Morocco

Ever since I started following the Atlas Mountain Race, I’ve wanted to explore Morocco’s mountains on two wheels.

Since I headed into into 2025 with some changes at work, I suddenly had free time in February that needed filling. Morocco felt like the right choice—plenty of sun, but not too hot for that time of year.

With Thom, I found a cycling buddy who wasn’t scared of the mountains and wildcamping.

I needed a cycling buddy who wasn’t scared of mountains or wild camping. Thom was the first to volunteer. We met during a campout in 2024.

Then, when I rolled into 2025 I found myself with some unexpected free time.

With some free time in February, Marocco felt like the right choice — plenty of sun but not too hot this time of year.

As 2025 rolled in with some changes at work, I suddenly had free time in February that needed filling. Morocco felt like the right choice—plenty of sun but not too hot for that time of year. I needed a cycling buddy who wasn’t scared of mountains or wild camping. Thom was the first to volunteer. We met during a campout back in 2024.

Amsterdam to Marrakesh We started our journey in Marrakesh, which we got to by plane through Amsterdam Schiphol. This was my second time flying with the bike and it went significantly smoother this time.

Primarily, because I bought a solid wooden board to wheel around the bike box. I packed the board into the bike box just shortly before luggage check off. That way, I could also use it on the other side in Marrakesh to get to the Taxi without hassle.

We took the taxi to a hotel a bit outside the busy city. There, we spend a night and put up the bikes first thing in the morning on Day 2. Luckily, everything was in tact and the bikes were ready for their adventure.

Upon being unable to find any screw on gas cyclinders or alcohol fuel, we departed from Marrakesh with the hope of finding something along the route. Which we never really did.

Although busy, it was still nice to ride out of Marrakesh on the main road called “road to eureka”. The more meters we made on that road, the bigger the mountains were growing in front of us.

Even though Marrakesh is the main city, we quickly realized that outside of Marocco the landscape and village quickly change face. Landscapes become more remote and roughed. Villages simpler, with half constructed houses and dirty path made by donkeys, scooters and old trucks instead of a tarmac machine

In a little town at the foothills of the mountains, we made our first stop and ordered Omelett in a shop that my parents would never walk into due to health concerns. But let me tell you, the food we got served was exceptional. We scraped the Omlett taijn clean.

We also got a can of tea, served with two small tea glasses and equally big blocks of sugar. We were honestly confused about the sugar blocks, because they were the same size as the glasses. To the distress of a local old man, we broke the sugar in parts and crumbled it into our tea glasses. Only later did we learn, that the sugar goes into the can and not into the glasses.

Strenfthend by Omlett and tea, we took our first climbs into the Atlas Mountains. As the sun was setting on the horizon, we looked for a place to sleep. Locals pointed us towards a side path into mountains, which lead us to an empty soccer field.

Nested between the mountains and far away from the street, we gauged it to be a great first semi-wild camping spot. Warmed up by a camp fire, we jumped into our tents for a first calm night under the stars.

Unfortunately, at around 2:00 AM we were woken up by a howling. Just coming out of a dream, I—for a second—believed there was a full scale wolf right beside my tent. Coming back to my senses I soon realized it’s just a dog. But one that liked to bark. He was somewhere up the mountain and seemed to enjoy barking into the night like a mad man. After almost 45 minutes he stopped, and we could continue sleeping.

While cooking some tea in the morning, we were greeted by other visitors: Four camels who apparently, where send here by their owner to forage for food. Eyeying us carefully they quickly disappeared into the bushes, but we still were able to catch a nice selfie.

From here the serious climbing started. Slowed by full bags and frequent photo stops we crawled up the mountain until we reached the town of Oukmedian.

Stopping for lunch, we came into a good conversation with Rihad, who studies physics in Marrakesh but runs a staple shop for school kids when he is home. He organized some food for us, which we enjoyed on the half finished tarrace of the shop.

The sun was setting again—so we scanned Google Maps with limited internet for a suitable camp spot. Outside the village, a path winded into the mountains with suitable spots. Two kids who were traversing the mountain to get the villages on the other side helped us to find a good spot.

We’ve cooked some food on the mountain ride and watched the sun set behind the mountain. Being higher up I worried about the cold of the night. So I put on all layers and tucked the quilt around me and activated one of my heating pads to keep me feet warm and toasty.

Although it was cold outside, I slept like a baby in my down pants, jacket and quilt. Waking up early, we could still the golden sky of the sunrise outlining the tips of the mountain. Certainly he a highlight.

Day 4

From here, we continued towards XXXX, the highest peak on our route st 2600 journey. We climbed slowly, this time not so much because of photostops or heavy packs, but simply because we are not the fastest climber. No need for excuses.

Having not scouted the route, we were not aware that there is a ski resort at the top. Likely for rich marococan families to have some winter fun.

Strangely, we seemed to be almost the only visitors there. But the restaurants where still open and from a far we saw multiple man running towards us to convince us for a lunch at their restaurant.

Interesting, it did the reverse for us. They tried their best to argue and convince us. But such a hard sell didn’t work well with us. So we continued to the viewpoint, made some wraps wirh tortilla to quiten the stomach and then descended down towards the valley.

The decent was rough, probably shaking us through every bone of our body. At the start it was fun, but there is a point where a decent with a gravel bike withour suspension becomes too much.

My tingling arms and numb hands where happy when they where back on tarmac.

Getting tired and with draining batteries (physically and electrically) we looked for a guest house to stay. Eventually we landed in Imsker at Mohammed’s house and family.

With a same greeting he invited us into the house and placed us on the rooftop. Tea was swiftly prepared and he told us about his house and the village in whatever words he could find in English. We really enjoyed the conversation and also shared some stories from our road so far.

Later we were called down for dinner. Taking my indication for “very hungry” seriously Mohammed’s wife cooked us two vegetable Tajins, two plates of couscous and a soup. I still remembers Thom’s face delighted and equally worrying face expression when the plates were presented. We tried our best to eat as much as possible but eventually had to surrender the mountains of couscous.

Day 5

From Imsker, we went up the mountain again. First on tarmac, with spectacular views of the villages and valley farmland. And then later, in a village our route took us down the village on a rocky foodpath between the villages.

Somehow we got lost on that path and landed in the farmland, which was mostly used for trees. We followed a path by water line, which eventually disappeared so we continued on the water line to be able to make it out of there somehow.

After a bit of head scratching, we found a steep stone path behind a house. Coming up what likely is someone’s garden, we were—to our surprise—greeted by a smiling mother and her four kids. She invited us into her house for tea and made us a nice Omlett.

I couldn’t stop myself imagining how this would have played out in the Netherlands or Germany. Trespassing someone’s garden would at least cause you angry looks or even worse.

Her kids were also so well behaved. They curiously walked by the door multiple times, but never touched our bikes or disturbed us in any way. Although I read a bit about it online, I was amazed by how open, friendly and kind the people in Marocco and especially the Berber in the mountains are.

Feeling fresh, we crossed the river in the valley and then naively stumbled into the next route planning error. Following a shepherd and his sheep, we started to ascent a rugged, steep path that was impossible to cycle on.

Backtracking is always annoying so we just continued. Maybe a bit stubborn looking back, since we had to push the bike for 3-4 hours to make it up to the next road. Luckily, we were still stocked on photo and drinks otherwise this could have turned out differently.

After almost kissing the tarmac at the top of the goat path in gratitude, we swiftly descended down towards Imlil, one of the biggest towns in the mountains.

Imlil is famous as a starting point for the hike to the highest mountain in Morocco, the toubkhal. Coming from the small villages it felt very touristing to us, so we planned to leave quickly.

But Imlil had one thing we looked for: an outdoor shop. And there we managed to find both screw on gas and alcohol fuel. (Remember the alcohol fuel, it will come back into the story)

Time was running and the sunset was quickly approaching. Havinf spend the last night in a guest house, we wanted to sleep in the mountains. But going downhill, we couldn’t find any suitable spot for wild camping. Everything flat was private farm land and everything else was to close to people and houses. Also having pushed the bikes so long, climbing wasn’t a great option either.

So we pulled the plug and just hopped into the neyr closest guest house. There, our experience repeated: Overly nice people, great conversations and hospitality.

We were asked if we want dinner, but we respectively declined since we just loaded the bikes with food and new cooking fuel. So we just went on the Terrasse of the guest house to cook.

I was especially excited, because I could finally use my alcohol stove with the new fuel. After a minute of cooking Thom remarked that the flame of my stove was quite big. I shrugged it off and put the simmer ring on to the dim the flame. Just a minute later, the flame was back to its initial size. Strange. We monitored it closely and the flame seemed the grow bigger and bigger. Oh oh, not good.

I went down to our room to nervously find a towel, which I soaked in water. Upstairs I heard Thom calling something. I hurried up the steps again and when I come on the Terrasse my little stove was producing what seemed to be at least a meter high flame. I throw the towel on top, the fire continued burning through one holy which I patched. The fire extinguished.

I don’t know what fuel that was, but it was certainly very strong one. I’m honestly very happy nothing bad happend, because in an alternative universe I might as have put the whole guest house on fire. The food we cooked was good though.

Day 6

We continued on route on our last big climb. The landscape up didn’t impressive us. We have already seen so many great views, it was just not special.

But coming down the other side, we had a beautiful view of the mountain side. Colored in different shades of red and with hard plants and bushes that guarded their little place on the rock with spikes and hard leaves.

In the early afternoon, we came past “Eco Camping Marocco”. An idellicy looking camping with lush trees and planted food. We called it a day and rolled our bikes into this small oasis at the mountains.

But unfortunately, we got a bit unlucky here. There were some stray cats running on the camp ground and once we left our tents, one cat just cut a hole into Thom’s beautiful Durston X Mid 1 tent. Even worse, when Thom came around to escort the cat out it went bonkers and jumped around the tent causing more damage and evening puncturing the tent.

With a heavy pain and no way to help I could watch from the outside as the scene unfolded. Eventually, the cat jumped out of the tent, unaware of the damage it did on its excursion. The situation just sucked and we both were pretty annoyed how quickly the nice stay turned into a small disaster.

I don’t know if I would be able to handle it this well, but Thom quickly picked himself up. Telling me that there is nothing to be done about it and that there are ways to fix it.

Nonetheless, it was a bit sad because from now one we couldn’t really camp anymore. Luckily we had some great nights outside already.

But I’ve also reflected on this later on on the bike. While getting your tent damaged is bad, it’s nothing if you put it into perspective what the people in the mountains of Marocco have to go through. They earn a fraction of whaz we earn in the west and have far bigger problems to worry about. (e.g health, debts, work and roof on their head)

Day 7

Leaving the mountains with a bit of a setback, we had our eyes on Marrakesh. So we continued there leaving the mountains and coming into flatter and flatter land. Although still quite highly and exiting if you compare it to The Netherlands, where we both live.

In the evening we stayed in another guest house, where we met Jens. A cyclist from Austria, who was just coming from Marrakesh and heading to the mountains. We exchanged stories and enjoyed some tea together.

Day 8

On the last day to Marrakesh, we didn’t expect anything exciting anymore. But to our surprise, our route somehow lead us trough what felt like a small desert. With dunes, camels and rolling hills of sand and stone where they eye could see.

We really cherished this part of the route and often looked towards the mountains thinking back to our great nights day there.

At one moment, we hit tarmac and Marrakesh was in arms length. So we speed up and flew into Marrakesh in the headwind a 25km/h average. Riding so slow in the mountains, we still had to proof we can ride fast too.

In a flash, we arrived back at Villa Baddi. The place of our deperate, where we still had our bike boxes waiting for us.

We gave each other a double high-five and enjoyed a cold Coca Cola to conclude our small little adventure. With many memorable stories and views to be remembered.