Very early on Saturday morning Charlotte, Julia, Trevor and I packed our two vehicles for a monster tour across the Atlas mountains to the east of Southern Morocco. We had signed up for “Pizzas on the Piste”, an annual Overlanders’ gathering in the desert of Morocco.

We left Marrakech while it was still dark. As we entered the mountains, we started seeing a glimpse of daylight at the horizon. The old twisting mountain road hugging the steep slopes of the valleys has been replaced by a modern wide road with plenty of overtaking possibilities and smooth bends. Somehow it takes the charm and magic of the Atlas Mountains’ crossing away. But it does speed up the traversing.
Once we had reached Ouazarzate, the sun started illuminating the countryside. We stopped at a petrol station and enjoyed a delicious local breakfast.

Trevor started getting worried running out of cash, as most petrol stations do not accept credit cards. We checked various ATMs in town without luck, until we finally found one that would give him cash.
With nicely filled tummies and money in the pocket, we pressed on eastwards. Many foreign motorcycles passed us. We crossed a number of oueds, some small and bone dry, others with lots of oleanders and a bit of water inside so that we had to cross them on bridges. On both sides of the road dramatic mountains were lining the scenery. Sadly the view was hindered by lots of dust in the air.

The vegetation declined to a few bushes and then it vanished all together. We were the only cars on the road. Once in a while we came through small villages, where we started wondering what kept their inhabitants living here. There was no obvious commercial or agricultural activity here. What do they do and how do they earn their living in this scarce remote landscape. We didn’t find an answer.

Before our turn off point we saw two vehicles in front. One I recognised immediately, an old green Toyota FJ40. The owner Felix had posted pictures of it in the Pizzas on the Piste WhatsApp group. The second was a red Belgian Honda Goldwing motorbike with a sidecar. We reached the turn off point, where we had to leave the tarred road and start the piste. Felix quickly reduced his tyre pressure a bit. We left ours for now, as the piste looked rocky and less sandy and therefore manageable. The Belgian motorbiker struggled immediately to ride the first 100m of the piste with his motorbike. Ground clearance and traction were his main problems. After a quick exchange, he asked us not to mind him and continue what we did. We would not see him at the camp. He must have turned around and found a place for the night elsewhere.

The piste was beautiful. High rocky hills with a sparse barren wide valleys. We made our way further away from civilisation into the desert. The piste changed a few times from rocky to sandy and again to gravel type. At a big sand patch, I barely made it through and stopped to see if Trevor could make it. Now it was time to certainly air down our tyres, smoothen the ride and get more grip. Felix had waited in the distance to see if we were ok. We continued. Another 35km to go.

Then we came to the point where we had to leave the piste and find the our given GPS coordinates and the rest of the party in a valley. We spotted them high up in the valley. Between them and us were some dunes of fesh fesh, very soft sand, our next challenge. I made it across the first one, but struggled on the next one as the incline was to steep and my speed to low. Trevor had difficulties on the first one due to his approach angle. I attempted to cross the second one again with slightly more speed but failed again. When I reversed out of it, back onto hard ground I heard a hard metallic sound from under the car. After a quick check it was evident that it was just the bash plate that had bent. A bit of banging and pushing from Julia and me, it was back in shape in no time. We lowered the air pressure even further. Trevor attempted, struggled but made it up to the camp. Now with more speed, lower tyre pressure and a new strategy we made it across and were welcomed by the other overlanders in the camp.

There, we even saw a Kia Picanto and wondered how in heaven’s name it made it up here. Before we learned the real story, we got various proud tales of how easy it was. All rubbish! The last part the Kia was towed in. It was a rental car and they obviously didn’t care much about it.
A quick welcome chat and introduction followed. Before it got too dark, a flat levelled spot for the night was found. We set up our tents quickly before joining the group again for some beers and chatting while awaiting our pre-ordered pizza. Two of the Belgians were the chefs and prepared the twenty odd pizzas on the piste. They were tasty although some where a bit too spicy for the some participants.

We continued deep in to the evening sharing travel stories and having other nice discussions with plenty of beer and wine.