Morocco, Part 1

A week in Morocco then.  My first time in Africa, fortunately I have my old mate Chris along, and he has at least been to Egypt a couple of times so should be able to show me the ropes to some extent.  Being me, rather than going on any kind of package I've planned out an itinerary involving lots of driving where we get to see a fair bit of the country - what can possibly go wrong?

Riad dar Saba.

Well, we have a little bit of fun with the flight, we circle the airport a few times and have a false start at landing - happens in Europe too of course.  Then when we get the car it seems OK but the GPS 'needs charging'.  Still, it is only a few miles to our hotel, Chris can manage to navigate using my phone surely.  Well, just about... we pass a fair few entrances into the old town, or medina of Marrakech, before realising we do in fact need to drive into what look like alleys suitable for pedestrians only, once in we crawl along at walking pace as bicycles, mopeds, donkey carts and people on foot weave around us with no regard for safety.  Eventually we reach a car park of sorts, with various vehicles jammed together.  A local indicates a place we should park, telling us to leave the handbrake off and the car out of gear so it can be rolled about if necessary.  OK... he then guides us to our hotel, down narrow alleys and eventually ducking under an arch to find the door.

Jemaa el Fna, in the heart of the medina.

Inside is a welcome bit of peace, an eighteenth century Riad, built on three floors around a central courtyard, open to the sky except for a tent like affair over the top.  We relax in the courtyard with some mint tea and a biscuit or two,  before heading out to find an ATM and some food.  This means leaving the medina, walking along the impressive ramparts and then into the newer part of the city.  We get a decent tapas style meal with a variety of hummus, kebabs and so forth, plus some Moroccan red which is drinkable enough.  Speaking of drink, this is clearly a pretty dry country - we spot precisely one bar, the 'British Pub' not far from the restaurant.  Feeling like the worst kind of tourists we tramp inside, but in fact it doesn't feel very British, with the table service and shisha pipes this could be any Moroccan cafe, except the drinks are beer rather than coffee.

Bahia Palace.

The next morning we head out into the souks - neither of us especially want to buy anything but it has to be done.  And in fact, I'm not sure if I'd ever buy anything here on the spur of the moment, since it is impossible to stand still for a few seconds without being hassled, either by the traders, or people offering to guide us, or simply begging.  It is best to keep moving, though at least we can stop for a coffee at intervals.  It is certainly an experience though, with all manner of things on sale, in many cases with the craftsmen working away in their stalls.  The crowds and the ever present smell of manure get a bit wearing though, so we head out to visit the city's cemetery, and particularly the Jewish section which is testament to the large number of Jews who lived here back in the days when they weren't quite so welcome elsewhere.  We take in the Bahia Palace, realise we forgot to have any lunch, and head back to the riad to make plans for dinner.

Our plans go a little awry however... we're after some traditional Moroccan food at a well reviewed restaurant, so head for one in the medina.  But of course we get lost... eventually hitting the main square, there are restaurants here but are they any good?  And moreover, will there be wine?  We end up walking around for a fair while, giving up on the medina and returning to the modern city, finally we find a rather classy French restaurant where Chris consumes snails.  Still haven't found any bars other than the nearby 'British Pub', so we head back there after dinner.  Have to say that while I'm glad we came to Marrakech, I'm also kind of glad we're getting away tomorrow morning, leaving the crowded souks behind to head into the Atlas mountains.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Ridgeway, Day 5

When I was rather younger I went to a Ridgeway School, don't think it was named for this Ridgeway though, there are several of them after all.  It was north of Birmingham for one thing.  I do recall we took a school trip down this way once though, and visited the Avebury Ring.  Various people have said I will be impressed by it when I arrive, however given the Ridgeway doesn't in fact go to it I suspect I won't - the 4 miles or so it would add to the day being enough to put me off, given I have 20 to do anyway.

The end!

Less than yesterday at least... I eat an excellent breakfast (old spot sausage!) and am on the road by 9am, again the way is mainly along bridle paths and wide, rutted green lanes.  Hill Forts abound, I soon reach the impressive Barbury Castle, and not long after there is another fort on Hackpen Hill.  Allegedly there is another White Horse here too, again I can't see it.  And then, with little ceremony, I find myself at the end of the Way.  The finishing point, Overton Hill, is hardly worth the name, though it does have an array of burial mounds.  In any case, I'm not done, I have another eight miles or so to do to reach Pewsey, where I can catch a train back to London.

The rather excellent Crown Inn.

My route planning turns out to be good though, much of the remaining miles being on bridle paths, and I pass through scenic nature reserves and charming villages full of thatched cottages.  There's only a brief section of nettle-choked footpath, then some exciting battling through a field of head high maize.  And I don't get lost at all... Keeping up the impressive speed too, I reach Pewsey at just gone 5pm, just a little early for the 9:22 train I've bought a ticket for.  Or indeed, the next train which is at 7:29 - fortunately I find the Crown Inn, which even has its own brewery, a better end to the walk is hard to imagine.  It's tempting to hang around for four hours and consume considerable amounts of beer, I resist though... back to work tomorrow after all.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Ridgeway, Day 4

Didcot power station.

Well, as it turns out I bounce out of bed at 7am, clearly this lifestyle is doing me good.  The Swan Inn provides a hearty breakfast and a packed lunch, then I'm off on a long day, twenty-four miles in fact.  The legs seem to be working at least, and the Way continues flat, with a view off to the north that suggests I may actually be on a ridge.  Shame the view is of a power station.

Uffington hill fort.

The miles roll on, I reach Uffington Castle, a rather impressive hill fort, and wander a bit.  There is a White Horse here, but a long walk downhill and off the way to see it... So, onwards.  Later on I pass Weyland's Smithy, somewhat overrun with children.  And then more and more miles, much of it the wide 'green lane' that I'd expected from the Ridgeway.

The body keeps working though, in fact I'm a bit shocked by the pace I'm maintaining, full pack and all.  Don't seem hungry either, I now have a selection of uneaten chocolate bars in my pack... riding for a fall I'm sure.  As it is I reach the Inn with the Well in Ogbourne St. George at 6pm, and yes, there is a well.  In the floor of the restaurant area, covered with bullet-proof glass, and it has a scare-crow in it for some reason.  Anyway... food here is good, not just pub grub.  Nice to have a bath too.  And this sofa is very comfortable.

The Inn with the Well.  Also with dog.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Ridgeway, Day 3

Weir and lock at Goring.

A short day today, well sort of at sixteen miles.  It's my only sub twenty miler anyway... I celebrate by staying in bed 'til 9:30am.  Then it is on with my wet clothes - washed them last night but forgot to hang them up - and off.

Still not much ridge action.  The morning walk is along the Thames, so pretty flat and pretty near sea level, scenic enough though, especially the weir at Goring.  Or at Streatley, from the other side of the river.  Which turns out to be a good place to be as I get a good ploughman's lunch at the CAMRA approved Bull Inn.

From here the route leads uphill and into more open country, chalk and flint underfoot and broad fields to either side, I could be in Wiltshire already.  Still not a ridge mind you.  And before long I'm turning off the Way towards East Isley, where I'm booked into the Swan Inn.  Once off the well travelled route I find myself beset by brambles and nettles, but I'm at the pub before long, and there is beer, food, even a shower.  Shame about the 7am wakeup call tomorrow...

Over half way!

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Ridgeway, Day 2

The Carrier Arms.

After a night camped in a field - couldn't find the campsite - I make an early start so as to avoid wrathful farmers.  I'm walking at 7am, not too quickly though, I'm feeling it from the previous day a bit, have a couple of blisters as well.

Still no ridge in evidence... more farmland, more woods, there seems no end to it.  I am very relieved to reach a pub for lunch, the Carriers Arms in Watlington, so much that I spend an hour and a half there.  This in turn leads to a little lie down in a field later, still why not.

I do pass a landmark of sorts, Grim's Ditch is a prehistoric earthwork, some three miles long.  Presumably for defensive purposes, or maybe it was a giant half-pipe for bronze age skateboarders.  Not far past this is Wallingford, where I find an actual campsite, and even better a pub with yummy Thai food.

Grim's Ditch.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Ridgeway, Day 1

First Trig Point on Ivinghoe Beacon.

So, back on the trail - seems to have been a while, my summer has been busy with festivals, holidays, and of course the Olympics.  None of it seemed 'travelly' enough for blogging though.

The Ridgeway then.  Ninety miles from near Tring southwest towards Wiltshire, White Horses, burial mounds and beer.  Plan is to do it in five days... the first being a bit tricky as I start from London.  A ride into the city, tube, train and it's 11am before I reach Tring, with twenty-three miles to go.

I need to head northwest to the start of the Way at Ivinghoe Beacon, then circle back and at 1pm I'm in Tring again.  Ho hum.  That first section seemed to be most of the ridge for today also, from here it is farmland and a lot of wood.

Easy going though, and I power on towards Princes Risborough, journey's end for today.  Turns out to be remarkably dead, I find one open but empty pub... the contrast with Wendover, seven miles away, is marked - that place seemed to be entirely composed of pubs.  Well, there's food at least.  A local asks if I am having a mid-life crisis... no comment.  Right then, off to pitch my tent in the dark once more.

Tring Tring!

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Dunwich Dynamo 2012

More cycle madness then.  Not even my idea this time... my friend Clare's boyfriend Dylan was going to do the Dynamo, as was his boss, so Clare said 'you like cycling for miles and miles don't you.'  This is around 30 miles more than I have ever done in one go though, and the plan is actually to ride the 120 miles to Dunwich, a tiny village located where there was once a prosperous medieval port before it was washed into the sea, overnight.  So, no sleep then.  Really not sure I can do this...

London Fields, 8pm

I prepare by giving the bike a good service and a new chain, staying up late on Friday and eating lots.  On the Saturday afternoon I visit the new London Pleasure Gardens - somebody needs to show them some pictures of actual gardens - and eat more, then head to London Fields in Hackney, which is full of hundreds of bicycles and riders, thankfully diluting the crowd of ghastly hipsters who are the regulars around here.  Time for a quick beer with Dylan and the rest of the group, and then we are off, Northeast through London towards Epping Forest.  The bike is running well - seems having a new chain makes a lot of difference, also I have stripped as much weight as I could and fitted skinny tyres.  Soon I lose the group, I think some behind and some ahead which I later learn is correct, but I don't want to risk stopping to wait in case they are all in front.  Besides, with so far to go I think I need to make my best time.

And the miles roll by, darkness falls, barring the full moon and the moving river of flashing red lights in front of me.  I find a group I can stay with and follow them, on and on, pushing the pedals around becoming a natural rhythm as much as breathing.  There seems no need to halt, we pass pubs still open well after midnight but I'm not sure beer is wise, anyway there is a food stop around half way.  A check on my phone where I have managed to download the map reveals I'm not far from it, progress is good.  Sadly I now discover the flaw in following others, as they ride straight past the food stop then off in the wrong direction, it is a few miles before we realise.  They opt to cut around towards Dunwich, but I head back, I want to see the food stop and maybe my group will be there.  Turns out I should not have bothered, after wasting half an hour on my detour I spend as much time again queuing for bread and packet soup, even more annoying when not long after I start seeing little stalls by the road side selling sausages, bacon and so forth.

Bacon roll and coffee stop, 5.30am

For the rest of the route, I don't trust to others' navigation and become adept at fishing my phone out to check the map with one hand, often I yell to others that they're going the wrong way, generally to be ignored.  I think lack of sleep is affecting us all, I am still pedalling OK but have a slight headache and my thoughts are kind of blurry.  The supposedly flat route turns out to have more than a few hills, none very large but the effect is cumulative, I am still OK on the flat but struggle more and more with the climbs.  I start to see others pushing... indeed, as dawn breaks over the suffolk countryside I find myself overtaking people, which makes a change.  I also feel better as my body reacts to the new day, suppressing the urge to sleep for a while - I will pay for this later I know.

Dunwich beach, 8am

And still the miles roll by.  I'm somewhat surprised to realise that barring massive bike failure I am going to make it, indeed I'm still pedalling strongly to the end - just shows, riding a bike with a massively stretched chain is good training.  I make it to the beach just before 8am, for a time of around 11 hours.  My sense of time is totally out of whack now, after a little swim (brrr) I find a pub, breakfast of beer ensues.  Dylan turns up around 9.30, and we find most of the rest of the group - one does not arrive until 12.30 after nearly 16 hours travel, the horror.  We're all there in time for the last bus though, laid on along with removal vans for the bikes by the helpful folks at Southwark Cyclists.  It would be unfair to blame them for the accident on the A12 that leads to an unbearably long and hot journey to London... should have taken the bike back.  Oh well I am here now, but I think my plan of heading back to the Pleasure Gardens will have to be cancelled, I feel strangely tired.  Best head home then... oh, crap, I have to cycle there.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.