May 9, 2026
Time flies…
Sharon and I are playing a game of hopscotch between Europe and Africa. By doing this we can stay within the rules of the tourist visa. The benefit is we get to see bits of this world the tourists don’t seem to notice.
At the moment, we are in Morocco. Like many places in Africa, they speak French. This is an good opportunity for Sharon. She has been practicing for this her whole life.
I speak bicycle. I plan to cycle down the Atlantic coast of Morocco. My goal is to cycle all the way to Essaouira (800km total). My recumbent touring bike carries everything I need including a tent and sleeping bag.
We took the ferry from Spain to Morocco last week. Traveling through Spain by bus, I had to carry the bike disassembled. I built my bike at the ferry terminal in Spain and rode it onto the ferry.
Sharon is traveling without her bike this time. She will take public transportation on a somewhat different path. We will intersect when possible. I applaud her independence.
Adiós España
Bonjour Africa
I rolled my bike, Freedom off the ferry in Tanger Med. Rather unexpectedly, Sharon and I parted ways at this point. She got on a shuttle bus. I followed the cargo trucks on my bike, out through a different gate.
Sharon had to re-establish her cell service and find a bus to Tangier on her own. She did well.
I pedaled 40km from the ferry to Tangier. My bike sports the flag of Portugal. The flag is there primarily for safety. I need to be visible in traffic.
Sharon and I have spent some time in Portugal. We hope to establish roots there. So, sometimes I will tell people I am from Portugal. Though I really don’t know the language very well yet.
The cool part about the flag is the Moroccans are excited to see it. I get many people waving or giving a thumbs up.
They call out ‘Portugal’ or ‘Christian Ronaldo’, the name of the Portuguese soccer star. At one point, a guy on a motorcycle pulled over to shake my hand.
I knew Sharon had got her cell service restored and had made it to Tangier. We were texting as I approached the town. She was checking in to our hostel when I arrived.
The road from the ferry terminal in Tanger Med to Tangier is hilly with many great vistas.
Sharon and I spent a few days in Tangier together. She found us an affordable suite in the Medina (old part of town). We could see the Spanish coast from our rooftop. We hit the tourist hot spots.
After two days in the lap of luxury, I was ready to continue my cycling down the coast. The first day was an easy 40km from Tangier to Asilha.
I stopped for lunch at a place between towns. This place had a hand made sign ‘Cafe’. Here they only speak Arabic. They do not have a menu. I enjoy these challenges.
Hamad, the clever owner called his son and handed the phone to me. His son spoke Spanish and recommended the couscous. Of course, it’s Friday, a traditional day for couscous in Morocco. I ordered this and Café au Lait.
While waiting for lunch, I was entertained by others who were communicating by pantomime. They were curious about my bike and wanted to know my plans. I could name many of the towns in my path. They were incredulous that I might travel hundreds of kilometers on a such a bicycle.
I was served more than I could finish and charged 10 euros for it all. Well worth the price of admission.
The road to Asilha was adequately paved rolling hills with sparse traffic. I was hoping that the wind would be pushing me along from the north. The prevailing wind will do this. But no, it was a head wind on this day. I do not complain.
Asilha
This is a fortified town on the Atlantic coast. The fort was built by the Portuguese in the 15th century. The town existed well before the Roman Empire. Like so many Moroccan towns, the city has expanded well beyond its walls.
The area within the walls is maintained as a Medina, or old town. Asilha has a very classy medina.
I stayed an extra day in Asilha. It’s a great town to explore. But more importantly, I had to work out some problems on my bike.
Some equipment I was carrying was noiselessly rubbing the rear wheel. This explains why my speed was lower than expected. I really am not so badly out of shape
The road to Larache was adequately paved. The wind was lower though not a tail wind. Traffic was sparse.
At one point, I had a clear view of the high speed train speeding north to Tangier from Casablanca. A flash of modern technology gliding through the pastoral scene, like a magic serpent.
Our tour guide in Tanger explained that this high speed train has replaced a lot of local trains. While it is still possible to take the train to Asilha, that local train runs much less frequently.
I arrived in Larache in good time. The bike is rolling well.
Larache
Larache is also a fortified town on the Atlantic coast. I was disappointed with the medina. It did not seem well organized, more like a big flea market. I booked a hotel room in the medina before I arrived. Next time, I will stay outside.
The people are wonderful. I get many thumbs up from the locals as I roll through town. In the medina, a young local fellow bought me a yogurt parfait.
We had a conversation in Spanish. He had traveled to Barcelona and had good things to say about Catalunya. I gave him a link to this blog.
Cyclo Nomad 