Auberge near Agoudim - North from Casablanca - CycleBlaze

March 13, 2012

Auberge near Agoudim

up and down in the High Atlas

Goat herders and a couple of men on donkeys are walking up the winding road as I clip my panniers on the bike at 8 o'clock, with sunshine and a cloudless sky again marking the start of another beautiful day in the Atlas. The snow on the surrounding slopes contrasts with the barren, taupe landscape. 

Gliding down for 4 km isn't too bad first thing in the morning either.

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The two young boys strolling with four goats along the steep section of road ask for a pen and sweets - 'bon bon' - as they all do. I know it's coming as I walk towards them, the incline combined with a rough surface a bit too much for me to ride up. Choosing to ignore their request, I just ask them about the direction of Midelt and they point back to the junction I'd made a right at, then crossed a simple concrete bridge. It's a bit of luck bumping into them - saving me a slog up a dead end.

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Nine kilometers along the route, I pass by the other auberge - called Fazaz - that I'd originally thought I'd make last night. I'm glad I didn't as its location isn't as nice. The hand-painted sign I photograph states correctly that it's now 40 km from Imilchil.

A large group of boys were hanging around the biggest village I ride through pester me for a pen and bon bons, as they do. It's hard to remember it's a game for them, and of course they've been programmed to expect them from dopey tourists who drive through handing them out like Santa, but I have to bark at them to back off, they're that annoying, taking a sizable chunk of joy out of the morning's ride.

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The jeep I hear a mile away, revving up around the bends behind me, yet it's a nice surprise to be greeted in English by the two South Africans in it, a retired pair enjoying a world tour. We joke about the amount of bread we've eaten in Morocco before they drive off, leaving me to walk the last piece of a long climb that had lasts about 6km. 

At it bends crest, a frozen bank of windswept snow half covers the road where the sun has failed to reach and I stop to take a snap; no doubt they would have driven past without really seeing it. I wonder what else they've passed by.

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Once the road has dropped down on the other side of the tizi, I'm back in the granny gears and slogging up a 4 km climb. Then comes a sign for a village not shown on my Michelin map: Tamalout. There's an old bike leaning against it.

 Just as I stop to take a snap of the said sign, aA young girl of about 10 comes galloping down from her roadside house to speak to me. Bracing myself for the predictable request for a pen or whatever, she takes me aback by asking if I'd like some food. 

Do I? You bet

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I sit in some shade at the foot of the steps hued from the rock that lead to her simple house and a minute later her little brother brings down fried eggs and some bread; soon after, a pot of tea and two glasses on a tray follow.

This second glass has always confused me, as there's only me drinking. The girl she shows me the Berber way of pouring tea: first from pot to glass 1, then back in the pot, repeat, then pour from glass 1 into glass 2 - and drink. Before leaving, she fills my empty water bottles.

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It's a touch of hospitality that totally contrasts with the demand that follows as I ride up the next hill - confronted by a few petulant teenage girls whose lives seemed dependent on having a bon-bon. Fuck off.

The second vehicle that comes along stops, too; inside a couple from Rabat, the capital, clearly feel sorry for me. They want to give me a lift, but their compact wouldn't cope with a bike, and besides, it's very near the crest, so I just hold the door handle with my left hand as the man drives slowly up. My computer says 22 km when we get to the top.

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The descent is wonderful, lasting around some 14 km. I go by another auberge, which doesn't have an electricity supply, and find the second soon after. It doesn't have mains power either, but the owner says he has a system he'll turn on once it gets dark. 

The location, right before the village of Agoudim, also seems very nice, so I call it a day with only 48 km ridden and walk my bike up into his yard.

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A wood stove gets lit in my otherwise empty room, but I opt to sit with the owner and his two friends in the small, unheated communal space - me using the computer to edit some photos once we've shared a tangine dinner his wife cooked. 

Conversation is obviously restricted, but their inquisitiveness makes up for that- they get to witness the wonders of Photoshop.

Owner of the auberge
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Today's ride: 48 km (30 miles)
Total: 249 km (155 miles)

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