Throwing my leg over the saddle of a motorbike for the first time in almost a year, I nervously started the engine of my rented BMW 650GS as we prepared to leave Fez and head south on the Moroccan oasis route. Even though I've been riding motorbikes on and off for nearly fifteen years, the thought of riding anything more than a scooter in a foreign land required me to focus and remember which pedal was the brake and which was the gear shifter as we slowly worked our way out of the city core and on to a country highway that would climb up and over the middle atlas mountains. The directions given by our guesthouse owner Mohammed were not all that great and one hour and a dozen people stopped to ask for directions on the street later, we were finally on our way. With perfect riding weather (sunny and twenty degrees) on our first day, we made it through 290 kms of spectacular scenery. We rode through olive groves, cedar forests, lunar-like landscapes and mighty gorges that split both the middle and high atlas mountains. We zipped by waving locals, donkey carts, hurds of sheep and rabid dogs all while litterally gasping at the beauty of the landscape around almost every turn.
As the sun began to hang low on the horizon and we approached the town of Midelt, we observed a sudden abundance of Moroccan flags and police officers positioned at the side of the road which seemed kind of odd. Around the next corner we noticed group of approximately ten helicopters and high end vehicles parked in an empty patch of gravel. Also weird. When we stopped to get gas and asked the attendant what all the fuss was about he told us that the King of Morocco was going to be visiting and that the roads would be shut down temporarily to accomodate the royal visit. No problem we figured, as long as we're ahead of the motorcade and not stuck behind it we should be ok and be able to make good ground before sunset.
We casually pulled out of the gas station and back on to the highway and continued on our way through town, only now the streets were lined with not only police officers but also throngs of people waving moroccan flags while cheering and clapping as we passed by. Wow we thought, this is quite the reception we're receiving... did someone in our fan club let the local people know we would be riding through town on this date ? When I noticed the car two lengths in front of me was a black Land Rover and that the police appeared to be saluting it as it passed by I didnt really think too much of it, but when I followed that same car up what I thought was a continuation of the highway (but which I quickly learned was an access road to an exclusive hotel/restaurant) it all became clear. The two or three well-dressed men that ran out of the crowd towards my motorbike with their hands up in a STOP signal made it clear that I would likely be shot if I got any closer too or continued to follow the Land Rover which I now assume was carrying his royal highness to dinner. Oops. The fact that neither Gord or I was tackled and/or shot dead, let alone that we unknowingly got so close to the King's wheels and weren't physically stopped and questioned is beyond either of us. But try and throw a pie in the Prime Minister's face in Canada and we'd be in for a world of pain from his protective detail.
Our day ended when we could no longer safely see the road (the streets aren't lit here) and we pulled in to the dusty and dirty hole of a city inappropriately named Rich. This place was so sketchy that our rooms only cost $4 a night, we felt safer walking back from the Hamman (yes, we're starting to live like the locals) on the side streets and the only safe and secure place to park our bikes for the night was in the hotel lobby. As Gord road the bikes through the front door to where we would park them and the owner moved a few tables and chairs to make room, he told us we could pay a local kid the equivalent of $2 to watch the bikes for the night to make sure they didn't go missing by morning. That kid earned his keep and by 10am the next morning we were on our way and headed for the south east reaches of the country near the closed border with Algeria.
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| Our horses |
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| An oasis on our way south...no that's not hash this time |
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| Another oasis |
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| Gord, valet parking in the hotel lobby |
