Day 23: Tetouan to Oued Laou (50 km)
Weather: Partly cloudy, low 60's most of day, mild headwind most of day
Road- traffic moderate at first, tapering to light the farther down the coast I got
Bike- worked on it this morning, adding brake pads and adjusting shifting, rear tire still seems to have slow leak, considering swapping with spare tube, but also took apart my pump today and restored its high pressure/low pressure functionality which allows me not to be reliant oon gas stations to get bike up to full pressure. Hoping that "slime tuauhbe" will self-seal under full pressure.
The day unexpectedly broke clear today, despite the forecast of the 100% chance of rain. Plotting out the time I have left, I have to be a bit choosier about where I want to stay, and though seeing Tetouan in the clear daylight made me want to stay for a day, the more spectacular sights I might have to sacrifice later on made me/want to go. I did wander about for a bit in the morning, getting some crepes with honey and soft cheese for a cheap and easy breakfast, and then falling into the clutches briefly of a rug scam guy (had not yet broken the habit of saying yes to people that paid off in Europe). But free from him, strolled part of the charming Medina, got to a high point to get the skyline of the city, and then back to the pension to pack and prep the bike.
Things were still a bit damp from yesterday's drenching, but I have extra sets of everything but shoes, but it being sunny and warm, I hit the road feeling fine. After yesterday's experience, I chose the longer, more minor, scenic route and this paid dividends very quickly . this was great psychologically since the day before really left me shaken about the whole Morocco leg of the tour, and I needed to get right back on that horse.
My road led directly east to the Mediterranean coast, and then bent southward to parallel it. The Rif mountains, which make such a dramatic backdrop to Tetouan, reach all the way to the sea, and the road winds, climbs, and drops furiously along its slopes and alcoves. This of course, makes for spectacular, though challenging, riding, since almost none of it is flat, and much of it is really steep. The hills progressed in size each ridge, starting about 300 vertical feet, and by the 5th or 6th headland, a rugged 750 feet. Each time, it would lose almost all elevation as the road dipped to service a town in a bay. I got a lot of moral support chugging up the hills from the locals passing by beeping and shouting from tricycle tractor things and decorated truck/vans.
But this took time and energy, so my original dream of getting all the way to Chefchouan (around 100 km) grew kind of dim by the time I hit Oued Laou mid afternoon. Though I still some proverbial gas in the tank, stretching to remaiming 55km inland would put me in town around dark and exhausted, and probably soaked again, as the clods were piled up dark and menacing over the mountains. Plus Oued Laou, a small seaside fishing village, seemed inviting enough. My Rough Guide, coming in more handy in a more difficult country with much less WiFi, pointed me to pleasant friendly inexpensive centrally located hotel (which is nice to know about so I can avoid the hustlers here offering their "room house very cheap"). I had only eaten snacks for lunch, so I pigged out on an early dinner at a fish place on the beach. It was delicious, and neat to be eating the fish (With my hands, as apparently the custom) caught by the small boats just outside the restaurant, though being ankle-deep in feral cats and stared at by the passers-by as I ate (there are pretty much zero western travelers so far on my route), reminded me once again this I was definitely not in Europe anymore.
But as I sit here on top of my hotel overlooking th
e beach at sunset and the Mediterranean behind it, with children playing in the courtyard below, and the minaret in the distance chanting out a call to prayer, I feel much, much better than I did yesterday and feel like I am falling much more into the groove on the trip. The forecast seems favorable tomorrow, and the minor road up up the Oued Laou valley looks fantastic. And at the end, the first big destination of the trip: the famous blue Medina of Chefchouan!
Day 24- Oued Laou to ChefChouan (60 km... But 4000+ vertical feet)
Weather: mostly sunny- highs in high 60's, lows in low 40s, nice tailwind early and late today.
Bike: rear tube still a little questionable- but held pressure pretty well today.
Roads: with very short exception of a bit of major road near Chef choan (which just confirmed my route choice), roads were nearly perfect-smooth, almost car-free, and incredibly scenic.
Awoke this morning (actually day 25 when I write this) at 5:30 to the call to prayer, which, here in 'Chouan (as everyone calls it) echoes off the sheer cliff faces of the Rif mountains the town and down into the valley. I am piled under a heap of blankets- Chouan is at around 2000 feet, and it gets near freezing at night an issue in a hotel without heat. It is very cheap, however, and long on charm- it is just off a square fronting the kasbah (castle) in the Medina (maze-like pedestrian-only area of town that is honeycombed with tiny shops). The Medina here is famously painted all in shades of blue, and it is indeed a wonderful place to get lost!
But I am ahead of myself. Day 24 dawned bright and mostly clear, with a strong wind coming off the Med. Though Morocco is not quite as a layabed culture as Spain, not a lot goes on before 9, so I was kinda pacing around a bit with a packed bike before the hotel owner woke up and I could pay him and leave. (When one goes to bed around 10 in a country without wine, one only needs so much sleep).
That accomplished, I headed up the very scenic Oued Laou (pretty sure Oued is "river" in Arabic) valley, through bucolic farmland and cute kids waving and shouting "Hola amigo!" to me from their yards, older friendly men in Moroccan snuggies leading donkeys laden with sacks of grain to the mill, young men uselessly wandering the road or lounging in small cafes in a rigid uniform of bleached blue jeans, euro-soccer jackets, high-top fades and insolent smirks (and generally smartass remarks in French and Arabic), and of course headscarved women doing almost all of the actual work.
I quickly realize that the notion I had yesterday of doing the route from Tetouan to 'Chouan in one go was insane for anyone but some mutant leg-monster from the planet Herculiod. Though my distance wasn't what I was getting in Spain, the vertical feet gained (and usually lost immediately) is hugely more, and the climbing isn't nice gradual spinning, but almost entirely granny-gear grinding up grades rarely acceptable elsewhere. So, considering this day entailed considerably more vertical foot gain and a greater distance than the hardest mountain bike ride I do in Boise, AND I am doing it on a 100+ pound bike, I am going to officially cut myself some slack about the distance.
The climb took me up through steep canyons with sheer cliff walls 100s of feet tall, and majestic craggy ridge lines of the Rif mountains towering overhead. It was jaw-dropping scenery, and combined with yesterday's panoramas of the Mediterranean, made for one of the big riding highlights of the whole trip. The near total lack of traffic, with only the occasional Mercedes "grand taxis" puttering by, made things all the more pleasant, and I arrived in 'Chouan decidedly tired (there is a particularly cruel 1000 vertical foot climb at the very end of the day when I was within sight of the town), but very happy about the day's experience.
Quick side note about the taxis. I have noticed that in many developing world countries that there tends to be a strange uniformity in vehicles that serve the same purpose. Not only are they the same make and model of vehicle, but the same year and color as well, which in the case of the grand taxi (which is one way to get town to town if you don't like the bus- if you just want to get somewhere else in town, you take a "petit taxi"- a green compact car) is about 1991, and always either yellowy-beige or sky blue. Bolivia had its decrepit 80's Range Rovers, Vietnam its massive Chinese dump trucks, etc. How does this come about? I imagine a scene like this:
CAR DEALERSHIP, INTERIOR, DAY. FROM THE CLOTHES AND MUSIC, IT IS EITHER THE LATE 80'S OR EARLY 90'S. SUDDENLY, THROUGH THE WINDOWS, A MOTORCADE IS SEEN PULLING UP OUTSIDE. FANTASICALLY-DRESSED GUARDS SPRING OUT OF A BULLETPROOF SUV AND OPEN THE DOOR FOR AN EVEN MORE RESPLENDENT FIGURE, WHO EMERGES FROM THE VEHICLE, AND IS LED INTO THE DEALERSHIP FLANKED BY HIS HONOR GUARD. HE IS TENTATIVELY APPROACHED BY A TIMID CAR SALESMAN, SAY EDWARD G. ROBINSON'S CHARACTER FROM "FARGO."
Car Salesman: Hey, uh there, how ya doin'? Welcome to East Rutherford Mercedes/BMW. How can I help ya today?
King of Morocco: I wish to purchase a vehicle, perhaps several vehicles.
CS: Well you sure came to the right place! My, that's some getup ya got on there. If you don't mind me asking, what do you do?
KOM: I am the King of Morocco, sovereign of the ancient realms, lord of all I survey. Mortals tremble before me and flowers grow where I tread.
CS: Well, that's super. What can I do you for? Maybe you'd like this S series right here? It has power windows and anti-lock-
KOM: Tell me, is this a long lasting vehicle? Would it, say, continue to operate until at least 2013?
CS: Well, sure, with the right maintenance and our extended warran-
KOM: Excellent. And could you fit perhaps 4 or 5 grown men in the back seat of this vehicle?
CS: Well, there's not really enough seatbelts, but I suppose in a pinch you could-
kOM: Splendid. I will take 1,450,234 of them.
CS: Wow. Um. Any color preference?
KOM: I like vomit yellow. Though make a few of them sky blue. You know, for fun.
END SCENE.
No comments:
Post a Comment