Adventure through Morocco: Discovering the rugged beauty with a Mazda CX‑60

I have had the opportunity to drive the Mazda CX-60 many times already. My first experience with the hybrid version during a test drive left some doubts. The subsequent encounter was shorter and involved the diesel version. Back then, relations improved somewhat, but a peculiar aftertaste still lingered in my memory. All the more, I wanted to come across the diesel version during the Moroccan expedition to get to know the new, unconventional 6-cylinder diesel better. I succeeded.

The previous evening, before we got into the cars, we listened to a thoroughly prepared briefing. Besides introducing the regions we would drive through, an extensive section was devoted to potential hazards. Warnings about wild and venomous animals we could encounter, for instance, while taking photos, were not spared. I admit that, on the one hand, it heightened the excitement, but deep down, a touch of fear appeared.

The next day, we were geared up and ready, and with the warnings lingering in our minds, we hit the road. There wasn't much space for luggage, as a full-size spare wheel took up the trunk. Some might recall the old "Top Gear" team's expedition to Africa, where James May kept getting flat tires. The chance of a similar incident here was high. Suffice it to say the previous groups had punctured 15 tires. We already knew it would not be easy.

From the first moments, Morocco demonstrated that it is a country of contrasts. Leaving the city, sleek hotels were accompanied by expensive and exclusive stores. However, just passing the sign reading "Marrakech" caused the buildings to thin instantly. Most of them were unfinished, without a roof over the next floor or with unbuilt stairs, as property taxes are paid upon the completion of construction.

Another signal of leaving the city was the calming of traffic. Road users treat regulations symbolically, more as suggestions than strict laws. Four rows of cars at a traffic light with three lanes? Nothing extraordinary. Yet, the further from the city, the lighter the traffic.

Roundabouts were challenging despite the presence of traffic lights. It seemed the right of way belonged to the bolder. To say you need to have eyes all around your head is an understatement. Everything was intensified by the sound of horns merging into one continuous sound.

As we moved further from the city, the Atlas Mountains rose more significantly from the horizon, stretching across almost all of Morocco and further east into Algeria and Tunisia. The roads became emptier and more winding. At one point, without warning, the asphalt ended. We did not veer off the road or get lost; the surface turned into a gravel path, occasionally complemented by patches of the old surface.

These conditions would accompany us for 2.5 hours until the coffee break. Along with the road, the landscape changed instantly. The previously hilly area gave way to regular mountains with steep slopes, hard to take your eyes off. The red ground intensified the impression that we were participating in a Martian expedition. Only looming time constraints prevented us from stopping every few hundred meters to take more photos.

The admiration for the landscapes was occasionally interrupted by sad and depressing views. We entered an area struck by an earthquake last fall. Nearly 3,000 people died, and thousands more lost their homes. Many still live in makeshift tent cities today.

Not everyone, however, wanted to leave their small homelands. Covering more miles, we passed what remained of old structures, from single houses with cracked walls to entire collapsed villages. Makeshift-repaired old Mercedes, Peugeots, and Citroens bravely withstood all the hardships of rebuilding and rescuing what remained. Often overloaded, they carried passengers even on the roof.

Those who could not afford a car used donkeys. In such places, it seemed time had stopped. The effects of the earthquake were also felt outside the buildings. Rock avalanches destroyed most of the asphalt, and landslides or cracks in the ground could still be occasionally encountered.

Passing more villages, we began climbing again. The asphalt appeared and disappeared like cell network coverage in a remote area, but the CX-60 bravely climbed over the uneven surface. Suddenly, a small café appeared before us at the summit between two rocks. A place emerging from nowhere, giving the impression humanity had long forgotten about it, turned out to be our stop for traditional Arab mint tea.

From the terrace, a fantastic view stretched over the lower parts of the Atlas, through which a winding road ran like a thin intestine. Refreshed, we moved on. We had driven just a few miles when a warning from the briefing came true—a menacing alert about deflating tire pressure appeared on the dashboard.

The air was leaking slowly enough that further driving was still possible. After nearly two hours, the pressure reached a critical value, and it was necessary to change the tire. Fortunately, a technical team with all the essential tools was driving behind us. It was clear the guys had experience from previous groups, as we were on our way again after just 10 minutes. A moment later, another experience awaited us: refueling.

If you think that you are mistaken even in Morocco, at a known global brand gas station, you pull up, refuel, pay, and grab a hot dog on the way. The chaos and bustle are hard to describe and suggest a presence in the middle of a market. The station's surroundings were filled with old Dacias, Citroens, and Ford Transits, often with a load on the roof higher than the vehicle.

The entire process of refueling and payment takes place at the pump with the assistance of the staff, but not necessarily to simplify the process. There is no classic shop filled with a sea of unnecessary gadgets. While the previous team from our expedition managed to make the payment smoothly, the terminal's range played tricks in our case.

Increasing frustration, a queue of cars, and the increasingly frequent sound of horns made us anxious. Ultimately, we had to pay with spare cash, while the receipt was a handwritten slip. It looked almost like an excuse a student wrote. It only lacked the signature "my mom." Unreal. Despite the demanding conditions, refueling was not necessary for the diesel.

Our friends with the plug-in hybrid had to replenish their supplies, so we also took the opportunity. The 3.3-liter engine delighted us with its flexibility, agility, and modest fuel consumption from the start. The consumption, which hovered around 37 mpg, allowed us to travel nearly 620 miles on a single tank.

The further way only reinforced our belief in the significant contrasts in Morocco, both social and geographical. From towns characterized by organized traffic chaos, through desolate paths, to extremely winding roads, sometimes with good asphalt, leading through more passes. An unexpected palm forest filling one of the valleys seemed like a mirage in the sea of the desert landscape.

The encountered fauna was also exciting. Besides many stray dogs, wild goats, sheep, and even a turtle trying to cross the road, we came across camels, the protagonists of roadside signs. Our presence did not bother them much—they were too preoccupied with munching on leaves.

Despite many free-roaming animals and rather loose traffic rules, over 680 miles, we did not encounter a single run-over animal on the road. The Sahara, in turn, brought precisely what it is known for—an endless expanse reaching the horizon. The ocean of sand was occasionally interrupted by dry bushes. While mountains usually draw attention to the might of nature, such a view, despite its emptiness, only intensified reflections.

The slowly setting sun encouraged us to head towards accommodation more quickly. Leaving the next village, the neglected road suddenly turned into flat, table-like asphalt again. We finally reached the suburbs of Ouarzazate. When I mention the suburbs, I mean the desert surrounded by mountains forming gorges.

One of them was our resort, which boasted energy independence, among other things. Upon arrival, the organizers assured us that even better views awaited us the next day. After what we saw the first day, it was hard to believe.

After refueling in the morning, we again drove into mountainous areas. The views outside the window were diametrically different from what we saw the first day. The organizers were right. The first proof was the road along the valley created by a seasonal river, Wadi Dadis. The twistiness and incline of this route are worthy of alpine trails.

The following proof was not hard to find. At one point, the road turned towards a "rock portal" that seemed to lead to another world. While the road ran below, the upper parts hung over the asphalt.

A bit further on, we found ourselves on the road running on a rock ledge, from where a breathtaking view resembling the Grand Canyon stretched again. You won't guess what happened a few miles further. Yes, the asphalt ended. This meant a more serious climb to 9,800 feet above sea level began.

The path significantly narrowed, and the several hundred-foot drops, which had recently amazed and now terrified us, were unattached from the embankment by any barrier. At a snail's pace, we climbed higher. The climb was accompanied by inch-passing trucks laying asphalt without closing the road to traffic. Reaching the summit rewarded the earlier hardships with a view and a fresh, smooth road stretching for the next several miles.

The landscape outside the window continued to change every half hour. Thinking we had already said goodbye to the mountains, we entered their subsequent parts, which, in places with green meadows and towering rocks, resembled Swiss landscapes. The quality of the roads still reminded us of a game of Wheel of Fortune—from fresh sections to heavily damaged fragments and sudden ends of any hard surface.

As we approached Marrakech, the road quality stabilized. After more than a day in the car, we reached the finish line, covering 680 miles on rough terrain and potholes and experiencing one flat tire. Only then did I realize what a great companion the Mazda CX-60 had been on this journey.

I still believe the suspension settings are a bit too stiff, but these settings make driving through the winding passes a pleasure. It's hard to find another "civilian" SUV that drives so well on the market. Moreover, the firm undercarriage did not tire me, even though the roads were in terrible condition for most of the time. Kudos also go to the comfortable and well-profiled seats.

However, something else deserves special attention. The cars we drove had already completed the same loop several times before us. A loop rich in stones, rough paths, and roads riddled with Swiss cheese. Despite this, nothing rattled, squeaked, or showed poor fitting. The cabin remained calm, supported by air conditioning and ventilated seats.

Despite the mountainous terrain, the suspension worked quietly throughout the trip, and the brakes never showed signs of overheating. The cherry on top was the 258 HP diesel. The fuel consumption for the entire route was 37 mpg, which, considering the conditions and frequent uphill driving at a snail's pace, I believe an excellent result.

Colleagues who drove the PHEV ended the loop with a result 1.5 liters/100 km higher, and it should be noted that they started with a fully charged battery and had an advantage, such as during descents with regard to recuperation. Lower fuel consumption and an 8-liter larger tank also allowed us to approach the search for gas stations with less stress.

Morocco will be remembered as a beautiful but poor country full of contrasts. It is worth stepping out from the poolside in a central city hotel to get to know it thoroughly. It is not just constant desert and monotony. The diversity of landscapes and their changeability enchant in a problematic way to describe.

I will also remember it as a country where I had to reconcile with the CX-60 in some respects. Despite my initial concerns, the stiff suspension proved not to be exhausting. Under challenging conditions, the Mazda did not fail, while the big diesel not only stole my heart but also proved that courage and a unique approach to development, even if not in line with accepted norms, paid off.