Cycling in Portugal – Part One

DAY 1 TAVIRA (a town in the Algarve on the Gilao River)

Our bikes, looking clean and shiny, were delivered to our hotel in Tavira the day before we arrived: bikes, panniers, handlebar bags and repair kits, everything we needed for four weeks cycling from Tavira on the south coast to Porto via the most scenic route we could find.

We’d used Cycling Rentals, a company in Portugal, when we rented bikes for our ride in northern Spain in 2013. We were five years older, a bit leg weary from our Intrepid Cycling Tour in Morocco, but determined to do the distance. We had only a vague inland route in mind; the intention was to fill in the details once we’d made an assessment of the terrain and our physical ability to navigate it.

Hotel Princesa do Gilau had stored the bikes in their laundry room, but we finished assembling them in the back lane before riding around Tavira, out on the route we planned to take when we started to ride north and down along the coast. Tavira is described as the prettiest town in the Algarve and it did have a relaxed feel. The main beach in the area is Praia do Barril which boasts a broad white sand beach. It’s actually on an island and part of a small national park and is accessed by a bridge and a boardwalk as well as a small train. The Brits holiday here so there was an abundance of top rated restaurants serving a variety of dishes – fish meals featured highly.

Inlet at Tavira – a shakedown ride without panniers

DAY 2 TAVIRA to CORTELHA (a place very much “not” on the tourist route for Australians) 50 kilometres, 638 metres ascent, 327 descent

Apart from Chris having been given two left panniers, the bikes and gear were very good. We left our hotel at 10 am and only needed to negotiate a few streets of the town before we were on our chosen side road travelling north. It seemed cumbersome to be riding with panniers again, but our loads were as lean as we could make them and both of us felt balanced and comfortable.

Loaded up

A village on our first day

What we saw on this day of riding was varied: orange groves and olive trees early on, sparse forest as we climbed away from the coast. The minor road was broken and bumpy; riding became smoother when we resorted to a more major road. The villages were really just clusters of white buildings with some pretty gardens. Lots of weeds and wildflowers away from the villages. The wind added a degree of difficulty to the riding especially on the ascents and there were far too many of those.

Resting at a lookout point – this area was a national park

The news of the Australian election intruded on our day – it was clearly bad news as far as we were concerned. By the time we’d struggled up the very long ascent to Cortelha and our accommodation, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, it was clear we would be suffering another liberal government. On a happier note, Casa dos Punteros provided a comfortable room, traditional bar and cosy restaurant. Our hosts were quite enthusiastic about having Australians staying. Our opinion on Portuguese wine was sort and we enjoyed the bottle of regional wine our host recommended – it went well with the sliced cold meats, cheese and bread and a hearty lamb stew.

Our first night’s accommodation

DAY 3 CORTELHA to ALMODOLVAR (very quiet on Sunday afternoon) 42 kilometres, 500 ascent, 600 descent

A cooler day, almost cold, but it warmed up as we rode and it wasn’t as windy as the previous day. Still more uphill before a vast vista (you could almost see back to the coast) then mostly downhill to a small town with a Sunday market. Tried the local barbecue – bits of fatty pork spare ribs – then rode on. Amazed by the number of eucalyptus trees, mainly lining the road. The scent of home!

Someone had said Portugal was hilly; after the first two days we were inclined to agree. Over the course of the third day we ascended about 500 metres and descended 660 metres – a lot of that was undulating, up then down, up then down. Even the last few kilometres into Almodovar threw a few ups at us. Our accommodation was in a small apartment with pizza for dinner at a local Italian restaurant.

Another high point – looking south

A Sunday market – barbecue and coffee for morning tea

The bike path matched the roofs – it only lasted for a kilometre

DAY 4 ALMODOVAR to FONTES BARBARAS (an Enoturismo farm) This was many kilometres from a town) (42 kilometres)

Our accommodation was always determined by the distance we thought we could ride each day. Booking.com revealed the winery and accommodation, Fontes Barbaras, to be a comfortable 40 kms from Almodovar and the reviews made it very tempting, hence it became our destination for Day 4. Chris had his first haircut for the trip before we left Almodovar and I snapped a few street scenes to convey small town Portugal. The towns so far seem to exist in a time warp; the pace is slow and sleepy but the barber was a real hipster.

The riding was through farmland – mainly fields of wheat and round bales of hay. The road was undulating with a good lashing of headwind to add an edge to what could have been enjoyable and easy cycling.

We did not know what to expect as we rode up the long gravel drive to Fontes Barbaras. Oh that we’d booked in for two nights: a beautifully renovated farmhouse offering rooms with our own sitting room, access to two other sitting rooms, a pool and poolside loungers, a games room, a library, free wine tasting (white and rose), a complimentary bottle of wine and a snack bar menu that easily gave us a meal. Our hostess, Patricia, was bubbly and chatty and made us – dusty and windswept as we were – feel right at home. A swim, a shower, a toastie for a snack and we were ready to indulge in the wine tasting. We followed this up with a cheese platter and our complimentary bottle of wine and fell happily into a satisfied slumber.

Getting a trim in Almodovar

The barber shop

A small store and mural

Riding up the road to Fontes Barbaras

Fontes Barbaras – pool and a view of the vines

DAY 5 – FONTES BARBARAS to FERREIRA DO ALENTEJO (43 kilometres)

We were reluctant to leave our small patch of luxury (an excellent breakfast too). Patricia, our lovely host, told us how impressed she was by our adventure. “You’ve got to be a little bit crazy in life,” she said as I was given a farewell hug. She also said that if we come to Portugal again we must call in and have a glass of wine and share a cheese plate with them, even if we don’t stay. Portuguese hospitality at it’s finest.

More farmland unfolded before us as we rode: fields of wheat, hay, potatoes and, after we’d turned off onto a minor road, hectares of olive groves. Coffee in a small town cafe after 15 kms then a bread and cheese lunch amongst the olive trees an hour before our destination, the town of Ferreira Do Alentejo. This was another white washed town looking very much like all the white washed towns we’ve ridden through so far.

Rural Portugal on a sunny day

Lunch among the olive trees

Another gem of accommodation. Casa do Enfantes was in the town of Ferreira do Alentjo. It had the look of a mansion, imposing and white, and the interior was decorated with beautiful antiques and bedroom decor from another era. Our host spoke not one word of English but made herself clear with gestures. The flow of Portuguese she maintained contained the odd vaguely recognisable word because some Portuguese is similar to Spanish. We managed to determine where our bikes could be stored, that the cherry liqueur was there to be tasted and the fridge and very impressive kitchen was ours to use if we wanted to prepare food.

Decor from a different era

Chris enjoying the pool at Casa do Enfantes

DAY 6 – FERREIRA do ALENTEJO to HERDADE da SAMARRA (Agro-Turismo accommodation surrounded by farmland) (43 kilometres)

After an all you can eat breakfast at Casa do Enfantes, we rode through the town and out into the countryside. The sun was shining and there was no wind. After about 15 kms of mainly flat riding (for a change), the whitewashed town of Odivelas rose out of the plains. It had bright white houses with red tiled roofs and cobblestoned streets that went straight up – 27% incline made the main access street impossible to ride up. We could have bypassed the town, but it’s position on a hill promised good views of the countryside. Sometimes you have to remind yourself it’s as much about the journey as the destination. Our efforts were rewarded with a panoramic vista of the surrounding countryside.

Some local craft work

The view from the top of the town

The local church

After Ovidelas we turned off the EN2 onto a minor and quieter road. We could even ride two abreast. Past a lake, our route branched off again onto an even smaller road. Unlike our first few days, we were experiencing flatter easier riding. This section of road was through plantations of cork trees with some of the trees obviously very old. A truck loaded with the cork bark trundled past us at one point but we were too slow with the camera. Wine in Portugal, Italy, France and Spain is still corked.

Young cork trees

A very old cork tree

We rode into another sleepy town on a hill feeling hot and thirsty. There’s always a bar/cafe with a group of customers, in this case, young, who seem to have nothing better to do on a weekday morning. Very few people around, shops are few and public spaces scarce. The small towns, unlike French villages, are not made pretty with flower boxes and pot plants – the country is possibly poorer or less concerned with the appearance of their towns. Behind the blank walls and firmly closed doors, no doubt, there are attractive courtyard gardens.

Our day’s destination was an Agro-turismo farm. It had the appearance of a Spanish hacienda and the interior was on a grand scale. The flagstone floor, the wood and leather furnishings, paintings of rural scenes all gave the place a film set feel. Our room was less grand but we had access to two sitting areas, a patio and a pool. Unfortunately the gardeners only swung into action after we arrived so we sat on the loungers and watched the pool being cleaned, serenaded by the lawnmower. The dip in the pool was refreshing when the pool was finally ready and the home cooked meal, served on the patio, was hearty and filling. The Portuguese do seem to like meat. We were the only guests. We had been greeted by a man, possibly the owner, who spoke English, but after that we were left in the company of the housekeeper who only spoke Portuguese and seemed a bit disapproving of us being there.

HERDADE da SAMARRA – an agro-turismo farm stay

DAY 7 – HERDADE da SAMARRA to EVORA (27 kms)

We lingered a while and had breakfast at 9 am because our riding distance was under 30 kilometres and we were not able to check into our Evora guest house until 5 pm. The riding was more of the same, some wind and a very long straight road with only one bend. We passed through one town early on – too early for a coffee – and were on the outskirts of Evora by 1 pm. It’s a much larger commercial town with an old centre and that’s where we had booked to stay. We filled in the day by eating lunch, booking a train ticket for a sightseeing day in Lisbon and doing our laundry in a very swish laundromat. The guest house was happy to store our bikes in an unused dining room – two days without riding! Lisbon then a rest day.

End of Part One – Cycling in Portugal

Travels through Southern Spain

After Morocco came southern Spain. We crossed from Tangier to Tarifa on the ferry experiencing some confusion with a time change then onwards to Marbella by bus and the start of our two weeks of travelling in southern Spain. The weather was always sunny, but not too hot in early May, flowers were out in abundance and orange trees, in the parks and lining the streets, were heavy with just out of reach oranges. We moved easily from city to city via an excellent bus system, the only effort being lugging our not-on-wheels duffel bags from bus station to our hostels. Our accommodation was always in the more interesting old parts of the cities and not usually close to the bus stations. Taxis? Yes, a couple of times.

MARBELLA

The waterfront at Marbella was lined with glitzy hotels and bars, but the streets of the old part of the city, where we stayed in Hostal La Luna, were lined with pot plants and pristine white walled houses. No cars allowed, which made wandering a pleasure.

A street in Marbella – Bev travelling light

RONDA

We stayed overnight in Marbella in order to catch the bus to Ronda, away from the coast. The road just kept going up offering spectacular views back to the coast and across valleys and ridges – felt glad we weren’t tackling this on a bike! Ronda is a small picturesque city famous for its Puente Nuevo (new bridge). Enjoyed an excellent classic and flamenco guitar concert in a small music shop. Paco Seco, the guitarist, also makes guitars. The sound was superb.

Puente Nuevo which spans the 120-metre-deep chasm that carries the Guadalevin River and divides the city of Ronda in Spain

The view from the cliff tops

Chris and Puente Nuevo

GRANADA

Hotel Andalusia in Ronda was opposite the train station but our plan to travel by train to Granada was thwarted because the train was replaced by the bus. On the way to Granada we had a further taste of high plateau scenery and endless vistas of olive trees the rows looking like a hair transplant on a bare skull. The Italians had been scathing about Spanish olives, especially when they were passed off as Italian in the oil that’s exported. The Spanish oil we’ve sampled so far tastes good though. Granada by late morning and a taxi to our hostal because it really did seem too far to walk. Hostel Suiza was “budget” but the room was very clean and spacious with a very helpful host who made us feel good about our Spanish by speaking very slowly and clearly.

The highlight in Granada is La Alhambra. Drifting along, as we do, oblivious to the need to book ahead, we almost missed out on this treasure. Fortunately, Sheenagh and Graeme, a couple on our Moroccan cycling trip had told us you need to book months in advance. In the end we got two of the last four tickets for individuals for May. Our designated time for the jewel in the crown, the Nasrid Palaces, was 7pm so we had nearly five hours wandering the magnificent gardens – so many stunning roses – and exploring the other buildings of this huge complex. The sun shone all day so we had great views of the city of Granada as well.

Roses in the Generalife complex and Granada beyond

More gardens

A courtyard garden in the Generalife complex, outside the actual walls of the Alhambra

Inside the Nasrid Palaces – each palace is identified by the sultan who ordered its construction

Nasrid Palaces

A beautifully restored section of a wall

Decorated arches and soaring ceilings

More intricate decoration

A smaller space – the tiles are made up of individual chips

Palace of Charles V

Alcazaba – the military section of La Alhambra

We loved Granada – some real pockets of peace in a busy city. Our contacts from the Moroccan cycling trip, Sheenagh and Graeme, had enrolled to do a Spanish course here for two weeks and we met up with them, first to have a drink in their apartment then for a tapas, racione style dinner in a quaint bar – one we would never have gone into on our own initiative. There was lots to reminsce about Morocco and time to move on to talking about other shared interests.

Another highlight of eating out in Granada was our first paella, freshly cooked and beautifully presented in a restaurant called Loft. We were also treated to a complimentary oil tasting and chocolate strawberries as a “gesture”. This might have had something to do with Chris complaining nicely about the red wine being chilled and not being given a taste because it was a newly opened bottle with a cork.

CÓRDOBA

Another day, another bus and we’re in Cordoba. Our hotel was more expensive than Granada but only marginally better. High season rate apparently. The only real extra was faster WiFi which has become quite important.

Our hotel in Córdoba. The restaurant was called Seneca because of the statue (a headless Seneca) and the Roman fountain.

More wandering in narrow streets, but the real attraction of Córdoba is the Mosque-Cathedral (Mezquita) another stunning building, with a twist. It started life in 784 as a mosque, expanded by later Muslim rulers, but when Córdoba returned to Christian rule in 1236, the building was converted to a Roman Catholic Church, with a Renaissance cathedral nave in the 16th century.

We discovered that the hour from 8.30 to 9.30 was free entry. There was still a queue but we were inside quickly and the real bonus was no tour groups. The photos give only a small taste of this vast and paradoxical building. It felt overwhelming.

Inside the Mezquita

The Cathedral within the Mezquita

An inner sanctum

All that glitters

After the Mezquita a visit to the Jardines del Alcazar and the Alcazar de los Reyes Christianos. This was where the royal family had their holidays. Oranges trees and flowers in abundance.

The icing on the cake for any garden lover in Córdoba was Fiesta D Los Patios D Córdoba. It was a chance to see behind those blank white walls and firmly closed gates. There were fifty open patios – we visited four. Pot plant heaven!

CÁDIZ

Another bus, another city, Cadiz – back on the Mediterranean. We spent a warm and windy day wandering the grid of small streets, battling the wind on a walkway out to a fort (closed for repairs) and enjoying an art gallery with works by modern Spanish artists depicting places in Cadiz. Particularly impressive was the colourful, collage style paintings of Jose Alberto Lopez.

Our wanderings in the evening lead us into an Italian restaurant where we ate an amazing salad – a leaf of cos lettuce wrapped around a slice of tomato, fresh creamy mozzarella, topped with a slivered slice of melon and drizzled with balsamic vinegar. Sometimes simple things are the best. We followed this with an excellent pizza. Later discovered our random choice had lead us to the second top restaurant on trip.advisor. Our second night choice was also excellent in a Spanish restaurant this time called El Jardin. We are learning to walk away from the main squares and seek smaller more hidden places for better value and tastier food.

Castillo de San Sebastian

Playa de la Galeta

Vista de Cadiz 1 – Pila Requera (artist)

My stylised photo of Gran Teatro Falla

Gran Teatro Falla – Jose Alberto Lopez

SEVILLE

Another brilliant sunny day and we were on the road to Seville. This time we stayed in Pension San Pancracio. Our room was large, opening out into an internal courtyard, a shared bathroom but all very nice for a budget price and central location.

Again, Christianity constructed on a base of Islam. Seville Cathedral is claimed to be the largest Gothic cathedral in the world. It’s Giralda Tower, which we climbed, was the ancient minaret of the Almohad mosque. It was completed in 1198. The cathedral was vast, solid and overwhelming and many of the altars behind heavy iron grills. Apart from containing opulent treasures of Catholicism, it had the tomb of Christopher Columbus. It also had the greatest numbers of tourists concentrated in one place since our arrival in Spain. We’re here with our cameras and Smartphones on a new style of pilgrimage! More accessible, but overly opulent altar pieces, were in the Baroque Church of the Divine Saviour.

It was a big tourist day as in the afternoon we’d done an online booking for the Real Alcazares at 2 pm. This was a good move as the unticketed queue was left standing in the hot sun. The Real (palace) was another stunning complex with equally grand and gorgeous gardens, cool and shady in the Seville heat and a restful place to linger.

Seville Cathedral

Seville Cathedral

The tomb of Christopher Columbus

Statue of Christopher Columbus

The altars were locked away from the tourists

The glitzy altar on full display in the Baroque Church of the Divine Saviour

The 12th Century Giralda Tower

View from the Giralda Tower

Reales de Alcazares

Exquisite tiles

Garden and wall of the Reales Alcazares with crape myrtle in flower

Bev and Mercury’s Pond

Small pavilion

Our second day in Seville was less focussed on the big ticketed landmarks and more about wandering the streets, crossing to the other side of the river and encountering a few surprises like the flamenco performance on one of the balconies of Plaza de Espana. We soaked up the coolness and greenery of Parque Maria Luisa mid afternoon then retreated to our pension for a rest. Tapas by two bars for dinner the first being El Ronconcillo the oldest bar in Seville. The waiters were a bit grumpy – either part of the image or they are very tired of being a tourist attraction – but the tapas was tasty and the atmosphere suitably aged. Our best meal in Seville had been in a Lebanese restaurant where we had an amazing and delicious platter of dips and falafel.

Flamenco for little girls

Flamenco Performance in Plaza de Espana

Plaza de Espana

Parque Maria Luisa – a cool place to be on a very hot day and a tranquil end to our two weeks of sightseeing in Southern Spain. We left Seville by bus the next day heading for Portugal and the start of our own private cycling trip from the south to the north of Portugal.

Morocco, Intrepid Cycling Tour

After navigating our way around Marrakech and over to Essaouira on the Atlantic coast, we were ready for someone else to organise us. So, 14 days on an Intrepid Cycling Tour. Our group, when we gathered in the hotel in Marrakech on the evening of Sunday 21st of April, consisted of sixteen cyclists all Australians, except for a lone Englishman, Gerry. Eight were from Yackandandah or close by, three from Melbourne and four from Sydney – not very cosmopolitan! Our young Moroccan guide Said was lean, fit, enthusiastic and with an engaging sense of humour. We were in good hands.

Day 1 was really just being gathered together, introduced to each other and, most importantly, fed. The inaugural group feast took place at a stall in the main market square, Djeema el-Fna, a busy place during the day, a seething mass of humanity at night. Said shepherded us to a stall where we were served a multitude of Moroccan delicacies and entertained by a few wandering musicians and the cooks and waiters clapping and calling out to attract more customers.

Marrakech – our first Intrepid meal from this market stall

Day 2 (Marrakech) we met Said’s younger brother Essau who is our mechanic and designated tail end rider. We had two mini buses, one for us and one for the bikes and luggage, and two drivers both called Hassan. We were driven to a point ten minutes from the hotel where we were assigned our bikes and then taken for a twenty-three kilometre crazy, whirlwind ride around the streets of Marrakech dodging traffic, gutters, intersections and pedestrians. Morning tea was in a paddock on the outskirts where our buses were parked with the provisions for snacks: fresh dates, dried figs, nuts, oranges and bananas. This mini-meal would be a fixture on the cycling days ahead. The oranges were juicy and delicious and big glasses of freshly squeezed oranges were on the menus everywhere. My camera stayed in my pocket all day – too focussed on the road – and on the night train to Tangier so nothing to illustrate this section.

Day 3 (Tangier) began as we stumbled off the train and into the rain at 7am. Our nighttime companions were Sheenagh and Graeme from Melbourne and it was a great opportunity to become acquainted with two other people on the trip and swap travel stories. Our hotel was large and unremarkable, but comfortable. Tangier offered a medina, a fort and a port which we explored after a thirty kilometre ride, initially in the rain then later in the sunshine. It was city then coastal road riding with a couple of long ascents and the rewarding downhill follow up. The ride included sightseeing stops at the Caves of Hercules and Cape Spartels with lunch in a barbecue/grill restaurant. The group meals mixed up the group with everyone sharing potted life histories and assorted travel tales.

A wet start to Day 3 (Tangier)

The caves of Hercules where Hercules allegedly rested during his labours (entrance in the shape of Africa)

Our “Intrepid” selves at the meeting of ocean and sea

Cape Spartel Lighthouse

The group enjoying the view of Tangier in the sunshine at the end of the day

Day 4 (Tangier to Chefchaouen) and the riding became a bit more serious. After a substantial hotel breakfast we were driven through the city of Tétouan to a point on the Mediterranean coast thirty kilometres before the seaside town of Oued Laou. The thirty kilometres followed the relatively busy coastal road (it did have a nice wide verge) and included five hills, all of them long and steep; two of them extra long and steep. Great views from the rest points and an interesting encounter with a very elderly lady somewhere in her nineties who lived alone in a small mud hut beside the road. She was keen to tell us her life story – in Arabic.

A strong gusty wind buffetted us about on the final decent to Oued Laou and this wind made the picturesque valley riding after lunch close to torture. Or was it my very tired legs? Was I keeping up? On the hills, no, but pushing the bike got me to the top on the coast road and I had Chris for company, always keeping an eye on me, together with a couple of other not so strong riders. I did hop onto the bus a few kilometres before the end of the day’s ride, defeated by the wind rather than the hill.

The Mediterranean

Morning tea with the girls – Leanne, Zinna, Jenni, Louise and Sheenagh

Me looking a bit wind blown with an elderly lady in her nineties and living alone in a stone hut

Day 5 (Chefchaouen) This amazing city is mainly painted blue and built on the side of a steep valley. We had a rest day here, or a day of no cycling as Said took us for a long muddy walk in the fields above the town. Some of these fields were planted with marijuana, a local enterprise that slips under the radar. Dogs are used to warn the owners of the crop. “What happens when someone does come,” I asked. “They run away and hide and return when the authorities leave. No problem.” We had mint tea at the home of his friend Mohammed who possibly had something to do with the crop!

Chefchaouen in the evening light

An excellent restaurant in one of the bluest streets. We ate on the terrace with a guitar music filtering up from below

Bev and cat

A walk in the hills above Chefchaouen

Louise, Chris, Jenni and Graeme enjoying mint tea

Robert, Chris and Zinna

Dave, Graeme and Zinna dipping into fried egg

Our hotel in Chefchaouen

Day 6 Ride to Fes – This was a day that did not work out well for Chris and Robert (part of our Yackandandah group). We drove away from Chefchaouen to a downhill starting point. All was green and hilly with clusters of farms. The sun was shining after a day of rain. All was well until Chris and Robert, descending side by side on the pot-holed road must have clipped tyres. Chris went sprawling on the road, Robert was flung onto the roadside gravel and Gerry, who was riding behind them, swerved and wound up in a ditch. Chris and I, riding behind, were the first to stop, although initially I kept going because I thought they’d stopped to take a photo of a couple of donkeys! Robert’s face was covered in blood from a cut on his head so all attention was on him as the bus arrived and later Simon (doctor from Yackandandah) was summoned from further down the road. We also had an audience of locals who stopped to comment on the spectacle. Once patched up, Chris and Robert retired to the bus (the ambulance which had arrived only had a driver) It was decided they would be better off in Fes, our destination for that day. Gerry rode on, undeterred by bruised ribs.

The pot-holed road eventually improved and the ups and downs weren’t too unpleasant. I did have a bit of extra support on one long ascent. I’d hopped off to walk and Essau insisted on wheeling his bike and mine. The late picnic lunch was delicious and then a longish drive to Fes, a city of 3 million people and a hospital where Robert was patched and stitched and it was confirmed Chris, who’d seemed okay, had a broken ankle. Sadly, no more riding for them, just pain and insurance company hassles.

Day 6 scenery

I’m getting by with a little help from my friend

Day 7 Sightseeing in Fes – We had our bus and a local guide for the day, a great way to efficiently see the royal palace, the outer ramparts, the amazing medina – a labyrinth of ten thousand streets, the oldest university in Morocco and a madrassar. The tiling and mosaics associated with these buildings is, in a word, magnificent. Within the medina we visited a fruit, veg and meat market, a pottery where they made tajines, a mosaic factory, a tannery and a weaving shop – all with opportunities to buy, of course. Gerry became lost in the medina and was briefly adopted by another Australian tour group. “I was at the lost children’s booth,” he said when our guide found him and returned him to the fold. He was a man with a sense of humour and he needed it because this was the first of many times we were to lose Gerry or even, on one occasion, leave him behind. It was a hot and exhausting day and anything but a rest day. We ate a farewell meal with Robert and Chris who (we later learnt) sorted out their insurance claim and flew home two days later.

The old city of Fes – a medina of ten thousand streets

Decorated door of the royal palace, Fes

The Fes Madrassar

Bev and Graeme getting ready for the desert

Robert and Chris after they were patched up

Day 8 Fes to Midelt – We drove out of Fes at 9am and headed into the Middle Atlas range for another random start. Said began each day by describing our route – he always said, ‘Mostly up hill’ our ‘Mostly down hill’ – rarely was the description ‘flat’. This day was no exception – uphill. We were rewarded with a coffee stop in Ifrane, ‘the Switzerland of Morocco’. After the caffeine hit it was a twisting turning climb through the wooded hills of Ifrane Nation Park with a stop to take photos of Atlas monkeys. The riding did seem to go on and on, the road was narrow and the traffic quite aggressive. I bailed out on the last ten kilometres and felt happy with my choice as the group struggled up to the very bleak lake that marked the end of the day’s riding.

Our hotel that night was beyond the town of Midelt. It had the air of past splendour or, had never been quite finished. They did serve wine and beer, however, and we had our first bottle in two weeks. It lubricated the singing and dancing that came later. One of our drivers really had the moves and it was a fun night.

Riding through the national park

An Atlas monkey

A stormy end to the day

Day 9 Midelt to Merzouga/Desert Camp – Even though the morning was clear and bright and the scenery stark and spectacular, this was not a very nice day on the bike. There was too much traffic going somewhere in a hurry and Leanne was a victim. A bus clipped her handle bar and sent her sprawling into the gravel. She wasn’t as badly injured as Robert and Chris, but she was too grazed, bruised and sore to do much riding for the rest of the trip. This time an ambulance came with paramedics but it was decided they weren’t needed.

The camel ride at the end of the day was a highlight for some, tolerated by others. Graeme (see earlier photo with scarves) complained and whinged about how uncomfortable camels were, how his was the worst camel, he was hot, he was … He went quiet after I told him off. Really it was a lovely way to have a taste of the shifting sands of the desert and a change from riding bikes.

Leaving the hotel

Ready for riding

Rest stop with a view

Picnic lunch with a view and an approaching storm

Desert storm seen through the bus window – a half hour later all was clear

Our desert accommodation – we ate a great buffet meal in the hotel

Ready for riding

Our guide Said mounting his camel

Day 10 Todra Gorge – we drove through the bleak, wind scoured landscape of the Sahara all morning, had a restaurant lunch along the way, then at 3pm started a hike that was to last four hours. It was a very steep and rocky ascent in bleak, windy conditions. The highlight was seeing the nomad camp tucked into the hillside. The families spend the spring and summer tending their goat herds and the women descend daily to collect water which is carried back up on donkeys. It was my turn to hit the gravel; I tripped on the descent and hurt my chin, knee and wrist. While Said was tending to me the others got ahead and took the wrong way back. Only Chris and I had the scenic walk along the river through the irrigated vegetable gardens. My wrist was very sore that night.

Our Todra Gorge accomodation

Chris on our very rocky Atlas Mountains walk

The nomad camp

Day 11 Dadres Gorge/Mountain Gite Stay – My wrist was still sore but I managed the ride down the gorge and for twenty kilometres or so before a twelve kilometre stretch of off road, very rough riding. This I did in the bike bus with Zinna who had developed a hacking cough. Our dancing driver was very happy to have us in the cabin. We were shown photos of his family and treated to his favourite music as we bounced along behind the bikers. Somehow Gerry took a wrong turn and his absence was not discovered for some time. Often Chris and I were at the back with Gerry, but Chris was taking advantage of not having to keep me company and had taken the lead on the rough stuff. Gerry eventually realised his error, retraced his path and caught up with the pack. The off road section was more of the same barren landscape, but it was a relief for everyone to ride without cars whooshing past.

When we arrived later at a family run gite in a very small village, we were fed the best Moroccan meal of the trip. This was repeated again at night after we’d rested and watched a cooking demonstration – goat tajine. The kids in this village had been very annoying to the cyclists – more than just high fives which we’d become used to. They were throwing rocks and chasing the bikes until Essau appeared and ticked them off. Said told us – he’d grown up in a remote Berber village – that there wasn’t much in the way of entertainment and this was easy to believe. We were the entertainment.

Dadres Gorge – early morning riding

The oases were incredibly green, such a contrast to the barren hills

Desert road

The villages are at one with the landscape

Off road

Essau riding off road

Dave, Mike and Juliette (without Leanne) They were the Gang of Four from Sydney and the young ones on the tour.

View from our balcony

The terrace

Lunch feast

Our first taste of a Berber omelette

We were happier than we looked

Day 12 Ait Benhaddou – The day began with cold wind and needles of icy rain, but improved as the day went on. More road winding down the valley before it met the main road and flattened out. The weather remained ordinary, the riding was helped by a tailwind for a change but we rode for too long without a break – some grumbling about lack of snacks and toilet stops. Perhaps we were starting to wear out. Impressive scenery, particularly out of the first valley, but rendered a bit dull by the grey sky. The reward, late in the day, was sunshine on the famed Ait Benhaddou where some of Game of Thrones has been filmed. Also visited a rug making co-op where the different quality and type of rug was explained. Of course they were for sale and some of the group tested out their bargaining skills. We stayed in a mock Kasbah, again in the middle of nowhere it seemed, but we could see Ait Benhaddou in the distance.

Ait Benhaddou

Looking down on the medina of Ait Benhaddou

Desert view from Ait Benhaddou

Rug on a loom

A rug of many patterns

Day 13 Marrakech via Tiz n Tichka

A fabulous final day of riding. I didn’t think I could do it, but we climbed nearly 700 metres through high desert country in perfect sunshine. The sunshine enhanced the shades of brown and pink which are a characteristic of this vast landscape. Villages are tucked into valleys and the houses built out of the earth so that they blend into their environment. They looked like baked LEGO.Many of the older buildings are even crumbling back into the earth. Not an easy place to live but vast and old and fabulous.

It wasn’t all uphill, even though it felt like it, as a head wind marred some of the descending sections. It was a relief to see the bus. An amazing note to finish on before the long drive back to Marrakech and a final dinner.

Our team: Said, Hassan, Essau and Hassan

Feeling pleased with ourselves even though we weren’t quite there

On to Spain next then back on our bikes in Portugal.