Heat, hills and hot water

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August 26th 2007

Published: September 4th 2007

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DestinationAlgeria

camels and village

Todra Gorge: central Morocco

The lake to Fes..Dan.

OK I just have to say camping at the lake was great, mate. The thing was massive, and in a dry desert like Morocco even more appealing than a nice lake in NZ. There were dead fish, each about a metre in length scattered around the shore line but the local campers who aside from being high on hashish seemed very reliable, assured us it was safe to swim. So after dinner, of sponge cakes and dry biscuits, which Kees rudely decided to throw up later in the night, we headed down to the shore for a swim. Boy that water was beautiful, the temp was about perfect and after a no. of days at critical body temp, I couldn't think of anywhere better to be. Went for a swim again in the morning with a local and was greeted by about a hundred tiny fish all attacking me. It felt like some scene from piranha, but I was assured they were only after the dead skin on my apparently peeling arms and legs. I just wonder what had kept them away the night before. Hmm.

That days riding was the hottest we had experienced,

start of the Dades Valley

direction todra gorge

and the Arizona like desertside and complete absence of shade added to the Death Valley like feel. One of the biggest issues was our water, oh sure the local shops kept us well supplied with it but, after 10 minutes in direct sunlight in the mid 40's it begins to taste like freshly brewed plastic tea. I mean at one stage i spilt some water from my bike drink bottle on my arm and it burnt me, no kidding, I was scolded. A very refreshing beverage then. But eventually, after great long stretches broken up nicely with steep hills we entered into the gorge region. Incredible what huge productivity and prosperity the locals can achieve with one dirty little brown stream. The greenery that sprung up around it was such a contrast with the surrounding desert you'd be forgiven for thinking it was some kind of allusion.

The following few days were spent hanging out in the beautiful Todra gorge, being rather knackered and having found a cheap campground..associated with a hotel that had a swimming pool the campers could use, it took a huge amount of deliberating to decide to maybe stay for a couple of days. On

Todra Gorge

our first 'recovery' day we rode up the gorge to a point where it narrows to only 20 odd metres and has shear cliffs up both sides. Here the Todra river emerges from it subterranean path and out springs a clean clear little steam with swimming holes, and hence locals a plenty. So brandishing bike pants for swimming togs we jumped in and floated down showing how it was done.

The next day we sat on the side of the road and waved down a 'cameo' think cream, which is the local name for an old bedford truck. Into this we went, bikes and bags and all, and squeezed in on a hay bail among the other 'package tourists' for an epic ride over another pass in the Atlas mountains to find the mystical village of Imichil and its rumoured Berber festival, on that weekend we were told. After almost an entire day bouncing around on that 1970 farm truck we were eventually deposited about 20km from our destination, so back on the bikes and into Imichil, and sure enough, there in the heart of the Atlas mountains was a little town in full festival mode with a big

exciting landscape for 40-odd k

direction todra gorge: central Morocco

free concert to carry us through the evening. Tourists, nope saw about 3 in the whole place, apparently most dates given out to tourists in the cities are intentionally wrong to keep it a local affair. It was truly magical, and dancing and singing with the locals, high in the mountains, to a language we couldn't understand made the big journey well worthwhile.

From here we spent a couple of days cycling our way out of the mountains then the foothills to find the plains to Fes. We past villages hanging off the side of rocks, villages set deep up against joining rock faces that it looked like helms deep, and more lakes and streams exclusive to the mountainous regions of Morocco. The Berber population were among the most genuine and friendly of all the people we have met and made our time in the hills all the more memorable.

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