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Every year I organise a bike trip for three friends of mine, plus myself, to a particular destination that is accessible by either Ryanair or Easyjet.
When we began, back in 1998, we could take our bikes with us on the plane, free of charge. Of course, now, we have to pay for the privilege, but it's still worth it.
This year was our tenth anniversary of these bike journeys, and it was deemed that to mark the special occasion, we would venture further than the usual European destination, like France or Italy, and go to Morocco.
But I knew absolutely nothing about the country. So I got books from the library, a basic map of the whole country, and a bottle of wine on the go before sitting at the computer at the start of my Google voyage of discovery.
The pressure was on. It was March, and the date for our trip had been set at late April. It was up to me to come up with bookings for flights and accommodation that would satisfy several criteria.
The cost had to be within an affordable budget - £200 per person for return flight including bike, and £200 for accommodation and food. As it was our anniversary trip, we had gained special dispensation from our loved ones at home to allow us a whopping four nights away, instead of the usually allowable two or three nights.
So, the days were set, to leave early on a Wednesday morning, from Luton, and to return on the Sunday - via Ryanair - and I duly booked the flights.
That was the easy bit - it was more difficult to work out where to go when we arrived at Marrakech airport. We would be touching down at around 10am, and we needed to find accommodation that was easy to cycle to from the airport, en route to the Atlas Mountains, to the south of the city. We also wanted to experience Marrakech as well, so a thorough examination of the map was necessary to help me work out where everywhere was in relation to everywhere else. The maximum cycling distance that I thought we could do comfortably would be around fifty miles a day, but less on the first day, considering we would have been up since 2am.
Actually, being the least fit of our group, plus having the worst bike - a decrepit old monster from Halfords' bargain basement of ten years ago - I secretly wouldn't have minded only doing fifty miles in total for the whole trip.
However, being the generous person that I am, I would consider my friends' requirements first and foremost, so I began looking at the map to find achievable destinations, and cross referencing the names of unfamiliar towns and villages with hotels and guest houses that I could find on the Internet, and guide books.
The trouble was, it was very difficult to make sense of the map - I couldn't easily work out the distances between one place and the next, and after a while, all the place names sounded the same - especially as the contents of the bottle of wine was diminishing.
I knew what I was looking for - somewhere to stay that was comfortable and accessible, that allowed us to experience the mountains without too much pain, and somewhere to stay near the airport on the first and last night - the last night's location being crucial for getting back to the airport in time for the flight home at 9am.
By the end of the bottle of wine, I'd had enough - I was Googled-out, and all I'd gained from a whole evening on the net was a huge headache. I went to bed, completely confused with El this, Tizi that, Sidi something and Dar whatever. I was too tired to care anymore - there was always tomorrow, after all.
The next evening was much of the same, and I was afraid that at this rate I was going to turn into an alcoholic.
On the third evening I was determined to make real progress, but it was simply not happening. I made many phone calls to hotels in places far far away. I became frustrated when I couldn't get answers to my questions. Some said that they would phone me back, but they didn't. Some asked me to email them, which I did, but still they didn't reply. Maybe it was my poor French that was the problem - but whatever it was, I still could not find any places that ticked all the boxes - being the right distance apart and from the airport, price within budget, and availability - and that looked a bit special, too. It was our tenth anniversary, after all.
What I needed, I decided, was an English-speaking person, who knew the area around Marrakech, and who could give me impartial advice to a bunch of cyclists like us who were not going around by car. I tried cycling organisations with no luck. I tried the Moroccan Tourist Office in London with no joy. And I was running out of wine with no more.
I was just about to give up, when my mouse arrow found a website called Fleewinter. This looks good, I thought. It was English run, and they specialised in some of the areas around Marrakech that now appeared familiar to me. And what was more, the accommodations listed looked really nice, and also they were within budget. Perhaps I was on to something, at last. I made a note of Fleewinter's phone number, and decided to call them first thing in the morning to see if they can offer any guidance.
Fleewinter's website was well written and personable, and it invited callers to
"Make use of our expert knowledge and first-hand experience by emailing or calling one of us 0207 112 0019 for free advice on our favourite places to stay and how to best use your time in Morocco".
Yes, I felt like I was finally getting somewhere. At last!
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