We love to experience the world and we love to ride bikes. Especially when the terrain gets bumpy and challenging, and we get full value for our bikepacking set-up. We are looking forward to setting out on the bikepacking route 'Route of Caravans', which is a 1200km route with 12,500 meters of altitude, which partly follows a historic caravan route. It will take us through the High Atlas mountain range that runs through Morocco and rises between the coast to the west and the raw desert to the east. Through deep canyons with tall palm trees and red rocks, both rocky and sandy deserts and back over the Anti Atlas mountain range, before ending at the azure Atlantic Ocean.
A cold start
When we zip up the tent after our first night in the High Atlas, we see frost on the bikes. The thermometer shows minus 7 degrees, and we understand better why we have been chattering our teeth and lying in a spoon all night. Our sleeping bags have a comfort temperature of plus 15 degrees. We get the heat back by thinking about yesterday's cycling over a mountain pass at 2645 meters in the sun's last warm rays and a magical light.
The start of the route goes over three small peaks in the High Atlas and lunch is taken on the last one, at an altitude of 2,900m, with an insanely beautiful view of brown grassy mountains that wind around a deep gorge. We enjoy being back in the mountains, and the tent is set up on a flat plateau under a bright starry sky.
As we leave the High Atlas, we can already make out the Anti Atlas mountain range in the distance. After a long winding descent with steep slopes, we cycle directly down into a green oasis. The palm trees stand tall with ripe dates, and it is a great contrast to the raw high barren mountains in the background, which we stood for a few hours hours earlier.
We ask for water when we see a man pumping water into a large basin. He explains that solar cells pull the water pump and that they can irrigate the crops that way. It hasn't rained in the area for 3-4 years and they usually get very little water.
We cycle through several Berber villages with weathered old ksars and kasbahs built in traditional style in clay and wood. The Berbers are Morocco's indigenous people, and they live largely in the mountains and in the desert. The cities are known for their ksases, which generally refers to an urban community of mud houses and kasbahs, which are the old fortifications.
Erg Chigaga – crossing a desert
We arrive at the town of Zagora, which is historically a mythical place. It was the last stop for the caravans of the time before they had to cross the desert, and the city was a key point for trade from south to north through the Draa valley. We stop in front of the sign that shows Zagora to Timbuktu – 52 days. 1500km through the Sahara to the trading city in Mali. We won't be on the way in the desert for that long, but we still feel the rush of history.
We have to cross Erg Chigaga instead. Part of the Sahara in southeastern Morocco, close to the border with Algeria. The camels have been replaced by our mountain bikes, and we pack 8 liters of water on each bike, which will ensure that we can manage in the back heat through the desert.
There is a lot of talk in connection with the route, whether you can cross the desert or not. A large number believe that it is impossible. We think that sounds like a fun challenge. So we turn off the road and set off through a large stone desert.
In the distance we glimpse large orange sand dunes, which rise majestically on the horizon. Like a magnet we are drawn to them, but it stops abruptly when we reach the desert. The wheels sink into the deep, fine and loose sand.
It won't be long before we get to enjoy the beautiful orange sand that characterizes the Sahara for the first time. We dream of a fat bike with big tires as we push the bikes through the sand, past an abandoned, sandy tent camp.
The landscape changes again to the stone desert, and we wander off on the bikes with our 16 liters of water. There is not a road as such, but rather a jumble of ruts. Every now and then a four-wheel drive drones by. We meet two men walking with a herd of dromedaries. It turns into a nice little chat. The heath is at the back with a wind that feels like cycling in hot air from a hair dryer.
The sun is setting and we can see silhouettes of people on the sand dunes. It is a fantastic sight of orange sand bathed in the last rays of the day's sun in contrast to the shadows on the summit. We decide to continue until dark, as it is easy to find a place to pitch the tent. The further we go today, the shorter we have tomorrow when the sun is high in the sky and grilling us. We set up the tent with headlamps, cook and look up at an impressive starry sky. We stick to each other's arms. The first time we are in Sahara sand.
The next day, we continue to push the bikes in soft sand and look at the barren sand-colored huge landscape with great respect. We feel like a small grain of sand in a big sandbox. We meet dromedaries and follow in their footsteps. We watch their large footpads and how they elegantly float on top of the sand, lazily oblivious to the hot sun or constant thirst. It's something else for a couple of snoring cyclists. After approx. 20 km we get firm ground again under the bikes. We smile with relief from ear to ear.
We reach Lake Iriki, which is a large parched plain at this time of year. We keep looking back as the sand dunes disappear into the distance. At a military post, we leave the rut and take a minor road towards the desert town of Foum Zquid. We are back in a stone desert, and we try as best we can to spare our rims from stone impact. Fortunately, there is a small track that works perfectly as a singletrack.
We enjoy the small cozy towns along the way, where we stop to buy fresh fruit, vegetables and a hot meal as a nice change to the couscous and tinned sardines. We buy colonial goods in the shops, which may look small from the outside, but which often have an impressive amount on the shelves. We buy oatmeal and rice in bulk from sacks on the floor. We taste Amlou, which is ground almonds, honey and argon oil (to be exact) mixed together into a 'nut butter'. It tastes fantastic and is super good to have on the bike in the heat. In the town of TanTan, we discover for the first time a bread baked in a stone oven, which has a completely different texture and taste to the bread we normally eat. We smell all the spices and fresh mint in the markets and sit at a sidewalk cafe like the locals and observe the city life.
Can you count to 10 in French?
It's getting dark and time to find a place to pitch the tent for the night. We cycle down into a huge date plantation, where ripe bunches of dates hang from the palm trees. The dates are in season from August to November, and they taste like the birds are singing. There are lots of small roads criss-crossing the large palm grove and, seen with our eyes, plenty of space to pitch a small tent.
We meet a man on a moped and ask him in our broken French-Spanish-English if it is ok for us to pitch the tent in the plantation. The man smiles and answers us in Arabic. However, we understand that he is inviting us home. We follow Bni through the plantation, further and further through crooked roads and out the other side where there is a small town. It gets darker and darker, and we turn down a small alley. Here, Bni opens the door to a traditional adobe house built in clay stone and wood. Through the door we see Bni's sweet family looking out at us curiously. Wife, six children, grandmothers, brother and sister.
We are cordially invited into a large room and placed on the floor with pillows and blankets. It doesn't take long before the two smallest children are crawling around us and want to play. Tea is made, and Bni's wife brings delicious home-baked bread, olive oil, eggs and the best dates. We sit together with Bni and drink tea, while the rest of the family sits a little further away. When we finish, the rest of the family eats. It feels completely wrong to us, but the atmosphere is good, and for the family it is completely normal. The two older girls learn French at school and pull out the books. We learn to count to 10 in French and they learn to count to 10 in English. They are super cute, want to talk and learn English words.
After a while, traditional costumes are found for us to try on. Marie tries on a long white skirt with nice embroidery, a scarf and a headpiece with a nice piece of jewelry that is Bni's mother's. Kenneth in a long petticoat and outer suit in white with gold stripes and a nice white and blue hat, which is a little too small.
It's been a long day and the cyclists are starting to look a little dull in the eyes. The girls are signaling something with food that we don't quite understand. We point to our stomachs and signal that we are full. It is not accepted. Shortly after, a large dish is brought in with rice, a delicious sauce and a piece of chicken on top. Again, Bni and we eat first, while the rest of the family waits. We have now learned that the less we eat, the more there is for the rest of the family. So we try to find the balance of eating enough to show that we really like the food (which tastes amazing) and that there is food for the rest of the family. There is a quarter chicken to share between 8 adults and 6 children.
We are taken upstairs, where we are given the sister's room to sleep in. It is painted pink, with pink curtains and beautiful carpets on the floor. In a large shoe bag on the green decorated door hang neatly arranged the most beautiful shoes. We say it's way too much, but they don't want to hear about it. So we go to sleep in a soft bed and are very grateful for the hospitality shown by the family.
The next morning the house is still quiet when we get up. Apart from Bni's wife, who is already busy in the outdoor kitchen. There is a gas stove, but the morning soup is made over a fire.
Bni's wife is simply so sweet and beautiful. She has a twinkle in her eye, and we have no doubt that she both has bones in her nose and is a cornerstone of the family. When we say goodbye, she presents Marie with a scarf that she has made herself. It is a nice traditional black scarf with colored embroidered circles. Bni's wife tells how she makes and sells the scarves. At the same time as she keeps house and looks after six children.
It's hard to say goodbye. The family has made a huge impression on us, and we are grateful to be allowed to be part of their family and everyday life for a while. A family that functions in a completely different way than what we know. There was mutual curiosity. They wanted to learn about us and we about them.
Abandoned oasis and lost paths
It may well be that the Erg Chigaga desert is on paper the hardest part of the route, but the following days should prove to be a new exciting challenge.
The first day we cycle through a beautiful sandy plain and see no one but dromedaries and a single jeep that has also taken a trip in the beautiful valley.
The next day, the path, which was already small, suddenly disappears. We stand for a while and look at the map and the route. Fortunately, Kenneth is a born tracking dog, so we follow the direction where the path should be, even if it is difficult to see. In between there is camel excrement, which indicates that we are on the right track.
We reach an abandoned oasis. There are withered palm trees and empty houses. Here the sparse path disappears again, and we have to go back and forth. We push the bikes through the rocks and cycle as much as we can. We are happy that we have both ridden mountain bikes. It continues like this with a view of a large valley before we find the place to cross the pass. As we cycle out onto the road, we see a 'military area - no entry' sign.
We meet the military again a little later on the route. We have cycled over a high, steep pass on a small road and after a short descent on the other side, we continue on a very small track. The main road goes a little further down the mountain, and there we see a pickup truck with three military men in neat uniforms. They drive back and forth a bit, and it is quite clear that they are waiting for us. They smile warmly and say 'Bonjour'. Kenneth gets a phone in hand with a man who speaks English. They don't want cyclists cycling around the mountains at night. We try to explain that we have full control of the shortcut to the town of Tiznit and that we have a tent with us. We quickly realize that it's no use and that we have to follow the car to their military compound. They are very friendly and it is a nice place. We get a whole department to ourselves with tables, chairs and toilets.
After a good night's sleep, the next morning we are once again explained the asphalt road to the town of Tiznit. We nod, drive off and of course turn back onto the small goat path which forms the shortcut. We reach an enchanting valley in the morning light. First a steep descent along sharp hairpin bends with a view of small collections of houses on the slopes down to the river. Up on the other side, it goes up a super steep zigzag driveway with several large loose stones. We end up walking most of the driveway, but it doesn't really matter because there's so much to look at and it's a lot more fun than grinding on a country road.
After visiting the holy spring, where the route starts / ends in the town of Tiznit, we continue to the Atlantic Ocean. It's been over a month since we last saw the sea. The hairs stand up on our arms as we catch sight of the vast azure sea after passing a hilltop.
Adventurous south-east Morocco
In northern Morocco, we got off to a slightly skewed start, but the experiences in south-eastern Morocco are exactly what we hoped to find in the country. We have cycled in North Africa's highest mountain range, the High Atlas, which rises between the coast to the west and the raw desert to the east. Through gorges and date plantations to the desert and back again over the mountain range, Anti Atlas. Heart-felt encounters with local, age-old traditions and beautiful old kasbahs. We were allowed to sink into everyday life in the small desert towns, shop for local produce in the many markets, eat delicious food from the street kitchen and admire how old crafts are maintained. We are very grateful to be invited for mint tea, home-baked bread and cycle away with home-grown dates. And best of all to be allowed to be part of a family's everyday life. Southern Morocco has won our hearts, and although this post is long, it is only a small part of all the memories we take with us from here.
The bikepacking route: Route of Caravans
If you are interested in more info about the route, you can find it at Bikepacking.com – https://bikepacking.com/routes/morocco-traverse-south/. You are also always very welcome to write to us for more info.
