UPDATED April 29, 2026 BY Guest Author IN Morocco: Kingdom of the West no comments Rider Impressions Of Morocco: Now & ThenRihab Gouaied is the Content Creator on the 2026 Morocco: Kingdom of the West Cycling Adventure.We rolled into Merzouga with the sand whispering through our chains and a dry heat on our shoulders, as a small camel caravan crossed soft pads near-silent, heads nodding, shadows sliding over our wheels.It feels a world away from the sea air that pushed us out of Casablanca. Fourteen riders, one route yet cycling in Morocco keeps remaking itself under our wheels. The country changes at the table and in the street, on the horizon and in the weather. Heres how we see it now, halfway in.Along the AtlanticThe beginning was windy Atlantic gusts lifting flags and moods as we left Casablanca. Near Tangier, we stood where the ocean hands off to the Mediterranean, watching the water turn from wavy and rough to steady and blue. Camels moved along the shore beside the blue water the desert meeting the sea in one frame, a first glimpse of Moroccos diversity.Then Tangier turned us inland and the road pitched up. The pace and traffic of the cities thinned into Rif villages where offers of water arrived before wed even unclip. We watched bread slide into clay ovens, a single round big enough to feed ten people. Women sold it on the street and worked tending sheep, farming and carrying goods on donkeys. Their strength is visible in the daily load they carry and the way whole communities lean on them.ChefchaouenChefchaouens blues felt like a cool breath between climbs. Terraces sewn with olives pulled us skyward; pine and oak gave short spells of shade. The days are long sunset near eight p.m. and the heat builds early.Paul: I was walking in the medina of Chefchaouen and I met a gentleman called Mohamed. We spent two hours walking up the hill together. Hes from Chefchaouen and shared stories about the area. It was a nice, spontaneous way to see the town with a local.Dag on the roadChefchaouen to Wahda Dam was a very tough day, Dag said, 96 km, 2036m of climbing in 34 degrees during a heat wave. We wild camped by the dam the fourth biggest in Africa and watched the sky fade.From Wahda to Fes, the beauty didnt let up. After the blessed rains, spring burst open: terraces quilted with wildflowers poppies, daisies and tiny blues fields laid out like a bright carpet. Bees worked every verge; I got stung, sad for a moment but happy that I got to see such a green spring.Birgit meets a camelDonkeys still do a lot of the work here and the road rolls without much rest. This place is all but flat, Dag laughed, but the views make it worth it. In Fes we took it easy some to hammams and massages because tomorrow promised another 1900m of climbing. Inside the medina: tanners in honeycomb pits, copper ringing through alleyways, calls to prayer stitching morning to night. Birgit said the first days were tough some excited kids threw stones and tried to stop her bike but the further inland we rode, the quieter it became. Big climbs, yes, but rides to savour. She was here twentyfive years ago and noticed how modern the big cities feel now.South again, and the worlds kept changing. Azrou to At Oufella brought holm oak with cedar; above 2000m we touched the High Atlas, snow still visible, a nomadic summer camp on a high meadow. Cold settled at dawn, steam rose from coffee. On plateaus the wind pressed our shoulders; we tucked in and rode as a peloton. Some riders are camping for the first time first tents, first bush camps, trying new things and finding out how much you can carry and leave behind. Rest days in hotels feel rich after two or three nights under canvas.Riffian woman in her traditional outfitThen the Ziz valley opened like a green ribbon. From the Gorges du Ziz to Merzouga, a tailwind finally helped. 160km through the Sahara, Dag said, shaking his head, mindblowing to experience the desert on two wheels with only leg power. In Amazigh and Tuareg areas, the clothing changed: men in indigodyed robes and headscarves, women in black with colourful embroidery.With time, our group is understanding each other. Some ride in a peloton and find that sharing makes the ride mean more; others prefer a solo rhythm. Around the soup pot at camp we trade stories the days climbs, the best coffee shop and laugh until we are called to the rider meeting. Camping connects us; hotels reset us. Every three days its different, Dag shrugged. You never get bored. Now its three days in desertI think its enough. Birgit looked at the dunes: Morocco is beautiful, but this is my favourite landscape. It reminds me of my road trip in the southern desert of the USA.Cyclist with a Touareg manBy the time the sand rose, our idea of Morocco had shifted. The coast felt outwardlooking; the Rif felt vertical green and in bloom; Fes layered craft and time; the Sahara pared it down. Tastes changed with the map tagines and salads changed from place to place. Preferences split too: some live for green climbs, some for tailwinds across a flat road with only the horizon for company. We didnt come for a single Morocco, and we havent found one. Weve found many stitched by tea glasses, roadside smiles and the thin line of tar that keeps disappearing under our tyres.On the next stretch we aim for At Ben Haddou, Marrakech and Essaouira. Were curious about more surprising discoveries in Morocco, and about what we can do. For now, the dunes are a pause a chance to rinse sand from the cassettes, to enjoy a glass of tea, to watch camels pass, and to note the lesson so far: distance is only one measure. Elevation, wind and welcome redraw a day, and how you see a place depends on how you move through it.RELATEDTOURMorocco: Kingdom of the West Join us on this mystical cycling odyssey through Morocco The Kingdom of the West. It is a country of mountains and beaches, souks and mosques... Related Posts:Leave a Comment for "Rider Impressions Of Morocco: Now & Then" Cancel reply