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Morocco on Scura R? Nah! A Quota it is then


ScuRoo

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Sump plate shat itself! Is the famed German indestructibility starting to unravel?

 

And what about the Goose? Hell, it's job was to run back & forth helping the boy's to pick their bikes up!

Close shaves had for sure, but only bike that stayed upright!

Boy's were muttering something about 21inch front wheel I recollect... :P

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Next day Andy had us heading off the tarmac towards towards these ranges in the distance...

 

Glens panniers were brand new for the trip but note assorted bungeys & ropes start to make an appearance...

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As we ascended we stopped for a rest as Glen was foo-kayed!

I observed to Andy, 'This is as hard, if not harder than yesterday'.

He smiled and replyed 'Yeah, according to the book this is Morocco's hardest route! I was'nt worried about you, but if if I said anything before we set off I thought Glen might refuse'.

Nice one.

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Further South we went Baldini the better it got. See this little girl here? She got her father to ask for Glen's cigarette butt, held her thumb up between her Dad's hands while he burnt a wart off that was on her thumb. Laughed as she was flinching at the pain! Tough as nails. Looked like her hair had'nt yet been introduced to a comb but as cute & full of mischeif as they come!

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Anyhow, we made it over the range - it was hard too - proud to say the Quota kept me upright again & we eventually get to large town called Ourzazate where we stayed overnight at the 'Bikers Stop' run by a mad Dutchman called Peter, who married a sexy young Moroccan, and spends his day's renting out his bikes on tours, making his workshop available for running repairs, and generally having a great time. Except he's wondering, 'Who is this strange tall man who keeps giving out marbles'?

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Outside of Ouarzazate film studious have built sets & when they're finished filming they just pack up & leave 'em. Film sets for 'Kingdom of Heaven', 'Gladiator', 'Moses' & 'Cleopatra' which we are posing in front of.

Note the rams horn on my crashbar that I'd ziptied on when we were on top of the mountain a couple of day's before.

Felt appropriate at the time...

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Last little town on edge of desert before we launch ourselves into who knows what.

The Moroccans leave the testicles hanging on carcases so buyers know they're getting male meat for strength. Female meat is not sold.

Welcome to women's equal rights Moroccan style...

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