Higher up the Dades, the gorge pinches in and the road gets its reputation. Here a series of tight hairpins climbs a steep wall of rock, the road folding back on itself in a stack of switchbacks, with the valley dropping away below and the red cliffs closing in above. Riders who have seen photographs of the Dades will recognise this section, and they will also notice that the photographs do not convey the steepness.
The tarmac is narrow, and in places the edges are broken or patched. The bends are tight, the visibility around them limited, and the oncoming traffic includes minibuses and trucks that do not always keep to their side. Use the horn on blind corners as the locals do, ride in a low gear, and keep an eye on the surface, where gravel and sand can collect. The drop on the outside of the hairpins is real, and there is rarely a barrier, so there is no room for error.
The scenery makes the effort worthwhile. The cliffs here are huge, banded in layers of red, orange and brown, and the river far below is a thin line of green. Eagles and kestrels ride the thermals, and in spring wildflowers appear on the terraces. The air is clean, scented with thyme and dust, and the quiet away from the villages is striking.
The valley has been a route for centuries, used by traders, nomads and armies, and the kasbahs along its length were built to guard the passage and store grain. Some of the fortified granaries, known as agadirs, can still be seen on the cliffs. The Amazigh communities who live here maintain traditions of weaving, silverwork and music, and local cooperatives sell carpets and jewellery.
Tinghir, about thirty-five kilometres away, is the nearest larger town, so arrive with a full tank. Carry water and a basic repair kit, and avoid riding at night, because the road is unlit and animals are common. In winter, snow and ice can make the hairpins treacherous, so check conditions and be prepared to turn back.