When you’ve been a social media influencer (or an idiot with a a camera, as I like to call it) for a while, exciting opportunities tend to come your way. Thanks to a prior tour with Wheels of Morocco and a subsequent good rapport with the company owner, Greg, I received an invitation to join a scouting trip aimed at discovering new trails for their motorcycle tours. I use the term “invitation” loosely; Greg had persistently nagged me for a while, and when both our calendars miraculously aligned, I couldn’t really resist any longer! He gathered a group of intrepid riders, not scared to explore the unknown, and I brought along Seats. It had been a while since I’d seen any of them, so I was very excited about the upcoming 4 days of fun.

While I’m no wuss, I did express to Greg my slight apprehension having not ridden a motorcycle in 14 months. I suggested toning down the route a bit. However, Greg seemed to disregard my advice. Day 1 was slated for a 500km journey, cutting through the Atlas Mountains to take us south, near the desert. The subsequent three days were planned to be challenging off-road trails leading us back to Marrakech. Undeterred, I hopped onto my Yamaha T7, adorned in the appropriate Wheels of Morocco livery, and off we went. It was dark, cold, raining, I was tired, and slightly hungover – essentially, it mirrored the starting conditions of nearly all my motorcycle adventures.

Day 1 basically went as we’d hoped. There were moments of genuine peril, with a standout memory being navigating through dense fog on soaking wet tarmac covered in spilled diesel, laughing to Seats in my intercom that I’d requested an easy start. Couldn’t really blame Greg for this one though. We covered roughly 450km, which included a substantial amount of unplanned trail riding. Given our predominantly off-road riding backgrounds, we frequently succumbed to distractions and ended up freestyling in the dirt. Nonetheless, we managed to reach a location close to our intended target. In Morocco, Fridays are synonymous with couscous, and after indulging in copious amounts of food, whilst watching the belly dancers entertain the crowds in the restaurant, we got our heads down. The room already stank of sweaty feet.

Day 2, in stark contrast, descended into utter chaos. Abdou, a member of the Wheels of Morocco team and now a close friend, took the lead today. However, the term ‘leading’ should be interpreted loosely. This is not as a reflection of Abdou’s competence, which is solid, but more due to our collective childish and excitable mood. We were not particularly receptive to instructions, and that would come back to haunt us later in the day. After attempting multiple challenging riverbeds, resulting in numerous tumbles, we found ourselves making virtually no progress. At one point, we had managed a mere 2km in 2.5 hours. Stranded in the middle of nowhere, we hadn’t purchased any food, skipped lunch when we should have stopped, and I had run out of water. It was 14:00, and ‘lunch’ was still another 3 and a half hours away. You would think we’d know better by now.

Our third day was initially about as successful as the previous. Following a conversation with a local at our fantastic accommodation, Rekkam Boudenib Maroc (highly recommended – they even had the Dakar on!), we were pointed towards a desert ‘highway’ that promised to take us a considerable distance closer to home. Now, I’m not sure if the term ‘highway’ has a different meaning in French, but after an early start, multiple bike extractions from deep sand, resolving a mechanical issue, and covering approximately 400 meters in 2 hours, we had to abandon this venture. After all, we still had to make it back to Marrakech at some point.

We opted for the black stuff for the remainder of the day, which certainly isn’t a bad thing in this country. However, we did take a detour to see some rocks, not because I have any real interest in geology, although the word “metamorphic” does sound cool, but because geezer called Pol Tarres shot a video there recently. That guy is a hero, and he has some stones I tell you (pardon the pun), because there’s no way you’d catch me jumping bikes around that place. It was a killer view, and what I mean by that is, if you fell, you were in for a bad day. As I mentioned earlier, I’m no wuss, but a career of rescuing people who have fallen down mountains and broken themselves has definitely had some affect on me! I did pluck up the courage to pose for this cool photo though.

We started our day in Nkob, a wee village located on the southern side of the Jebel Saghro mountain range. Our plan was to traverse a single trail that would take us five hours straight through said range, offering spectacular vistas and challenging terrain. This trail not only showcased the breathtaking views but also introduced us to fesh-fesh. Plenty of the stuff. Now, Google describes it as “a fine powder with low particle cohesion”, but I describe it as sand on steroids. There was a single rider who didn’t have a “I nearly died” moment, yet amidst the tranquility of our remote surroudings, despite the frequent 4-stroke braap, you could regularly hear people laughing into their helmets. This was honestly one of the best days riding I’ve had, and I would go back in a heartbeat.

I’ll finish by saying this. If you haven’t experienced the thrill of riding your motorcycle through Morocco, then it’s time you did. It is genuinely one, if not my overall, favourite riding destinations, and it might just become yours too. For those in the UK, it’s the closest faraway land – after all, you’re in Africa (though maybe don’t call the locals Africans, they often don’t like it). Even if you prefer sticking to the asphalt, I can guarantee you an unforgettable adventure. And if you’re not up for riding your bike all the way, a fly-and-ride option with Wheels of Morocco makes it simple. You have to get down there!

Ciao for now! Ollie.