Auberge near Agoudim

March 13, 2012

up and down in the High Atlas

Goat herders and a couple of men on donkeys are walking up the winding road as I clip my panniers on the bike at 8 o'clock, with sunshine and a cloudless sky again marking the start of another beautiful day in the Atlas. The snow on the surrounding slopes contrasts with the barren, taupe landscape.

Gliding down for 4 km isn't too bad first thing in the morning either.

The two young boys strolling with four goats along the steep section of road ask for a pen and sweets - 'bon bon' - as they all do. I know it's coming as I walk towards them, the incline combined with a rough surface a bit too much for me to ride up. Choosing to ignore their request, I just ask them about the direction of Midelt and they point back to the junction I'd made a right at, then crossed a simple concrete bridge. It's a bit of luck bumping into them - saving me a slog up a dead end.

Nine kilometers along the route, I pass by the other auberge - called Fazaz - that I'd originally thought I'd make last night. I'm glad I didn't as its location isn't as nice. The hand-painted sign I photograph states correctly that it's now 40 km from Imilchil.

A large group of boys were hanging around the biggest village I ride through pester me for a pen and bon bons, as they do. It's hard to remember it's a game for them, and of course they've been programmed to expect them from dopey tourists who drive through handing them out like Santa, but I have to bark at them to back off, they're that annoying, taking a sizable chunk of joy out of the morning's ride.

The jeep I hear a mile away, revving up around the bends behind me, yet it's a nice surprise to be greeted in English by the two South Africans in it, a retired pair enjoying a world tour. We joke about the amount of bread we've eaten in Morocco before they drive off, leaving me to walk the last piece of a long climb that had lasts about 6km.

At it bends crest, a frozen bank of windswept snow half covers the road where the sun has failed to reach and I stop to take a snap; no doubt they would have driven past without really seeing it. I wonder what else they've passed by.

Once the road has dropped down on the other side of the tizi, I'm back in the granny gears and slogging up a 4 km climb. Then comes a sign for a village not shown on my Michelin map: Tamalout. There's an old bike leaning against it.

Just as I stop to take a snap of the said sign, aA young girl of about 10 comes galloping down from her roadside house to speak to me. Bracing myself for the predictable request for a pen or whatever, she takes me aback by asking if I'd like some food.

Do I? You bet

I sit in some shade at the foot of the steps hued from the rock that lead to her simple house and a minute later her little brother brings down fried eggs and some bread; soon after, a pot of tea and two glasses on a tray follow.

This second glass has always confused me, as there's only me drinking. The girl she shows me the Berber way of pouring tea: first from pot to glass 1, then back in the pot, repeat, then pour from glass 1 into glass 2 - and drink. Before leaving, she fills my empty water bottles.

It's a touch of hospitality that totally contrasts with the demand that follows as I ride up the next hill - confronted by a few petulant teenage girls whose lives seemed dependent on having a bon-bon. Fuck off.

The second vehicle that comes along stops, too; inside a couple from Rabat, the capital, clearly feel sorry for me. They want to give me a lift, but their compact wouldn't cope with a bike, and besides, it's very near the crest, so I just hold the door handle with my left hand as the man drives slowly up. My computer says 22 km when we get to the top.

The descent is wonderful, lasting around some 14 km. I go by another auberge, which doesn't have an electricity supply, and find the second soon after. It doesn't have mains power either, but the owner says he has a system he'll turn on once it gets dark.

The location, right before the village of Agoudim, also seems very nice, so I call it a day with only 48 km ridden and walk my bike up into his yard.

A wood stove gets lit in my otherwise empty room, but I opt to sit with the owner and his two friends in the small, unheated communal space - me using the computer to edit some photos once we've shared a tangine dinner his wife cooked.

Conversation is obviously restricted, but their inquisitiveness makes up for that- they get to witness the wonders of Photoshop.

Today's ride: 48 km (30 miles)
Total: 249 km (155 miles)

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