’ve gotten to the point that you can’t put it off any longer. Or, your weight has hit a new high or, you find out bending over to pick something up off the floor is a big deal, or getting up off the floor, or walking up the stairs is getting too hard. Whatever it is, there’s a trigger which makes you realize, enough is enough, I’ve got to get off my duff and start working out.

But where to start? You’ve taken the first step by making the decision to get in shape, now you need to take action. So you join the nearest big box fitness centre, or you sign up for classes, or hire a personal trainer. Now you’ve taken the second step. These are big life-changing decisions. But only if you follow through! The next two steps are the critical ones: first, show up, and show up consistently. Second, put in the effort. If you can follow through on these two rules, you’ve got it made. You will get better; you will progress. Working out becomes a habit. The proverbial snowball is going in the right direction.

But this doesn’t always work out as planned. Excuses are a dime a dozen. Anyone can come up with an excuse to not work out. You miss one because well, the weather’s bad. You miss another because you don’t feel like going. Before you know it, missing a workout becomes a habit. And now you’ve got a snowball going in the wrong direction. It's a slippery slope: one excuse makes the next one easier. You become very good at making excuses rather than good at staying fit in shape.  Eventually you're back at square one.

The time you take off requires twice that amount of time to get back to where you left off. In other words, if you miss 2 weeks of training, it will take you 4 weeks to get back to where you were before you took that time off. So now you’re effectively behind 6 weeks.

There are two valid reasons I can think of to miss one or more workouts: illness (and possibly injury) and travel. And even travelling does not prevent you from doing some sort of workout. If you’re injured, you might need to lay off certain exercises, that is, assuming your injury is not so serious that it puts you completely out of commission. A healthy lifestyle including proper nutrition will also help prevent many illnesses and keep you on the path to getting fitter.

The bottom line is, if you want to keep the fitness snowball rolling in the right direction, avoid getting into the habit of making excuses. Make your workouts a priority and make sure they fit into your schedule. Working out has to become a habit, something you do no matter what. At minimum, if you miss your class or training session, make time for some activity on your own. Something is better than nothing. If sticking to a schedule is difficult for you, joining a big box centre might not be your best option. Classes or a personal trainer will keep you accountable, where a fitness centre will not. Whatever it takes, find what works for you. No excuses.

The journey to Level II

In January 2016 I began work on a long-term goal: meeting the requirements for the Kettlebell Level II Certification as decreed by Agatsu Inc.  In November 2013, I achieved the Kettlebell Level I certification, but this was mostly about showing up, learning techniques, demonstrating ability to perform them, and passing a physical test at the end.  The course took place over two 8-hour days. If you were in reasonable shape, you could pass it. The next level is orders of magnitude beyond level I.

I practice and teach kettlebells regularly, so I am less concerned about the kettlebell component. However the certification is about more than swinging kettlebells. It is about a demonstrating a high level of strength, flexibility, balance and technique.

The requirements are: 10 chest to bar pull ups; 10 pistols each leg (on hold); 3 min bridge; 10 toes to bar (performed on stall bars) ; 10 ring push ups with external rotation; 100 snatches in 5mins (one hand change); 35 double jerks

The reason this is a great goal for me is training for it will build my base. What I have learned is where my weaknesses are.  So I am working on those. If you’re like me, you might think everything is your weakness. But it’s useful to isolate where you are weak relative to the rest of your body, so that you can focus on those areas.  I am repeating what I wrote in last week’s blog about training motivation when I say that if you are training your strengths, you are getting weaker!

For years I trained upper body and hit my legs by riding the bike until I discovered that, despite all the cycling, my legs are actually not very strong! After all, cycling is an aerobic activity. And although you deplete your leg muscles during hard cycling, you don’t necessarily make them stronger. Your cardiovascular and respiratory system get stronger. I also trained conventional free weights but seemed stuck at the same strength. I imagined I was on a “maintenance program”.  When I got bored with that I spent several years varying my training among TRX, kettlebells, bodyweight, free weights, and clubbells. In January of last year, I hired a personal trainer to give my training direction.

You might be surprised that as a personal trainer I also have a personal trainer. Not only do I have a trainer, but my trainers, who are world class athletes as well as world class teachers, also have trainers. I learned this at one of the certifications I took from Agatsu: everyone needs a teacher.

Not only do my sessions with Agatsu help me in my own training, they have in turn helped me to become a better trainer. I am always learning something new from them and pass the knowledge on to my students.

I now train 5 days a week and over the course of those 5 days, I hit all major areas of the body. The weaknesses are quickly revealed, as are the imbalances. The training includes mobility, joint preparation, locomotion, strength building, endurance, conditioning and stretching. If it sounds like a lot of work, it is! But it’s worth it. If I ever wonder if this is time well spent, I remind myself of this quote from Socrates:

“No citizen has a right to be an amateur in the matter of physical training... what a disgrace it is for a [wo]man to grow old without ever seeing the beauty and strength of which h[er] body is capable.”

Frustration to inspiration

I am getting back in the blogging groove with another installment on getting and staying motivated for training. Not very original perhaps but something we all struggle with to one degree or another.

The double-edged sword that is the Internet opens up the world of amazing abilities humans have for feats of strength, flexibility, agility, grace, and endurance – in short, the incredible range of skills that exist out there. Watching these feats might inspire us to be better ourselves. Or, depending on the level of skill, it is possible to feel frustrated by one’s own comparative lack of skill.

How do we get from frustration to inspiration? By setting goals for yourself and getting to work to achieve those goals. This takes a specific mindset: one must develop persistence.  How do you learn to be persistent? You first need patience. Difficult skills don’t happen overnight. Even the most gifted have to put in hard work to get to where they are. If you are training and putting in consistent effort training the skills you aspire to, then you are on the right course.

When frustration takes you to that fork in the road and you are faced with two choices: to quit, or soldier on, choose the path of greatest resistance.  Because if you quit in frustration, you will be guaranteed not to meet your goals. Sounds obvious but, I guarantee training will get you results eventually. Remember, if it were easy, it wouldn't be worth doing. Your goals might not happen as quickly as you would like but they will happen. Instead, stay inspired, persist in your training and be patient with yourself. This is the road to mastery. It is not a well-trodden path. The road less traveled is worth taking.

If you are feel stuck, search for the reason. What is holding you back? Is it you: not being consistent, not putting in the effort, not showing up? Or is it your method? Your trainer? Your health? Your nutrition? Once identified, the roadblock can then be removed or worked around. It might be time to look for another way – that way could be another trainer, program, method.  Find the right fit for you. Make sure all the elements are in place for you to succeed. And carry on training. The hard work will pay off. Maybe not as soon as you’d like, but it will be all the more rewarding for it when it happens.

And since you will be on this road for a long time, find ways to enjoy the journey. When the going gets rough, keep the end goal foremost in your mind. And find ways to make it fun. If it’s not, why are you doing it? There may be aspects you don’t like, but keep in mind that only by” staying in the suck”, will you improve. This means, working your weaknesses, not your strengths. It’s possible you don’t even know what your weaknesses are. The right training program will expose your weaknesses and develop them to make you stronger.

If you are training your strengths, you're only making yourself weaker. - Sara Clare-Lajeunesse

If the goal is something you really want, the training is something you really need. So if you’re not already training toward a goal, find out what your goal is and get to work.  Both the training and the end-results create a win-win. So keep those inspirational videos coming!