Snow bound!

Not the title I was expecting to be writing! When look at the map of Morocco you realize how dominated it is by a central spine of the Atlas Mountains, but as the the of us headed out of Meknes we didn't realize the full implications. We headed for a small town of Azrou where we  to spend the night before going or separate ways - Craig and Jenny to the south and the dunes of the Sahara and I west to Marrakesh. As we drove off of town I thought I saw a few cars with snow on their roof and  as we drove up into the foothills it was obvious there was some about somewhere. As we reached 1100m we found where - apparently the first big dump of the year had occurred.


To get to Azrou we went over a (relatively low pass) of 1500m which was fortunately well cleared before doing into the town itself to find it will clogged up with vehicles. Apparently the road we had come in was the only open road. In the end I spent two nights in until the road to Marrakesh opened, Craig and Jenni had to spent one more until the road South was clear. During the first night there we met Raschid and Ahmed, two locals, who offered to take us trekking above snow line, so that's what we did, walking and clambering up to 1800m to an abandoned monastery.

Morocco 101

Spain on left, Africa on the right

The first few days in Morocco have flowns by and it's been a great experience with lots of learning about a different way of life. Leaving the ferry terminal was really the end of Europe and since then we've (myself and the two other Australian motorcyclists, Craig and Jenni, I met on the ferry) have quickly been learning things are done differently in Arabian Africa.

First stop was the town of Tetouan about 30k south which is where we got our "Morocco 101". We only pulled into get fuel for the bikes but within minutes are taken in hand by a local tourist hustler (starting with the obligatory where are you from? to establish which language to use - but then following the reply somewhat bizarrely with "lubbly jubbly" a phrase I haven't heard since watching Alexi Sasyle in the Young Ones in the eighties). After helping us get fuel he passed us on to his friend who offered us secure parking and then the next one who offered to guide us round the lanes of the Medina (traditional walled market and housing area with labyrinth lanes only a few feet wide - enter without a guide and you will be quickly lost), followed by someone else to try and sell us the obligatory carpet and souvenirs, someone else to sell a meal and so on. We quickly learned that in Morocco there is always someone immediately available to help you with your every need. Of course everyone wants paying  - but it's very little; that first few hours in Tetouan cost us each less than $15, well over what we probably should have paid, but still a bargain to have the bikes guarded, to be fed and guided and well informed about the history and working of the Medina over several hours.

From there we continued about another 100km south to Chefchouan to stop for the night. The experience above repeated itself for finding a hotel and parking for the bikes, though after the first experience we now (probably falsely) felt a little more in control. Chefchouan is famous for the picturesque nature of its Medina where for some historical reason I never understood, is painted predominantly in blue.

From there it was on to Meknes to enable a visit to the Roman ruins at Volubilus - an amazing 40 hectare site where it is still write possible to see the overall structure of the city which functioned for five hundred years from 200 BC onwards. What was amazing about it was not only the state of preservation but also the unfettered access you have just to wander around with only minimal barriers and restrictions

One week in France

Currently on a ferry and in three hours, all being well, I finally enter Morocco - both an exciting and slightly intimidating thought. The past week has been a fast trip down through France.

Start of the week saw me arriving in Cherbourg from where it was a short ride into Normandy where I stopped in Bayeaux one night intending to see some of the D Day beaches and sights and the famous tapestry . The former was successful and very thought provoking, the latter unsuccessful as the tapestry museum, like many in France as I later discovered, was closed for January (in fact the whole of the north of France gave a feeling of being closed for the month). Bayeaux cathedral also turned out to be a magnificent sight.

My My hotel for the night 

Arrowmanche beach and remains of the Mulberry Harbour

After that it was a quick trip cross country,avoiding the auto routes and using the backroads so I actually saw some of the towns, to Lyon where I caught up with Duncan.

 It was ingreat seeing him again after 6 months or so. We spent the first night wandering around the town and then next day hopped on a train and went to Geneva in Switzerland. Duncan really wanted to see the exhibition at the Large Hadron Collider ( Google it) there and since it was only two hours away it seemed to good an opportunity to miss. The exhibition was good but do was just wandering around the edge of Lake Geneva looking at the Alps in the background, all together a great day.

The next day we both headed down to Marseille (him by train, me on the bike) where we meet up again for another two days. We both really liked Marseille - it had a really lovely feel about it with energy that had in winter been missing elsewhere in France.

 It was a great four days that I spent with Duncan and I think we both were sorry that it came to an end to quickly but we both had our separate plans. He was seeing of to hitch to Spain, hopefully Barcelona, and I for Morocco.

Having used up a week getting across to the south of France, I decided to abandon my original plan of riding down to the tip of Spain to do the crossing as that would have used up another week and instead have taken the weekly ferry that runs from Sete, two hours west of Marseille, direct to Tangier. It's a thirty hour trip, but it's been smooth and comfortable. It's also passed quickly as there are two other traveling motorcyclists onboard, also Australians, and so we have spent much of the time comparing notes and plans and it is likely we will now travel together for the first day or two.

Wish me well in Morocco.

Morocco - hereI come

January 2014 was supposed to be the start date of a trip down to Morocco, but with the bike begin stolen in the UK before I even got going it never happened. Fortunately it was recovered a few weeks later, but somewhat worse for wear so that trip never happened; now one year on with it fully (he says with fingers crossed) repaired I'm having another go.

Yesterday I left my father's house in Swansea (where the bike has been hibernating in his garden summer house) and made it to Poole on the south coast of the UK. Today I'm on the ferry - next stop France and riding on the wrong side of the road.

The plan is a couple of days in Normandy looking at some of the D Day memorials and then down to Lyon in mid France to catch up with Duncan my youngest son, who is currently hitchhiking around Europe, then I'll ride on down into Spain before catching the ferry into Morocco. Unfortunately I'll only have about 3 weeks there before I have to head back to the UK to park the bike again as I've promised to be back at work in Australia in late February.

However this is only a taster - the plan is to come back in the second half of the year and start my long talked about trip down the length of Africa - and if that works onto the America's. You've got have dreams!

Bali - is this a vision of the future?

I last came to Kuta Beach, Bali thirty one years ago. It was a tourist place then, but low key and with charm and I have fond memories of that visit.

Now the reality is the beautiful beach and the friendly people that made it so attractive are still there but buried under commercialism; thousands of stalls selling the same mass produced tat, much of it aimed at the lowest common denominator of taste and a marketing philosophy of getting as much cheap alcohol into people as possible.

In case you haven't worked it out, definitely not to my taste.

Fortunately if you can get away from the tourist strip (which takes quite an effort given the horrendous traffic) the center of the island is still lovely, the scenery, especially the tiered rice paddies climbing up the hillsides and some of the small villages, are in places stunning and the people still friendly. I hired a dirt bike and a guide one day and seeing the small villages with him, and meeting his friends and family, was the highlight of the ten days here.

Phnom Penh (Dec 10)

I wanted to go to Phnom Penh for a variety of reasons, not least the exoticness of the name and all it conjured up of the far East and stories I read when I was young. But there is another side which those of us who grew up in the seventies think of, and that this of course is the association with the Cambodian civil war and the Khmer rouge. They came to power in 1975 and in the three and a half years until they were ousted by the Vietnamese killed either directly, or through starvation, a quarter of the countries population - a level of atrocity I find hard to imagine. What I also find incomprehensible is that despite everyone knowing what they'd done, the Australian, UK, American and many other governments continued to recognize the Khmer rouge as the "legitimate" government for ten further years in a perverse refusal to recognize the communist government of Vietnam could actually done something good. That ten years meant more people died in guerrilla warfare before the remenants of the Khmer rouge finally self destructed. Something I'll try to remember next time I hear my government trying to justify the indefensible.

During the morning I went to visit one of the Khmer rouge jails that has been preserved in the city and also one of the " killing fields " where 9000 bodies were disposed of in mass graves. Profoundly depressing. I took very few pictures at these places and i won't put any of these, except the one of the preserved sign, because they all tend to make the places look prettier and more pleasant than they should ever appear.

The afternoon Megan and I spent walking around the city, mainly taking time in the rather grand Central Market but also walking up the banks of the Mekong river (from whence you can get a boat to Vietnam - now that's definitely something to do in the future)  and watching Cambodians out enjoying themselves.

To Phonm Penh

From Siem Reap it's a claimed six hour bus journey to the capital Phomn Penh, but the reality is more like nine. Not to worry I like local bus journeys, looking out at the scenery, watching life happening at the roadside, looking out the front window and watching the truck approaching head on in the other direction and wondering if one of us is going to pull in in time - certainly never boring. Driving in Cambodia initially appears really anarchic, but once you watch for awhile you realize there is quite a sophisticated system working around you. Rule one is only ever worry about what's in front of you, rule two blow your horn everytime you overtake to let those concentrating on rule one know you're there, rule three always let the overtaking vehicle back in - no road rage here despite the massively overcrowded roads and vast disparity in vehicle speeds, and it all seems to work remarkably well. It's also noteworthy we saw no accidents whilst we were here, and virtually no vehicles with signs of accident damage.

The journey itself went well, with only one unexplained stop whilst they did something to the engine but like everywhere there are quirks; in Cambodia the buses need to be thoroughly washed off all their road grime immediately before entering Phnom Penh - never discovered why, but it made a nice half hour interlude on the journey and a place to buy our (late) lunch.