After 39 nights at Camping Tarifa everything we’d bought with us at some point had come out, been used and either put to one side of the tent or put back in a pannier, of course it hadn’t been put back properly and so we found that we were packing from scratch. With old items finding new homes and new items finding places we hadn’t thought about, things were stuffed, pushed and crammed into bags and containers. Bikes spares were tucked away so as to be accessible in emergencies and spare cables zipped tied to the existing ones to save on space. The other benefit of zip tying them on is that if a clutch or Throttle cable snaps you can just connect the new cable at the appropriate ends as opposed to trying to route a new cable through a maze of machinery at a busy, dusty roadside in the blazing mid-day sun. After 4 hours of sorting our travelling possession were finally looking manageable. Over the last few weeks a few other items had been picked with the ‘dark continent’ in mind. From Algaziraz we’d picked up an additional mosquito net, which would give us some extra sanctuary inside our tent but which would also mean we have the choice to sleep outside without the hassle of erecting our green home, when the opportunity arises.

Another consideration for any female travellers is sanitary items. Lisa had told me in Gibraltar that she needed to pick up 6-months worth of tampons. My first thought was “…bloody hell! That’s a long period”, then of course I realised she meant enough for 6-months. All joking apart, tampons look tiny sitting there neatly in their pretty boxes on the shelf of the supermarket. However, it’s a different story when you have allocate them scarce pannier space. Items so simple and familiar really need to be thought about when space is scarce.The same is also true of the Malaria drugs we’d purchased. We needed to buy a year supply and those little tablets combined all take up extra space.

-Malaria drug Note: With our journey taking in so many Malaria zones over a prolonged period we were advised that Doxy-cycline was the best drug for us. Doxy-cycline is safer for longer use and provides us with protection against the different strains of Malaria we’ll be facing. Picking up the drugs in one of the pharmacies in Gibraltar is up to 50% cheaper than purchasing the same in the UK. Because of the price Doxy-cycline is very difficult to get on the NHS. Like any medication check with your own GP first to make sure it’s right for you.

With drugs, spares parts, tampons, clothes and all are other possessions finally lodged on board, it was now 3pm and we could finally climb on the bikes and make our way to Algeciras to catch the ferry to Ceuta. The sense of relief and excitement we both felt was tangible. The bikes were once again heavy but we didn’t care. We were on the road and on our way again. The winding mountain road to Algeciras was wonderful (despite the fact that we had done it a few times in the last few weeks) and we found our way down to the ferry dock without a hitch. The turning for the Ceuta ferry terminal is the first Port/ferry sign that you come to on the outskirts of Algeciras coming from the west. We bought our one-way tickets at the terminal (the prices are all the same even if you buy them at one of the many local kiosks along the road to Algeciras) the cost being for us and the two motorbikes 75 € - we thought this was expensive for a 35 min crossing but we guessed ease of passage would justify the cost i.e. Spain to Spain. The car deck was one of the oiliest and slipperiest we had been on so far and parking up was a ginger process! With our seats quickly found we waved goodbye to Europe – for the next few years at least – with a mixture of sadness for the friends and family we were leaving behind and excitement of the unknown that lies ahead. The dolphins playing in the water were a wonderful distraction. Arriving in Ceuta at 5:40 pm we were here much later than anticipated as the day had been eaten up with our overly long packing process. Ceuta is a small but apparently moneyed enclave but after an hour and a half of riding round finding a hostel with parking for the bikes was proving to be impossible and our research had already told us that there was no camping in Ceuta. After taking some roadside advice we were given directions to a “moderately inexpensive hotel with secure parking”. 5mins later we were parked up outside a……..Parador! Knowing these weren’t the cheapest hotels on earth and with a reputation for luxury we nervously asked at reception for the price. However, by now we were way over budget for the day, tired and had decided that at this time of night it was inappropriate, if not a little dangerous for us to cross the border into Morocco. Agreeing to stay and with room key in hand we made our way up to the third floor, a real bed, sumptuous white towels and a clean hot shower! Bliss!

By 8:00am we’d crawled out of our bags. Having inspected the bed last night for inhabitants and considering the damp smell we’d thought it safer to use our sleeping bags. Lugging the heavy sliver bags down stairs, we soon had the bikes loaded. The smile that greeted us from the garage guard was the same one as last night. A small dirty mattress tucked out of sight and a few rusty belongings was proof that this buy was working from home; only for him the connotations are not so comfortable of convenient. Our bikes were already covered in a layer of dirty grey dust and with our side stands kicked we turned over the bikes. The enclosed walls of the small garage intensified the roar of both our bikes and childlike grins crept over our faces! Out into the daylight with dark visors down we simply followed the signs for ‘touts directions’ until picking up a sign for Chefchaouen. Traffic was busy but not aggressive and the smell of the city a constant reminder that we’re a long way from Kansas! We took a slow pace as we began our climb to Chefchaouen. We were heading through the Riff Mountains with its reputations for seeing off passing tourists who stray too close to the drug growing areas. The road snaked round and for the most part was in good condition although every 15 – 20 km we’d be grabbing the brakes as asphalt was exchanged for dirt as road repairs were carried out.

Olive trees with palm trees lined our way. Small ramshackle buildings appeared infrequently and were a mixture of homes and roadside businesses. Anywhere normally open for food was now shut because of Ramadan.

By late afternoon we were nearing Fes. Deciding to take a short break we pulled over to the side to check our GPS and lonely Planet. A few seconds later two young guys on a battered had scooter pulled up and were offering their services as guides. We decided it was worth a few Dirham to get us to a hotel with secure parking. 15 minutes later having followed these guys through a maze of alleyways we arrived at the Hotel. Bags unpacked and a fair number of ‘wet wipes’ used to remove the dirt of our faces (the hotel had no water before 7pm) we set off to discover the Fes Medina, it wasn’t long before we’d picked up a guide (don't worry about finding a guide, they will find you) and with the price agreed of 50Dirham for 4 hours we soon found ourselves lost in the labyrinth of alleys. Feeling horribly conspicuous we followed or young guide like children following a teacher on a school trip. Rug shops, mosques and the Fes tannery were all on the agenda. Fantastic sights, unfamiliar but exciting smells and a bustle of life unlike any European City we’ve visited so far. It’s very easy to see why Morocco has been described as intoxicating.

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