ADVENTURE: LUIS IN NORTH AFRICA
Inspired by a Bike magazine feature, waaaaaay back when.
For five years I had been happily trashing my Honda CBR600 touring in Portugal, Spain and France. Then in December 2004 I read an article in Bike that changed things for me. The feature told a tale about someone who rode all the way to Marrakech in Morocco on their Kawasaki ZX-9R. And within this story was a section they’d called ‘Why go?’ This really caught my attention, so much so that my wanderlust would not calm until I boarded the ferry to Tangier in April 2005. That trip changed my motorcycling life forever. In fact it is still having a profound effect to this day…
The flavour that comes when you switch continent, especially if it is for the first time, is undeniable. But you have to experience it for yourself to really understand. The very different scenery, the way it constantly changes, the whopping contrasts between classic/modern, old/ new, poor/ rich, the smells and flavours of places and dishes which are all new. And, of course, the city that uniquely blends it all – Marrakech itself.
But it’s not just the sights and smells that are very different, the type of riding changes radically too. And you have to get used to it quickly. The traffic here moves faster than you can imagine, and everything is more or less allowed as long as you make it clear early enough to the other road users. And the police aren’t looking. Just avoid riding at night because your bike’s lights probably have more lumens than everything else on the road, combined.
The thing about engaging with a place/country/part of the world is that it gets in your blood, in your brain. Seeing the golden Saharan sand dunes in Merzouga, on my second trip, woke a southbound desire within me I didn’t know I had. And so I began to return to Morocco almost annually. And with every year that passed by ambitions for bike adventures grew to the point where, in 2007, I decided on my most ambitious objective so far – Mauritania, south of the Western Sahara. But it did not go well – that trip was a learning curve, plagued by way too many typical beginner mistakes. Errors such as too many miles per day on a bike that was needlessly overloaded. After this misadventure I decided that trips such as this should be planned properly and done with a group of like-minded people. Principles I follow to this day.
In 2007 it also became clear to me that changing bike had to happen, the bike but not necessarily the manufacturer. I needed something not so fast, but reliable. A rather heavy but simple 1997 Africa Twin turned out to be the solution. And those twin headlights really resemble the golden years of the African Paris Dakar, don’t they…
The West African trip
Now equipped with the right bike, an opportunity to join a trip through West Africa popped up, and it was just too good to let go – two weeks riding in North and West Africa from Morocco to Guinea-bissau.
After quickly dispensing with Morocco itself we entered the Morocco-administered region of Western Sahara which curiously delivered a rather monotonous ride and a unique experience all at the same time. Basically, here, there is just one main north-south tarmac road that stretches for almost 1000km with cliffs falling into the Atlantic on the right side and a desolate sea of sand and rocks on the left. The monotony is interrupted either by invading sand pushed onto the road by wind, or the armed control posts where military occupants invariably take a keen interest in the bikes and how much they cost… and then confirm the ranking by comparing the clocks’ maximum speed. There aren’t many fuel stations along the way and fuel itself, station staff and even electricity is something not 100% guaranteed. It’s the stuff that makes this kind of stuff an adventure. Which is fine.
Arriving at the coastal city of Nouadhibou in Mauritania offers a shock similar to arriving in Morocco from Spain for the first time: a (dis)organized mess, old Mercedes everywhere, goats on the streets. And it takes a while to understand that people drive on the right side of the road , although it seems to be more a guide than a rule.
We travel south on a tarmac road built in 2009. Before that the way to ride between the two main Mauritanian cities was on the beach, but only after checking the tide tables. But in Mauritania the opportunity to ride on sand and to test those theories is never far away. So: start in second gear with a handful of revs; don’t stand, sit; resist steering as you’ll instead vaguely go where you’re looking; engage the next higher gear whenever possible and acceleration is key to restore balance. The first encounters with sand are a bit hit and miss, but eventually it comes together. Even on loaded bikes.
The closer we get to the border with Senegal the greener our world becomes, this is the semi-arid Sahel region. We
‘The trip was a learning curve, plagued by way too many typical beginner mistakes’
veer west towards the Diama Dam, which doubles as a border crossing – the river Senegal sits to the south and the desert to the north. What a contrast.
We’re now in the Diawling National Park, crossing fields punctuated by huge-horned wild cattle, four-feet tall donkeys, flamingos and pelicans.
To get into Senegal we go through four hours of negotiations – border rules here seem to be ever changing, especially when it comes to motor vehicles. But the wait is worth it. Senegal is very different to Mauritania, there’s lots of colour, music and people on the streets. The Senegalese are interactive and curious: where do you come from? Really? Did you cross the desert? How long does it take? Some Senegalese men are tall and muscular while some women resemble graceful gazelles. Senegal’s beer is appropriately called Gazelle.
After two days of not resisting the lazy charm of Saint Louis too hard, we have a quick encounter with Lac Rose where the African Paris Dakar rally used to finish, and then ride inland. Here we find baobabs – huge anthills bigger than the bikes. The locals live in scattered villages made up of shacks, they’re extremely friendly and love to see themselves on the camera’s screen. Our route from here quickly becomes infested with giant potholes and the bikes and panniers take an agonizing hammering for several days. But survive. Beyond this the local traffic kicks up walls of dust. Over taking in this place is not easy.
Further south we reach Casamance with its tropical savanna climate and luxuriously green landscapes. Its beaches are wide and beautiful and it feels great to ride them.
We are running out of time now and the last few days are spent approaching
Bissau (the capital of Guinea-bissau). From here the bikes will be shipped back home.
Bissau is one of those cities that seems to have stopped in time while offering an old-age glamour from its crumbling colonial facades. Even the policemen are nice, all is relaxed and quite safe. There’s no public lighting and in the night the city shakes to the vibration of generators illuminating restaurants, bars and hotels.
Back to basics
We motorcyclists do not always have to ride that far and that long to have a proper adventure – which is good news when you have to harmonise work and family with the bike and the horizon. For sure Morocco has a lot to offer to both the more or less adventurous rider. From the snow bound passes of the Atlas to the Sahara flavoured south it is all there to be enjoyed, without a prohibitive amount of jeopardy. And for us continental Europeans it is just a ferry ride away. Two if you’re in the UK.
I’ve been returning to Morocco almost yearly, since reading that 2004 article in Bike, and I’ve learned a lot about the country and myself.
There’s a saying that goes ‘fail to prepare, prepare to fail’ but that does not mean you have to mailorder and carry the full catalogue of overlanding accessories. Having a plan which is not overly ambitious, allowing for unexpected events, accepting that sometimes you really have to turn back and the advantages of being part of a compatible and complementary team are learnings that go beyond motorcycle adventuring.
These sometimes hard-learned principles have allowed me to have fantastic experiences in Morocco, especially away from the big cities. There are tracks that wind up to breath
taking views well over 3000m above sea level, others take you to cascades that fall higher than 100m or offer snow and sand all on the same day. And if things do get critical, like a couple of years ago when we had to knock on an isolated and empty family owned auberge because the snow and cold were simply too much, there’s maybe something new to be learned: we spent the night around the fireplace discussing contrasting concepts of family and religion.
Yet my favourite place is the Moroccan Sahara and its pistes. This place offers a taste of the true desert a thousand kilometres further south. The going is relatively smooth and the distances not too big, which means you’re not forced to camp in the desert (but you should try it at least once). The small sections of dunes are separated by dried lakes and rocky outcrops which, coupled with the relatively open terrain, demand not more than moderate riding and orientation skills.
What next after an odd 2020/21? Morocco, of course. But every month, when I get my copy of Bike I look first at the travel stories and let myself be inspired… all over again.
» If you’ve been inspired by Luis being inspired and have an adventure story you would like to share through Bike, please get in touch. Email: nigel.grimshaw@bauermedia.co.uk
‘Tracks wind up to breath-taking views well over 3000m above sea level, others take you to cascades that fall 100m ’