The CTM Volvo coach disgorged us onto the dusty Cassablanca
terminal at the dusky hour of 5.30am. We squatted in a shabby corner,
collecting our thoughts and luggage as it materialised.
On a Bike and a Prayer
Epilogue.
The CTM Volvo coach disgorged us onto the dusty Cassablanca
terminal at the dusky hour of 5.30am. We squatted in a shabby corner,
collecting our thoughts and luggage as it materialised.
In twenty days we had cycled over 1000 kilometres, climbing a total of 12,000 metres in ten passes. We'd had eight punctures between us in our combined 3000 bike kilometres and had suffered one broken hub, ten broken spokes, a damaged gear system, numerous lost chainset teeth, and a snapped handlebar bag carrier. Except for a few cuts and bruises and fading memories of food poisoning we had faired quite well in the jaws of the High Atlas.
If there was one conclusion we could make about this ridiculous and so stubbornly British of journeys was that early 1990s mountain bikes were not for mountains. Mountains were for legs and feet to cross, not wheels and pedals. These first generation mountain bikes needed more than the bear minimum of steep crumbling mule tracks, and certainly are not built for raw mountain sides. Luggage was another matter, and the carrying of it on bikes was only for the open road!
Carrying a bike up Toubkal was clearly a pointless thing to attempt, for the bike proved as useless as a pogo stick, in both the ascent and the descent. There is no comfortable way of carrying a bike for a great distance, other than by dismantling it and putting it in a back pack. However, some ways are more comfortable than others. The carrying strap supplied by `Cyclopath' did not prove to be comfortable for long distance, but was most useful for short distances. The most comfortable way proved to be across both shoulders with the front wheel and handlebars hanging in front and below your head, and the rear wheel above and behind the head.
Since our return home, Andrea has slowly put on weight again and has started a PhD at Bristol University, for British Nuclear Fuels. She uses her bike for commuting. Stephane's allergy to Moroccan cooking oil cleared up as we left Tangiers and he started an MSc at DEA, Universite de Paris. He plans to leave for a six month tour of South America in October. His mountain bike was stolen in May 1992, from outside his college in Paris. Chris stopped being sick, but lost his bike from the back of his house in February. He continues with his PhD, using remote sensing to investigate the shape of Southern Spain's Sierra Nevada.
audio diary highlights finale