We spent an incredibly chilled day off in the luxurious Oasis Palmier campsite in Zagora, chatting with two Australians camped next to us (from the Gold Coast!!) and catching up on some washing. It was really nice to be able to have an easy conversation with no cultural or language barriers – something we’ve actually struggled to find at times on this trip (plus they shared some of their vegemite with us!).
The next day, we stocked up on supplies in town and then hit the road, following the newly asphalted N12 towards Foum Zguid. Almost instantly, we found ourselves on a huge open barren plain, with only the occasional tree or bush. It made for a nice change from the populated Draa valley, and with little traffic we found we could cycle side by side chatting for most of the time.
We spent the rest of the day cycling down endless straight roads running along side a gigantic ridge line, watching the scenery get more and more barren and less populated.
We had decided to wild camp that night, as we knew we wouldn’t be able to make the 130km to Foum Zguid in one hit. We found ourselves at the 80km mark, getting tired, and in the middle of a treeless landscape, with not a sheltered spot in sight. We saw some camels and stopped to take a picture, then rode on a couple of hundred meters and were flagged down by who we assume was the camel herder. We stoped to check everything was okay, and he came over to us and started miming a bunch of things and trying to get us to understand something. We were really confused until he said the word dirham, and then things started to make more sense. We think he wanted us to give him money because we’d taken a photo of his camel. I have a bit of an objection to someone stopping you in the middle of the road an asking for money for something like that anyway, but regardless, we’d stupidly found ourselves with no small change on us at all (the smallest note we had was the equivalent of 10 euros, which we weren’t about to hand over), so had to say no and cycle away while he was still miming and ranting. For whatever reason, the encounter left us on edge, so we cycled a bit further than we were planning in the hopes that some cover might arise and we could hide out of sight.
In the end we found a rough track that went off up into the hills, and we followed it for about a kilometre until we managed to find a spot that was hidden out of sight from the road. It turned out to be a pretty spectacular spot, and made a pretty nice start to our wild camping in Morocco. We cooked dinner, and then sat outside looking up at the millions of stars littering the sky in unfamiliar constellations.
The next morning we hit the road early to try and get as much of the next leg out of the way as we could before the afternoon’s heat took hold. We covered the 45km to Foum Zguid by 11am, and pulled into a restaurant for a feed of Berber omelette – which is fast becoming our favourite Moroccan food find (tomatoes and eggs cooked in a super hot tagine). The omelette was delicious, and the cheapest we’ve had so far (1.50 euros). The guy running the restaurant was unbelievably sweet, and we spent a little while having a chat about how the tourism industry is changing (away from French and towards British and American). We asked where we could buy bread, and he ran inside and brought us out some and wouldn’t let us pay him. If you ever find yourself in Foum Zguid, make sure you stop in at the Restaurant Chegaga (on the main round-a-bout), try the food, and spend some time people watching from the shady tables outside.
We hit the road again, and were met by yet more stunning but arid landscapes. We came across a small section of the road being worked on, and as we road past one of the workers (I think he was the boss) reached into his pocket and handed me two chocolate bars as I rode past. After the constant hassling in Marrakech and the Draa valley I almost fell off my bike in shock, but recovered enough to stop and run him back a mandarin and say thank you. We then rode on and threw a mandarin to each of the guys working on the road as we passed, getting big grins and waves as we did so.
We’d been told about a nice wild camping spot next to a river, 10km outside of Tissint, and had decided we were going to try and make the spot that day, even though it meant another 100+ km day. We surprised ourselves again, and made the spot before 5pm, and took our time exploring the site and finding the perfect spot to tuck our tent away.
Another early start for the final leg to Tata. The barren landscapes continued, although this time with a small climb thrown in to break up the long straight roads.
We arrived in Tata, tired, but incredibly proud of ourselves for having made the journey from Zagora in 3 days. At 284km, it was the longest consecutive stretch of cycling we’ve managed so far, and we still had some energy to spare. Nonetheless, this is a holiday, so we’re treating ourselves to a day off in the beautiful campsite before we take on the anti atlas mountains on the road to Tafraoute.
4ks an hour 