We’ll always have Morocco

Laurentiu Bogdan and fellow H.O.G.^® members packed up their Harley-Davidson^® motorcycles and headed to Morocco, taking in the sights, sounds and roads of the beautiful African country

A group of riders from the Bucharest H.O.G.^® Chapter planned an epic 5,000-mile journey from Romania to Morocco, and when 13 March, the departure date, arrived, our excitement had reached a peak. We set off later than intended due to work commitments and last-minute motorcycle repairs, but four of us eventually met up at a gas station in the rain to head for Craiova, southwestern Romania, to team up with other members of the group.

From there, we rode through Serbia, Croatia and Slovenia, and on 15 March, we arrived in the Italian city of Genoa in the warm afternoon light and enjoyed a delicious dinner of fresh seafood. The following day, we were directed to Harley-Davidson^® Genoa, where we were pleasantly surprised to be invited to a countryside meal by members of the Genova H.O.G. Chapter, followed by a spontaneous adventure through the narrow alleys of Genoa, thanks to a GPS error. Restricted by the size of our motorcycles, only two of us managed to navigate through the narrow streets, while the rest of the group decided to head straight for the ferry to Morocco.

During the two-day ferry journey, we talked about Morocco and its people, learning that it’s strategically positioned south of Spain and southeast of Portugal, with a population of nearly 40 million and a vast area of 446,550 square kilometres. It’s a constitutional monarchy with an elected parliament and presents a balance between tradition and modernity.

Landing in Tanger Med, we met up with two more riders, completing our group of “HaiHuieni” (wanderers) and split into two teams to ride the 70 miles to Chefchaouen, the blue city. As night enveloped Morocco, the distinct sound of Harley engines began to echo in the surrounding silence.

Chefchaouen buzzed with energy when we arrived, its streets brimming with life. The hotel located in the heart of the old town was spectacular with stunning architecture and details more suited to a museum. Despite our fatigue, the desire to savour the city propelled us to venture out in search of dinner.

The following day we set out to explore Chefchaouen, a hidden gem in the Rif Mountains, properly. Founded in 1471, it was a haven for Andalusi Muslims and Spanish and Portuguese Jews and Moors fleeing the Spanish Inquisition. There are several theories about why Chefchaouen is blue. Some say the Jews who sought refuge there in the 1930s started using blue, believing it represented the sky and paradise. Others say that blue was used to keep mosquitoes away and prevent malaria.

Beyond its unique aesthetics, the city is an important centre of Berber culture, preserving traditions and customs that date back centuries.

With hearts full of memories, we headed towards Fez, enjoying the winding roads and changing landscape. We reached Fez in the evening, and it was a revelation. Contrary to the saying “not all that glitters is gold”, Fez is the opposite. The modest façade of our hotel concealed an interior of remarkable beauty.

On 18 March, we ventured through Fez under the guidance of our tour guide, exploring the architectural richness and diversity of its traditional dwellings – dars, riads and palaces. Each day we spent in Morocco brought us closer to the heart and soul of this fascinating country.

In the morning, we headed to the highest hill in Fez to look over the city one last time before continuing our journey towards the Atlas Mountains. After a brief photo session, we set off, relishing the serpentine mountain roads, navigating through rain and dense fog. Along the way, we took a break to feed the monkeys and enjoy a coffee in Ifrane, arriving at our hotel in the wilderness at sunset.

The next day, we continued our journey towards Merzouga, situated on the edge of the Sahara Desert. The landscape began to change and there was a sandstorm. Visibility was drastically reduced, and we carefully navigated our way through the swirling sands to the parking area. We left our bikes to have a well-deserved rest while we opted for a camel ride to the hotel tents situated in the heart of the sand dunes. The evening was spent around the campfire under a starlit sky, enjoying music, stories and listening to everyone’s experiences.

The return journey on the camels the next day was equally memorable. However, this time I chose to walk through the desert on foot. Initially, it was quite challenging, but it didn’t take long before I figured out the best way to walk through the sand. At the parking area, we mounted our bikes and headed towards Ouarzazate.

Our route then took us through the dramatic landscapes of Dades Gorges and the Valley of Roses. We couldn’t miss riding through the Tizi n’Tichka pass, which we nicknamed the “Moroccan Transfăgărășan”, a winding and challenging road that crosses the Atlas Mountains at an altitude of 2,260 metres.

The miles seemed to melt away under the slowly setting sun. It was so beautiful we barely noticed when we arrived at our hotel in Ouarzazate.

The next day we had a couple of things on the itinerary before making the 120-mile trip to Marrakech. First stop was the Atlas Studios in Ouarzazate, where movies such as Gladiator were filmed. At first, we weren’t impressed, then the guide staged mock filming, which involved us all play acting, which was fun.

We then headed for the Ksar of Aït Benhaddou, a UNESCO World Heritage Site renowned for its impressive architecture and for being the “Yellow City” in TV series Game of Thrones. Dating back to the 11th century, it served as a transit point on the trans-Saharan trade routes.

We arrived in Marrakech in the evening, excited for what the city had to offer. However, while our first full day in Marrakech began with enthusiasm, it proved to be a commercial labyrinth with an endless flea market, and I was soon thinking about Essaouira, our next destination on the western coast by the Atlantic Ocean.

It’s 110 miles to Essaouira from Marrakech, which we did in the rain, passing through towns filled with Dacia 1310s that stirred up childhood memories.

Arrival in Essaouira was swift, and after changing we went out to explore. Founded in the middle of the 18th century, Essaouira was known as Mogador until the 1960s, and the historic centre was listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2001. The narrow alleys, flanked by white and blue walls, revealed their charm as the sun dipped towards the horizon. Our next stop was Casablanca, and the wild beauty along the route of Morocco’s Atlantic coast was so captivating that 250 miles passed before we knew it.

After this, we headed to our hotel to drop off our luggage and rest for a bit, before heading out to explore the city. We started with a walk near the Hassan II Mosque then sampled traditional cuisine at a local restaurant.

The last day in Morocco was emotional. The morning found us preparing to leave Casablanca but not before soaking in the city’s atmosphere for a few hours. Our route to the Tanger Med port included a stop in Rabat, the capital of Morocco, where we had the honor of being received by Mrs Maria Ciobanu, the Romanian Ambassador to Morocco.

The visit to the Embassy of Romania was a profoundly symbolic moment. The ambassador shared fascinating details about Morocco, and we exchanged stories and left feeling reconnected to our homeland.

On our way to Tanger Med, the strong wind made us lean into our motorcycles, and upon reaching the port, we learnt that due to the wind not all ferries were accepting motorcycles. However, we managed to find a vessel that would allow us to cross to Spain and after two hours we arrived in Algeciras.

The next day we embarked on our 2,000-mile journey home to Romania, bidding farewell to riding buddies along the way. We travelled through Malaga, Alicante and Barcelona, crossing the French Riviera, with brief stops in Saint Tropez and Monaco before an overnight stop in Sanremo, Italy. Then we continued towards Slovenia, accompanied by the rain, which left us soaked to the bone in Rakitnik, where we stopped overnight. Serbia beckoned and we passed through Ljubljana and Belgrade until finally reaching the Danube. The next day, the border crossing into Romania was quick, and we were greeted by strong winds in Craiova – it seemed like we’d brought the sandstorm from Morocco with us.

We entered Bucharest with a lump in our throats. It was difficult to accept that the days filled with travel, new landscapes and unique experiences had finally come to an end.

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