Getting our feet wet fording a raging river

So many firsts for us – first on the road repair, first bike drop, first-but I’m getting ahead of myself.

When we were planning to leave yesterday, we were warned that the route we had planned to take wasn’t the best route. The roads were rougher, and it was advised that we double back to Azilal and head east from there. Given we (well, I) had just dropped a bike, we chickened out and did the double back. Still gorgeous!

After passing Azilal, we were riding new territory, and the scenery continued to amaze. And the temperatures to chill, as we drove over the mountains again (twice today). We stopped in Tagleft for a short break. Man alive, Moroccans seem to love their tea!

We took a beautiful road east from Tagleft, and to our surprise at one point it went through a small village. I mean right through. The road was maybe 15 feet wide building to building. Grandmas were sitting in their doorways, kids were playing outside. There were cows and chickens, and a voice inside my helmet asking, “Are you sure we’re on the right road? Are you doing this to me on purpose?” I can’t believe that this was the actual road!

But that’s not all. Just before this narrowing, deteriorating path rejoined the main road, we had not one, but two water crossings. Now, to hear Angela tell it, they were raging rivers. That might be a bit of an exaggeration, but the second especially was probably 15-20 ft wide, and the water 6-8″ deep, and the water was moving. And the terrain was quite textured. As I came upon it, I warned Angela, “don’t slow down!” and charged across. She was praying out loud as she hit it. Once across, wet to the knees from the splashing, we celebrated another first, laughing and lamenting the lack of a helmet cam to document another victory.