Five continents

As we disembarked, traditionally making sure we were first off, onto the African continent I realised this was the 5th one I had ridden this bike on. This time it was just dipping a toe in and not doing a trans continental expedition. I doubt it will manage the last two.

We were feeling pleased with ourselves as we left the port, all the paper work done and Moroccan cash in our pockets (you cannot get it outside the country), as we avoided the motorway and headed off down into the nearby town. Then Jean pulled along side and flagged me down. Insurance. We had forgotten one of the basics of importing a vehicle.

Back to the port, where we found the booth and a queue of drivers waiting. There was no one manning it so one of the drivers got the police to phone the company and send someone down.

We left the port again,  even more pleased with ourselves this time,  and headed for Chefchauoen and the Central Rif via the dusty single track back roads.

Here, while eating in a street cafe I looked up to see an old man crossing the road, he wore a brown hooded robe and had a grew beard. It was Obi Wan Kenobi! Jean would not let me take a picture.

After camping for two nights above the city we headed south.

If Bill Bryson thought Liverpool was having a litter festival, he has never entered Fez from the north.

It seemed like the road went straight through the city dump, with the rubbish flowing onto the road and then down into the edges of the city and into a market place.

The centre was very different. Wide roads around the kasbar. All clean and pristine. Specially for the tourists?  Back on the on the outskirts the general lack of maintenance prevailed once more.

Africa ahead

Jean wanted to take 14 days to get here, I planned on 7. We compromised on 10 and tomorrow will have done  it in 9. The trip down was uneventful, apart from when a sparrow sized bird exploded over me when it hit my mirror.

We stayed off motorways and toll roads which lead to a more interesting ride.

Food was as basic as usual.

Apart from the first and last nights we camped all the way down.

After we bought our ferry tickets it was time hunt the hotel I had chosen away from the hell that is Algeciras. Hidden in the hills at the side of the road, was the closed for the season resort of "Columns of Hercules". There was a farce to get entry via the phone controlled gates, but once checked in we had a suite with a balcony view taking in the Straits of Gibraltar. 

Walking around the hotel it felt like the Marie Celeste. All the items you would expect: sun loungers, pool, tables with umbrellas and a child's play area complete with an electric car.

But not a soul in site. That will be why it was only £30.

Like a damp squib

Every one knows that the English August bank holiday has the best weather of the year, or at least in our childhood memories it did. Six hours of heavy rain accompanied us to Dover, the journey enhanced by my bike spitting coolant out on the M42, quickly fixed by replacing a new radiator cap with the spare I had under the seat.

As we disembarked in Calais the results of the previous days  port blockade by French seamen was evident by the miles of queues stretching down the approach road and onto the autoroute, with migrants trying their hand at stowing away on  the stationary trucks.

We had escaped our island and they were desperate to get in.

Off again at the end of August

“The earth is a peacock and its glorious tail Morocco”
. . (Ancient Moorish Proverb)

We first visited Morocco back in 2008. Having just pitched our tent near Tarifa, Spain, we walked through a line of trees then sat on the beach gazing across the Mediterranean and realised just how close Africa was. The next day we dumped the XJR1300  at the quay side and jumped on the short (1 hour) ferry for a day trip.

A planned trip in 2012 failed to happen. So this time we haven't planned anything.

In May I bought our return Calais/Dover tickets. As yet we have not made any other commitments, other than we both finish our current contracts on the 29th August and will pack that weekend with the intention to be in northern France by September 1st.

After our globe spanning trips of recent years it will be strange to leave the UK on the bike for the first time since 2010, instead of loading it into a crate or placing it on a container ship. And an added bonus will be not having to ditch spare oil or fuel as we change countries or continents.