TRAVERSE 38
shelter for security , I don ’ t want that feeling to be put on hold until morning . The smell , warmth and sound of the fire burning next to me is the only thing I need for a great time when I ’ m out there on the road and in a place like the Moroccan desert where there is zero light pollution , the stars provide a nightly show worthy of my wildest dreams and I never once longed for a tent .
One day , as I was riding along the prohibited Algerian border the track disappeared under my wheels . I had been riding away from civilisation since early morning and really felt alone where only a few disinterested camels watched me and Baloo . I roughly knew my way and it was easy enough to see on a map that the Algerian border was a mountain separating the two countries . I knew I just had to ride along north on the western side of the range and not cross over to Algeria in the east . Simple . In the middle of the afternoon , enjoying a cigarette break with my back against my bike , I saw a slow-moving shadow on the hazy horizon moving slowly towards me . At first , I assumed it was a camel as I
had not seen any other signs of life , so I didn ’ t pay much attention .
As the shadow grew closer and became clearer , I saw to my amazement a man on a small Peugeot moped . He stopped next to me , as casually as if we were in a village street , and asked if I was alright , followed by a gesture to the stand of trees on my left .
“ Follow me , let ’ s share a tea together ”.
We parked our bikes under the relative shade of the trees , cut some branches , took some gasoline directly from the fuel line leading to the carburettor of his moped and started a fire . His name was Mouloud , and he spoke in perfect French . This cheery 68-year-old man wasn ’ t on a deep desert voyage , and he certainly wasn ’ t lost . He was returning home from work , taking the scenic route ! For the last 25 years he ’ s been riding through this desert to reach his village because , “ I prefer this track than the normal road full of crazy people . Here I feel better , and I usually stop on my way back home for a tea and a nap ”.
It was a scene from a poem .
Sublime in its simplicity and sincerity .
We sat in the sand in the middle of the desert and discussed things like two old friends who hadn ’ t seen each other for years , eating sandy breads and drinking sweet tea . As I reflect on this encounter I can recognise how these couple of hours with Mouloud left an indelible impression on me . It was by far the purest meeting with a stranger that ever happened to me on the road , or anywhere .
These memories I ’ ve shared are only a glimpse of all the things I lived during two months and 7000 kms in Morocco . It would take a lot more to really share everything that happened , cultural knowledge gained , wild and remote place ridden , strong connections formed with locals , wild campsites that would leave a poet salivating and a variety of weather conditions from burning sand to snow covered tracks . I even met people living in caves carved into the steep cliffs of the mighty Atlas but that , along with many more anecdotes , is another story for another time … CR
TRAVERSE 38