Hand to Heart Changed Perspectives in Morocco
Sweat drips down my face as I tear off a piece of bread and pinch it between my fingers and thumb
to fashion a vessel for the veggies in front of me, roasted in a clay pot that looks like a tiny teepee. I scoop up bits of potato and a chunk of carrot, popping them both into my mouth. Savoring the bite, I reflect on the past 10 days of riding in Morocco’s Western Atlas Mountains.
We’re only 40 miles southwest of Marrakesh, the country’s fourth-largest city, and with landscapes that resemble those of the American Southwest, the trails here have an unexpectedly familiar feel. In a week and a half, we’ve ridden everything from smooth, flowy singletrack to steep and chunky terrain that left me hoping for the best and preparing for the worst. It’s been like a greatest hits playlist with a few new songs thrown into the mix.
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