11/18/2023 Bikepacking Morocco Day 102 : Camel Time

Morocco is many different countries in one; today I began to dip into to the edge of the Sahara desert. This is just a sampler because after this, I’ll head back up to the last mountain range: The Anti Atlas Mountains. So far, you have joined me for the Riff Mountains, the Middle Atlas, and most recently the High Atlas. After the Anti Atlas, we will be taking a break from mountains for an incredible 1900 miles.

Thanks to those who have written me personally about Algeria. To assuage your concerns, even though I can see their land from here, I’m not crossing that border. It may surprise you, but Algeria and Morocco have exactly zero open land borders since 1994. This is from the aftermath of “the sand war.” People can find all sorts of things to fight over, huh? In spite of this rivalry, I did have quite a bit of interest in visiting the Northern portion of the country (the South is mostly just unrideable sand dunes like I’m experiencing here). An American can request a visa for $250 USD, and it seems like if you get the visa, you should be able to travel independently (without a tourism operator). Even though I have been amongst Muslim people for over 2 weeks now, I continue to be interested and curious in learning more. You will notice I haven’t mentioned much about the various permutations of the religion yet - I’m still working out my thoughts. Anyway, Algeria was on the list, but it slipped down a little bit when I learned that they banned the Barbie movie. I’d been meaning to see that.

Today is a good opportunity to talk more about the ride instead of the people. I spent almost the entire day alone in the desert - pushing my bike through deep sand in places, but also happy bumbling around at a rapid 10 mph over washboarded and rocky tracks. It’s only been 15 days, and unbelievably, I’ve done less than a third of the miles I have planned for Morocco. The subsequent miles promise to go faster once the terrain gets flatter (and hopefully the winds come from the typical North/East).

So far, I can recommend Morocco as a bike touring destination; the drivers are good and even paved roads are usually empty. The drivers have a penchant for driving in the middle of the road. This is perfect when they are coming from behind, though a bit less desirable when meeting them head on. The majority of people have been friendly and welcoming. Morocco’s economy benefits greatly from tourism, and you can see that many people are doing well “enough” - though it could always be better. Many locals know this and treat tourists very kindly. In the epicenter of each touristic spot, the kids are well behaved; it’s just the surrounding “sphere of influence” where I encounter the problems. Conversely, tourism is practically non existent in Algeria - quite likely due to the fact that their economy is supported by oil money. For this reason, I suspect I would really like it there a lot.

You have a multitude of route choices until you get to the Sahara - and you can “choose your elevation” based on the temperature and time of year. November is turning out to be a good time here with night temperatures of 30-45F. Day time temperatures are 80-100F - but it’s a dry heat, so tolerable by me while moving.

Cycling is “easy” in Morocco in some ways. Lodging - ranging from camping to luxury accommodation - is available in many places - even tonight in a seemingly remote corner of the desert, I can “camp” in a so-called Berber tent with water and they will serve me food. I say so-called because Berbers are not ONLY nomadic people. Did you know that Ramesses II, the third Pharaoh was Berber? Interestingly, the Berbers were originally Jews or Christians, but once they were conquered by the Arabs, they converted to Islam. There are about 35 million people who call themselves Berber, the majority live in Morocco and Algeria with a 2/3 1/3 distribution respectively.

“Berber” comes from Greek and means “barbarian.” Like many historical names nowadays, there is a trend towards using the name “Amazigh” which means “free man” - probably referring to the nomadic roots of these inhabitants of Northern Africa. I had a pie-in-the-sky idea that I would meet some “real” nomads in the desert and join them for tea in their tent. But guys, it’s 2023 and you gotta fake that stuff now. The real nomads are probably distanced from anywhere I could ride a bike with 2.1” tires. But that is Ok. I’m going to have dinner now at my luxury camp in the desert, look at the stars, and enjoy the Pink Floyd music emanating from the tent of the only other family here.