Just a few of the wonderfully curious children we met as we passed through the mountains. We rode through villages that seemingly had no road in or out. Donkeys, or by foot, is how a lot of folks get around. Oh yeah, and mopeds everywhere in the cities and towns. We saw guys riding mopeds through stuff you would not believe. But mostly we came across people walking. The thing about children no matter where you are: they all start out beautiful and innocent and curious, before the world does its best to fuck them up.

Children in the Atlas Mountains of Morocco.

Children in the Atlas Mountains of Morocco.

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It may seem weird to be drinking coffee in the hot desert, but we often would take breaks and drink mint tea or hot coffee or lukewarm Cokes, just to break up some of the monotony of the longer riding stretches. As my memory comes back to me, this was either right before, or right after Obi-Ben’s crash and miraculous avoidance of tragedy. I’m thinking this was right after. Because the boulders on the side of the road looked to be about the size of the ones Ben rode through when he missed a turn. We were riding this long stretch of sandy road as we transitioned back into the mountains, and it really was the kind of riding that lulled you to sleep if you didn’t have some sort of stimulant to stay focused. Easy to get tunnel vision looking too far straight ahead at the dust clouds in front of you. Next thing you know, you are in a sandy chicane doing 50 mph. I think we all woke up in a hurry, and were glad that Ben and bike escaped with just a few scratches. Really could have been a pisser and trip-ender.

Stopping for a little hot coffee in the hot Moroccan desert.

Stopping for a little hot coffee in the hot Moroccan desert.

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Hello, and welcome to the Riad Anda.

Motorcyclists in front of the Riad Anda in Morocco.

Hello. Welcome to Riad Anda. I am Hamid.

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