Dirt, Sweat, and Philosophical Enlightenment While Gravel Biking in Morocco

Ninety-six degrees under the Saharan sun. Day two. Forty miles in, ten more to go. One hundred and twenty five before the trip is through. The hill gets steep. Steeper still. Out of gears and maxed out. But I keep a consistent pace. My mind and eyes begin to wander. The gap grows between myself and the riders in front. Alone on a lunar landscape, the bike fades away as my thighs melt. Hot wind and the faint sounds of Sigor Rós crackle from my phone’s speaker. I never ride with music but in the moment it felt right, and fitting. Among an endless sea of bright red dirt, yellow sand, towering purple and blue volcanic rock, only music made in an equally barren, alien, and ethereal environment could match the moment. Ten minutes, six seconds of space travel.

The crunch of gravel under rubber overtakes the moment. Phone off and pocketed again. Out the saddle and right back in it. Powering through. Ten more miles to go to cold cokes, hot mint tea, and cookies. This is adventure biking in Morocco.

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Certain trips leave a mark. Snowboarding in Hokkaido, trekking across the Peruvian Alps, surfing in the Philippines. Put gravel biking in Morocco on the list, damn near the top.

Truth is, I hadn’t really ever expected to visit North Africa. Hoped to, someday, sure. But not expected. Then an old friend called out of the blue on a Friday afternoon, and two weeks later I was on a redeye to Marrakech. Arriving with little sleep in the system and even less research to back me up, I leaned heavily on a team of local fixers and guides (shout out KC&E Adventures for the heavy lifting, Hammarhead Karoo for the route finding, and Fjällräven for the cycling kit) and our crew of journalists and athletes for moral support, too. Who you travel with is as important as how you travel. Remember that, folks.

During the span of a week we made our way from the ancient walled city of Marrakech, over the Atlas Mountains to the edge of the great Sahara desert and back. Over four days in the saddle, our crew covered roughly 125 miles and climbed close to 8,000 feet in elevation. Easy for some, less so for others.

With the constant heat, nonexistent shade, and often sandy road surfaces, this armchair adventurer was challenged to say the least (turns out commuting around flat NYC by Citibike doesn’t count as training). But as I learned while gravel biking across Oregon a long while back, exploring by bike is always worth the effort—and arguably the best way to travel.

Cycling removes barriers to bring you closer to the land and people of a place, making you a part of the scene, rather than apart from it. Without engine pollutants every sense is elevated. You become free to smell and listen the land, taking in your surroundings more intimately. And of course, a meal well earned always taste better, too. But most importantly, traveling by bike puts you at eye level with locals.

Human-powered experiences allow for more human connections—more legible smiles, audible hellos. A high-five or thumbs up if you’re lucky. An instructive bark if you’re not (admittedly, outrunning a pack of territorial dogs would have been easier by car, though also less memorable). Seeing epic landscapes if great and all, but finding connection with another person who lives a life you can never truly know—or even comprehend—is the real best aspect of travel.

Reflecting on the experience now months in the past, I find the hospitality of the riat and kashah proprietors, shared laughs with local chefs, and the kindness and grit of our Berber Moroccan guide Redouan Ouzoud (plus the camaraderie of our crew) made as strong impressions as traversing towering mountain ranges and touching the largest desert on earth. Because in a country with such deeply rich and shared history between Arab, French, African, and indigenous Berber cultures, it’s all intertwined.

Moving through the homeland of native Berber people, we glimpsed a life philosophy rooted in nature, independence, and tradition. For thousands of years, Berber tribes have lived among and been shaped by the rugged Atlas Mountains and the vast Sahara of North Africa. Despite waves of foreign influence from Romans, Arabs, and Europeans, they have maintained a rich cultural heritage and vibrant languages, which roughly 40% of Morocco still speaks. The Berbers’ approach to life emphasizes balance, patience, simplicity, and harmony with natural forces, viewing the earth not only as a resource but as a respected partner in life.

Though my time in Morocco was short, it was impactful. Dozens of hours spent both in the saddle and passenger seat of a Land Cruiser Prados offered time to swap stories and ideas with our Moroccan Berber guides and fellow travelers. Conversations held on historic kasbah rooftops, among desolate cafes, and on remote gravel roads delivered different perspectives still. Finding wisdom between their experience, my experience, and our respective cultures is the goal.

In a time when the prevailing approach to life in the United States seems increasingly at odds with all of the above, it's trips like this that remind of the value of balance, patience, and respect for the natural world and one another.

And that bananas, dates, and nuts are better endurance snacks than over-processed protein bars.

Scroll on for more 35mm film photography from our trip.