Good tours come to an end and so does mine. The route home would be 135 k and with a start at 9 am I should be home by teatime.
Not only tours come an end, so does bright cycling weather which I enjoyed so much the last 10 days! Unreal! Sunny, at the edge of a heatwave and dry, Mediterranean wheather! Now it changed overnight with thunderstorms, to continue with drizzle in the morning. I dressed up for it, did not really care any more this last day, counting my blessings.
You probably don’t know the story on the Rhine ferry near Xanten: it doesn’t operate Tuesday’s.
As it happened to be Tuesday today, I was not amused. It meant a 15 kilometer detour – in rain – to the nearest bridge.
The bridge turned out to be a turning point, rain ceased and even the sheep seemed to be happy with it. Not a bad detour 😊
Venlo was the point of entry in the Netherlands.
Next Roermond, passing the Rur (Roer) river was symbolic. I passed the spring of the Rur my first day of cycling in the Ardennes,
now I met it again, grown up. Like a circle that closes, on this day!
The rest of the ride was familiar to me, as I cycle the area regularly to keep in shape. Crossed the narrowest point in the Netherlands, less than 5 kilometer, with Germany in the east and Belgium in the West.
For me burgundic Limburg starts here!
Home in an hour, 150 k today, the hills with the stiff climbs were still there, but I arrived as I left: undamaged.
1650 kilometers to go around the Benelux, Belgium, the Netherlands and Luxemburg, it was a superb tour.
An enormous variety in landscapes, though I was never further away from home than 400 kilometers. I struggled to climb some hills in the Ardennes, enjoyed the rides down and was happily coasting along the Belgian and Dutch coast,
The islands, the flat northern provinces and the wood filled areas along the border of Central Netherlands. Never realized how few people really live in Dutch countryside, leave alone the emptiness of the northern provinces which was was striking.
Did not see any deterioration of nature, whether CO2 poisoned or not. On the contrary, nature (or what experts call nature) only expands. Lauwersmeer in the north is a fine example (with a cultural heritage award) and I found dedicated conservationists creating ‘kwelders’, wetlands, all for the sake of nature. In a vast agricultural area…
The state of the country and its nature is not any different from what I saw on my bike trips through Europe, like France, Spain, Italy, England, Scotland, Germany, Poland, the Baltic states, Finland. I would not worry too much.
Better ask desk-politicians and desk-conservationists to do a little more biking to see by themselves what they are talking and deciding about.
After visiting the island I landed in Harlingen, a city with a long ( maritime ) history. I stayed overnight at the Zeezicht hotel, (Seaview hotel), no seaview though..
Picked up my bike next morning from the hotel garage, two streets down, loaded it and I was good to go. Another great biking day came up, starting a bit hazy, but I could change in my 5S dresscode: shirt, shorts, socks, shoes and sunlotion!
The preceding evening it had taken me a long time to find a bed for the night but I finally managed to reserve a b&b in Loppersum, 125 biking kilometers away, just short of Eemshaven. Eemshaven would be the north eastern turning point of the tour. No border riding, but edge riding, right on the line separating sea from land.
Sexbierum’s Coop was open for the daily shopping.
I took a small detour to Dokkum, as it’s history story made a lasting memory on the brains of me as small schoolboy: Bonifatius killed in 700. However, all I found at this early Saturday morning was a fair with a life band!
Huge, full parking lots draw my attention at Lauwersoog. Visitors to the island of Schiermonnikoog had to leave their cars behind: not allowed on the island!
At this place a nearly 3 kilometer dam closed the Lauwersmeer (lake) and the area was turned into a world heritage site. To me it looked all very artificial.
Friesland and Groningen, the 2 provinces I traversed, won’t get awarded for the variety of their landscape. I even followed a 13 kilometer straight track at the foot of the dyke!
It is a vast farming area, but as such not counted as nature. That’s why they proudly develop more nature reserves😊
The B&B was run by a nice lady in an enormous farm. After an old skool home cooked dinner I had a 6 bed family room to myself..
Leaving in a early morning fog Sunday morning had something magic; pure solitude, no single soul on the roads. I reached Eemshaven quickly and I continued along cities I only knew from primary school’s geography.
My ideas about these ‘far away’ cities, were completely different! Delfzijl, along the Eems, was a wide open city. I might be biaised, I like any city on the water…
Same for Appingedam, which gained its fame from the ‘hanging kitchens’ over the Damsterdiep waterway.
Passed Slochteren – famous for its profitable gas, which we, the Dutch, all spent – and Zuidlaren, which I know from Berend Botje😊 Drentsche Aa is a large national park, even less people around. Moor, forest, sanddunes, water and more.
I passed one hunebed, a prehistoric tomb, some 5000 years old, built out of natural stones which you only find – in the Netherlands at least – in this area.
I would stay at my brothers and his wife place, which I reached after exactly 125 kilometers, same as yesterday.
Even more striking: for both trips I needed just over 6 hours, there was less than a minute diffference! More important: I got invited to the best Italian restaurant in town, operated by Italians. We had a ball!
It was hard to leave early next morning, by 9 I was on my way.
An uneventfull day other than me enjoying the ride and the scenery. Warm too – but you won’t hear me complaining!
I had drawn a straight line to Nuth, destination, so I was sent at the German site of the border. Even went off road – gravel and sand – for a while,
then seeing German registered cars, I realized I was already in Germany, Bocholt, my destination for today.
Left the hectic of Amsterdam by 0930; it was only going to be a short bike day to Den Helder, 95 kilometers only and flat country again.
The 3rd ferry of my trip was to cross the North Sea Canal, connecting Amsterdam to the Sea. I still remember I did a real dive in it, probably illegal – but unforgettable.
Bike paths are in good shape in this part of the world, only too many traffic lights. Well known territory to me, so I made the planned time for lunch with cousin Karen and Ruud. And that was fun, meeting after so many years.
In the meantime Booking.com cancelled my reservation for the night and I was stuck. This time of the year, with our prolonged summer, every spot along the coast is solidly booked. Without knowing daughter Frouke arranged a place for me with her friend Joeren in Den Helder. I had an unexpected meal and an even more unexpected evening swim in the North Sea, I was hooked!
As the 32 kilometer ‘Afsluitdijk’ is still closed for pushbikers – and I refused to go by bus – the option left was traveling via the islands of Texel and Vlieland. The (car)ferry to Texel is a big operation, so I did not book. Seeing the queue however I quickly arranged an e-ticket.
On board I had barely time to finish coffee and sandwich, we were docking already! 20 minutes!
Now I had a full easy day left in gorgeous wheather on Texel, sheep island, it felt like vacation😊
In the morning I went to Oudenschild, the place where I stayed a few years back when hired to produce the underwater footage for a documentary on an 18th century wreck.
The story was that the wreck was never found..
Then from Oudenschild to Den Burg, too many people to my liking so I only did my shopping and escaped the village. Back to Oudenschild, for a fish lunch!
It was good, British style, but it made feel lunch like an anchor in my stomach. Up to De Cocksdorp (with C-O-C -K), not even 20 kilometers.
Texel island is small, only half the size of Bonaire. My luck today: the weather is the same! The dykes were brought to a safe ‘Delta’ height in 20 years, as you know the Dutch will tackle any sea level rise easily 😊
In spite of my loaded stomach I made the ferry well in time, I even detoured for the scenic lighthouse.
There were some 30 passengers, most of them by bike plus a few backpackers. Quite a difference with the large ferry to Texel this morning! Then the wait was on, but it was worth it.
The ferry was no more than a converted fishing trawler, familiar, as I spent quite some time on them when I was still diving the North Sea wrecks. I gave up on North Sea diving when my back could no longer handle 42 kilo twin tanks any more. The trawler had anchored along the beach, unusual in Holland. A jetty was pioneered, so you could smoothly embark the ship with your bike.
Sea was like a mirror, the 2 mile crossing took only half an hour. Once crossed, the ship beached itself.
A smart walking bridge allowed passengers to disembark, so they could head for the waiting AWD bus truck.
Close to the boat the beach felt like quicksand so it was hard work to reach the bus, pushbiking!
Bikes were then loaded on the trailer and a 10 kilometer beach trip followed over and through this bizar, very un-Dutch environment. I was told this part of Vlieland – even once holding its ‘capital’ – was completely washed away in the mid 18th century. And there were not even rising sea levels involved 😊 All what is left now is an enormous sandbank, nicknamed Dutch Sahara.
Once off loaded it was another 6 km to the huge hotel, not what I normally book, but the only bed avaiilable.
The islands are not for long distance cycling; I only made 60 k today, Next day was not any different. I planned another easy R&R day, and booked the 5 o’clock boat to the mainland.
It was a great day at this tourist pace, I covered the whole island in 12 bike kilometers through the woods, visited Vlieland village, chilled at the beach, had a swim (who needs a towel?) and enjoyed lunch and a local beer.
Not on a shoestring but I did Vlieland in 24 hours😂
Tournai, even a start in the haze keeps the good memories to this city, worth for a return visit.
The haze reduced the sounds like a blanket which made cycling along the Scheldt a mesmerizing experience. Plus, the pancake flatlands are easy biking, hills don’t seem to exist any more. To me the scenery was not very appealing, not so say dull. The rivers I passed like Lys (Leie) and Yser (IJzer)and the canal from Nieuwpoort to Dunkerque, made the landscape more interesting though. And I passed Westvleteren abbey, famous beer, but not for me today 😒
When I arrived at de Panne I also reached the most southwestern spot of my bordertrip. Seaviewat at last!
It also meant entering another world. Tourists galore, Koksijde, a bit further up, was super high life – or worse, it just depends how you look at qit. On the other hand, it gave endless picture opportunities.s
I liked Nieuwpoort much better. Years ago this was the port where I used to embark to dive the wrecks in the North Sea. But now the city completely changed, it is less of a working city.
Did not want to stay in the tourist fuzz, so I booked a hotel in Gilster. When I arrived, the hotel was very closed. Called (no reply), checked around, asked the neighboring bakery, all to no avail. Back at the entrance a voice came through the door intercom; is that you, Mr Snijders ?. The keys are in the envelope behind the flowers…
After my shower, I had an enjoyable evening in the bar opposite, with a tapas meal and great seventies music. .And beer.
Next morning I met the owner who apologized. I excused him being a fellow bike fanatic, in awe about my bike.
An easy Sunday morning ride followed in waking up Belgium. Ran into this megalomanic concrete structure, just for bikes, somebody must have had some money left. Probably paid for by the European Union..
Entered home country in Cadzand – Netherlands most south westerly town.
The route to the Breskens ferry to Vlissingen led through the dunes, with beaches and the North Sea / Westerscheldt on the left. Beautiful area, though geographically -imo- it should belong to Belgium as the Scheldt makes the perfect border.
Once in Vlissingen I stayed at Brigitte’s place for a lazy Sunday afternoon, I really needed some recovery time.
Continued Monday northbound via the East Scheldt barrier, some 9 kilometers long with 65 gates, normally open, closed when extreme high water is to be expected. Finished in 1986, it was planned to keep fish life in the East Scheldt unchanged, which unfortunately did not happen, according Cor (from my documentary) a fisherman since 1945.
Temperature on the rise, the Netherlands are heading for a heatwave. A very modest wind from the northeast comes along with it, blowing right on my nose. It has never been different since I left. No reason to complain, with blue skies and orange marigolds.
Final stop for the day was Tinte/Brielle where I was made very welcome with bbq and lodging, by cousins Thea and Caren and husbands Ed and Frans.
To cross the ‘New Waterway’, the deep canal connecting North Sea to Rotterdam, I opted for the Rozenburg – Maassluis ferry. I was lucky as the service was only recently restored. After a short bikeride I arrived well in time ( or did I just miss the previous sailing ?), but that triggered a chat with a fellow cyclist. He had sailed Dutch Navy submarines and was even a war veteran. Now he was on his weekly 70 k bikeride. I asked him about his age. 87! Hero! I have still 14 years to go..
From the Hook of Holland I rode the bikepath just behind the dunes and passed the sand engine, which is nothing more than a very wide, man made – hopper made – beach. The beach is disappearing slowly again as tide and currents wash to sand on the Dutch beaches further north. The plan works!
After I passed The Hague, town of birth, I enjoyed the dunes, smelled the sea of course, but at Noordwijk I had to veer off to get to my pied-a-terre in Amsterdam.
I planned to visit my family and promised my grandchildren to swim with them in the Amstel, the river Amsterdam is named after. To conclude: today I passed the 1000 km mark of my trip.
I left the Klouschter hotel Tuesday (with their excellent restaurant) early in the morning, in fog! Familiar sight, I still remember this weather from the time I studied in Luxemburg, long time ago. Global warming did not change it 😊
During the next hour the fog cleared and blue sky appeared..
Weather kept changing by the hour: overcast, shower, a persistent drizzle and finally blue sky again. As there were only 35 kilometers left till the border, I was out of the country in no time, I crossed the border south of Arlon.
The surprise came with the 40 step chairs showing up in the bikepath. It was quite a haul, I slipped away – as expected – but made it, only to bike 100 meters and descend again. Belgian logic ?
Drizzle and the woods came up at te same time. No traffic, a smooth road, dead silent, al in all it made it a weird environment, good to get into the Zen mode. Balanced, that describes it best.
A wrong turn – or may be it had to be – made me encounter this piëta – which I did not recognize as such – along the road. It looked out of its place, but then I read it was erected shortly after World War 1, the war with a high impact on Belgium. The piëta was to remember the shot villagers and French soldiers by the enemy, the Germans. The description put the scene in the right context and a different perspective.
Still wonder if the piëta was the omen, which turned me back on track again….
Biker’s best friend in the rain are bus stops, for shelter you know, and I needed one to make a hotel reservation in Bouillon.
Reservation was done in a breeze and I was looking forward to the 10 kilometer – deserved – descend into Bouillon.
Bouillon is a scenic village, built on the banks of the Semois river and the castle from Godfried with-the-same-name. But also a tourist trap, though this time of the year there were few tourists around. Unfortunately my booked hotel was closed – every Wednesday as the neighbor said. Found another one down the road luckily, lots of vacancies this time of the year.
The main Bouillon community lies at 384 meters, the Semois river hotel at 220. Next morning it was a 2 kilometer brutal climb to get out of the valley.
I planned the road partly through France, simply the most direct way to Rance, a village 25k south of Charleroi. Few hotels in the area, b&b was all I could find.
Weather was fine, crisp, it felt like a spring day, but cold! It did made a great day to bike the woods; with so much forest the woodmills didn’t surprise.
Plus the road art, agricultural art.
When I made my stop in this village – remembering my own promise not to take church pictures any more – it was the picture that told me I was in France!
This specific area is like an appendix sticking into Belgium, so the French built Chooz, the nucleair reactor on the Maas river, surrounded by Belgian territory. You do the math..
Entering Belgium I picked up one of the Ravels, former train tracks, smooth, straight, with hardly any elevation which invite you to go fast.
I missed the Chimay brewery, rain was coming up and I decided my blond could wait. A dry day!
Left next morning, in the rain. The landlady was waving me out, but before she asked me; ‘Le vélo là, c,’est un vélo électrique ou un vélo sportif ? ‘ Sportif, a push bike, I finally get to know the foreign language names 😊
Google maps blew my trip planning next morning. With the rain predictions I intended to stay as south as possible, going through France, but instead I was put on another Ravel, staying more north. It was all drizzle, but the Ravel track made up for it. These tracks are like biker’s highways; dedicated lanes, you move fast, but the scenery is quite monotous, all green.
All good things come to an end, also the Ravel, when I was directed to the Semois river. The info sign told me it was a 30 kilometer stretch with ship locks to deal with the 17 meter elevation. It was a beautiful scenery, a tempting route!
After 5 kilometer however, I was directed on to a mountainbike track, the river was going the wrong way for Tournai 😒 Outof the woods I entered fairly level Belgian territory and at Mons I could even follow the river Scheldt, all the way to Tournai.
Stairway to cross the Scheldt on a narrow bridge – it was scary!
Tournai was real nice, beautiful Scheldt banks, loads of history packed in their buildings and castles. Go visit!
My biking genes were playing havoc again, or, admittedly, they always do. For the bigger adventures I had grounded myself, due to an ablated retina and 3 eye surgeries over the last 6 months. Though l still suffer blurred vision in one eye, the future looks bright however and I felt I could embark on a new biketrip. All my bikes were in working order,so I could start planning. I did not want to stretch trip and travel too far, so I came up with the Benelux border bike trip.
You may call it triple B😊
As such the trip was not biked before – as far as I know – so I could make my own rules. Good to have them, so you know when you stretch them…
Writing this blog I am in my second day already. Left my house Monday morning by 8, heading for Aachen. I delayed myself a day as I decided last minute – after a service overhaul of my ‘Red Camel’ ( formerly known as Superstrata)- to use this bike. It is lighter and after service ran very light, though less comfortable and also limited on the luggage to take. I had to repack – doing away with half of my luggage and prepare the Camel for long range bike packing.
A passing biker in Aachen noticed my unusual bike: Geiles Rad!
After Aachen it was up into the Ardennes mountains (rather hills) as the higest elevation is only some 600 or 700 meters. Once up, I joined the Vennbahn, a former railroad track transformed into a bikepath. Remains of the former history are abundant.
Initially you are closely following the German/Belgium border, before entering Belgium, into St Vith.
When I hopped over to Germany, it became a rainy afternoon. As I was biking a ‘Landesstrasse’ I made sure traffic would see me with a fluorescent jacket and a helmet with built in strobe lights. Works well, I got all the space – and more – ftom passing cars. Passed quite a few villages which were situated in the valleys, looking like ditches, which made me go down way too fast: all red alarm lights and speed indicators along the road were telling me to slow down – and I was only riding a bike!
For Vianden, my final destination, I had to turn onto a country road, which made me wonder. . But after 160k you believe anything Google Maps will tell you. Passing the border was a breeze😊
I was not done yet as the fun had still to come: a sensational and tricky downhill ride on a wet road into Vianden. That’s what they call ‘going out with a bang’!
Stayed overnight in an auberge next to the river Our with the castle high up. I was finished by 2200.
Next day on to Echternach, Schengen and beyond. After yesterday, it had to be an easy day! I followed the Our and Sure rivers, may be they are one, which is still unclear to me. Great bikepaths and very light traffic.
At Echternach it was up the hills again. I assure you, a 3 kilometer 7 degree climb wears you out. On top I noticed my navigation planned to go all along motorways, whilst I wanted to ride the Mosel banks. Opted for Googles cross country offer and it did not disappoint. I was led through fields, a wood, more fields and all was dead quiet. Amazing, Luxemburg to myself.
The road along the Mosel banks is called the ‘route du vin’, for a reason. Huge wineyards, also on the German banks, the Mosel river – coming from the Vosges in France – also functions as border with Germany.
In the very south of Luxemburg, next to the French and German border is Schengen. Famous for its European treaty, but I can’t think of anything else that makes the city worth while… But now it is the most southern point of my trip,
Early enough to add a bit more mileage to my today’s trip, I continued for Monsdorf. Found a great hotel with a superb restaurant where I had my grenouilles.
Agadir was another nice coastal break on my bike trip and I left happy, the bike got fixed after all!
I was looking forward to an exciting day as I planned 135 kilometers over the mountains to Intimatoute. Like me, you probably never heard of this town, just beyond halfway Agadir and Marrakech.
The breakfast board of the Suite hotel had invited me to prepare my en-route food from their breakfast buffet. Thanks, appreciated, I had great French bread all day!
I planned to leave early, but at 8 o’clock it was still so unbelievably dark, that I decided to delay the departure a bit. Then it was time for the guard waved me goodbye; climbing into the Atlas foothills started immediatly on leaving the outskirts of Agadir.
Not even 10 k in the ride I stopped as I had to fasten a saddle clamp – not the repaired one though.. It was my bad luck that the aluminium clamp snapped and broke beyond repair. With the little tools I had plus a spare bolt I could fix it provisionally, I kept my fingers crossed.
Into the foothills – I followed a provincial road, without any traffic – the area quickly changed into desert. No sand, but very rocky and still cold, 4 centigrade, in spite of the blue sky. The bright sun made the area very appealing though, it would have been completely different with an overcast day.
The saddle construction played havoc, I tried to get a better fix, but so far from civilisation it became difficult. I found helpful and good willing people, but no effective solution was rendered for my wobbly saddle. A serious climb had set in – as expected – but it was a surprise it kept going up for some 45 kilometers, before reaching an altitude of 1000 meters.
Climbing is ok, but your progress is so terribly slow 😦 I started to calculate if I would make Intimatoute in daylight.
The fast descend to 700 meters gave hope, my worries disappeared. That is to say, until at 3 pm a northern mountain blizzard developed which slowed me down to 8k an hour. But, as the saying goes, when the going gets tough, the tough gets going. And meeting another biker will also keep you going.
The blizzard was a cold one too and just wearing biking shorts I started to get undercooled. I changed into my trainers but more action had to be taken. I intended to wait until the wind ceased and continue the last 35k in the dark desert.
I had been through that experience before in the Mojave desert, biking Route 66, so nothing new to me. Colder this time, true..I stopped at 5 to shelter behind an electricity transformer house where the gendarmerie had set up a check point.
There are many traffic checks along the Moroccan roads, I was not surprised. I went over to ask them what they knew about the wind, whether it would cease later and explained them what I was up to.
The officer looked at me and said: I’ll stop a car for you to give you the hitch to Intimatoute – I could not even object. 10 minutes later I sat in a van, half an hour later I was at the hotel. The hotel – not even on Booking – was ok, it had a vacancy, my room had a comfortable bed and a hot shower, my lucky day after all! I decided to have the bike fixed first.
The village was large, a town actually, the most Moroccan town I had seen so far. The hotel was in a street lined with workshops. I stopped at the first one, the mecanic looked at the bike, took it from me and told me to sit down. 5 minutes later he had fixed the problem with a hose clamp, 2 clamps to be precise.
The dark evening had fallen, so I looked for some dinner first. A butcher shop doubled as a restaurant. Dinner became a freshly cut lamb rumpsteak, grilled-to-perfection. I topped it off with a kilo of huge mandarins as a vitamin dessert.
I continued touring the village in amazement as I felt myself in another era.
The prices might have helped too: I paid 50 cents for the bike repair, I was charged 2.50 for dinner, I got the bag of mandarins for another 50 cents, I got nearly ashamed. Next morning I paid 11 euros to the hotel’s receptionist, who had spend the night on the couch in the lobby.
I had breakfast and stocked up at the local bakery, don’t know any more what I left with them..
What I do know was that it was freezing, f*#cking cold this morning, 0 degrees! So I dressed up in 3 layers of clothing, all I had, as I never expected it to be this cold on my trip. As a just-in-case I did pack a set of thermal underwear. But the bike felt solid, that made a good start of the day!
I Intercepted the provincial road, waiting for the sun to gain some power and warm my hands.This last day was only 110k and mostly leading over a desert plateau, fairly level between 550 and 650 meters.
No sandy desert, no camels, the odd donkey cart, and loads of rocks where sheep were still able to find some greens.
Wind came – and disappeared again – when approaching the outskirts of Marrakech, some 35 k from its center. It became a lazy ride after all, measured against yesterdays benchmark.
Marrakech is a large city, nearly 1 million people, with a large, walled and mazed medina which I planned to explore next day.
Like Intimatoute I went through the same experience entering the Medina of Marrakech: as if you were transferred by timemachine into a passed era. No cars but push- and donkeycarts. Plus horse carriages for tourists, though they take rides outside the medina.
The best way to explore the medina and its maze is by bike, which I happened to have with me. Followed a moped which chased the pedestrians away. Got myself a hair- and beardcut and got completely lost – as I lost the gps navigation signal in the narrow alleys. If you keep biking – and you will undoubtedly get stopped by a few dead ends – you’ll ultimately find your way out and arrive on the large market.
Snake whisperers, fruit stalls, hennah tattoo artists, monkeys which want to ride your bike, it is like a circus which attracts many, many visitors.
I had my tajin lunch, drank too much coffee and felt fully recovered from my bike trip. My sports app though told me I needed another 120 hours..
My trip planning had worked out well after all, I even had the luxury to choose to fly home on an afternoon Easyjet or an evening Transavia flight. With only 8 kilometers to the airport I went for Easyjet, to have dinner in Amsterdam. Prepared the bike and the wait started.
What a ride it had been! Nearly 1500 k since I left the Sevilla I went through some unforgettable experiences and only met nice, friendly people in a country full of pleasant surprises – on a well performing bike after all.
Enjoyed Essaouira, it was worth the nightstop and I won’t forget the old medina, one large soukh area. Hotel was fine too, bike happy too as it slept overnight in my room.
The first sign that hit me in the morning did not leave hope for large expectations, but routes are unpredictable.
The road climbed up into the mountains; there was little oceanroad left. However, the countryside which was returned, made up for it.
As I intended to travel to Agadir, the most southern point of my trip, I decided to bike the 200k in 2 days, due to the mountaineous terrain I expected. Halfway I had found Imsouane to stay overnight; with one upclass hotel and quite a few b&b’s I should be able to find a bed and shower.
It became one of those days I made very few pictures, I needed all of my energy to bike. Especially coming back in your rhytm after a picture stop is eating power. And then, once you take the picture of a sheperd with his sheep and goats, all animals blend in the environment 😦
Taking the picture I met another bike traveller. Fabio – from Italy, you guessed right – was on his way to Senegal, now 10 days in his trip. He nicknamed his bike Green Monkey, which went well with my Red Camel.
We were both heading to Imsoumane, but, as solobikers, continued solo, at our own pace.
The next challenge was the mountain ridge ahead of us, 450 meters high, 350 still to climb. Hairpins followed one after the other, the view at the top was superb, but impossible to catch in a picture. My complaint anyway: landscape photography is an art in its own and – for me – hard to put in an iPhone picture.
Wind and weather helped to develop a good speed. At midday I changed into my 4S outfit: shirt, short, socks, shoes.
I was looking forward to the entry to Imsoumane, I expected a long downhill run. It came up, but I had to wait till I was 5 k short of the village.
And then the run was over before I realized. Imsoumane is like a hippie town from the sixties which attracted many wave surfers. Not for long any more I was told, a mall and a big hotel are about to be built. It had a great vibe though, it was all quite basic, but hey, who cares?
It had a great sundown, the harbor turned into weird colors.
After people had their meals in the few shack restaurants, the village went asleep at nine. Might have been caused by the lack of alcohol, unavailable here.
What comes down, must go up, also applies to bikers, so I knew I had to climb out of Imsoumane, to reach the regional road to Agadir. First things first: breakfast with a view and getting supplies for this Sunday.
I entered this climb on my list: 350 meters up in 3 kilometers with a lot of gravel parts. Stopped once to take off jacket and trainers.
The view was amazing with the village in the right corner. Lonely at the top, as Randy Newman sings.
All in all it took me about an hour to reach the main road in which I had covered 8k. I had missed Fabio the evening before, though I tried to meet up. Now he texted me, he was about to leave Imsoumane after coffee. I had coffee too, at the butcher shop!
He send me my action picture…
Weather in the south added a few degrees and rendered blue skies and more beautiful countryside. Then it was a long hairpin descend again onto the Ocean Boulevard, next I passed the city of Tamir.
Leaving the city I noticed banana plantations – never knew they grew them here –
and cycled through a barren desert type environment along the ocean with lots of headwind. Passing the lighthouse of Cap Ghir became the most westerly point of my trip.
Immediatly after it was a left turn for the last 40k along the quiet bay of Agadir. Holiday houses, hotels, back into civilisation.
Still off season here, so no problems to book a great hotel for next to nothing. Enjoyed the sunset again, these colors remain amazing.
Today a recovery day in Agadir, writing blog and report on the Superstrata bike. Had to fix the seat post which came loose – design flaw unfortunately – but did not impair the riding. Also, booked my way home on Friday, I have 3 days to reach Marrakech, hope I can do it in 2.
Used the last hours of daylight to bike the boulevard, not allowed, but everyone does it.
At the other end I was stopped by a lady, handing me her handy, to watch a video call. To my surprise it was Karim, the bike mecanic from Casablanca who fixed my brakes, 500 kilometers and a few days away. They were friends, she said, and after a picture and an ‘enchanté’ she disappeared into the crowd. It left me flabbergasted, what was it, chance, omen or plain coincidence?
It will be a challenging day tomorrow, into the mountains, into the boonies, to Imintatoute. Found out there is a hotel, but not on booking. We’ll see, life needs surprises!
I could not leave Casablanca without visiting the Hassan II mosque, build on the edge of land and water. The bike ride through the hectic city was more than worth it, though there was no way to come anywhere close as police had the mosque solidly fenced off.
I left next morning in grey wheather and half an hour later I was already sheltering for the rain at – or rather in – a bus stop. It did not delay me too much, after all I had only planned a 100 k trip to El Jadida, also situated at the Atlantic, as I am following the inofficial Moroccan Ocean Boulevard..
After another – even heavier – shower, which I could not avoid, it cleared up. Still, not really warm with 16 C, barely good enough for biking.
Today was also donkey day, never seen so many of them; they were used to pull carts or were loaded with baskets full of grass – at least that’s what it looked like. Traffic is more used to donkeys then to bikers; they honk only for me. I gave up taking pictures of them, apart from the one for my grandkids to show how they could go to school.
Destination today was El Jadida, only a 100 k trip, to make it fit the schedule for Agadir. Karim, my Casablanca bike mechanic, had advised me to make a stop in Ouarradi to have the best oysters ever. Passing the village I did not manage to find a restaurant to serve me an oyster lunch. But I found camels instead..
El Jadida is a thriving city, big enough to host a Decathlon and an Ibis hotel. I opted for a local hotel, next to the soukh, which was a good choice.
El Jadida was established by the Portuguese, as Mazargan, back in the 16th century or so. The old city is still there, could use some renovation, to use an understatement.
Had my fish dinner, but the restaurant had no notion of starters and main courses; it was all put on my table in one go. Then the tuna was cooked as if it had to be used as shoe soles. I gave them another chance, but also the second version did not really pass my test.
Next morning I enjoyed this great view from my hotel room.
It was a cold morning, I left at 9 and needed shirt, sweather, jacket and trainers to keep warm. I could have used full gloves too.. It was going to be a longer trip today, 145 k, as I could not find a decent hotel option any earlier. It turned out to become a great ride, initially with a crosswind as the smoke shows.
Later the wind backed to become a fierce tailwind. It was like having a turbo on my bike, at times I reached warpspeed!
Scenery remained amazing, I can’t get enough of oceans, must be my diving history. I had booked the hotel in Sila, a riad type hotel where the rooms have their windows facing the central hallway.
I walked the enormous boulevard in Sila along the rocky coast; no beach for the people from Sila.
Even had a beer in a coffee bar! I decided for a hotel dinner, bad decision. Just try to get a medium steak and it will be served as a thoroughly cooked piece of leather. The chicken I got instead was not much better.
Drove off next morning at 9 and visited the first bakery I came across. They had a great selection of sugared breads and pastries which would bring me easily and tasty through the day.
The trip came with some tough climbs – and consequently the descends. At times I felt like a jojo. Luckily my legs did not complain. Worth mentioning: on a gravity assisted descend I set (and claim) the speed record for my – Superstrata – bike: a whopping 75 k+! Best of all was the stability of the bike, even under luggage load. As the saying goes: ‘never underestimate an old man on a bike’ 🙂
There was also this surprise climb. By now I thought the average elevation was only 110 meters, not realizing the mountains towards the south, even along the coast, were on the rise. I learnt the hard way when the road flattened out at 200 meters.
I met the first camels in the wild and even more donkeys. I also wondered how people could make a living by tending just a few sheep. Or by guarding a single cow all day..
I arrived in Essaouira – known for its wave surfing – where I booked a hotel in the middle of the old city, the kashbah, a place which you can’t reach by car. The hotel was hard to find to start with but once I arrived I could not check in as there was no place to park my bike. Could not even take it to my room. It was in the small print after all: no parking available, but it did not mention bicycles…
No big deal, hotels galore this time of the year, so I quickly found another one. That’s to say, the first one I tried was charging tourist rates, as they were a ‘traditional riad’. I had not seen tourists over the last few days, but here, in Essaouira, it confirmed they were! And if there are tourists, there are also tourist traps like overpriced camelrides on the beach…
In the evening I returned to the soukh again, biked around and had a good meal – with real beer – in a European run restaurant, just outside.
Tanger surprised me! I expected an Egyptian like city, but Tanger had clean streets, looked organized and even the many lawns were all meticuously cut by teams of gardeners with bushcutters.
The soukh in the old medina still had the old Arabic atmosphere, but other than that Tanger was much like Amsterdam🙂
Sunrise, daybreak starts in january at 0830 in Morocco. They should be on Greenwich time, their Atlantic coast is at the same longitude as Cornwall in the UK! Well, ok, you get sunset in return at 1900, it is all give and take.
I left for my first Moroccan cycling day at 9, after 10 kilometres I cleared the hussle of the city. I navigated the national routes to avoid the real highway, so you pass through villages and settlements.
I was heading southwest, looking forward to be stopped by the Atlantic Ocean. But I stopped for supplies first, as you never know.
Hardly any wind, so the Atlantic was at ease. I parallelled the ocean for many kilometres,
ducked under the highway again and was passed by a TGV train overhead. The first high speed train in Africa, now connecting Tanger to Rabat, but to be continued to Casablanca.
I really enjoyed the high quality biking route, 4 lanes, shoulders to bike on and hardly any traffic.
My navigaton had given up though; as a Dutch cheapskate I bought a Moroccan simcard, with limited internet data. MapsMe helped me out – it is a standard practice for me to download map data for the country I visit which you can use off line. Be autonomous!
Unlike Tanger, villages were messy and full of garbage. A matter of priorities I guess, they were probably more busy surviving this environment they were living in than cleaning it up.. The economy in this areas is driven by horses, horsecarts to be exact, the only thing moving seen.
It became all more rural, cows and sheperds appeared in the scenery; along the road fruit, vegetables and pottery were sold. Tempting to buy, but I really couldn’t take anything any more on the bike.
I was guided off the coast for a small detour – and climb – in the Atlantic hills, very much like the Limburg gradients. Zooming down from the hills I passed the (former) saltpans of Lagrange.
Larache, a city I never heard off, but still pretty big and selling upgrades for simcards.
With the navigation problem solved I could continue to Riad des Oiseaux, a very small hotel in the middle of an agricultural area with those awful plastic greenhouses.
The 6 room riad on the lake was some nature thing for birdwatchers; when I arrived I was the only guest – and not even a birdwatcher!
Worst of all however was the entry road; 2.5 kilometres of sand and mud… I did not expect to end up in the middle of nowhere, with nothing around me but nature.
The lady caretaker – who only spoke Arabic, not even a word of French – cooked me a tahin meal, solid Moroccan food. My lucky day in the end when I found some wine…
Breakfast ready at 8, so I could hit the dirtroad by 0830. More workers were walking – and biking – this road, it took me 20 minutes. A quiet sundaymorning but foggy unfortunately. Roads were ok again, the bad parts you found in the villages.
All in all it was relaxed biking, especially when the sun finally beat the fog by 12. As I progressed well I decided to continue to Rabat which extended my trip to 140k, still within my (flexible) limits. And met my first camels!
Nearing Rabat the coast is a mix of beaches and rocks, impressive. Many seashore apartments are being built ( some go for 75000 euro) but this area is not for me.
I booked a riad in Rabat, actually it was Sale, the older part of Rabat next to the busy traditional soukh
and the very upscale marina with lots of restaunts. Found mysellf a great place with one of the best steaks ever!
The view from the riad was great but I gave myself little time to enjoy is. The French riad owner wished me luck with 2 days of rain coming up. How pessimistic can you be..
Toured royal Rabat as a tourist for a few hours, also looking for a bike mechanic to do some break maintenance (in vain) biked the boulevard, before continuing the 100 k ride.
It was not until coming up Casablanca I joined the ocean again. Tried to find a bike shop on the way to my hotel and found (sounds easy) a guy, Karim, who promised to fix it next day, my rest day. Hotel – not by chance – in walking distance to the soukh and main square, my evening was filled!
Bike is now fixed, front break pads were gone completely, rear 50% left, after less than 1000 k. As you don’t find brake pads at every corner in Casablanca the repair took time, it was a good time though with Karim and I practised my French. Bike got a good cleaning as there was still a lot of Spanish mud in the nooks and crannies. Now having lunch opposite the bike shop, Karim looks after the red camel.
Still no rain leaves plenty of time to bike the city. Especially here, as a biker, you have to claim your space, else you never get nowhere. I like the roundabouts which might look daunting, but it is great to beat the traffic🙂
Now a day of planning for the rest of the trip, heading south, that has already been decided.
bikethebike-biking benelux borders 