By Chewy22 May2005

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Longest single day mileage 650 miles
Number of fuel stops 49
Cost of fuel £450
Total trip mileage 5630
Average MPG France and Spain 45 (Motorway)
Average MPG Morocco 49
Biggest tank range 167 miles ran out of fuel
Fastest speed 167 mph Spain
Average miles per day 312
Two chain adjustments
Two tyres now worn out
Credit card overloaded

Day 1 7th April 386 miles Home to Dover
The ride down to Dover was uneventful but for one fact that I hooked up with Les the Honda Fireblade rider from Burton on Trent - this was a bonus because we seemed to hit it off from the word go a truly nice guy to spend time with. We had a few phone calls between each other and also met up at Nick's place in Wales on Saturday for a BBQ. I enjoyed all his anecdotes and stories of his time in the merchant navy, especially the sugar run to south America and the lifebuoy soap stories. There’s more to tell but I'll hold these back for later. Seems I have underestimated this guy already.
He proved to be quite a fast rider with a hidden talent for stories and jokes that kept us all amused through the journey. Especially the story about the ginger one and the, Oh no not the breathalyser again joke.


Day 2 8th April 376 miles Dover/Dunkerque to Onzain (nr Blois) France
This day starts off fine for the 18 bikes their riders and 3 passengers but the rain starts to get to us towards the end of the day. Our final destination for the night is in sight, the Chateau des Tertres, the pace begins to quicken and I am following a couple of BMW GS riders both with passengers Patrick and Eilleen on the silver bike and Tony and Patricia on the black GS. They both have adopted a peculiar riding stile, Patrick seems to have a continuous weave which is starting to bug me a little and Tony seems to dive into corners like he is chasing Valentino Rossi around Donnington park, not a good idea on a heavy laden bike two up.
I think I will have to shorten the odds on these two as it looks like they will be hitting the deck soon. Time to move up front and out of their way. The rain has stopped but the roads are treacherous. The French steep adverse cambered roundabouts are laden with spilt diesel and wet with the rain, we're all playing catch up so we are hitting some silly speeds just keeping the pack together. Tony must have been doing this as his girlfriend admitted later over diner that he was riding far to fast for her. It seems he was going round one of the roundabouts when the rear end stepped out on his bike but he managed to save it only to find he is now heading towards a lamppost. Result lamp post 1, BMW 0. They were both ok but the bike would be going nowhere fast. Well that’s the end of their trip, time to shorten Patrick’s odds a little, 7 to 4 me thinks.
Insert mantra here (Treat yourself and your bike with respect or there won't be a trip from here) I continue to ride the rest of the journey at only 80% of my maximum ability. From here on its a sort of reminder of if you f**k up now trying to show off then you will have nothing at the end of the 18 day journey to tell anybody except how you made a complete arse of yourself.

PHOTOS:
AT DOVER WAITING TO GO
TONY AND PATRICA SMASHED UP BMW
SNOWING IN THE LOWER PYRENEES
St-BEAT FRANCE

Day 3 9th April 384 miles Onzain to Saint Girons France
This is ridiculous, it's late April and we are now in the south of France and its bloody cold and still snowing. A couple of friends, Maz and Nigel from the south of France St,Feliu d’Amount, said it was 31 degrees last week but its now freezing. We meet up with a couple of Geordie Brits in a petrol station service area all of them shivering like mad in just T shirts with their arms blue from the cold ride heading for home. They're complaining about the freak weather. So it’s not just me then? I do hope this gets better.
In the same service area we get a quick snack and a coffee. Myself and Nick home in on the only table available in this busy service station while a few others get us all something to drink. While I fumble in my tank bag for what I had taken (stolen) to eat from today’s breakfast table (always a cheap skate me) and at the same time this typical caricature Frenchman complete with beret black donkey jacket bald head 5 foot max height and with an attitude, starts to walk with a basil faulty stride to the same table..... but loses the race! We both cannot contain our laughter as he drops the full contents of his breakfast to the floor as he fails to win the race - it was a case of us and them to the top table. I still piss myself laughing every time I see a black beret from this day on.

Day 4 10th April 293 miles Saint Girons to Biarritz France
I had a bad feeling about this day before it really got started, Nick had made a bold statement the night before saying he had reliable information that the snow line was above 7000 meters so it’s now safe to pass over the Pyrenees. 7000 meters? Has he got them mixed up with the Himalayas I think he meant to say 700 meters but what he really should have said was 700 feet!? We set off the next morning at about 8 am but within minutes of setting off it’s starting to snow. We continue to proceed up what seemed like a back road and stop after a few short miles outside a unattended shop. Nick jumps off his bike and rattles the door but no answer, then talks to a local guy who has just come from the direction we are heading who immediately gesticulates back to him with one hand very much higher above the other. It doesn’t take a genius or member of Mensa to work out what he is trying to say about the impending road beyond. So we all immediately do a u-turn back to base and take another route.
We seem to be riding for about an hour and then stop at a café in St-beat. This unusual for Nick, what does he know? It’s still snowing but not settling anywhere. Five of the riders decide to proceed up the mountain pass while the remaining riders all order cafe-au-lait. This is another unusual thing here because I have ridden with Nick before and if you are last in the queue to order you can be sure as eggs is eggs you won't even have time to knock the froth of the top of your coffee before he's putting his jacket and helmet back on and announcing “Right chaps time to press on only another 500km to go before tea” but not this time. We seem to be in this café a long time.
So one hour later off we go riding in convoy up the pass and within about 10 minutes the snow is getting heavier and heavier, its already starting to settle but a few miles up the road its getting very deep and our bikes are now sliding around more than we would like to admit.
My gloves are now soaking wet as I have only brought summer ones and some one's bike is now recording zero ambient temp. God I wish I had some bar heaters fitted like the BMWs.
But we press on like lemmings. Not much further up the road its apparent we're not going to make it today. A car pulls over coming from the opposite direction the occupant leaning out of his warm comfort zone tells us that three motorbikes up ahead are now lying on their sides in the middle of the road and the other two are on their way back down - so we have to turn back. Just in time it seems, as the police are about to close the pass and are now only letting cars over that have snow chains fitted. As a result 3 of our riders are left trapped up the mountain for the night. They find a place to stay in Viella and get a hot meal and watch the Moto GP on satellite TV taking in Valentinos first win of the season knocking Sete Gibernau on the last corner of the track in the process while we are making our way back down.
Our only plan now is to head as far west as we can then find somewhere to stay. Biarritz will do but I run out of petrol nursing my bike at as low a revs as I can to keep it going but 167 miles on the clock later and I am right out of fuel - no problem just have to push the bike the last 50 meters to the petrol pump “you lucky git”. The next day the other three from the mountain are allowed down to catch us up in Capileira Spain having done a blistering 850 miles each to get back on schedule. Bloody heroes or what?

PHOTOS:
SIERRA NAVADA SPAIN (x2)
PORT OF ALGECIRES
Spencer who did the trip on the HONDA SILVERWING

Day 5 11th April 657 miles Biarritz to Capileira Spain
This turns out to be the biggest mileage we do in one day on this trip with the exception of the three riders who put in 850 miles each to catch up, this puts us down a peg or two. Little to say about this bit apart from two things, the toll roads in northern Spain about, 30 miles long, can cost you up to 15 euro each. A bloody rip off but I did hit my highest speed of the trip, 167 mph, chasing a very fast Audi S4 but not that fast as he soon disappeared into the distance in my mirrors. It's surprisingly quite boring hitting these high speeds with no resistance so you slow right down to about 98mph and take in the beautiful scenery around you.
We seem to do the next 112miles at an average speed of, YES its true, 100 mph. I look at the clock and the miles and a quick calculation confirms my suspicions. But its still bloody cold. Oh well next hit is Madrid, then it really starts to warm up. In fact after this point the lining of my Hein Gericke Gore-Tex jacket came out and never went back in again for the rest of the trip.
We reach the bottom of Spain’s highest mountain to Capileira in the Sierra Navada range at about 7:30 that evening just before sunset. Dave, who we later spoke to, takes one look at his sat navigation screen and immediately thought someone had squirted it with a tube of tooth paste. The next hour was getting up the 300 plus hairpin bends to reach our hotel on the mountain. What a bloody ride and to think we had it all to do on the way back down in the morning.
The next morning’s ride takes us along the south coast of Spain, it's what I call the Brits on the piss holiday haunts. Places like Malaga and Marbella where you can get a pint of lager with your fried eggs and bacon for breakfast. It’s not my idea of a holiday but I expect some will think I am quite mad to do a trip like this. Oh well each to their own I suppose.
It was nice to see the rock of Gibraltar for the first time shame we didn’t have time to visit as this place has a great history about it.

Day 6 12th April 289 miles Capilera to Chefchaouen Morocco Via port of Algecires
Customs in Morocco has been a bit of an eye opener for me today, everything was going fine on the Spanish side until we discovered Graham had forgotten his bike documents and I had a colour photocopy of mine which I screwed up to give it the used look.
This may be the end of the trip for Graham, getting into Morocco may be a no go for him but we were assured that a greasing of palms will speed the process up a little.
So off we go. On entering the Morocco border customs it was very clear you were arriving in another world quite a stark contrast from the fat well fed white European side this was Fez. Caftan wearing locals driving beat up cars on dusty roads, bloody hell where’s the tarmac gone and bloody hell everything has got a dent in it. We were all passed from office to office to fill out a never-ending supply of paperwork. Your passport is often removed from your possession without any warning by someone who has absolutely no look of authority about them whatsoever. Next you have to buy your bike insurance. I handed over my V5 copy of my bike documents and all seemed ok, phew that was easy got my insurance and nothing was said. Or so I thought, after being relieved of 400 Dirhams, about £25, for what looked like a bit of useless paperwork. I thought that was it but you then have to go to the next office and again hand over your passport and all your paperwork, it was at this point my copy was spotted - a little bickering started between a couple of guys in the office. One in uniform, very smart like a captain and a scruffy man, instantly my paperwork was put to the bottom of the pile. Nick gave me one of those knowing looks like “your stuffed now Chris” This was starting to look bad but I could see they were hatching what was probably a well-rehearsed plan. Some other guy a sort of freelance intermediary takes me by the arm to one side then gets me in a friendly headlock and starts to relive me of yet another 300 Dirhams from my well guarded wallet. Quote “This will keep Mr customs man in office happy and let you into our beautiful country” I suspect Mr customs man won't see all of it. I am watching this guy and he seems to be doing rather well, for one reason or another he his lightning our wallets at quite a rate.
Nick had already paid him an undisclosed sum to speed up our process. I never did find out how Graham got in but I believe it cost around £100 about 1700 Dirhams to get him in. Just when you think that’s it you put your gear on and start riding to the gate you get about 30 feet then the police stop you and have a look at your passport and paperwork again. This whole process took about 3 hours but believe me it was worth it for what was about to come.

PHOTOS:
CHEFCHAOUEN MOROCCO ALL NIGHT WATCHMAN
HOTEL
RIF MOUNTAINS
YOU THINK YOU ARE ALONE, RIF VALLEY

Day 7 13th April 459 miles Chefchaouen to Marrakech
Leaving Chefchaouen we now cross the Rif Mountains and valleys. We were lucky to have taken the western route as the other one is patrolled by bandits and is a bit of a no go area for tourists. They will try to run you off the roads, often succeeding or pretend they have had an accident to get your attention and then rob you of everything. It’s well documented in the biking press so you have been warned. Another one they pull on you is you hand over all your cash and you get in return a block of hash cannabis that you didn’t really want. Its their idea of a fair transaction.
The ride over is fantastic there never seems to be a straight bit of road. It’s a true biking experience with dry grippy roads and the never-ending beautiful scenery for a backdrop and hardly another vehicle on the road to get in your way. Except for the odd 1970s white Mercedes-Benz Taxis that spew out more pollutants per mile than a jumbo jet.
And if you look up there always seems to be an eagle with about an 8ft wingspan soaring high above you. (Edit by AndyW...........I bet they were vultures LOL)
Marrakech has got to be one of craziest cities I have ever entered on a motorcycle. After one very hot 450 mile journey from chefchaouen we entered the city boundary not knowing where our hotel is located but by shear luck or so it would seem, one of the local 'put put' riders came along side and said “are you staying in the Sherradiz?” Well yes, how the hell did he know? So off he shoots leading 5 very weary riders into the city centre and within minutes he pulls over to the right and points to the old city wall and tells us just turn left and your hotel is there. Wow that was easy, next comes the customary open hand so I dig deep into my pocket and hand him a 10 dirham note but he takes one look at it and gives me a stare like I have just insulted his mother on her death bed. Bugger, so out comes the wallet and I hand over another 100 that seems to please him then off he shoots.
We now proceed to take his final instructions but we find nothing. We have been done over. Asking other bypassers seems to bring blank stares. After riding around a little longer I ask an official looking guy in a khaki uniform directions, he disappears into a shop to locate our hotel whereabouts. Bingo its just down there in the medina (old square).

By this time we are down to 3 bikes having lost the other two so we proceed down this street that quickly turns into an alley then another and another so you can now imagine what this looks like, 3 very hot and bothered bikers with full kit trying to weave down a dark 5ft wide alley surrounded by people on foot or 'put put' bikes plus the never ending stream of push bikes and even at one stage a horse and cart moving in opposite direction. Christ this is madness but at the same time exciting.
While this is going on traders are tending to their wares on the sides of the alley. The sound of my twin with open pipes must have been awesome or scary depending on your point of view. I would just give the throttle a quick blip and they soon moved over. After a few minutes but what seemed like an hour we enter the square. Oh f**k this place is massive and still no sign of the hotel. We stop in one corner to calm down a little and catch our breath and then a rekke of the square. The famous town square of Marrakech, Jemaa l-Fna owes little of its fame to its own beauty it’s a bit ugly actually but more to the continuous day and night life. During most of the days performers of every kind put up their shows, continuing until the food stalls start to move in by night. The food stalls take over the Jemaa as soon as the orange juice sellers have packed up and gone home. The food is prepared fresh on the spot and you can choose between fish, meat or vegetable dishes. The concept is easy, you point at everything you desire, indicate the quantity and within few minutes it is there in front of you.
The food is exquisite, tasteful and much appreciated by the Moroccans and brave biking tourists. But never forget the golden rule of eating in Morocco: eat where the Moroccans eat — they know where to get good food
We now hail to another guide on a scooter to locate our hotel and we follow him over to the other side, he takes us down another alley of the medina just like the last ones, then he proceeds to make a left under this grotty arch where it's very apparent I can smell stale urine “oh lord I’m going to die” I think to myself half expecting a knife to be held to my throat but now right there in front of us in the court yard and a few familiar smiling faces. By this time I have now regained full control of my body functions, to say I was feeling relieved was an understatement.
I look at my last instructions Nick gave me to find the hotel the last bit that takes you down the final 200 meters. "If you see the hanging tree turn left after the big rock then turn right if you can now see the four bar broken gate turn immediately left down the bumpy track if you now see the scarecrow YOU’VE GONE TO FAR!!!" Taking the piss a little here but it seemed like this on the last stretch to all our hotels.

Turns out its quite a nice place with one tiny draw back. Right outside our bedroom window is a loud speaker where come 4:30 in the morning, at sunrise, the call to prayer is blasted out at 100 decibels complete with accompanying cockerel but I soon fell back to sleep that morning.
That night we all take a meal in a nice restaurant on the edge of the square Nick and a couple of others opt for the outside point at it and cook it area. Sheep’s heads and anything else you can think of. We then have a wander around the square where Bob is confronted by a wizened up old man who then asks bob outright “you want a suck a f**k or a massage” Bob was unable to work out if it was the old guy who was going to do the deed or some pretty woman hidden away somewhere so he declined the offer.
The next morning we hit the square again as the pace is now slowing right down only about 147 miles to do today, we enjoy Marrakech as best as we know how to.

PHOTOS:
RIF VALLEY KASBAH
WE THREE KINGS ON BACK ROAD TO MARRAKECH
MOROCCON BUS SERVICE
DADDY BEARS BED IN MARRAKECH ZZZzz

Day 8 14th April 147 miles Marrakech to Ait Ben Haddou Via the Tiz n’Tichka pass
The Tiz n`Tichka pass or as we renamed it, the chicken tika pass was absolutely beautiful. Its fantastic roads taking you over three different mountains in the Atlas region. You have to be careful here as there are no guardrails or walls on the side of the roads and there are some 2000 foot drops with nothing to slow you down should you make a mistake. I suspect you may not be found for a long time if nobody knows you are travelling this pass and go off the road. On the way up we pass what I can only described as the mountain bus service which consisted of an very early model Ford transit van with a couple of windows cut out and a large sturdy roof rack. The roof racks are usually used to carry the overspill which is often sheep like the one we spotted the day before but this time it’s 3 men with grins the size of Cheshire cats. They give us a wave as we pass them.” You wont get this lot passed by the new EU rule book”. I do hope I can get a photo as they pass us later up the road but when it does they are gone from the roof but the van passes us twice more with its distinctive worn out rear axel whine that’s gone right passed the sawdust modification to tone it down. Every time you get over one of these passes the scenery completely changes from lush green landscapes full of orange groves or fig trees along the side of a crystal clear mountain stream to a moon like landscape, once over the 3rd pass you are now in the desert and its becoming very barren but still beautiful. It looks from time to time as if a professional sculptor has had a go at reforming all the rock faces but it nature that has done a wonderful job of it so far over the last few thousand years.
On reaching Ait Ben Haddou we hit the end of a sand storm so we all tape up our ignition keyholes and bar switches as we have been informed by others who have been here before that the sand has a high mineral content in it and is a very fine powder like sand. If it gets into any of your electrical systems, which it can with ease, it will short them out and a total strip down will be required to clean it out to get you going again. I also tape up the entry area around my air box as I am running with no snorkel so I'm not taking any chances here.
Oh, it turns out our hotel wasn’t quite as nice as we thought the other night in Marrakech we now understand why the manager stamped her feet when she showed us our rooms. Apparently it was to scare off the cockroaches! Spencer has been carrying a passenger today unknowingly and on unfolding his bag it jumped out giving him a scare and ran off.

Next morning turns out to be a very hot and dust free day but our bikes are covered in sand from a storm the night before. Hell my bike is now starting to take on a copper look, I better give it a little dust down, I don’t want that! We spend the morning in the famous Kasbah Ait Benhaddou, when it comes to Kasbahs; Ait Benhaddou knocks the socks off all the other romantic hillside Moroccan crenulated offerings. This one is made more famous in recent years by the location managers of Hollywood (Jesus of Nazareth and Lawrence of Arabia, Jewel in the Nile and the most resent Gladiator are just a few epics to have resulted from its stunning location). Our guide mentions this but when he pronounces the name wussley cwow (Russell Crow) we all fall about laughing. It houses some of the best preserved Kasbahs of the entire Atlas region. Every day of the year is a special time to visit - the changing bird life, colours and water levels which are salt water and undrinkable by the way, always complement its incredible structure. This happened to be the view out from the rear of our hotel. A massive bonus if I say so myself.
A totally unexpected bonus to have taken in on this trip.

PHOTOS:
BMW MISARABLE DAVE
RICHARD AGE 74
DAVE'S VICTORY BEFORE IT WENT BANG
TYPICAL STREET BY DAY

Day 9 15th April 133 miles Ait Ben Haddou to Tinerhir
Next is a bumpy desert ride today alongside lots of dry creeks. Still its pleasant just to have the freedom to ride your bike when you like and you choose how fast you want to go. I mean that’s the reason we are all here.
We arrive at our hotel a sort of hole in a wall but when you get inside it was a pleasant surprise - a swimming pool and a bar and a nice find for a hotel in this neck of the woods.
Some take a ride up to the Gorge du todra in the evening but I decide to take a beer and sit by the pool.
The meal at night was really good the usual lamb or chicken Tagine with prunes or eggs and the 49 spices added. But this time there just didn’t seem to be enough to satisfy us. But there was a bonus for us later. Dave on the yellow BMW was 41 today and Nick and Elspeth had secretly gone out and had a cake made for him. Dave was a right miserable git but we thanked him later anyway for our second helping of pudding as there was lots to go around and filled the empty space in our stomachs.

Day 10 16th April 145 miles Tinerhir to Merzouga (Western Sahara)
This is it what we have been waiting for, to get into the western side of the Sahara desert. We head for our nights stay on the edge of the Merzouga region where we sleep in a Bedouin tent that night. Today it’s very hot, probably into 100 plus degrees. A few of us make a different route around the villages to our overnight destination and it was well worth the effort just from the reception you receive from the 100s of kids that appear right out of nowhere and surround you shouting stilo stilo or one Dirham please sir. Boy I wish I had brought some pens to give to them. Handing over any money is not a good idea because if you give to one you feel obliged to give to all. It gives you a bad feeling not doing this but if I gave the minimum to all that asked then I would have been cleaned out in a couple of days.
I take a look at my phone on reaching our destination and I am amazed again that my phone still has five bars on it? I take a look around but where the hell are they hiding the aerials?....all I can see are massive yellow sand dunes the size of mountains. And if you take a few miles walk due east and that’s all you can do as the roads have run out, you will soon be in Algeria.
As we have arrived early today some of us order the Merzouga omelette, it tasted really nice with all the local spices and peppers added but it must have had a special ingredient as well as we all went down for the next two days with "upset stomachs"....that's the PC description, you don't want to know the details!
Tonight is a special night as a few of us take a long walk into the desert, we all have the same idea and sort of split up and find the biggest sand dune each to sit on alone and just contemplate on what we have achieved or even just drift into another world and forget about all our problems. It seemed very easy to do here in the desert. I realise I have been sitting there for an hour and the sun is dropping fast to the West so its time to take some photos. I may never get to see this again so I try to do a couple of arty ones.

PHOTOS:
LES AND THE SNAKE CHARMER
BIKES IN THE MEDINA
Tiz n TICHKA PASS (x2)

.....continued 8

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