Archive for July, 2011

The Tales of Ali Baba and his 40 Thieves, ok sorry, and his wife and friends!

Sunday, July 3rd, 2011


In the fall of 2007, a friend that lives in South Africa, invited me to join him and his riding buddies on a dirt bike riding adventure to watch the Dakar Rally (previously known as the Paris to Dakar Rally) and ride parts of the race course in Morocco, North Africa. As time grew nearer, he and his buddies bailed out. I still wanted to go so I contacted 3 local friends (Jay, Johnnie, and Bob) and the trip was back on. I believe that it was New Year’s Day 2008 that I arrived in Marrakech, Morocco. Upon arrival at the airport I met some guys from Europe that were part of the ride group and they told me that the Dakar had just been canceled. Terrorists had killed some tourist and policemen in neighboring Mauritania and the promoters decided to cancel the event.

The first day in Marrakech we went in to the souks (market area) and like a fool I pulled out my camera thinking that I could sneak a shot of some women vendors. Muslims are superstitious about photographic images so taking pictures is offensive, especially to women. I no sooner had the camera out of my pocket when a Moroccan woman aggressively waved her index finger at me and said “no no Ali Baba”, so this is where the “Tales of Ali Baba” began for me. From that day forward everyday some Moroccan called me Ali Baba, then my gringo comrades found it humorous and Johnnie even talked about making custom Ali Baba graphics for my KTM.

Down but not out. We had options. The bikes were already rented (KTM 450s) and our guides were up for showing us a good time so the adventure was ready to begin. We spent 5 days riding dirt bikes in the Sahara desert and followed much of the Moroccan portion of the Dakar piste. Our host John and Su of Moto Aventures Tours (www.motoaventures.com) showed us all a great time and it was an experience of a lifetime that I wanted to share with my wife Sue.

Not long after our return, Jay and I discussed taking our wives to Morocco for a street bike ride. In the fall of 2009 we put together a plan to go there at the end of May in 2010. We purchased plane tickets, rented BMWs, and reserved lodging for the night of arrival. As luck would have it, the Icelandic volcano ash shut down airports in Spain and Morocco and we couldn’t go. We were determined to get there so we rolled our plans forward one year to May 2011.

Jay and Ethel decided to do a 3 week lap around Spain and Portugal, on a rented BMW, then take a ferry across the Straits of Gibraltar to Morocco, travel 3 days south and meet us in Marrakech. Sue and I anxiously arrived at the airport May 23rd and were told that our flight was cancelled because of thunderstorms in Dallas where we had to catch our connecting flight to Madrid. After considerable effort by a very kind American Airlines ticket agent, we were re-booked to fly out the next day. We made it to Dallas on the 24th, got on our connecting flight plane, sat in it for two hours while mechanics were making repairs, and then we were told to immediately evacuate because a tornado was on its way. Back in the airport, Segway mounted police officers made everyone stand against the walls, away from the windows, while golf ball sized hail pounded the airport and luckily the tornado took a different route. A couple of hours later the pilot came out and announced that the plane had hail damage and the flight was cancelled.

While Sue was in line getting us a room voucher I found a quiet place to use my cell phone and called the AA ticket office. There were no flights, for several days, that could get us to Marrakech. Jay and Ethel were already there waiting for us and I was determined to get us there even if we had to ride a stinking donkey. I asked the agent to at least get us to Europe. I was sure that if we got that far I could find a connecting flight on a small regional carrier for the final leg. Finally the agent found a flight that would get us to Casablanca, Morocco. What the hell. Maybe Bogart (and maybe even Elvis) was still there. 

OK, plan B was in place; stay overnight in boring Grapevine, Texas, then fly to Madrid, Spain, then fly to Casablanca, then catch a train to Marrakech, then take a taxi to the Riad Saba (lodging). After what seemed like an eternity, we finally made it to Casablanca only to discover that we just missed the train from the airport to the main train station. The next train was in one hour and we had no idea when the train to Marrakech was departing so I started considering the stinking donkey once again. A man had approached us earlier about his taxi service and as we were looking at the train schedule board he once again asked if we needed a taxi. The joy of travel was wearing thin and we just wanted to get to the comfort of our Marrakech Riad so off we went in a 2 ½ hour taxi ride (it really wasn’t even a taxi but just a guy trying to make a buck with his family car). After stopping at a gas station, buying him a tank of fuel, paying off a police officer, and many stops to ask directions, we finally met up with our good friends Ethel and Jay Rose. Ethel had asked the riad staff to provide an evening meal. The excellent staff showed us our rooms, served an excellent meal, and it was then nighty night for two exhausted gringos.

The next morning we took a taxi, while Jay and Ethel followed, out to Palm Road (www.palm-road.com) . Jay looked (and must have felt) like Valentino Rossi following Casey Stoner through the corkscrew at the Laguana Seca Moto GP. Marrakech is one of the craziest places on the planet to drive. Although I kept asking the taxi driver to drive slow, he pinned it at every opportunity, dodging his way through zillions of mopeds, trucks, donkey carts, and the occasional old man crossing the street like he owned it. Upon arrival we were warmly greeted by Reda Jebri, owner of Palm Road. The Palm Road compound was a welcoming oasis isolated from the Marrakech madness. Reda’s knowledge of Morocco’s back roads, sites, and lodging proved to be a valuable asset. He sat down with us and marked our map with a general guideline of where to go and where to stay. If you ever plan a motorcycle trip to Morocco, I highly recommend the services of Palm Road. Reda offers guided trips or you can rent BMWs from him, which is what we did. He provides excellent customer service and his bikes are very well maintained. We rented a new BMW GS650 (800cc) that purred like a kitten the entire trip.

After reviewing the route and loading our gear, Reda’s right hand man (sorry, I forgot his name) guided us to the edge of town and pointed us in the right direction. Finally, we were on the road. Our basic plan was to have no plan and no reservations. Each night we all discussed the next day’s possibilities and then Ethel, the meticulous map master, and Jay, the GPS guru, would chart our approximate route for the next day.

Day one; our plan was to head southeast over the High Atlas (12K) mountains to the Sahara desert on the other side of the mountain range. Our Riad Saba (www.riadsaba.com)  host suggested we stay at a Kasbah that is owned and operated by a French couple. We were looking for an alternate dirt road route when Jay spotted a car parked alongside the road and pulled over to ask directions. The two gentlemen in the car graciously offered assistance and then asked if we could give a note to a friend in one of the villages through which we would be passing. They explained that their car had a mechanical failure and they needed the friend to assist. About 45 minutes later we arrived at the village. These villages are inhabited by tribal Berbers and the housing is very basic. The houses are made with thick mud walls and flat top roofs constructed from timbers interwoven with sticks and topped with mud and rocks. The streets are dirt, not smooth manicured dirt roads like you might see in a rural Kansas town, but rough, rutted, rocky roads that have probably never been graded with modern machinery. Many of the houses are connected (like town homes) and they all look the same except for maybe a different color steel door.

We wandered around the village looking for the right home when a man asked if he could help. He told us that the man we wanted was around the corner visiting and that he would go get him. When Hamman arrived he insisted that we come in to his home and drink tea. The Moroccans consider it an honor to invite you in for tea and it would have been an insult to decline his offer. We sat on his carpets with pillows and drank tea while he showed pictures and told stories about his family that had over 400 camels and operated caravans across the Sahara. We all decided to rent “Lawrence of Arabia” upon our return to the US and Ethel was yearning for a camel ride.

After a little tea and conversation we were back on the road. It was a primitive road, definitely off the beaten path, up a rather barren valley to where we came across the next very small village and a small weather beaten sign pointing to the lodging. We wound our way downhill on a rough dirt road to a primitive parking area and were greeted by a jelleba clad, slipper wearing, weathered man with one tooth. I’m sure that 99% of Americans would have high tailed it out of there but this was quite typical for Morocco. Our wives followed this man as they worked their way through the maze of mud wall lined pathways to the Kasbah entrance while Jay and I stayed with the bikes. It quickly became our end of day routine that Jay and I would stay with the bikes while Sue and Ethel would inspect prospective lodging.

At one time, probably several hundred years ago, this was a very large Kasbah (fortress) but much of it had collapsed. I’m always amazed by peoples vision and fortitude. The French couple had somehow found their way to this remote tiny village, in a third world country, in the Saharan desert, in the middle of nowhere, made a purchase (how in the hell do you get title for such a structure), rebuilt a portion of the dilapidated Kasbah and turned it in to a very nice bed and breakfast (and dinner) lodging, Auberge Etoile Filante in the village of Ait Benhaddou. The adjoining palmeraie made for a mild evening climate as we dined on the deck and watched the Moroccan women harvest the hay crop late into the evening while Sue and Ethel admired our tall, dark, and handsome waiter whom they named Omar after the actor Omar Sharif. To their delight, there were a few more Omars along the way. These experiences are why we seldom make reservations.

We worked our way east across the Sahara with side trips to the Dades Gorge and the Todra Gorges with our eastern most destination being Erfoud and the famed Erg Chebbi sand dunes. From there we took a southern Saharan route to an oasis near Agdz then through the Anti Atlas mountains with stops in towns with interesting names like Foum-Zquid and Ta Ta and Tiznit on our way to the Atlantic coastal village of Mirleft, where we stayed in a fort, Maison d’hôte the 3 Chameaux, (www.3chameaux.com) built by the French in 1935.  Our room was previously the general’s quarters. FYI: The French occupied Morocco for 48 years.

After Mirleft we worked our way north along the coast through the bustling city of Agadir after which Jay said it would take a month to clear the diesel fumes from his brain and lungs. The fumes from diesel trucks, 1970s vintage diesel Mercedes 240D taxis, and smoky 2 stroke mopeds at times were overwhelming in the big cities. North of Agadir we stopped at an ocean side restaurant where Ethel finally got her camel ride. She persuaded Sue to join her.

We had a couple of relaxing days at La Casa del Mar (www.lacasa-delmar.com) in the fishing village of Essouria where Sue and Ethel bought some bling and spices. We had a little time to kill before heading back to the Marrakech madness so we headed southeast to the mountain village of Quirgane. It was a cross country trek in somewhat uncharted territory because much of it was not on the GPS software and was vague on the Michelin map. We got a little turned around at one point and a kind gentleman had us follow him for 25 miles to an intersection where he pointed us in the right direction. From there the scenery was incredible and the going a little tough at times. That area had recently received torrential rains that damaged the roads in places and left deep mud in other areas. When the mud got deep Ethel lost confidence in Jay’s mud riding skills and bailed off (must have something to do with the Mexico mud flop – don’t ask) so Sue held on tight while I rocketed past our fearless leader. At the end of the road we found an excellent auberge, La Bergerie, (www.labergerie-maroc.com) with individual chambers surrounded by spice and vegetable gardens with giant cactus.

Our trip wrapped up with a nice meal at a rooftop restaurant in Marrakech. Nothing better than a great adventure with good friends!

Regards,

Ali Baba

Here are links to our photo galleries.

Morocco #1 (Sue’s pictures)

Morocco #2 (Sue’s pictures)

Morocco #3 (Ethel & Jeff’s pictures)

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