Kristyan

Day 3 / 4 177 km Laguardia → Tafalla We leave our prestigious hotel in Laguardia early, passing the clean lines of Bodegas Ysios as we head out toward the hills. Climbing into Aguilar de Codés, the conditions close in quickly. Thick fog settles over everything, cutting visibility right down. Through it, wind turbines appear above the tree line—huge, slow-moving silhouettes, towering over the forest. We drop into Torralba del Río for a quick coffee stop, regroup, then carry on. Near Nazar, one of the group hits an ice-like patch. The front goes, and he’s down—nothing serious, but it leaves him with a broken front fender and a reminder of how unpredictable the surface has been all day. From there into Piedramillera, the terrain opens up. Wide, fast lanes where you can finally carry speed. For a while, it feels easy—flowing, almost effortless. Then the lane between Zurucuain and Murillo de Yerri. Rutted, uneven ground. I get slightly off line crossing the ruts and put my right foot down to steady it. The leg plants and hyperextends immediately. I’m down in the field. The rest of the group stop and come over—confused more than anything, trying to work out what’s happened as I’m face down and not fully aware of the severity of it. They help me back onto the bike. I ride on. Alone into Tafalla, still not fully aware of what’s happened—just that something isn’t right. By the time I reach the hotel, it takes over 45 minutes just to get off the bike and make it up to the room and I know something is wrong. I don’t feel great. And I know, at that point, the trip on two wheels is over. The next day, the pain is different—constant, unavoidable. I admit myself to the local hospital, and I’m later transferred to Hospital Universitario de Navarra. The verdict: a fracture to the tibial plateau…. Distraught.

Day 2 177 km Villarcayo → Laguardia The edge of day one has softened. Less doubt now—just the beginnings of rhythm. We leave Villarcayo heading toward Laguardia, into Rioja country. The morning starts familiarly—loose luggage, quick fixes, nothing that holds us for long. Then a lapse in focus. The front end gives way, and I’m down—face first in a field, arms out, a brief imprint left behind in the crops. A quiet reminder of how quickly it can turn. The trail sharpens after that. Dry red clay, hard-packed and unpredictable. Boulder climbs that demand commitment. Gravel lanes that open things up, but never for long. In the Valle de Tobalina, the terrain keeps shifting—never settling, always asking. We move in stages. Stopping in small villages, waiting for the group to reform, checking routes, keeping it tight. By midday we reach the Ebro River, cutting steadily through the landscape. We pause here for food, and to give one bike the attention it needs. Nothing major—just enough to remind us how dependent the day is on the machine beneath us. The afternoon flows better. Fewer interruptions. More consistency. Just before arriving, I stop. The bike is carrying the day with it—earth and vegetation worked into every gap, packed into places it shouldn’t be. A quiet few minutes spent clearing it out. Resetting things, in a way. And then, Laguardia. Walled, still, almost suspended in time. The hotel offers a brief pocket of quiet—warm food, a good table, and a bottle of Carravalseca that lands exactly as it should. That is, until the volume rises. Travelling golfers take over the room—voices bouncing off stone, the calm quickly replaced. A cleaner day. Still demanding—but starting to fall into place. #adventurebikecollective

Day 1 238.2 km Solares → Villarcayo Day one begins in that quiet space between anticipation and doubt. A loaded bike, unfamiliar weight, new boots still stiff—everything slightly unknown. The trail answers quickly. Progress comes in fragments. Luggage works loose, small issues stack, rhythm never quite settles. The riding asks more than expected—nothing dramatic, just constant. A steady demand. Through Miera, Voto, Ampuero, Castro-Urdiales, into the Valle de Mena—the north of Spain doesn’t hold a single shape. Gravel fades to mud, forest tightens, tracks break into ruts and grass. The ground is always changing, never fully read. Higher tyre pressures keep punctures at bay, but every hit comes back harder through the bike. Time stretches. By the time Villarcayo appears, the sky gives way. Rain falls as we circle for the hotel—tired, damp, worn into the day. Nothing clean. Nothing easy. Just the first miles, shaking everything into place.

New Year’s Eve starts early with @mjmgooch transporting us to Wales so we can go enjoy the green lanes around Abergavenny. Black ice lay in wait in the shadows, boulder-strewn sections forcing slow, deliberate lines, and that sharp winter air that clears your head the moment you breathe it in. Sugar Loaf loomed in the distance, watching as we worked our way across the hills. Half way round we rolled into Crickhowell to thaw our hands around a latte (oat milk) at The Bear, nursing a broken lever and a number plate hanging on by hope, before heading back out into the lanes as the light began to fade. A world away from Morocco — different terrain, different pace, and riding that demanded respect. Tough, technical, and humbling. Exactly the kind of riding that makes you want more miles in the saddle next year.

Day 6: Le Dernier Jour The final day of riding arrives like a warning. The forecast is grim, the sky already bruised, and every instinct says we’re in for a fight. Still, we’re leaving my least favourite place on earth behind (The Saffron Capital) so back towards Marrakesh we push, whether the weather likes it or not. Within a few kilometres it’s obvious: this will be the hardest day yet. Not because of the terrain, but because of the weight in the mind, the kind that settles in before the engine’s even warm. Yet the universe out here deals punishment and reward in the same breath, and somehow we end up lucky. We ride unbelievable trails and broken roads, many still scattered with earthquake debris, especially along the legendary Tizi n’Test Pass at 2092m Once a vital link between Marrakesh and the Souss Valley, this mountain route delivers staggering High Atlas views and remains one of Morocco’s greatest rides. We grind through 269 km over seven relentless hours. Rain crushes visibility into a wall of grey, and crosswinds try to fling the bikes clean off the mountain. Then comes the day’s biggest obstacle: a road that simply no longer exists. We’re forced to drop down a bank of loose boulders, but enough to demand full Billy Bolt commitment. Dave S, last to descend, loses balance and goes down. Strangely, it becomes a blessing. Minutes later, just ahead on the track, a landslide tears down the mountainside. Had Dave stayed upright, one of us might’ve been rock fodder. A terrifyingly close call. Normally the route would be familiar gravel, mud, switchbacks, but the storm transforms everything into slick, treacherous mud. It feels like riding a UK winter lane suspended halfway to the clouds. I can’t see a thing, I’m frozen, and yet I’m grinning into the storm. We finally roll into Souihla our last stop, to hand in the bikes and strip off the kit. But this isn’t quite the end of the story… and if you want to know what happened next, you’ll have to ask me in person. #AdventureRiding #MotoAdventure #EnduroRiding #RideMorocco #HighAtlasMountains #TiziNTest #MoroccoTrip #TravelDiaries #EpicJourneys #StormRiding #AdventurePhotography #MotoPhotography

Day 5: Man Down The title says it all. Scott’s been officially ruled out—benched by self diagnosis —and will see out the final two days from the back of a pickup. Not exactly the fate any of us pictured at the start of this trip. (It was going to happen eventually) We roll out from what might have been the best stop of the entire journey and push 208 km east toward Taliouine in the Taroudant Province. The map promised dirt and remoteness, but the P1800 had other plans—now a fractured ribbon of concrete and asphalt cutting through mountains once claimed only by rock and dust. It carries us past Tizi n’Tlite and into the Tawzart Pass, a place where the world suddenly feels bigger, harsher, and impossibly beautiful. Inside my helmet, I’m a one-man audience to the same stunned monologue: how insane this landscape is… how raw… how nothing quite compares to experiencing it all from the saddle of a motorcycle. The remoteness doesn’t just surround you—you feel swallowed by it. It was our shortest day in kilometres, but easily one of the heaviest in atmosphere. Then came the crunch—an eruption of rocks battering the bike. I glanced down: the bash guard was dangling like a loose tooth. Dave S appeared out of the dust, checked I was still in one piece, and with a few sacrificial cable ties we cobbled the bike back together and tore off to rejoin the crew before linking back to the main road. And Taliouine? Let’s just say… some stories are better left untold. #MoroccoAdventure #MotorcycleTravel #AdventureMotorcycling #AdventureBike #ADVrider #OffRoadAdventure #OffRoadMotorcycle #MoroccoTrip #AtlasMountains #TawzartPass #TiziNTlite #BikerLife #MotoExploration #MotorcycleDiaries #TravelMorocco #MotoTravel #RideTheWorld #TwoWheelsForever #EnduroLife #MotoStory #BashGuardFail #RideAdventure #ExploreMore #MotoEscape #TravelPhotography #DesertRiding #OverlandLife #AdventureRiders #MotorcycleCommunity

Day 4: The Sandmen With blistered hands and sore bodies, the terrain of Morocco is steadily wearing both bikes and riders down — but the addiction to the challenge, and the sheer love of the experience, makes every ache worth it. We leave Zagora and fall into the familiar routine: a stretch of tarmac along the RN9 all the way to Tagounite, where we top up fuel before leaving society behind and riding into desolation. Fuel stations here are far from the ones most of us are used to; shops are non-existent nine times out of ten, and you’re usually ushered toward a “tourist pump,” where cash is king. Fully fuelled, we double back briefly before taking a left onto the RR703. For the next 11 km, we won’t see tarmac again until Foum Zguid. The route begins on hard-packed dirt, strewn with gravel, with small ascents and descents as we follow the piste toward Erg Chegaga — mostly flat, with a mix of gravel, sand tracks, and eventually pure sand. This is the moment most of us have been waiting for. Scott ploughs ahead, and the six of us stop at a small oasis at M’Hamid El Ghizlane, where we quench our parched throats with ice-cold sodas in the middle of nowhere. Who would’ve thought? An old Series Land Rover, sitting on blocks for more than forty years after breaking down, immediately catches my interest. We push on and eventually meet back up with Scott — though after this point, I won’t see him again until we reach the hotel (Hotel Bab Rimal). Long story short, he broke his wrist in the desert and had to be recovered. Entering the Iriki National Park, we’re greeted by sand, sand, and more sand, followed by what can only be described as dried lakebed plains — a motorcycle and 4x4 Mecca. We stop again at a small mud hut serving cold drinks, and €18 (180 MAD) later we’re back on the trail. From here, the route turns brutal: the smooth sand gives way to a relentless boulder field that pounds every muscle in the body. At last, we reach Foum Zguid, top up the bikes, and finally enjoy the offerings of what I can only describe as a paradise of a hotel.

Day 3: The Zagora Loop A day built from sand, a stretch of old Dakar piste, and even a military checkpoint. Unlike the other days, today started and ended in the same place. A short road ride took us to the trailhead, where things immediately went sideways: Colin’s bike began leaking oil and he had to turn back. Soon after, the group split, and with no signal and no sign of Dave, Phil, or Mark, I followed the GPX route alone until I linked up with Little Dave Scott in Oum Jrane. A crowd of kids swarmed us, tugging at throttles and fascinated by the bikes. We pushed on along ‘Piste Ktawa Sidi Ali Tafraoute’ through vast, empty terrain. The military checkpoint we’d expected to be strict was completely unmanned—strange considering how close we were to Algeria. After climbing and dropping through an unnamed mountain range, we finally rolled back onto tarmac. Still no sign of the others. We later learned Phil’s front caliper had come loose, leaving his bike unrideable and forcing him to head back. Dave and Mark still managed to complete the loop, which was brilliant news. By evening, everyone had regrouped, bikes sorted, beers in hand, and plenty of stories from a day that delivered everything an adventure should. #ZagoraLoop #MoroccoAdventure #MoroccoOffRoad #AdventureRide #EnduroLife #EnduroAdventure #MotorcycleAdventure #MotoTravel #GPXRoute #DakarPiste #OffRoadRiding #TrailRiding #AdventureMotorcycling #BikesOfInstagram #MotoLife #RideMorocco #DesertRiding #AdventureDays #TwoWheelsAndStories #TravelByMotorcycle #MotoExplorers #OffRoadMoto #EnduroTrip #RideReport

Day 2: Tizi n’Tanekfoult and beyond. After a well-deserved night’s rest (even if it was just day two of the trip), today’s ride takes us 228 km to the town of Zagora. The day starts with a familiar theme: plenty of tarmac before the trails. Luckily, it’s only about 90 minutes along the stunning Gorges du Dadès (R704), passing through countless villages and barren landscapes, before reaching Aghigha. From there, we climb steadily toward the summit near Mount Tighoufar (6,561 ft). The trail winds on until we hit the rural commune of Ait Ouallal (east of N’kob), where we stop for a much-needed refreshment. This is where I first experienced a Muezzin performing the Adhan (call to prayer) over a tannoy—completely caught me off guard! Recharged and ready, we head toward Tizi n’Tanekfoult, part of the legendary Trans Morocco Trail. One word: EPIC. From dry red clay and fine sand to dried riverbeds, the terrain feels like riding on another planet. Finally, we roll into Zagora, refuel, and settle into our base for the next two days: Riad Soleil du Monde. Thank the heavens—they had beer! (Morocco is predominantly Muslim, so 99% dry.) As for the room? Colin and I are in a prefab second-story setup, with a bathroom that’s basically a mud hut on stilts. Adventure vibes all the way! #MoroccoAdventure #TransMoroccoTrail #MotorbikeTrip #AdventureRiding #OffRoadLife #EpicTrails #RideMorocco #MotoAdventure #DesertRide #AdventureMotorcycling #ExploreMorocco #TrailRiding #AdventureCulture #TwoWheelsOneLove #MotoTravel #AdventureSeekers #RideTheWorld #MotorcycleDiaries #EpicJourney #TravelMorocco

Day 1: The longest leg of the trip (342 km). We kicked things off at Kasbah Ait Oumghar (Demnat) with the first stretch of our planned route mainly being tarmac, we cruised along R302 & P3107 roads to Tifouina where the asphalt finally transitioned to dirt and dust. Then the real fun began: carving through multiple mountain ranges and climbing to a staggering 10,006 ft elevation. A quick stop in Tilougguite for fuel turned into an unexpected negotiation—with kids selling petrol out of water bottles! (Sorry KTM, no V-Power for you!) From Anergui to Zaouiat Ahansal, we cut across to Tilmi. Which looked like the shortest route on the map, but reality had other plans—tight switchbacks, rocky terrain, and endless bends. The northern loop might’ve been longer, but it was mostly road. Honestly? We picked the scenic winner. Running low on fuel and energy, we finally rolled into Hotel New Mars (Boumalne-Dadès) —ready for food, hydration, and the deepest respite. #AdventureRiding #MotorcycleTrip #MoroccoAdventure #OffRoadLife #KTMAdventure #RideMorocco #MountainPasses #TravelByBike #AdventureMotorcycling #ScenicRoutes #MotoTravel #ExploreMorocco #TwoWheelsOneLove #EpicRide #AdventureCulture

I’ve been fortunate to have had some amazing experiences, and my recent trip to Morocco is definitely up there. The scenery, trails, and people all came together to make it an unforgettable adventure. The motorcycling was incredible, surreal mountain ranges, epic trails, and a real sense of freedom (again). If you get the chance to go, I’d highly recommend it. #morocco #iriquinationalpark #ktm #dakar

17/08/25: Ride In Day @theclassicmotorhub was solid! If I'm being real, the Velocette was my standout bike of the day, loved it! Also an absolute treat to see Nath ‘Fuzzy’ Andrews out on his Dr350!