Spending a dirham became a common phrase of ours as we traversed between the Atlas and Anti Atlas mountains. Toilets of quality come at a price and with a lady on the trip a necessity. Our journey on day 2 took us across undulating terrain as we made our way towards the Dades Gorge. Remarkably good road surfaces treated us, which is appatently one of the reasons the Morrocan king is so popular.  Commissioning quality roads to reach the remoter parts of the country south of the Atlas.
Villages and towns are few and far between,  but each situated in it’s own little paradise on water sources where plants and animals spring to life. Both the Dades and Todra Gorges are incredible examples of this. As we cycled up and back down each gorge not before spending the night. We were treated to the stark contrast of grasses, palm trees and all manner of life living off of the fresh flowing waters, yet surrounded by the typically arid lands.

Days rolled by with more smiley waving children,  except one who thought it much more fun to throw stones. Just a small dampener on an otherwise excellent ride. The town’s we rode through each with there own unique mayhem of dogs donkeys and locals to dodge as well as there cavernous potholes. Our driver Hassan (also known as Harry,  or Mr no problem) guided us to our lunch stops each day.  Never as close as he would say,  10minutes away could be anywhere between 20 and 60 minutes,  and one kilometre, well how long is a piece of string.  But upon arrival we were never disappointed,  treated to good food,  good views and great hospitality.

Before we knew we were onto our final leg passing through the Saharan gateway in Rissani and soon after met by a herd of camels (not wild) at the exact point of a caution camels sign. soon it as time to let air out of the tyres, swap the cleats for flats and ride off into the desert proper along a Sandy track. You know you have a good hotel when the address is merely GPS co-ordinates.

 Finally the last hurrah,  a camel ride into the dunes for sunset. Ironically I found the 1 hour camel ride far more uncomfortable then the previous 600km in bike saddle.  But still i made a bond with my camel, I affectionately named Cameron the camel,  smelly but sweet. He may not have been as fond of me as the following photo’s show. On return to the hotel the adventure was almost complete just dinner and a long drive back to Marakech the following morning to come. The celebratory beers would have to wait until our return and as I think of beer back in Marrakech my mind wonders… how are there so many smashed beer bottles along the roads in a practically dry country….