Blinding deluge and Matisse’s favourite cafe
Thursday we left Chaouen with an ominously foreboding sky. Well, more like we were loading our bikes with a combination of dread and resignation – by the time we were loaded the rain had begun. As our Airbnb host had warned that once the rain starts, it can go all day long, we mounted our steel horses and rode out of town. And got quite wet.
Now, to be clear, we do have rain gear. Waterproof jackets, pants and boots. Well, not Angela, who has perforated leather sport bike boots. However, when the car in the lane beside you drives by through inches deep standing water and creates a wave four feet high, and that wave crests upon you, there’s only so much water the gear can keep out!
Creeping along at 40 km/h during the heaviest rain, where the only thing I could see clearly was my hand wiping my visor, we endured through the twists and elevation changes of the Rif Mountains until, descending on the far side, the rain abated.
As the clouds started to break, we were hopeful we might be able to blow dry before reaching our destination, but more dark clouds were not far away.
We stopped in Tetouan as the next deluge approached, seeking shelter at a gas station but leaving the bikes out to get a further rinsing (they are still covered in dirt).We waited for probably 30 minutes, watching the dark clouds unload around us. Clear skies once more appeared, and we set forth once again.
Silly, optimistic us. Fifteen minutes later and we were once again being rained upon. Fortunately, it did not last long, and aside from a few more waves of water from passing cars, we dug deep, sucked it up, and pressed on.
Eventually, the rain subsided, the clouds broke up, and the sun prevailed. We arrived in Tangier under sunny skies and 20°C, with water steaming off of us.
We found our Airbnb, hosted by a single yuppie (do we still use that term?), unloaded our gear and laid it out to dry.
We walked the route to the ferry, as we are booked to sail early Friday morning, then wandered to find a recommended restaurant.
Le Salon Bleu was apparently a preferred location for Matisse. Whether true or not, it has a nice view of the Mediterranean Sea, and the terrace has a nice cushioned area that would have been a little nicer in warmer weather. We lasted outside for only a short while before shifting to an interior table.
With our time in Morocco almost over, we returned to our accommodation after a decent meal, set to rest before our early morning ferry.
Angela notes: we also rode through standing water that was “feet deep”, and the only thing she could see while riding through the apocalyptic deluge was my bright yellow jacket.
