ATLAS MOUNTAINS
following ancient nomadic trails, american pro eric porter heads deep into the interior of morocco to discover a diversity of riding on the menu, between the mint tea and tagines
US adventurer Eric Porter travels deep into the heart of Morocco to ride a playground of thousand-year-old trails, fuelled by tagine and mint tea
AS SOON AS WE LANDED IN MARRAKESH. IT WAS OBVIOUS THAT MOROCCO WAS UNLIKE ANYWHERE I'D EVER BEEN BEFORE
The country’s Muslim culture dictates that both men and women keep their skin covered, and alcohol is, for the most part, prohibited. Instead, the locals serve mint (green) tea everywhere and at any occasion – we drank it six to 10 times a day. Fortunately, if ever I did forget where I was, then the call to prayer soon snapped me back into the moment, starting at 4am and repeated four times a day.
Morocco is a nation of incredible landscapes and rich history. The oldest human remains found in this North African country date back 300,000 years and the Amizigh (also known as the Berbers), a race of nomads, have been living here for over 10,000 years. But what lit up my eyes was the prospect of visiting the Atlas mountain range. This bisects the country, topping out at 4,167m with Mount Toubkal before falling away to the Atlantic Ocean on one side and the Sahara Desert on the other. Its high-altitude passes are inhospitable places in winter, but then the snow retreats and the ground turns dusty dry.
My riding companion was H+I Adventures’ Euan Wilson and our plan was to complete a two-week exploratory mission through these mountains, riding from village to village, following the paths of the Amizigh – which, translated directly, means ‘free people’. Accustomed to a first-world diet of purpose-built trails, it was to be a completely different experience following tracks that were hundreds, if not thousands, of years old. Time-tested as the best routes through this unique landscape, these paths turned out to be some of the most incredible trails I’ve ever ridden.
RISE & SHINE
A typical day would start straight into a climb, uphill on dirt roads and singletrack, until it became too steep and we were forced to hikea-bike. Ribbons of steep and loose switchbacks winding their way up to well over 3,000m made it a welcome relief on other days when we used mules to shuttle our bikes. Either way, our efforts were invariably rewarded with a high-mountain pass and breathtaking views in all directions.
After crossing over one particular pass, we descended until the mountains opened up to reveal views of the Atlas’s highest peaks. The valley itself was terraced with lines of bright green crops and was so beautiful that it didn’t seem real. This was more evidence of the Amizigh, who live as subsistence farmers, surviving the extreme dry of the Moroccan summer thanks to an ingenious system of canals, which channel water from the mountain springs and snow melt down to the deserts below.
The trail itself was a playground, filled with perfect turns, rollers, rocks and roots to jump off. We couldn’t help but compare the varied terrain to that of our previous travels. There were sections that felt just like the high-desert trails of Durango, Colorado, with smooth, fast dirt of a similar texture and colour, lined with juniper trees and backdropped by snowy peaks. The small earthen buildings and alpine farms reminded us of Nepal, and, high up in the mountains, a barren and rocky trail we rode on day one brought back memories of Chile, as the clouds swirled in and soaked us to the skin. One unifying feeling with all these trails was a sense of remoteness. Knowing that any injury would result in a long, difficult rescue, we were on full alert, aware that there was no room for error.
TIME MACHINES
The only thing breaking up these amazing trails was the villages that we rode through. For the most part constructed in the traditional style, with mud and sticks, the buildings ranged from simple dirt-floored huts to huge kasbahs (fortified keeps), where multiple families and generations live and work side-byside enduring the harsh mountain climate. The settlements were mostly inaccessible by vehicle and the lack of cars or traffic noise gave us the feeling of being in a time machine, our bikes allowing us to glimpse a side of Morocco that’s rarely seen.
We were warmly welcomed by the local residents, drinking tea
with them and eating food grown in the fields around us. For dinner, the options were inevitably tagine (slow-cooked stew) or more tagine. Thankfully, what the food lacked in variety it more than made up for in taste. Our accommodation was more diverse. The ‘gites’ were the most primitive lodgings, consisting of rooms lit by a single bulb, around a central courtyard, with cots on the floor and wool blankets for sleeping. We’d wash ourselves in the hammam – a common room with a bucket of water, heated by a wood fire. In stark contrast were the beautiful riad hotels, complete with luxurious swimming pools and shady, ornate courtyard gardens.
DOWN AND OUT
Our two-week adventure culminated with a ride down and out of the Atlas Mountains and into the Sahara Desert. The route took us back and forth, from sweltering empty expanses of sand to lush green oases with palm trees, water and human habitations. Local kids would rush to us to give us high fives and I made sure to reward their enthusiasm with wheelies, which seem to be appreciated all over the world!
We were transported out of the desert via camel, through the middle of massive sand dunes. Their hooves moved effortlessly through the deep, soft sand, enabling the type of longdistance journeying that the Amizigh have undertaken for centuries. It seems that bike riding still lags behind this ancient method of transport in Morocco. We saw many more road cyclists than expected, but mountain bikes are expensive to import and the only dirt to ride close to Marrakesh is the roads.
The Atlas Mountains are full of trails though. They can be difficult to access and there are few options shorter than big, full-day rides, but as we discovered, if you journey right into the heart of the region, the riding and culture make for an unforgettable experience. If someone asked me to go back, I’d book the tickets at a moment’s notice.