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Where's Mike? Section 28: Maroc Maroc Cell +212 (0) 15930485
Click here to see Section 27: Iberia in the winter of 2007
Friday February 16th
Asilah, Maroc: Made the ferry dock by a bit after nine, got my ticket for the 11:00 ferry, jumped in line as number two and walked into the old walled town so I could mail my package home and hit the internet. The Post Office took for ever, in addition to making me rewrap my package, so I just arrived back at the dock as they began loading.
Unfortunately, just as I was driving on, I noticed a sign saying the max height is only three meters. The top of my Mother-In-Law box is 3.10 meters so I stopped, but the ferry guy just waved me forward. I tried to explain that I was too tall, but he just got pissed and angrily motioned for me to MOVE!. OK, maybe they have a built in fudge-factor, so I started crawling along VERY slowly so as to not damage my rig if it did hit. My slow speed pissed the ferry guy off even more, but once I made it into the boat, I picked up to normal speed with the assistance of his ceaseless whip-cracking.
I guess it must have been one of the irregularities of the deck that lifted me just high enough to break the first set of fluorescent lights. I never even heard them go, but the ferry guy had suddenly changed his tune and was yelling at me to stop, and wildly waving in my side mirror as he ran to catch me. I stopped just after breaking one more light. Ha Ha! I hope that bastard is the one required to change them! Anyway, they put me near the stern and will require me to back out upon arrival.
I bid adieu to windy Tarifa for an incredibly windy crossing to Africa...where even the crew were having a difficult time standing without the help of rails. More than one passenger went sprawling on the floor and, from the smell of it inside, I would bet a few were sick as well. Personally, I felt fine, and enjoyed an expensive and tasteless lunch, out in the fresh air of the stern over the course of this hour long ride which was supposed to be only 30 min on this high speed catamaran.
On arrival I jumped in line for customs and immigration and quickly had a badged individual come and demand my passport and car documentation. He went off into the building only to quickly return with a green sheet of paperwork, which he proceeded to fill out on the hood of my MoHo. It took about two minutes, and all he did was fill out my name and license plate number...I had already filled out the standard immigration card while on the ferry, in addition to getting my passport stamped, so I was not actually sure what this was all about, until he gave me the paper and asked for five euro. Hmm. Just your typical scam. DON'T give your passport to any of these guys with the "badges", only deal with the border patrol in the light blue uniforms and hats. I gave him a euro, but he was not happy with that. Tough.
It all only took about 30 minutes, and I had come prepared for an all day ordeal after hearing from others making the trip. Happy day! :-)
After getting some cash at the local ATM (exchange is about 1e=11dh=9usd so 10 is the easy number used for rough exchange), filling up with Gasoil 350, getting short changed ten dirhams (or ~1e), and finding my way out of town, I headed south for the first campground I could find.
Asilah is only about 40 clicks south of Tanger and made for a good place to stop and decompress after
stress, albeit mild, of the crossing and the inevitable border hassles.
I checked into the flooded Camping as-Saada and then headed into the quite attractive medina for a walk-about. Most of the white washed walls are adorned with at least one brightly colored mural to set it off. I had a good two hours of wanderings, and that is all Asilah requires, before it started raining again and I rushed my way back to camp.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: 0 Fuel: ~41.7e for 57l at 129204/851km Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: 13.5e + ~11e Supplies: 0 Misc: 21.5e posting backup disks home, 1e net, 188e RT Tarifa-Tanger w/open rtn, 1e passport scam, 2e guide scam, ~1e gas station short. Odometer: 129244
Saturday February 17th
Moulay Bousselham, Maroc: Rain, rain, and more RAIN! Mud to go along with it, as well. With it coming down like it was, and having already seen the small Asilah medina, I decided to keep moving south along the coast.
I stopped in Larache to find a road map and, in addition to the throngs of people wanting whatever I may have (food, money, my pack, a blond American woman, etc.) in exchange for their friendship and services (guide, shoe shine, gum sales, car washing, car watching, etc.) I also met Ahmed (079027407) who is from the Rif Mountains and is just in town today for some hashish sales. Top quality, of course, grown and processed by his family.
Although I have no interest in smoking hashish, or anything else, it would be interesting to visit this family-run business and see how the production runs. I have a standing offer to come by even if I don't want to buy any.
South of Larache, I left N1 and found a tiny, and beat up, coastal road that took me into Moulay Bousselham. Along the way I was mesmerized by the beautiful green rolling hills of Maroc. Although it's true that Africa gets LOTS of rain, which makes for lush forests and sprouting hillsides, the more typical vision in a westernized mind is that of desert. Well, I will get there too.
In the meantime, the slow road offered me the views of a clearing afternoon. By the time I arrived at the bird filled lagoon of Moulay, it was clear, sunny, and warm for all the storks and other fowl to enjoy. The serene, attractive, and waterside location of Camping Caravanning Moulay Bousselham is impressive, despite the fact that the facilities themselves are incredibly lacking.
There are no hot showers (nor were there last night, so this may become a standard) and the WC's were thoroughly disgusting. I have not seen anything quite so bad since my time in Russia last summer, nor would I ever want to see it again. This is yet another reason I am happy to have my own MoHo with all the amenities I may need...oh, and this is from a guy who has done more than his fair share of "roughing it" on long climbing, backpacking, and road trips.
With terrible facilities, and non-potable water, the only reason to stay at a campsite is for the security. Oh, and I have also heard that the municipalities now require it. At a rumored ~3/night average, I can deal with it for now.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: ~4.5e Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: ~5e Supplies: 0 Misc: ~7e for a map!!! Odometer: 129357
Sunday February 18th
Moulay Bousselham, Maroc: GREAT weather so I chilled by the shore, watched birds, and chatted with the locals. My shower bag is coming in handy. :-)
Camp Fee from prior night/s: -- Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: 0 Supplies: 0 Misc: 0 Odometer: 129357
Monday February 19th
Sale-Rabat, Maroc: Moulay is a very nice lagoon to spend some time at, but, still wanting to find that hot weather and great flying, I continued my journey south to Rabat and Sale.
Was at a red light, checking my map, and wondering where the campground is located, when another driver got my attention and pointed me in the right direction. Since I have more commonly have seen people wanting to help only in exchange for something from me...I thought this was particularly nice.
I checked into Camping de la Plage in Sale and then headed across the bridge to Rabat for a wander through around town and medina.
The town outside the walled medina is very nice, as it should be for the capital, and is filled with various parks, mosques, and towers. Le Tour Hassan was planned by sultan al Mansour to reach 60 meters, thereby becoming the largest in the Muslim world, but when the sultan died, his tower growth halted at 44 meters.
Inside the medina walls is the typical hustle and bustle of various souqs (markets), faux guides, pickpockets, sights, sounds, and smells.
The spice stores are stunning! Both visually and aromatically stimulating beyond anything I have imagined. There are mounds of curry, paprika, ginger, cinnamon, nutmeg, and more! In addition, the various nuts, seeds, beans, pastas, rice, and soaps can also keep your interest. The gooey, black, paste is an olive-based soap used for a good scrub in the public hammams.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: ~10 Fuel: 0 Tolls: ~5.6e Food/Drink: ~7e Supplies: ~2e ginger (Total RIP OFF!) Misc: ~.7e taxi, Odometer: 129496
Tuesday February 20th
El-jadida, Maroc: Yesterday in the market I wound up buying a small ginger root for about two euro! I knew I was getting ripped off, but who wants to waste the time bartering for a solitary piece of root? Anyway, today I found a Western-style supermarket and, just to see how badly I got burned, bought the same size piece for ~.16 cents. Damn!
Anyway, off to Casablanca where the rain was
absolutely DUMPING in buckets, the roads were flooded, the wipers were
blazing, buses were stalled out (I was just
I decided to hold off on Casablanca for my trip back north...in the hopes of better WX, and wound up arriving late in the nice little town of El-jadida with a nice little campground to boot!
Camp Fee from prior night/s: ~4.5e Fuel: ~43e for 47l at 129586/302 Tolls: ~6.8e Food/Drink: ~65e Supplies: ~11e Misc: 0 Odometer: 129731
Wednesday February 21st
El-jadida, Maroc: Did a few morning chores and then enjoyed a walk into town the town center.
Camping Caravanning International, whose name seems to be striking a theme in Maroc, is actually located just within the city limits of El-jadida and only a couple hundred meters from the beach... and maybe a click from the old quarter and the walled Cite Portugaise.
The Cite Portugaise is a remarkably
Complete with a massive, subterranean, vaulted, cistern, the original sea port (seems tiny!) and four corner bastions joining the wide buttressed walls, this walled city is an amazing place to enjoy some time. Great views in all directions from the entire walk around the walls, but, sadly, the cistern was closed.
The rest of the modern city is interesting as well, with several pieces of modern art in the various parks and at least three large markets selling spices, fly covered meats, and bee covered sweet pastries.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: -- Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: 0 Supplies: 0 Misc: ~.6e for an hour of net time. Odometer: 129731
Oualidia, Maroc: Made a leisurely departure from El-jadidi this morning after checking the internet and swinging through the supermarket for some small things.
The coastal road south may seem a bit hum-drum initially, but realizing I am cruising through Northern Africa makes the gently rolling green hills, sparse traffic, roadside ruins, and occasional herders with their stock gives an added excitement and wonder.
One of the most interesting things I have noticed is that EVERYONE waves. People will see me coming and start waving from a click away...and continue until I am well down the road. Some, inevitably, try to get me to stop after gaining my attention, and I've done so, on occasion, just to find out what the deal is. Those people always ask for cigarettes, food, clothes, or money, and I am still debating with myself what, if anything, to give. Money? No way. A hard worker in restaurant will make 2-3 euro per day, so I have a difficult time in upsetting the balance by giving a kid, cute as they may be, some change from my pocket. If he "abducts" 2-3 tourist in a day...he goes home with more money than dad. Why finish school, or get a job, if that is the case? Oh, and just a side note: Mohammad VI is really making great strides in social equilibrium and reducing poverty and unemployment, and I don't think "scamming the tourists" is part of that program. Who am I to argue with The King?
Most of the Marocan (Moroccan) people, however, are just waving to be friendly. Even those who don't start a long wave as I am driving down the road, carefully watch, and break into huge grins, sparkling eyes, and flapping hands, as I initiate it. Truly a friendly, welcoming, caring people and I will have to consider what I could/should be doing to help...if anything.
So....I finally rolled into Oualidia, a small village located on a beautiful crescent lagoon protected from the raging surf by a line of sturdy basalt, and went rock-hopping out to the first of three holes punched through by the ceaseless tide. Very beautiful area, but difficult to show in a photo.
I had not made much
distance today, but wanted to do the next section of my drive,
reportedly quite beautiful, during the morning light...besides,
There were a dozen other MoHos, all French, which so far seems to be the norm in this former French colony, free camping on the shore at the back of the bay. I joined them, but found there is a local "parking attendant" living under a piece of plastic, who collects 10 dihram from everyone for his service of helping you park. He also came over and asked for a beer. Now this was interesting here in Muslim Maroc. You can't buy beer, or wine, or alcohol very easily at all! I had brought a few bottles of wine over from Espana, and was down to my last 1/3 of a bottle. I was hoping to have it with dinner, but I split it with Bibate instead.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: ~12e Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: ~4 Supplies: 0 Misc: ~.6e internet, ~1 for 24 hour parking Odometer: 129819
Friday February 23rd
Safi, Maroc: Wanting to get an early start so as to have nice lighting for this coastal drive, I was awake and ready to go by dawn. The tide was in, on this prettiest of lagoons, and, once I had driven up the hill a bit, the crescent wave patterns became obvious as the water screamed through the narrow passages. Hthe, hthe, hthe, as Dr. Sperry would express if here to see it.
Instead of spending the entire length of high tide on this hill, watching the enchantingly symmetrical patterns of wave interference, as my former advisor-professor would encourage, and have done, I started a very slow drive along the gorgeous coast.
The road south from El-jadida straddles a broad ridge, sodden green, which drops gently east to mist filled valleys and the purple High Atlas far beyond, and dramatically west to the long sandy beach of the Atlantic with it's deafening surf and, seemingly, endless tubes.
As I drove along, I found myself entranced by the scene, and caught myself involuntarily slowing to a near stop on numerous occasions. Even at that, very few cars passed me (although one horse and buggy managed to) on this lonely stretch of road above an even lonelier stretch of sand. Numerous stops to listen to the pounding waves hundreds of feet below, were inevitable, and occasionally I would see a squatting man, lost in his thoughts, solemnly gazing out to sea.
About 35 clicks south of Oualidia a small road winds its way down from the ridge to where the beach is transformed into Cap Beddouza. Even at the cape, the sandy beach exists, but there are certainly more rock outcroppings for the surf to engage.
At the high point of the cape is an ancient walled fort protecting a disused light house, in addition to happy boys wanting their picture taken and adept shell-selling girls.
I passed on the smelly shells, but got the back of my hand kissed multiple times after showing the boy his photo. No requests for money, food, nor anything. He just seemed genuinely thrilled to see himself in a photo. Having not been pressed for gifts, I actually felt good about offering them a share in the snack lunch I was digging out, in addition to giving them all an XiX tee-shirt.
A bit after rounding Cap Beddoza the shore becomes more broken as the rocky cliffs more commonly drop directly into the sea, and, at one particularly nice promontory just north of Safi, I met up with a couple of Germans who gave me the scoop on a few nice places to see and also let me know that the campground in Safi is actually quite good. Clean, hot showers, and walking distance into town.
Also joining our road-side chat was an extremely modern Maroc woman. Faded blue jeans and a bright red sweater...sans scarf. She saw us talking and came right up to introduce herself while her mother, brother-in-law, and nephew keep watch from 15 meters away. A school teacher from Marrakech, Haiana was quite friendly and informative. Some kids also joined in the fray, looking for money, and a discussion ensued regarding what to do. Both the Germans and Haiana strongly feel that nothing should be given on account of a dependence being formed, in addition to the added hassle and pressure on future tourists. Haiana pointed out something I ultimately already knew, that, when tourists give out chocolate or money, it leaves little reason for the kids to attend school. Why sit in a boring classroom when you can earn several euro, diabetes, and tooth decay from begging? Giving a pen, pencil, book, or some such item, if one is inclined, is better, she suggested.
I guiltily kept silent about my offering of cheese, fruit, and nuts...not to mention the tee-shirts, earlier this morning.
I continued into Safi, checked into the Municipal Camping and Caravanning Park, had a long, hot, shower, which was much appreciated after a few days without, and then took a walk into town.
Maroc seems to have an over abundance of inexpensive Cyber-Cafes everywhere you look. Leaps and bounds (obviously) ahead of Italy and pushing the Netherlands for the primary position in quality...or so I've seen thus far, and, after hitting the net for a bit, I stopped into a little hole-in-the-wall cafe for a plate of food. Bread, salsa, olives, little lamb patties, grilled onions, pomme frites, a bowl of lentils , and a drink filled me to capacity. For less than three euros, I could not have gone wrong on this terrific lunch.
After lunch I wandered from the "new" town down past Place Mohammad with its largest tajine in the world, past the public gardens, and onto tree-lined Ave Moulay Youssef, where, upon seeing me photograph the trees, a woman offered her modeling services. Her daughter did not seem as enthused as mom was.
The Kechla, a massive defensive structure on the east end of the medina, and currently home to the ceramic museum, is quite impressive with its various gun emplacements, buttresses, and thick vertical walls. I decided not to pay the 10dh entry fee, but instead just took a walking tour around the outside. Its grandeur is really quite impressive.
There was a nice little break over some rocks next to Qasr al-Bahr, the old Portuguese sea-side fort and governors mansion, so I joined a few others in watching for a while. We were looking through some barred windows on an extension wall and would sometimes even get a bit of a splash, regardless of how far back we were. Too, I noticed, the spray was making its way 60 feet up, and over, the fortress walls!
I decided a better view was in order, so I paid the 10dh for the fortress tour. The old prison tower was the highest point, and offered some sweeping views over the medina to the east, however, interesting as the medina may be, my attention kept being drawn back to the raging Atlantic.
Up the middle of the fort is a ramp for cannons, and that's where I headed next. On this seaward side, ~60 feet above sea level, I was surprised to feel the fort reverberate with the crashing of the periodic extra large wave. I was even more surprised when, while watching over the edge, one of said waves crashed into the fort and actually shook me into shock...until the water from below soaked me. It hit me so hard it knocked my sunglasses off my head and, of course, drenched my camera.
Now thoroughly wet, I continued my wall circuit to the south side, where I noticed hundreds of locals lining the cliffs as they enjoyed the surf. Those cliffs range from 30-50 feet high (a bit lower than the fort walls, and quite a lot lower than the corner towers) but they were clearly getting wet as well despite their too delayed attempts at flight.
I left the fort heights to join the masses along the cliffs and we watched for hours...some staying dry, most getting wet, and all immensely enjoying themselves.
Eventually I left the sea and wandered into the medina.
Safi is famous for pottery and manufactures not only
the green roof tiles of many important buildings in Maroc, but also
countless other items such as bowls, plates, tajines, pots, etc. Another
thing I found quite interesting about Safi is that there is very little
in the way of high pressure sales. I think this must be on account of
the virtual lack of foreign tourists. A couple of ugly petro-chemical
plants are the most likely suspect in keeping the Europeans away, but
that was fine with me as I was able to peacefully
I can think of a few friends who could put a tajine to good use, and I don't think I know anyone who could not use one of these beautiful plates or bowls. But, how does one get them home unbroken?
Camp Fee from prior night/s: 0 Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: ~2.7e Supplies: 0 Misc: ~.7 internet, ~1e for Qusr al-Bahr, ~7 taxi Odometer: 129890
Safi, Maroc: The only thing I did of interest today was chase the damn pea fowl (thanks Rick!) out of my herb garden. Other than that, it was a great day to veg out, read a bit, chat with other MoHoers, soak up some of this incredible sun Maroc has to offer, and relax with a "day off".
Camp Fee from prior night/s: 0 Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: 0 Supplies: 0 Misc: 0 Odometer: 129890
Sunday February 25th
Essaouira, Maroc: I left the petro-chemical plants of Safi behind for the cleaner coast to the south and, somewhere along the way, Maroc turned noticeably more sunny and arid.
The one river I crossed, which actually had water in it, was not much more than a slow moving mud puddle and, looking to the beach from along the ridge top road, scrub and sand are beginning to dominate the landscape. Still not half way down the coast and am starting to wonder if I will actually stick to my idea of driving the whole length of the country?
On arrival into Essaouira I noticed a couple of beachside parking lots with a bunch of MoHos parked up. I stopped at the first one and found the "parking attendant", which is really nothing more than some guy who bought a two euro red plastic vest and claims to be in charge of this public lot, informed me the cost for overnight was 20dh. Not too bad, but I drove further into town and asked at a couple of others as well.
On several occasions now I have been asked to part with my disused bike with the rust spots, bent front rim, and worn paint. They typically offer 100-200dh, but the high offer to date has been 500dh, or about 50e. The bike, and all the accoutrements set me back about 180euro but, since I don't ride it, I decided I would let it go for only 800dh.
Sure enough, at the next parking lot I was checking, some guy asked me to sell it...so I asked what he would pay, preparing myself to feign shock at such a low price he would surely offer. My feigned shock turned real as he offered 900dh! I guffawed, stammered, and disgustedly said I would not take a dihram less than 1500 (oops, my initial was supposed to be 2000!). He almost fell down...it was as if I had just smacked him in the face with a brick! NO! There is no chance he would pay one dirham more than 900!
I, thinking I had offended him, and not really caring if I sold my bike, or not, apologized and reached to my ignition...he reached to my arm, and calmed me down. Relax my good American friend, perhaps I could see my way to pay 1000 since you are so clearly desperate. Now this I like! With fond memories of Jamuall on my first carpet buying excursion to Maroc years ago with Denton, I fell into the groove. I know I don't have to sell my bike, was not considering it, and is probably not even a good idea since I wanted to include it in with my MoHo sale this summer. So, I can drive away without consequence, regret, loss, or emotional disappointment.
Well, I may go as low as 1400, since YOU are such a good friend. 1100, and no more! But look, I point out, it comes with a rack, a pump, some tools, fenders, two locks, lights and generator! Nope, he doesn't want want those things. Just the bike...and the tires are skinny anyway and he wants fatter tires. But I point out that the bike itself is phat...just take another look and we can settle on 1300. No, that is just too much he says as he haughtily walks away...1100 is his highest. I start my rig and shock him into a physical jump and shiver. He turns and rushes back to my window. No, no, turn off your MoHo (he may have said car, or van, or something). So I do. Just wait, he tells me, and let me call my father who has more money...surely we can agree.
Soon, dad shows up on another bike and says he would pay 1000. I look at him and explain that his son has already offered 1100 so he confers with his son, and agrees to pay 1050, I counter with 1400 (hey, if they are going to go down, I am going up!) and the son and father point out that I can not raise an already mentioned price and I point out they can't lower an offered price, but, for them, my very special friends, I would agree to take a measly 1250. Dad actually laughs and walks away, but he doesn't get far before I start my rig and pull out. He is back in a flash telling me to wait and please try to be reasonable.
He then pulls out the big guns by producing a wad of bills, gently grasping my hand, and counting out five-200dh notes. I shrug, and try to hand it back, and he pushes the money back with another 100dh. With a big sigh, I give in and tell him I would be kind enough to take 1150...and that is my final offer. He says no, I start my MoHo, he tells me to wait as he consults with his son, returns and urges me to take the 1100dh, I say no and mention he may find another bike soon, he again puts the 1100dh into my palm and I push it back as I pull out. STOP! Ok, here is another 50dh!
What a great 90 minutes...and we both wound up winning and thinking we got the best deal of the century. He tried to hide a sly smile as he wheeled his new bike away, while I looked defeated.
So, after that enjoyable time, I continued on into the medina of one of Maroc's most famous, and beautiful destinations. There was one street in the Mellah section, which is sort of a rough part of town, where raw sewage was flowing down the street. Yikes! The stench was awful and I was just a bit surprised to see this in Essaouira.
I too was surprised to find a liquor store! This is a first for me here in Muslim Maroc but, having run out of wine imported from Espana, I was happy to be able to stock up a bit. A bottle of Mandarin Vodka and four bottles of wine will keep me another couple of weeks.
Back to the first beach parking I had found for a nice sunset over Ile de Mogador just off the coast.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: ~11.5e Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: 0 Supplies: ~39e BOOZE! :-) Misc: ~.4e internet, I MADE! ~115e (based on 10dh to the e), ~2e parking Odometer: 130023
Monday February 26th
Tamrhakht, Maroc: Spent the morning walking around the Essaouira harbor and medina and again found it quite enchanting. Even more so than yesterday since I skipped the sewage filled Mellah section.
After Essaouira I continued my way south along N1 up and over the High Atlas Mountain Range. Not too bad of a climb since it is descending into the Atlantic, but still rugged enough to take the road inland through the argan forests.
The argan tree gives reason for the unique Unesco Biosphere Reserve in SW Maroc and is quite similar to the olive tree both in appearance and in the fact it offers up a healthy oil used in cosmetics, healing, and, lately, gourmet cooking. The only thing I wonder about is: how many gourmands, rich enough to afford the oil, know that each spring the Berbers harvest the fruit, feed it to goats--who's digestive tracts remove the ruggedly elastic peel, rescue the kernels from their manure, crack & toast 'em, pulp & press 'em, and only THEN deliver that fine oil to their table! And some say a fine Bordeaux often has a barnyard bouquet...
Moving along, I came to the crest of the, coastal, High Atlas and immediately things dried out considerably more on the southern slopes. Sparse and gnarled vegetation punctuating the rocky, brown, desert floor above the clear blue sky.
I descend back to the coast, enjoying the inland jog around the Tamri lagoon...where I actually saw the Bald Ibis Cafe, yet none of the rare birds, supposedly so easily seen here, and the many surf beaches bracketing Cap Rihr before, pulling into a small treed parking area just north of Tamrhakht.
I was surprised to run into Martin and his wife from the UK (but living in Ireland) whom I had met a month earlier on the Tarifa Long Beach. Martin mentioned the surf has been up, way too high for him, the past several days, and this had been his first chance in the water for quite a while. I too had noticed the waves were much more mild that what I had enjoyed in Safi a few days ago.
I headed the last 15 clicks into Agadir, found the campground full, restocked at the large Marjane Hypermercato and then backtracked to the beach for the night.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: 0 Fuel: ~41.06e for 55.5l at 130061/474km Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: 22e Supplies: 0 Misc: ~1e tip to Gas Station Attendant Odometer: 130235
Tamrhakht, Maroc: This morning some guy came by selling beads and jewelry, but it was just dime store stuff. He did have a beat up old paperback in English and offered it to me. I was actually interested so asked what he wanted for it. 100dh! I just laughed told him he was very funny! He seemed shocked and asked how much I would give him. I looked at the book and the price was listed as 1.5 pounds new. I offered him 1dh and he almost died...granted, ten cents is a long way from his desired 10euro! He countered with 50dh, and I graciously went to two dirham. From his facial contortions I almost thought his heart had given out, but he eventually got it together enough to choke out that 20dh was the lowest he would ever consider. I told him that I would go to five dirham but no more. He said no way so I finally offered him a trade.
I had a newer book I've already read, in better condition, that has a nice beefy price of seven pounds on it! I asked about an even swap...book for book...with my thought being that he may be able to get a few euros for mine, but there is no way he will get that for his. He said OK, he will take 20 dh AND my book for his book. I say no chance and he walked away, only to return in 60 seconds with an offer of ten dirham. I dug out all the change I had, which amounted to 6.6 dh, or about 66 cents, and said I would give him my book and the 6.6 dh. He took the money, but in place of my book, asked for a chunk of cheese. I filled a Ziploc for him with the five varieties currently on hand.
Speaking with Martin shortly after, I found he gave the guy the book yesterday. :-)
I had planned on leaving today, but it was a beautiful area and I wound up doing chores, along with a book exchange with Martin, and staying another night.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: 0 Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: 0 Supplies: 0 Misc: ~.66 cents for a book Odometer: 130235
Wednesday February 28th
Mirhleft, Maroc: Continuing south I left the High Atlas behind for an arid region of the Souss Valley as I progressed through Tiznit and Aglou-Plage to the west. The beach here is great if you enjoy long, clean, deserted, sandy, stretches...but I continued south a bit more in search of a flying site.
The Eagles Nest is about 20 clicks north of Mirhleft and consists of a cafe and hotel located atop a 280 meter ridge. It gives about three clicks of easy soaring before breaking into gullies, and flattening, on either ends. There were about 15 pilots in the air when I pulled up, but conditions were not stellar. Some were sinking out while others were just maintaining.
I chatted with a couple Germans for a while and watched as they got pressured and shamed into paying almost 20dh to the guy who mucked around and sort of helped fold their wing. Unfortunately, they gave him ten dirham yesterday and now it is just understood they should continue to give him more and more money. He then asked for five dirham from me, but I declined his most aggressive attempts at loosening my purse. He did, however, then want to become best of friends with lots of hand shaking and a couple of kisses on the cheeks.
Another oddity I have found in Maroc, is that people are VERY touchy...meaning they touch each other, and me, a lot. Very common to see men walking hand in hand, arm in arm, or hugging each other. Not that I am a homophobic, nor that this is any indication of orientation, but it is different than other places I have traveled.
I soon decided to head into Mirhleft to find this terrific camping beach I have heard so much about but, after driving down to half of the six beaches, I found them all posted "no camping" and there was nary a MoHo to be seen, so I was happy to see a couple of rigs parked at a beach just south of town.
As luck would have it, a Scottish and English couple were in the rigs...and I was immediately offered a glass of wine! My kind of living! Wine led to dinner, which led to June adopting a puppy, which led to more wine, which ended with Tam's Scotch, tall tales, problem-solving, and a lot of great laughs.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: 0 Fuel: ~13.8e for 18.8l at 130256/195km Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: ~48.9e Supplies: Misc: Odometer: 130417
Thursday March 1st
Said goodbye to the crazy Scotsmen and headed back
toward The Eagle's Nest where I had hoped to get some flying in. It was
an peculiar drive on account of hundreds of kids on the road
side...all waving for
Had I stopped, I would have been swamped with them and there is no way I could have enough money, clothes, food, or candy to satisfy them all.
Arriving at The Eagle's Nest I saw the flying was lame to below average so parked where I could watch and prepared to burn up a couple of chickens I got yesterday. I immediately found one to be obviously rotten. Damn. The other seemed ok so tossed it on the grill. STILL, nothing really grand happening on the ridge by late afternoon, so I dropped south a few more clicks to a great spot I had seen earlier.
There was already one MoHo in this small area when I arrived, but they welcomed me to join them and, upon learning of my bad chicken, relived me of it so they could offer it to a dog they had befriended. I had heard not to give chicken to dogs, but this guy wolfed it down, bones and all, without choking once.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: 0 Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: 0 Supplies: 0 Misc: 0 Odometer: 130458
Friday March 2nd
North of Mirhleft, Maroc: The food and/or water finally caught up to me. Sicker than a dog all day long with a numb tingling in my fingers, hands, and forearms combined with cold sweats and massive stomach cramps and diarrhea. At some point I noticed my neck was sore and touched my left thyroid...it was huge and HARD! Sort of like a lump of PlayDoh left out over night.
The few times I've ventured out of bed or bathroom the French were sympathetic...with offers of tea, suggestions of plain rice for dinner, and instructions to keep hydrated.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: 0 Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: 0 Supplies: Misc: Odometer: 130458
Saturday March 3rd
About ten clicks before Sidi Ifni I came upon a nice looking flying ridge above the Plage Legzrin Freecamp and ran into Till, whom I had met in the Dolimiti last Fall, and set up camp.
Till, who can't fly as he recovers from and ACL surgery, gave me the low-down on flying both the 1000 foot ridge and the 150 foot bluff to the beach It sounds like it can be pretty good, but it was blown out this afternoon. He also mentioned that a lot of people pulled out this morning after some of the camp guards (although we are staying on the north side of the gully with no guards nor any 15dh fee), to the shock and horror of all the campers, beat some puppies to death with a stick. Till was really bummed as one of them had adopted him.
It seems there is a rabid dog running around and it bit one of the puppies, so they all had to go. They still have not caught the adult, rabid, dog.
After dark, I DID notice some some strangely howling dog running about.
Sort of like a coyote-bird-cow cross! I then see some flashing lights
outside and opened my
door to 3-4 people with headlamps and some dog sauntering right past my door and over my mat...not normal for
beaten and skittish Maroc dogs... and then staggering away before turning and running for one of the guys
(campers, guards, both?) standing out there. He threw rocks but the dog kept coming
and never retreated until he closed to about about one
meter.
At first I am thinking...hey dude, stop
Also of interest in this camping area, are all the wild (ish) donkeys running around camp. Everyone puts out their vegetable cuttings and the donkeys come by once or twice a day to clean up. I hope they stay out of my herbs.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: 0 Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: 0 Supplies: 0 Misc: 0 Odometer: 130508
Sunday March 4th
Plage Legzirn Free-camp, Maroc: Still not feeling 100%, or even 80%, so I just barely managed to take a short drive into Sidi Ifni in order to charge my leisure battery, pick up some stomach calming soda, and check the net.
While the French Bus Team, whom I had met a week ago, were out walking the beach, they got broken into. Three windows smashed, some money taken, and also a couple of cell phones gone. This is the first "up close and personal" experience I have had with break-ins on my entire trip. Typically, I have felt very safe in Maroc and this comes as a disappointment.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: 0 Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: ~.9 Supplies: 0 Misc: ~.3 internet Odometer: 130530
Monday March 5th
Plage Legzirn Freecamp, Maroc: The overnight fog broke to a beautiful morning, I was feeling quite a bit healthier, and was considering a flight when I saw a few pilots landing. I introduced myself and was offered a ride up the hill on the next round.
The site is about 1000 vertical above the camping area, which is about 150 above the beach and driving up the backside only took about 20 minutes.
Philippe spoke very good English, and the others were friendly enough to muddle along with my limited French and sign language.
This first flight was essentially a 12 minute sled ride, but was perfect for me having not flown for a couple weeks and getting over my food poisoning...can't last much longer than 12 minutes without a nature call...Ha Ha!
After landing, I quickly packed up in anticipation of another round, but it seemed to be lunch time and everyone gathered for over an hour of relaxation and feasting.
Although the French brought wine making technology, along with the vines, to Maroc years ago, it is still quite difficult to locate a bottle in this mostly Muslim country...more so the farther south you travel. Of course not being able to find wine, and it being uncivilized to not have a drink with lunch, creates a bit of a problem. However, the French are creatures of resource and, in a pinch, a bottle of JB will do! I passed on their generous offer not just on account of my wanting to fly again, but I am still not 100% well.
The next flight was again a sledder, but by the third round it looked like things were going to turn on a bit more. I had volunteered to drive this round, but fortunately for me, another pilot, grounded by his own case of food poisoning, took on that task.
This last round I managed to scrape out 27 minutes and out last three other pilots who launched after me. I did gain about two meters of elevation, but it was ultimately just a slow demise on every turn. Mostly figure 8's, but I did manage a few 360's
After this round, I invited them all over to my place for a glass of wine and we managed to kill off my last three bottles as we talked about the day.
Oh, the French Bus Team had one of the guards stop by and tell them they had caught the robbers!
Camp Fee from prior night/s: 0 Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: ~.2 Supplies: 0 Misc: 0 Odometer: 130530
Tuesday March 6th
Tiznit lies in the Souss Valley between the High Atlas to the North and the Anti Atlas to the south...which have a quite obvious, and steep, start as I headed south to Goulmime. The several click wide highest pass, on this western edge, of the Anti Atlas consists of an incredibly rock strewn ground where periodic gnarled argan trees fight for survival.
Arriving late in Goulmime there was some sort of a celebration happening on account of a business meeting between corporate officials and government heads so I spent some time enjoying the live band, eating popcorn from the street vendors, absorbing shy stares from veiled women, and avoiding rambunctious kids vying for my attention, money, and bon-bons...yet giving in with a bit of popcorn.
The celebration had started in the mid afternoon and was still going strong by dusk, when I realized I had to bust a move! The town campground, four clicks away, was closed and I did not feel comfortable simply parking on the street...despite the large police presence here for the festivities.
Now after dark, I jump in my rig and decide to head the 65 clicks to Plage Blanch, but am unable to find an open petrol station. With not much choice, I head into the dusty desert low on fuel, with an inadequate map...and worse signage, and a bit of a bad attitude about missing the scenery! However, I quickly found one advantage to night-time driving...LOTS of wildlife!
Scurrying across the road were dozens of rabbits, at least four fox, a squirrel or two, and countless kangaroo mice...or at least that's how I referred to them as they hopped along on their large hind legs carrying loads of sticks on their heads. Above ground were a few bats and one nighttime raptor of some sort. My slow pace, as I tried to conserve fuel and stay on this one lane road, helped with my animal observations.
Also of interest was just how dark it is here. Once out of town there is essentially NO light pollution! No homes with too bright flood lights bathing their yards, no neon beer signs, no street lights, no traffic headlights, no light other than the moon and the stars...until I slipped under the low stratus and into the coastal fog bank, effectively snuffing all but my headlights.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: 0 Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: ~30.5e Supplies: ~4e for 22l of GPL--CHEAP! ~.3 for internet Misc: ~10 for 2X4m door mat Odometer: 130792
Wednesday March 7th
The cliff facing the river was not working, but the
long ocean ridge was definitely on and I had a nicely controlled
dragging start through the sand before spending a few minutes getting a
feel for the
By the time I had breakfast and was ready for another exploration of the ridge, it was blown out...and remained that way all day long.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: 0 Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: 0 Supplies: 0 Misc: 0 Odometer: 130792
Thursday March 8th
Gite (east of Goulmime), Maroc: The strong wind of yesterday tapered to almost nothing by this morning. I still managed about a 15 minute flight before breakfast, and then, after the light wind died out altogether, went to work on tying off my mat.
A couple days ago I wound up buying four meters of a two meter wide woven rubbery-plastic mat which is commonly used all over Maroc. I can see how it will really help keep the dirt out of my rig as I move into the more and more arid Sahara. Anyway, they just cut off however much you want, and then you must take the loose thread and do multiple ties on each end to keep it from unraveling.
After a few hours of that work, and then lunch, the wind had picked up to soarable conditions once again. I geared up and headed over to launch, but a couple of Marocan guys with a French girl captured my attention with a bunch of questions about paragliding, traveling (she is from Annecy, but now living in Argentiere, both of which I've flown), and more. By the time I got going again, the wind had mellowed.
I still choose to give it a go, and was just able to manage to maintain the ridge-top height, with the occasional thermal adding a few feet. I went XC anyway and wound up well past the turning point of yesterday's explorations...probably about ten clicks out on this ridge that starts at 100 feet in height near the river, but tapers down to about 40 feet and broken gullies, farther along.
As the wind lightened, in a particularly broken
section of the ridge, I managed to squeak in for a top landing. Man!
There is NOTHING out here...no homes, no roads, no people, not even any
kids asking for candy. The surf is about a click out front, the
mountains are about five clicks behind, and my MoHo is 5-8 clicks over a
pure void. If anything were to happen, like getting injured, I would be
buzzard food for
I took the strongest on offer and managed to make it back about a click before side hill landing. I bunched and hiked up for another go and made it about 500 meters before dirtin' out. Damn. Looks like a long walk in the stinking desert.
As I was finishing using my much appreciated outside shower bag, the trio I met earlier arrived from their lunch on the beach and suggested I should come stay at the campground they are at since I am out of water now. I explain that I am also very low on diesel so need to make that 65 click trek back in the morning...thus giving time walk/hitch to town and back if I run out, so they offered to follow!
Even with the gauge on empty, I milked the MoHo the 65 clicks to town, sans the trio, since they got stopped for a lengthy police document check, and then headed the ten clicks out on the road to Assa where I found Domaine Khattab.
The campground is a pretty nice, family run, place. Trees and/or reed fences separate the very large pitches, cold showers are free and hot showers are available for ~1e, plenty of fresh drinking water from their own well...albeit a bit hard, and the friendly father, Hamad, offered me a very sweet cup of coffee as I checked in. My first in years and impossible to refuse. No email, but the number is (00212)076839602.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: 0 Fuel: ~530e fro 71.1l at 130858/602km Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: ~2.9e Supplies: 0 Misc: 0 Odometer: 130883
Friday March 9th Gite (east of Goulmime), Maroc: It had been a while since doing a good cleaning of my rig, but with all this water available, and good facilities, I spent a couple hours washing sheets and laundry, doing dishes, and thoroughly cleaning out my entire rig. I was feeling pretty good about my accomplishment when I was hit by a gust of wind. GREAT! I thought, this will dry my laundry even more quickly.
Unfortunately that first gust turned into more gusts and pure wind, which led to my first Saharan sandstorm. A nice mud coating was on all of my recently clean clothes and dishes in addition to covering the entire inside of my rig in dust and sand...permeating every nook and cranny. It was difficult to breath and impossible to keep it out of my eyes. When my eyes were clear, visibility was, at times, down to only about 100 feet.
About an hour later the worst of the sand storm stopped as quickly as it had started, leaving me and mine as brown as the lower 200 feet of atmosphere. If cleanliness is next to Godliness, I must be in Hell.
Of course during the worst of it I would not have considered ruining my MoHo by driving, but in time things settled out enough for me to head the 15 clicks to a hidden canyon oasis. Driving up the dirt and rock road over this dirty brown terrain, I was beginning to doubt I would find this secret location rumored to have cool swimming pools, great fishing, and abundant shade, but I persevered and was rewarded with an amazing sight.
The steep walls of the, generally, narrow canyon do
indeed hide a wonderful stream with fish, frogs, snakes, birds, and many
other animals calling it home. The water is very cool, but not cold, and
runs clear and fast over the stony sandstone steps and often forms deep
green pools teeming with life. I waded, but was too leery of various
organisms to go past mid-thigh.
I hiked as far up stream as possible within the confines of the canyon and it was still going strong when I was forced to swim or turn back. Downstream it simply disappeared as the canyon walls shrunk and widened. Very difficult to explain it: One minute there are lush plants and cool water...the next minute just rocks and dirt.
Earlier in the day, between the sand storm and my departure for the oasis, Sucre, one of Hamad's sons, had promised me couscous for dinner. We were supposed to have it for lunch, but it never arrived from mothers kitchen in town, so instead we sat around washing dust down our throats with his beer while we waited. Well, I was looking forward to it for tonight, but once again the couscous take out (strange, I have seen no Chinese take out here in Maroc...probably the only country I have NOT seen it on my trip) was a no-show once again.
When I showed up at 20:00, as directed, I found once again that there would be no couscous. That is actually fine with me, but I do need SOMETHING! Some solo German guy offered me a taste of his camel kebab and I found it to be very tasty, and was planning on ordering that, when Sucre decided that I should just wait for a bit and then eat with him, his brother, Isam, and the same Maroc-French couple of Salim and Laetitia.
When I was about to pass out from hunger, a wonderful dish of fresh calamari over saffron rice arrived compliments of mother. It was really spectacular, and we even had a couple bottles of wine to wash it down with.
A great dinner, and good times, lasting well into the night! :-)
Camp Fee from prior night/s: -- Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: ~7e Supplies: 0 Misc: 0 Odometer: 130927
Saturday March 10th
Tan Tan Port, Maroc: This morning Sucre offered to take all of us campers into the weekly souq so I decided to tag along before heading deeper into the Sahara.
Goulmime, located on the cusp of the Souss valley where the Anti Atlas taper, is essentially the gateway to the Sahara. For years the Saharans would gather here each week to buy and sell camels and restock other basic supplies. The market was very interesting since, in addition to the normal fruits & vegetables, spices, pastas, etc., there were also sheep being draped over buyers shoulders, goats being drug around by their horns, and at least one pissed off camel being tugged by its tail.
A camel goes for about a grand and sheep will get about a hundred euros, but, sadly, I wound up with just a few veggies.
After the market, Sucre invited us all back to his family home in town where I was stunned by the size and beauty of it. Each room, and there are dozens in this four+ floor home, is decorated differently. Some in reds, some in blues, some in gold...the women and men (brothers and sisters) each have their own living and lounging space and typically share only the kitchen and dining facilities.
For Sucre's wedding there were 400 guests comfortably enjoying food and entertainment for the eight day celebration! He laughs now as he admits the divorce after only six months of bliss!
There are at least two courtyards in addition to a massive rooftop patio complete with dogs and more than a few satellite dishes. It also seem that all their neighbors them as well, and I have noticed that a lot in Maroc...even the most run-down little shack, and this place is definitely NOT that, have a dish.
After our sweet mint tea, pastries, and the grand tour, I finally got on the road and headed south past the dwindling Anti Atlas and deeper into the Sahara. Along the way I picked up a couple of hitchhikers, almost bought a jug of inexpensive tax-free diesel in the manner common to the Sahara, was stopped for two lengthy police inspections and actually got a speeding ticket, along with several others, at a
hidden speed trap! I was only going 77 clicks when the signs abruptly went from 100 to 60 through a dry wash where they were hiding. Six of the ten cars passing while I was there, were also pulled over!
I dropped off my hitchhiker in Tan Tan and drove another 30 clicks to the coast where the free-camp had been shut down. Staying, instead, at a campground near the port, but it has no facilities at all...even the garbage is just piled outside the gate.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: ~7 Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: ~4e Supplies: 100e for vino! Misc: ~5e for two throw pillows, ~40e ticket Odometer: 131135
Sunday March 11th
Plage Legzrin Freecamp (Near Sidi Ifni), Maroc: Now being over 100 clicks into the Western Sahara, I have to admit that I am not loving it. The COLD wind off the Atlantic continues to constantly blow creating thick and hazy air, gritty drinking water, a filthy MoHo, and a dirty body...not to mention the constant dust in my eyes & nasal passages which has given me a sore throat. With another 500 clicks to Boujdour and a 1000+ clicks to the southern-most part of Maroc, I am seriously rethinking my plan.
Instead of continuing south I opt for an organized retreat. I will backtrack up to Tiznit and then then head inland to the Ameln valley of the Anti Atlas before picking up the Western Sahara again much farther to the east where the classic sand dunes lay.
On the way back, I picked up three more hitchhikers, even though I told myself I wouldn't, because I convinced myself that THEY were the reason for those lengthy stops at the common police check points, but I have a problem leaving someone standing by the side of the road in the desert. This time I breezed past the check points and slowed to 60 at the speed trap...although the police did have three cars stopped as I rolled by.
It was also pretty fun to notice a herd of camels in a dry river bed. There must have been over a hundred of them and I was able to get pretty close without spooking them.
Got a few things in the Ifni market before heading out to Plage Legzrin for the night.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: ~2.5e Fuel: ~26e for 34.7l at 131164/306km Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: ~6.6e Supplies: 0 Misc: ~.5e internet Odometer: 131364
Monday March 12th
Tafraoute, Maroc: Helped jump start a Marocan camper and he wound up screwing up the cables. Normally I would check it all, not only by ensuring reds on positive, but actually visually tracing the cables to the correct post. Instead, he had the cables on his battery by the time I pulled up, and I just assumed he did it right. He got a hell-of an arc when he tried to attach the black clamp to where I pointed on the engine block and then immediately got another as he touched my negative terminal...presumably thinking that it should be on the battery, and not on the engine as I suggested.
Anyway, I then checked and found that he had red on
negative on his rig. We fixed it and he was soon on his way with offers
of me to stop by for dinner in Oualidia on my way back north. I hope
nothing was
Still off-shore at 11:00, with several people standing up on launch, so I headed out to check the Eagles Nest. It was strong and cross from the NE, so I kept on trucking into Tiznit to restock, and then off toward Ameln Valley between the High Atlas to the north and Anti Atlas to the south.
Out of Tiznit the road and scenery are fairly plain,
but as
A very pretty drive...and, if the drive into the Ameln valley is nice, arriving in Tafraoute is stunning. Set in a valley surrounded by aged boulders with a decidedly Joshua Tree look to them. I asked but was not able to determine if it is indeed quartz monzonite or just something similar, but regardless, the climbing potential here is endless on this rounded stone with the sharp and sticky feel to it. 10 to 80 meter pitches abound, and the bouldering is endless.
There are two campgrounds in town in addition to a
very large wild camp area right on the edge. I chose this and wound up
noticing Salim and Laetitia were also camped here. Also wound up meeting
a Kiwi, Darrin,
who has done up a video of traveling in Maroc and is now
Camp Fee from prior night/s: 0 Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: ~30e Supplies: ~9e for water Misc: 0 Odometer: 131560
Tuesday March 13th
Tafraoute, Maroc: Sort of a nice day of vegging out. It was too windy to fly, so I wandered around Tafraoute for a few hours through the various shops before heading back to camp where Laetitia showed off her hands and feet decorated with today's henna work.
Also back in camp, Darrin, Salim, and Laetitia invited me over for a tajine.
Stew, goulash, chili, curry, or whatever you may call it for any specific location...a tajine is simply the Marocan version of glop. Take some meat and veggies, add some spices, and cook it up in the conical topped pottery. The main difference in the various dishes are what spices you decide to pop in the pot. The other interesting deal with a tajine is that there are no plates or cutlery to wash up afterward. Everyone simply dips their bread into the steaming tajine set in the middle of the table.
Also joining the dinner was Hamid, the brother of the girl who did Laetatia's henna work, and Ian from the UK. Together we all had a great time late into the night as we ate, drank, and practiced our Arabic, French, and English language skills. It was a good thing we were all on the far edge of camp.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: ~1e Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: Supplies: 0 Misc: ~1e internet Odometer: 131560
Tafraoute, Maroc: Last night, surely in a drunken stupor, Ian mentioned that he had brought SEVERAL CASES of that tasty Tetra-Pac red wine from Espana to give out as gifts or payment while here...and, of course, drink. Since he was heading home soon, and still had three cases left, he offered to sell me one! After sharing his bounty with me, he headed off to the north and the rest of us headed off to hike in the Ait Mansour gorges...once we picked up a few oranges, bread, and what the bees left of the sweet pastries.
We had originally planned to take all of our MoHos and simply camp out at the start of the hike, and Afella-Ighir oasis, but last night Hamid insisted we join him and his family for dinner back in town. Although I was looking forward to camping at the oasis, the thought of an authentic Marocan meal in a local's home won out. Too, since I didn't have to take my car, I was able to pool up with Darrin and absorb the scenery and geography on the ride to the trailhead.
Heading south of town we crossed the Tlata Tasrirte Pass and then, at about 35 clicks, the sealed road turns to a piste (just a dirt track) and the river of the Afella-Ighir oasis crosses the road for the first time. This is where we started hiking and seeing some most beautiful sights!
Cool water shaded by overhanging date palms and steep cliff sides is the welcoming view and the oasis continues to produce amazing settings!
Rich, irrigated, farmers fields encircled by palms below the geologically twisted rock walls. A burned portion of palms...done so to remove the lower, dead, fronds and help keep the flies from the fruit. Hundreds of frogs in an algae thick pool, which would chirp and dive, if you didn't sneak up carefully. Fresh spring pools to sit near and contemplate. All this, while the hot desert wind blew above us.
There are a few villages along the way...some incredibly colorful and contrasting sharply with the dramatic reddish-brown surrounding, and others blending to an almost non-existence.
The ten clicks to the end is well worth doing, and the hike is very simple along the piste, with only one minor climb if you choose to take the "shortcut" over a ridge about half-way along. Following the water flow, and doing an extra click rewards you with much nicer views, however.
Back in town, Salim and I went to check out the process for making argan oil.
As mentioned before, the nuts are first fed to goats
so their digestive tract can remove the elastic coating, then the women collect the nuts from the dung, crack them, roast them, and pulp
them in the type of stone grinder shown. This produces argan
butter, which is then pressed through cloth to extract the oil. The
remaining mass of brown, mealy, lumps are fed to cattle to help them
produce more milk, while we enjoy a very nutty oil for our salads or
tajines. I opted for a small bottle of this pricey oil as the flavor
does not overly impress me, but I DO want to experiment with the
After that small shopping spree, we all headed over to Hamid's home for dinner.
In the classic Marocan home, there is a large sitting room just off the main entrance where guests are entertained. Low couches, covered with pillows, totally surround colorful carpets (remove your shoes before entering!) and two or three tables for enjoying tea, snacks, or meals.
Hamid entertained Salim, Darrin, and I with sweet cookies, breads, and cakes...all washed down with cool sweet apple, orange, or ginger drinks. Laetitia was strangely missing, but I attributed that to either her, as a woman, not being invited or being in a room separate from the men. As it turned out, she was actually in the kitchen helping make the couscous for us! It is not normal to get a "tour" of the home, but in this case I was invited into the kitchen since everyone wanted a photo, or two, emailed to them.
We were told to arrive by 19:30 and by 21:30 a steaming platter of couscous was delivered to our table. Topped with a stewed chicken, carrots, turnips, celery and a half a head of cabbage, it was incredibly good, and so much more fluffy than the pre-made variety you purchase in stores back home.
Making couscous is an incredibly time-consuming endeavor and, as a result, is normally only served on Fridays in both homes and restaurants, however, since they all knew I missed out on it last Friday they made an exception and, as I dug my spoon into the platter, along with a half a dozen others, I was happy they did.
I was beyond satiated...I was stuffed, and had no idea what I was going to do as another course was surprised upon us an hour after devouring the couscous. Normally, it would be just one over filling meal, but, as is typical in Maroc, our hosts went all out and brought on a tajine of tender lamb with caramelized onions covered in dates and roasted almonds. Spectacular! Even though overfilled, we all grabbed at this delicious, and slightly sweet, pile with our little bits of bread. What a feast.
Barely able to move, I snuggled into the pillows of the endless couches, as a couple of friends from next door stopped by with a banjo-like instrument and a couple sets of drums. After the "guests" got a chance to muck about a bit, the real pros took over and gave us a good two hour concert as we enjoyed our very sweet mint tea.
Our evening finally finished up at some point in the wee hours of the moring and I was so happy to have accepted this invitation instead of camping out at the oasis. Hamid and his family were incredibly gracious hosts who spoiled us endlessly and made this an evening to enjoyably remember.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: ~1e Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: ~4.8 cafe Supplies: ~5e for wine from Ian, ~1.8 for tajine, ~2 Argon Oil Misc: ~1e share of small dinner gift Odometer: 131560
Thursday March 15th
Tata, Maroc: Feeling like I am running out of time for the things I want to do, and still be able to meet some flying buddies in the Pyrenees on May 1st, I had to push on, regardless of the great feeling Tafraoute exudes.
The friends I have been hanging with all came over to say goodbye, view photos, exchange emails, and enjoy some morning tea...although not 100% authentic, I did have some herbal peppermint which was easily over sugared to make it seem like the real thing. :-)
So, I was getting a late start but decided to make the short detour south and visit Le Chapeau de Napoleon and the Blue Painted Rocks. Napoleons Hat, which is simply a rock formation which tapers sharply on one side, and less-so on the other, is unimpressive, but the Blue Painted Rocks are worth a wander.
Back in '84 some Belgian artist performed a bit of
vandalism with various shades of blue, and a couple of reds. The
contrast with the natural rock does make for a pleasing view, despite
the faded aire about
When I first arrived in Maroc I thought the rain would never cease and, lately, as I travel through dust storm filled desert, I've felt I would never see rain again. However, that changed this afternoon traveling ENE along the ridge crest of the Anti Atlas as thunder cells grew into a massive light and sound show, complete with that wonderful smell of rain in the desert. It soon began to pour and then began to SNOW!
It was fabulous, and some snow was even sticking on the distant hills as I made my southerly turn in Igherm and headed down the most impressive valley of the Oued Tata. The twisted red, gray, green, and brown rock must be part of the inspiration for the incredibly colorful jellaba worn by the people in every village I passed driving to Tata.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: ~1e Fuel: ~48e for 65l at 131688/525km Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: ~.15e Supplies: 0 Misc: ~.4e net Odometer: 131809
Friday March 16th
Zagora, Maroc: Arriving after dark last night, I didn't realize how nice the Tata Municipal campground is. Nice clean concrete slab to park on and lots of fresh water taps everywhere. Inspired by yesterday's rain and snow showers, I took some time to rid my rig of the dust and sand before making the long drive toward Zagora.
Driving through Foum-Zguid both the kids and young
adults were incredibly aggressive in their attempts to stop me on the
road. They would stand in the road and try not to give way as they waved
me down, or jump into my path to get me to stop, or make a show of
pushing another into my bumper. Despite these attempts, I plodded on and
climbed back up into the Anti Atlas, where more afternoon thunder
showers washed the outside of my MoHo, before dropping once again from
Agdz to Zagora. My morning
As the sun set, a sand storm rolled through and covered everything in grit once more.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: ~4 Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: ~1.2e Supplies: 0 Misc: ~.2e Odometer: 132192
Saturday March 17th
Zagora, Maroc: I had planned to make the ~100k drive south to Mhamid today but it seems there is no diesel in the region. It may be days before there is more available so, since I am at only a quarter of a tank, I am stuck here until more arrives. I have heard about these problems, and told myself I would always tank-up when I got close to 50%, but failed to do so.
I touched base with Till again via phone, and he rode over to my campground to say hello and have a BS session. He too has heard about the diesel shortage and is stuck until something changes.
About 30 minutes after he left my campground for his, he pulled in with his MoHo (supposedly a bit too fast, since a couple of French campers got angry with him for raising dust) to let me know that as he was riding home, he saw a diesel tanker so went to fill up his rig. I too jumped at the opportunity and got in a long line of people waiting for fuel. It felt great to be topped up, and I then went to see about having my windshield repaired.
As I have mentioned before, a lot of the roads in this area are only a single paved lane with gravel shoulders. This makes for some flying rocks and yesterday I caught one, causing about an inch long crack. By the time I had made it into Les Jardines de Zagora Camping, it had grown to about three inches. This morning it was worse and the "repair" of scratching a semi-circle in the cracks path, made it even worse, but I was hopeful it would now hold.
By the time I drove back to camp, the crack was beyond the "fix".
As I prepping dinner for Till and his friend, Suzie, whom I invited over for tajine, the campground owner offered me a a taste of "date wine" which actually is a fairly strong distillate. It was tasty and we all sat around in a circle of 4-5 and took turns sipping from a single glass
Although I could not stay long, since I still had some work to do, I dug out a box of wine I got from Ian and it was met with much appreciation.
When Till and Suzie arrived we decided on two different tajine experiments and our first was a beef with caramelized onions, and a date-raison-peanut topping seasoned with cardamom, cinnamon, nutmeg and a bit of red pepper. Our next one was much hotter, with a lot of red pepper, garlic, fennel and cumin seasoning lamb and veggies
A tajine is a pretty simple thing to do and is a staple here in Maroc. Traditionally it is a lot of bread (cheap) dipped into a fairly mild, seasoning-wise, tajine. It is slowly "baked" in a conical earthen tajine over charcoal or a low gas flame. One very nice thing about it is the lack of dirty dishes, since it is eaten right out of the pot with no utensils other than bits of bread and maybe a few fingers...right hand only, please! I hope to do a lot of them for the rest of my time in Maroc and now own both a smaller two person tajine, and a larger 3-4 person version.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: -- Fuel: 459dh for 61l at 132194/506km Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: ~11.2e Supplies: 0 Misc: ~.4e net, ~2e tajine, NEED TO PAY 50 for window still Odometer: 132196
Sunday March 18th
Erg Lehoudi Sand Dunes, Maroc: After having the nearby French campers sternly reprimand me for my guests and I talking too loud (we were speaking at a normal level, but had the windows open and camper vans in Maroc, and Europe, are typically packed in very close to one another) last night, and then for them starting their camper and leaving so late (about 23:00), I cheered myself up at the Sunday souq.
Crowded, hectic, and a lot of fun...I got my juice oranges, veggies, some nice lettuce, some beef and lamb, and the freshest chicken I have ever had. They were out of dead ones when I arrived and it took them about ten minutes to get one ready for me. It was still quite warm as I walked away with it all nicely cut up and wrapped in newspaper.
After stocking up on food, I finally got my cell phone, a UK version given to me two years ago by Paul, unlocked for international SIM card acceptance. It works great, and will help Till and I keep in touch, in addition to planning other activities as I continue exploring Maroc.
Cell phone number from countries other than Maroc: +212 15930485 Cell phone number from inside Maroc: 0 15930485
We, Till and Suzie and I, decided to spend a couple of days together exploring the sand dunes to the south, so headed out of town toward Mhamid and quickly paused along the way to look at some green pottery unique to this area. Although the classic green pottery was nice, I was more drawn to the decorative henna work and the attractive drums, and decided I will need to stop on my way back so I can try to purchase something.
Eventually we left the beautiful art work behind and headed over a couple of small passes...one being the Tizi Beni Selmane pass just north of our turn into the shifting dunes of the Erg Lehoudi where we made it as far as reasonably possible without becoming bogged down in the numerous sand traps on the way to the dunes.
It made for a very nice camp, far away from anyone, and virtually no light pollution making it great for star gazing through the, still dusty, atmosphere.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: ~8 Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: ~20e Supplies: 0 Misc: ~8e to unlock phone & SIM card. Odometer: 132287
Monday March 19th
Erg Lehoudi Sand Dunes, Maroc: As Till and Susie enjoyed sleeping in the cool morning air, I was awake at dawn with the buzzing of the first fly. There are countless flies in the Western Sahara, and my electronic swatter is working double time. At least they sleep at night.
After drinking a liter of water, I grabbed 1.5 more and walked over to the tourist camp at the base of the dunes. One dog, and a couple of camels, were all that was awake this early, so I had the dunes to myself. It is difficult to capture, at least for my limited photographic skills, the beauty of the morning light on the shifting dunes. They sparkle.
A couple hours later I was back in camp and Till and Suzie were just waking up. I volunteered to watch over camp if they wanted to take a walk, and made up a chicken-olive-caper tajine with garlic, ginger and lemon seasoning for my brunch as they visited the dunes.
Feeling lazy, we decided on staying another night and had a late night beef tajine and refreshed bread ala Till and his magical "oven".
Camp Fee from prior night/s: 0 Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: 0 Supplies: 0 Misc: 0 Odometer: 132287
Tuesday March 20th
We make the drive out of the desert without getting stuck and then stop again to look at pottery and buy some drums. I wound up with two that I really liked and never paid anywhere near the 250 asking price. 70dh, a box of wine, and an XiX tee shirt for each drum, purchased at two different shops. One guy in particular really wanted to do some more trading and was willing to do almost anything to acquire my one and only Gortex jacket. He wasn't willing to give me 300 euros though!
We finally said our goodbyes in Zagora where I swung by my auto shop to let the guy know I was not going to pay him 50dh since his guaranteed windshield repair did not work for more than ten minutes. He said he would be happy to get me a new windshield and I should stop by in two days to find out when it may be available. Not likely.
I managed to get to Tazzarine, with a MoHo full of six passengers, and then found Camping Caravaning Amasttou and settled in for the night. The air is still but filled with dust regardless.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: 0 Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: 0 Supplies: 0 Misc: ~14e drums Odometer: 132538
Wednesday March 21st
The forecast, after four days of wind and sand storms, is for calm, and the air is already clearing considerably. I took a long drive today through some pretty areas, with wild flowers blooming, but I was simply in a rut and never felt like getting out and taking any photos. Burned out and need a day to recoup. Free camping near the dunes and hope for camel trip tomorrow night.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: ~6.5e Fuel: ~30e for 40.6l at 132539/346km Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: ~3e Supplies: 0 Misc: ~1e net Odometer: 132765
Thursday March 22nd
Oasis in the Erg Chebbi Maroc: Ali Anaam, the guy I met on the streets yesterday, had arranged a camel tour for me tonight. Cost was 350dh, on the high side, but I just wanted to get into the desert night without having to do my typical stressing, planning, and finagling for the optimum deal.
He, and his guide were late, but arrived shortly
after I put in a call. I sort of like having a phone! :-) Anyway,
I quickly learned that I would NOT be learning how to ride a camel other
than sitting on it and
The boney spine of the camel does not make for the most comfortable ride, despite the tear dropped shape rolled cloth "saddle" covered with our blankets. Sort of like straddling a wrought iron gate, I would imagine. Hard and level terrain is the worst, downhill in sand is a close second, and level or inclined travel in sand is actually pretty fine.
On arrival at the oasis, my guide showed me my Berber tent, a simple, but comfortable, tent made of rugs, and then went to work preparing dinner, as I hiked up the major dune for the sunset. On my return, the stars were coming out and tea was served as the dinner bubbled away in the guide and cook tent. Dinner was very good, although it was not the advertized tajine...instead, I think it was a large pot of chicken-veggie stew dished into a decorative (tourist) tajine for each of the tents.
My tent wound up being between two German girls on one side and three Japanese girls on the other, so English was the language of the evening. A bit of Berber drumming and songs were followed by good old American folk songs by the girls as the stars continued to grow in brilliance.
It was cold. Very cold, but, with no wind nor
blowing sand, I decided to sleep out. Absolutely
phenomenal! Shooting
stars, one plane, an unreal blackness as a
Camp Fee from prior night/s: 0 Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: ~.2e Supplies: 0 Misc: ~.6e net, ~35e camel trek Odometer: 132774
Source Blue de Meski, Maroc: A bit of water splashed on my squat, round, table last night, was frozen this morning, but I was still determined to get out on the dunes before sunrise. Watching the light glow brighter and brighter over the, not-so distant, cliffs of Algeria was surreal. Am I really here? Will I ever go home? Where is "home"? The desert, for me, tends to ask more questions than it answers.
Dropped camera in the sand and now it is grinding the telephoto lens operation and giving me a "lens error" message. Damn.
By the time I returned, the Japanese girls were already gone, so I bid adieu to the Germans, mounted my camel, whom I referred to as Clyde, and headed back to "civilization".
Camp Fee from prior night/s: 0 Fuel: ~27 for 36.5l at 132839/299km Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: ~.2e Supplies: 0 Misc: ~.5e net Odometer: 132897
Todra Canyon, Maroc: Last nights camp at the Source Bleue de Meski Springs was pleasant, but nothing to write home about.
I headed off early to Er Rachidia where I found an air filter for a measly 100dh and two 5l jugs of oil, enabling me to do (and get done) some servicing on my MoHo.
I headed west toward the gorges and, as I pulled
into Goulmima, I was compelled to try out my sand filled camera when I
passed the bridge over the local laundromat. No illusion of keeping the
caustic
After hitting the market, I picked up two girls hitching home. They spoke a bit of English and wound up inviting me back to their home for tea...a common invitation from the people I pick up, and I tend to pick up everyone.
At their home near Tinerhir, Mom quickly ushered them away to make tea, while the men of the home visited, albeit with sign language, with me. It was quite nice, with unending hospitality, before it took a bit of a strange turn.
The sons interpreted their fathers wishes for me. It seem the fathers wishes were to have me marry one, or both, of his daughters. Ugh. I just wanted a driving break, and to sneak another peek into the real Moroccan life...I've never had, nor will I ever have, any notion of marrying a teenage girl.
I extracted myself as quickly, and politely, as I could, and headed up the Todra gorge. I did wind up picking up another hitcher where I received an invitation to dinner. With memories of my last encounter, and realizing he may have a sister, I passed.
The road to Le Festival was in OK condition, but I was fairly disappointed with the camp/auberge itself. The Moroccan Loser Planet continues to range from slightly odd in its writings, characterizations, and emphasizes, to confusing and just plain wrong. Doubtlessly the WORST Loser Planet I have ever read.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: ~3e Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: ~4e Supplies: ~41e for new air filter and 10l of oil Misc: ~5 for oil draining at 132916km, ~.5 net Odometer: 133082
Tamtattouchte, Maroc: The best thing about Le Festival is the fact that it sits across from the trailhead, so-too-speak, of a nice 28click hike.
Starting up a canyon off the main Todra gorge, the
trail is well marked, and easily followed. For me, there was even the
occasional goat herder and girl
The entire hike was forecast to take 6-7 hours by Moroccan standards and, although I have never seen a rushing Moroccan, other than kids running from fields in hopes of bon-bons, I have no illusions that these walkers are unable to keep a demanding pace for the long-term. I had all day, lots of water, food, and enough gear to bivi in, if I got lost or the need arise for any other reason, so was not overly concerned.
The hike starts at about 1500 meters, climbs up a straightforward canyon where it becomes a bit confusing route-finding, and then ascends to a flattened pass, at a max of 3000 meters, before dropping back into the village of Tamtattouchte at 2000 meters and 13 clicks away from Le Festival--along the only access road from where I had spent the night.
I took two and a half hours to get up to the end of the canyon, another hour and a half to cross the pass and descend into Tamtattouchte where I was greeted by an unusually high number of children...from girls working the fields, to boys playing ball, most were asking for one dirham.
There was one group of older boys playing soccer, who simply wanted to kick the ball around with a foreigner, and one very little boy (maybe three years old?) who simply wanted to hold my hand, who did not ask for anything. The interesting thing about the little boy was just how rough, and weathered, his grubby little had was! I could have been holding the hand of an ancient farm worker who has toiled in searing heat, and relentless wind, for a lifetime.
Over the remaining two hours completing
The road had several washed out and undercut sections to it, but by far the worst was a 200 meter long spot where people had been driving through the river to avoid the crumbling road five meters above it. This would be the crux, but I figured if the transport buses could make it through, so could I, and, as luck would have it, just as I pulled out of Le Festival a van passed me. I figured I was now able to watch them flash and splash the river and see where the bad spots are. Amazingly, however, they took the high road instead of the river bottom!
I followed, and was soon terrified as I realized
my higher, and wider, MoHo required me to keep my right tires just
inches from the abyss, and well over the undercut section! I had my
seatbelt undone, thinking I could bail if the rig started to go, but my
drivers door was almost touching the cliffs to my left so the only way
out would have come well after the fall was in progress. I hit the top
corner of my MoHo twice on the rocks, but could not not stop to check
damage, and could not have gotten out of any door
Ultimately I did make past and stopped to see I had done no more than wipe the dust off where my rig had hit. I then continued up the valley to Baddou Campground for a hot shower and an early night after such a long hike.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: ~2.5 Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: 0 Supplies: 0 Misc: 0 Odometer: 133095
Monday March 26th
Tamtattouchte, Maroc: A small squall went through last night and left a dusting of fresh snow on the hills I was hiking yesterday and, even this afternoon, as I took a drive up valley to Ait Hani, snow was periodically spitting as it dropped in temp through the afternoon. A good rest day.
I gathered all of my stash and gave it to one of the teachers. At least now the kids will actually have to attend school in order to get the goods.
A hitcher pointed out this wonderful cemetery with it's simple headstones and beautiful setting before taking
me back for tea and a demonstration of rug making. It was very interesting to remember they use mint, alfalfa, beets, and other natural colorings for their rugs. The Berber rugs typically fade, and I enjoy the mellowed look, although I am still waiting to buy.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: -- Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: ~.3e Supplies: 0 Misc: 0 Odometer: 133131
Tuesday March 27th
Dades Gorge, Maroc:
Descending the Todra Gorge this morning, I realized the most dramatic
section, where the walls soar vertically several hundred feet, and
narrow down to about 50 feet, is where most people end their journey.
The place is packed with tour buses and dozens of shacks selling lots of
traditional Berber goods, and more than a few pieces of plastic crap imported from Asia. It is worth the extra effort to go to the end, in addition to taking one of the several hikes on offer.
I exited the Todra and continued west on N10 to Boumanlne Dades where I started up the Gorges du Dades...another very attractive gorge. The gorge begins with a wide valley filled with palms, fields, and kasbahs but quickly offers some wild rock formations, springs sprouting from, seemingly, solid rock, a pleasant pass with great views, and a bottleneck canyon.
I just found a camp before it turned dark and freezing.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: ~6e Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: ~10e Supplies: ~4e medical Misc: ~.3e net Odometer: 133275
Marrakech, Maroc: Deep inside the steep walls of the Dades, it remained very cold well into the morning. The power we were supposed to have, so I could run my electric heater, lasted about an hour before going out. The gas heater was on a lot last night.
Heading down the gorge in the early light made for some nice shadows and good views. More hitch hikers patiently waited as I stopped for photos and the purchase of a faded rug. I like the natural pastels of the Berber work.
Out of the gorge and back on the main N10 to Ouarzazate I picked up a couple more hitchers...this time a doctor and his daughter. They spoke about as much English as I spoke Berber, Arabic, or French, but we managed to get each others names, ages, professions, and more, on this long drive to their home town. And, as often happens, they extended an offer to stop at their home for couscous, tea, lunch, etc. Just stop and visit for a while. Not being hungry, I tried to refuse their offer, but they insisted I at least come for tea. Sure, a bit of tea would be very nice to break up the drive.
We arrived as a the wind whipped up a sand storm, I locked my rig as the father shooed kids away, we rushed inside their home, and cleared our eyes of dust. I am getting used to Moroccan homes by now, and was led immediately to the room just off the entrance where Noima promptly disappeared and two of Jose's sons, Hassan and Mohammad, just as quickly appeared.
Soon Noima, all smiles, presents tea and a large plate of almonds for the men. I am sitting by her father and he pours our tea and pushes almonds on me. I enjoy a few, not really thinking, and father continues to encourage me to eat them. I now remember the last time I went to buy them. Almonds are expensive! I was too cheap to get them, in fact, so this is a very upscale snack they are so kindly offering. Now, a bit self conscious, I try and match the doc grab for grab.
Just as I am pleasantly filled, Noima brings out an omelet and bread for dad and me. The boys and Noima watched and chatted as we ate lunch. It would have been rude to not enjoy it immensely, which I did, despite winding up being overstuffed.
They all try to get me to stay for dinner, where
Noima will make couscous or tajine at my request, but I explain I must
get moving over the High Atlas. It is already late. Jose, the
doctor-dad, decides to continue riding with me up to Tizirine where his
son Hamid is
As we climb the Atlas, it is clear there is a bit of a storm happening at the pass, so I want to hurry, but another cup of tea is mandatory, after I turned down yet another invitation to dinner. The Moroccans are SO hospitable, and kind. Hamid was happy I safely delivered his father for a visit.
Back on the road, I climb to the crest at Tizi-n-Tichka pass where it is snowing and getting dark. No campgrounds to be seen, nor even much of a shoulder to pull over on, so I decide to push through to Marrakech for the night, after buying a few agates from roadside vendors.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: ~2 Fuel: ~43e for 58l at 133311/472km Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: ~15e Supplies: 0 Misc: ~14 for rug, ~13e for rocks Odometer: 133673
Thursday March 29th
Marrakech, Maroc: The campground took a while to find last night, and wound up being about 10K out on the road to Casablanca. It is basically a sty with dirty washrooms, cool showers, and a dirt parking area. There is another, three times more expensive and a cleaner, a couple clicks closer to town.
The general plan of the campers is to drive into town, park at the large Marjane Hypermercato parking lot, and then take a petite taxi into town. I did this early, so I could enjoy a long day in town.
First off, I located La Maison Arabe and signed up for the tajine cooking class, scheduled for tomorrow, and put my name on the list for a couscous class, if one happens to develop in the next few days. I then wandered into the heart of the medina for fresh squeezed orange juice (~.3e) from one of the many stalls in the Djemaa el-Fna square, lunch (fixed menu: five salads of lentils, oiled mashed egg plant, potatoes with chives, sliced cucumbers, and sliced zucchini, a tajine of meatballs in tomatoes topped with egg for the main, and sliced oranges sprinkled with cinnamon for desert!) on a cafe terrace, and a long wander through the maze of souqs selling everything you could imagine.
Marrakech is a very fun town to bum around. Late in the afternoon, the sparsely occupied square suddenly turned into a mayhem of activity as evening vendors quickly set up awnings for the sale of a variety of food and wares. Water vendors, and girls selling home-made sweets, were much quicker to set up. As this was happening, jugglers, acrobats, musicians, and more began a, mostly, amusing show.
Unfortunately, most street-shows are not complete without a bit of animal abuse.
Monkey maulers and chicken-shit snake "charmers",
who are much better with
their thread and needle, to sew the mouths of the cobra shut, than they
are with charming anything or anyone, were prevalent and I felt the need
to take a few documentary
photos, but refused to pay for the privilege when asked to do so. I
really wanted to ask why he sewed the mouths shut
on his "pet" snake, but chose to not be a pain in the ass. I don't think much of
In due course, I was happy to allow a henna artist to create a scorpion on my arm. Am not typically into this, but, when in Marrakech... Henna is also supposed to bring good luck, and even though I have had more than my fair share, why not stock up on more? Camp Fee from prior night/s: -- Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: ~49e Supplies: ~10e Misc: ~3.3e on taxis, ~3e on postcards, ~3e on henna, Odometer: 133698
Friday March 30th
Marrakech, Maroc: After a bit of a wild ride, and a round-a-bout trip, my petite taxi from my Marjane parking lot dropped me at La Maison Arab for my cooking class. I was early, so was shown to the nicely decorated breakfast room where I met another classmate anal enough to show up a half hour early.
Mina and I chatted for a bit and I learned she is a Canadian, living in NYC, and taking a break from the rest of her organized tour group in order to learn a bit about Moroccan cooking. Eventually we, along with the other six students, piled in the van which took us to the La Maison Arab annex a bit out of town. There is just no space in the Medina to house their pool, cooking school, and gardens.
The "Annex" is as attractive and well put-together as the main hotel. Set in a palmarie amongst date palms and almond, olive, and argon trees, it is a clean and refreshing break from bustle of the city.
We sat on the patio for a bit as we had tea and took notes offered by our cooking instructor before heading into the prepared kitchen...complete with mounds of washed fruits and vegetables and a spice rack to die for.
Luckily, for me, I was sort of teamed up with Mina, since everyone else were couples. My happiness came not only from the fact that I got to work with/near a cute and vivacious redhead, but she is also a veg-head. This meant I was able to not only learn how to do my preserved lemon and ginger chicken tajine, but also observe the making of traditional Berber tajine...which is vegetarian.
Also on "our" side of the kitchen was Brandon (?) and his wife. He was a subtle riot, and it was enjoyable for me listen to his perspective on life, cooking, and time spent in a hammam. Opposing us four was "The First Family", so thought of for dad, who bears a striking resemblance to our former Tricky Dickey.
The course had two instructors, on account of Mina
doing a different dish, and was well worth it. We learned how to make
couscous, learned a bit about various spices used in Moroccan cooking,
learned how to preserve lemons and make clarified butter. Additionally
we each made
As our tajine's were bubbling away, we took a break to wander the gardens or sit by the pool before returning for the final touches. Lunch was served out on the patio, with the dishes being tracked by our names written in Arabic. Conversation over lunch was quite entertaining, with both both Brandon and Mina giving us detailed accounts of their hammam experiences .
Brandon was quite funny as he spoke about his feelings on being nude as a woman, other than his wife, was scrubbing and massaging him. He said he slept through it, but I think that was just for his wife's benefit...or more accurately, HIS benefit as his wife listened with full intensity! Mina described a very elegant hammam at La Maison Arab, and is scheduled in for another right after the cooking class. A steam room, a good scrub, a hot tub, and a massage done in a classy and upscale environment seemed the way to go.
After lunch we all piled back in the van for the short trip into town where Mina jumped into the hammam and I was able to make an appointment for later that evening. Back at Marjane, I got a note on my windshield from the crazy/drunken Scotts I met a while back, headed to the campground to drop off my MoHo, and cabbed it back into La Maison Arab for my 18:00 appointment.
Combining Mina's description of a beautiful and restful locale and Brandon's description of a mildly erotic experience were spot on for me.
The La Maison Arab hammam IS classy, but it is no place for self consciousness! On my arrival the, not unattractive, young woman, dressed in clinical whites, led me to a changing room, where I found a nice robe to wear, before coming to lead me into the very steamy, clean, and beautifully tiled hammam, complete with a shower in one corner of the room, rose petal filled hot tub (OK, that may be a bit much for me), and several pad covered benches.
She shocked me by taking my robe, before I had a chance to think, and putting me under the shower, which she adjusted for me. It's not that I've never taken a shower with a woman before, but I have to say it was initially a bit embarrassing not even knowing her name! She watched me carefully, thus ensuring I was thoroughly rinsed, before turning off the water and slathering handfuls of the slick, greenish-black, Moroccan, olive oil based soap all over my body. I then was allowed to sit and steam (as I continued contemplating baseball, cricket, and why either exist) for a good 15 minutes.
When this same large breasted woman appeared again, she had gone from her white uniform to body tights. Uh Oh! She laid me face down on one of the mats, and scared the hell out of me by putting on a glove!!! Luckily, it was just one of the rough scrubbers common in Maroc. She proceeded to scrape and scrub my entire back, flipped me over, did my front, and then sat me Indian-style, facing her, as she did my arms, face and neck. I must mention, this is not for the faint of heart. Not only can the scrubbing be a bit rough, but she does a fairly thorough job covering all the terrain...adjusting appendages, as necessary, in order get those armpits and any other "hard to reach" areas. This hammam was initially embarrassing, a touch sensual on occasion (although not by design, but more from my Western lack of understanding and familiarity with it), and always invasive of one's personal space. How can a cricket game go on for days?
Additionally, it was amazing, and more than a bit disgusting, at just how much blackened, oily, sticky dead skin rolled off my body. She told me that it builds up every 7-10 days and also mentioned that, for my first time in a hammam, I don't have as much as she expected. I never mentioned that I am the only guy I know who regularly uses a shower puff.
So, grabbing my hand and helping me up, it was back to the showers, with her adjusting the temp and making sure I rinsed all the soap and skin-scum, before laying me down on another mat where she rubbed a very fine mud all over my back, flipped me, did my front, and gave me another 15 minutes to steam. I wonder how the Mariners are doing this season?
Wow! All good so far. When she appeared the next time it was back to the showers and then into the hot tub for another 15, before taking me to my final rinse and leading me into the massage room where yet another young woman provided a very soothing, argon oil, massage. No shower after that...I just put my clothes back on over some incredibly soft, smooth, and tingling skin.
So, happily, during lunch this afternoon, Mina invited me to join her, and a couple of girl friends from her tour, for drinks and dinner...as if I had more interesting plans than spending the evening with attractive English-speaking ladies. So, in a relaxed, and vegetative, state, I took a cab to Le Comptoir where I met Mina and her two girl friends for drinks, dinner, and dancing till we shut the place down around 01:30.
A terrific ending to a spectacular day in Marrakech.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: -- Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: ~89e Supplies: 0 Misc: ~80 cooking class and wine with lunch, ~65 Hammam on VISA + ~10e tip, ~22e cabs Odometer: 133714
Saturday March 31st
Marrakech, Maroc: No way I can see having a better day than yesterday here in Marrakech, so I vegged in camp and did a bit of laundry. Still not inspired to actually CLEAN my rig, as I am too afraid of a yet another sand storm wreaking havoc with any potential progress.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: -- Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: 0 Supplies: 0 Misc: 0 Odometer: 133714
Sunday April 1st
The paved road turned to muddy piste but I still managed it and located Ahmed's landing zone and aberage. The forecast is rain for the next two days.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: 4 nights for ~12.5e Fuel: ~36e for 50l at 133722/410km Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: ~47e Supplies: 0 Misc: ~.4e net Odometer: 133821
Monday April 2nd
Additionally, since my MoHo water pump has been broken for the past couple of weeks, I jumped into the aberage hammam to clean up.
This was nothing like my experience at La Maison Arab. Stooping through the small door you find a steamy small cell with French (pilots) occupied benches encircling a floor drain. There are two taps...one for hot and one for cold, and you use them to fill up buckets of water to your desired temperature before dumping them over your body, soaping up, steaming, scrubbing, and then rinsing. This was a much more traditional experience with even the water and room being heated by the burning of wood, and garbage, in the built in furnace accessed from the outside. Definitely took the chill off the cool evening.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: -- Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: 0 Supplies: 0 Misc: 0 Odometer: 133821
Tuesday April 3rd
Et Tleta-Ouzoud, Maroc: Was hoping to fly today since the weather has improved, but finding a ride to launch proved to be a hassle so I headed back to, and through, Marrakech and then east to Cascades d' Ouzoud where I took a camp without one other MoHo in it, and only a couple of tents. The camp next to mine was absolutely PACKED, and I have no idea why everyone would choose that dirty, dusty, crowded parking lot over this grassy and treed park-like setting?
Camp Fee from prior night/s: ~5 Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: ~25 Supplies: ~15 on school supplies Misc: ~.3e on net Odometer: 134032
The falls are best seen (at this time of year, anyway) in the mid to late afternoon where the sunlight makes them sparkle. At about 350 feet high, they are very impressive. Impressive too are the utter lack of fences preventing people from going right to the brink. A bit of vertigo, as the spray coats your face and common sense (cheaper than fences) takes over.
The falls drop in three main tiers into what appear to be refreshing swimming pools below. However, whatever Loser Planet says...DON'T go swimming! Raw sewage from the town above, including all the campgrounds, is piped directly into the streams feeding the falls...as is the waste from the many cafes and souvenir stalls littering the trails down to the river and lining said banks.
After the falls I wandered about a click up the road to the only hotel with a shower and then joined June and Tam, Ron and Sue, and two other Brit campers, for dinner at their place. The campground host came by and let me know that I must leave by ten forty, but the gate was closed by ten thirty as I departed. He was not very happy with me leaving so late, but didn't quite understand that HE was the one that set the closing time.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: -- Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: 0 Supplies: 0 Misc: ~1e shower Odometer: 134032
Thursday April 5th
Somewhere, lost, in the Middle Atlas, Maroc: This morning, when I went to say goodbye to the Scottish clan, the campground host was all smiles about my late night departure. I guess everything seems better after a good nights sleep.
The rest of the day proved fairly interesting. I picked up LOTS of hitchhikers, for a maximum of ten-in-my-rig, including two ancient women and countless (actually they numbered five) kids. When hitchhiking in Morocco it is common to chip a few dirhams to the driver. Usually equal to, or a touch less, than what a taxi or bus would have cost. I have always declined this offer of money, but on more than one occasion accepted tea, and enjoyed a brief sign language exchange, in their homes.
Today, however, when I dropped one of them off, she offered me a loaf of bread. Bread, in Morocco, is an almost sacred object, requiring a blessing if you find a discarded piece on the ground. It is one of the main staples in addition to being the utensil used for eating a tajine. It is cheap, by Western standards, ranging from ten to 20 cents depending on the size of the, usually, flat loaf, and, most of the families, in order to cut costs on the food budget, make their own...generally gathering at a central baking point, or two, in order to share the expense and ordeal of the actual baking of it.
So, to be offered a whole loaf, and a large one at that, was extremely generous. Initially, and unthinkingly, I began to decline the offer, as I would have declined money, but then quickly, and graciously accepted...and am very happy I did. Most bread in Morocco is fresh, pleasantly chewy, tasty, yet unendingly white. Sometimes there will be a bit of whole grain, or bran, sprinkled on top to add a bit more crunch, but finding whole meal bread is difficult. In addition to this loaf being whole meal and sprinkled with grain for that desirable texture, there was also this incredible, yet subtle, smokiness imparted by whatever oven she had baked it in. Unforgettable!
So, as I was picking up and dropping off, I wound my way NE along the shoulder of the High Atlas, around Barrage Bin-el-Ouidane, a large reservoir, and toward the Middle Atlas beyond Bien-Mellal, to Ain Leuh, a little hole-in-the-wall rumored to have some nice cascades and a huge free camp. I never found the cascade nor the camp, so just wound up lost somewhere in the Middle Atlas until darkness had me deciding to camp in a beautiful high alpine meadow. Another family in a tent were doing the same.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: ~4e Fuel: ~37e for 50l at 134155/435km Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: 0 Supplies: 0 Misc: ~.7e net, ~10e phone recharge Odometer: 134392
Friday April 6th
Azrou, Maroc: The relatively warm night turned into a cold morning which turned into snow flurries as I rushed to batten down the hatches and escape the piste to the security of a paved road. I then spent the rest of the day exploring both pavement and piste, high in a rough triangle of the Middle Atlas, bordered to the south by the crest of the mountains and Hwy 503, the east by N13, and the northwest by N8 leading from Khenifra to Azrou. Although some of my explorations were willingly done, some were a result of becoming hopelessly lost. Maps and compass be damned!
The one thing I intentionally sought out, and found, was the Source de l'Oum-er-Rbia. Despite the pouring rain, the source is a fairly fascinating area with slick mineral water spewing forth from numerous cracks and crevices, in varying amounts. None all that large, but enough, when combined, to form quite a sizable river of magnificent blue...lined by caves and grassed-roofed huts! Beautiful!
Deeper into the mountains, what little rutted, potholed, pavement I could find, eventually disappeared as I followed a delivery truck up a lush green valley on a one lane, and sometimes not even that, muddy track. There was even a little school up here serving, apparently, the children of three little valleys which come together before the last climb up and over the mountains.
It was the end of the road for the truck, so the driver asked if I could take his passengers on to their home, while encouraging my successful trek. I willingly agreed until learning one of the three passengers would be some skanky old sheep. NO CHANCE! Don't want whatever bugs it may have in my home, don't want it crapping/pissing on my floor, don't want it chewing up my couches or poking holes in my walls. They seemed only a bit disappointed, as they were prepared to walk from the school anyway.
I made it another ten clicks before I ran into a spot that I would not be able to retreat back up, if the need arose, turned around, and headed back down the valley...threading my way through the dozens of kids on, and about, the road, and all of them trying to get me to stop and offer bon-bons, stelios, or dirham. One particularly bright group of girls, knowing I did not stop on the way up the valley, had the sense to pile rocks in the road forcing me to stop! As I cleared the rocks, they descended in force. Incredibly cute kids, despite their blockade, but I resisted any temptation to give gifts.
Also, the only marginally mean thing I did today happened about this time. One young teen thought it would be funny to do a bit of bumper-jumpin', and normally I would encourage something like that, but, my rear bumper is hollow, lightweight, pot metal used to store a waste hose, and is not strong enough to bear a load. The first time he did it, I stopped and pointed this out, but the second time I simply slammed on my brakes as he got near, resulting in a dazed kid with a bloodied lip. Lesson learned!
When I made it back down to the school I had passed
along the way, I stopped to drop the last batch of
I never did find those great cascades and free camp which initially drew me to this area.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: 0 Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: 0 Supplies: o Misc: 0 Odometer: 134632
Saturday April 7th
Fez, Maroc: I continue to be fed up regarding my water pump being broken. I have called and/or emailed every Hymer dealer in Iberia, my original dealer in Germany, and Hymer headquarters, but no one seems interested in responding, or offering any help. I guess if I wanted to spent 50K on a new one, they would be more interested than simply selling me a 30e pump. Anyway, their was no F'ing water for a shower at the camp this morning!!!! I grabbed a quick rinse last night, so will survive, and should be used to these problems in Morocco, anyway. Quit yer bitchin'.
In town I checked a few rug shops and found one (forget the name) I liked, for both quality and price, tucked away down some narrow alleyway. I wound up with a used rug (valued for age and knowledge of how the natural dies will fade), a rug-cape combo, and a bright new rug with an attractive 3-tier design. Bazaar Berbere, recommended by Loser Planet, tried to make up for their limited selection by overcharging, but failed miserably in that attempt and in getting my business. I am now flush in rocks, rugs, and drums...all I need are a few cobalt blue platters from Fes and my shopping will be complete.
In Fes, I found that Camping International, highly recommended by Loser Planet, can not offer a hot shower so I searched out Diamant Vert instead. Very nice, quiet, location on a creek with lots of birdlife, mostly ducks, bar, restaurant, swimming pools, and endless hot water in the, somewhat, grimy facilities.
After cleaning up bit, I took a most interesting bus ride into town. My first here in Maroc proved to be worth the 30 cents! Total rattle-trap! The bus was jerking, and shaking, and falling apart before my eyes, as people crammed into this already overcrowded contraption. One guy got his fingers slammed, and I mean SLAMMED, in the doors as they closed hard and fast on his fingers, another was almost dragged under the tire when the bus, this time with open doors, drove off while he was grasping the railing to climb in. I was mortified, and had visions of a bloody body cut in two, but he escaped with simple cuts and bruises. No lawsuits here! If you don't like it, walk!
I survived the trip with nary a scrape, and decided to hit another hammam. Having skipped them for my first month here was pure idiocy. They are really a fantastic way to get clean, much cleaner than a Western-style shower, and, in a country which lacks functioning plumbing in many of their homes, or MoHos, are a necessity.
This hammam was once again more traditional than my first, but not nearly as rustic as my last. It was divided into male and female sections, but the men's section did have a female attendant. I have learned that all but the most remote and simple hammams have an attendant to help scrape the scum. There was no shower in this one but, like the last, it had hot and cold taps, complete with big buckets. The difference was in the fact that neither you, nor some random French paragliding pilot, was required to rinse or scrub. The attendant took care of all that.
Initially alone, she dumped several buckets of water on me, soaped me up, and sat me to steam while she brought in some other guy--fresh out of a massage. While I steamed, she rinsed, shampooed, and rinsed again, this other wet cat before ushering in yet another victim...summarily doused. By then it was time for my quick and efficient scrubbing before another rinse, mud bath, and steam. It was absolutely amazing to watch, and NOTHING a Westernized mind can wrap itself around easily. This young woman was shuffling naked men around like this hammam was her personal Rubik's cube, tossing scalding buckets of water like we might actually enjoy having our skin singed off, and slinging mud like a seasoned politician. I left with a tingling-clean skin, a pleasant smile, and a chilled attitude.
A short cab ride took me to a crowded upstairs bar serving alcohol where I tried to melt into the background, but was unable. The server insisted I comfortably sit at a table already occupied, but with a bit of space. This is where I met Youbi Mohamed, a sharply dressed and, seemingly, a quiet introvert. We soon got to talking, between numerous friends extending their greetings, and I found he is much more interesting than initially thought. This Karate instructor bought a round of beers, which led to my buying a round, etc., into the night.
By midnight I was ready to go, but some other friends joined us and we had to have a few more beers. There was talk of going to a disco, but it seemed the beer was still flowing, even after this particular bar was closed and it was only the few gathered at our table present.
By a bit after one we finally left, but decided to skip the three late-night lounges within walking distance, and instead had a hair-raising drive (yea, I know, I shouldn't be taking rides from drunks, but UB says he drives better when drinking) across town to a place that looked pretty good to me. Unfortunately our group of guys decided there were not enough women here. From MY perspective, there were tons! Probably 30%, and, in a country that has only recently decided that wives are not a husband's property, and that unveiled women CAN go out for a drink and some dancing, that was plenty!
Anyway, we careened off to another, more suitable, location which was also quite nice and great fun! Lots of dancing, including a periodic belly dance show, and an interesting way of getting drinks. Groups are able to stake out a table for themselves by ordering a full bottle of booze and whatever mixers you want to go with it. You then just mix your own through the night. Showing a rare lack of restraint I had quit drinking at the first bar, and was only on water, but still enjoyed the entire scene from a sober stand point. UB continued to amaze me by just how many friends stopped by to say hello, I should also point out that he got our entire group in without a cover charge, and got me all the free (normally 60dh!) bottled water I could consume. I was happy to take advantage of both the water, and chatting with all his friends...interested in seeing the only non-Moroccan in the place.
By five in the morning, the place began to slowdown, and, after guffawing my sober offers to drive, UB had one for the road and drove me back to camp. By six I was hopping the fence, as quietly as possible, and making my way back to my MoHo. Others were starting to wake up...
Camp Fee from prior night/s: ~5e Fuel: 55dh for 60l at 134639/483km Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: ~60 drinks and partying Supplies: 0 Misc: ~.4e net, ~200e carpets, ~.3e bus, ~10e hammam, ~10e taxis Odometer: 134743
Sunday April 8th
Fez, Maroc: Absolutely fabulous time last night! :-) However, getting in at 06:00 left me wanting for sleep, but the campground was fully awake by 08:00 and I could not push it any farther than 09:00 before the noise and activity drug me out of bed.
Since I had to be awake, and was inspired by all the recent rain, snow, and lack of dust, I did up four tubs of laundry and completed a through sterilization of the cab and the master bedroom. I will tackle the great room, kitchen, and bath, over the next few days.
Also met Julian and Jilly from the UK, who invited me over for the evening. They have three very cute, and very blond, kids and, although Julian has camped before, tonight will be his family's first night out. It seems Julian sells Range Rovers, kitted-out for Africa with roof-top tents, but has never actually done the trip himself. After hearing so many wonderful stories from his clients, he decided it was high time to give it a go. It takes some serious nads to take your family camping for their very first time in Maroc!
Camp Fee from prior night/s: -- Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: 0 Supplies: 0 Misc: 0 Odometer: 134743
Monday April 9th
Fez, Maroc: After only two hours of sleep the night prior, I slept like the dead last night, so, I was surprised to wake up to apologies from my UK neighbors. It seems their first night camping in their roof-top tents was not picture perfect. One of the three sick kids vomited all over the "kids" tent, and the youngest (maybe 18 months?) was crying all night. I never heard a thing! :-)
I think Julian appreciated having the chance to vent a bit. Sick kids! Wife, on her first camping trip, is NOT liking it one bit...no "normal" food, no alcohol, no privacy, no "proper" WC, untidy washrooms! Julian was not sure how much longer she would last before killing him, when I saved the day by mentioning that I saw a Marjane on my way back from the disco a couple mornings ago. Marjane is a hypermercato which sells many European products such as toilet paper, peanut butter, coconut milk, canned food---including those white beans in runny red sauce the Brits seem to thrive on, fresh meat over-wrapped in plastic, diapers, and ALCOHOL! Julian was so happy I thought he was going hug me.
With the prospect of actually finding alcohol and "real" food, in addition to having more friends join them later today, thus giving Jilly a woman to vent to, things were looking up for Julian. Kids, of course, will always adapt.
So, once again I vegged most of the day away by doing up the last of my laundry, making a shopping trip into Marjane, and cleaning the great-room before meeting up with Julian and Jill, and their friends Ali and Sofi, a French couple trailing a couple of brunette kids, for some drinks after dinner.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: -- Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: ~109e Supplies: 0 Misc: ~.3e net, ~3e diesel treatment Odometer: 134758
Tuesday April 10th
Fez, Maroc: Over the last few days I had tried to arrange for an official guide through the campground reception for the Fes Medina and, not wanting any surprises, was upfront in telling them exactly what I wanted to see. The Dar Batha Museum, the Jewish cemetery, the "water clock", and les potteries de Fes. No shopping at all! I figured if I saw something I liked, I would come back on my own and negotiate a price without being charged for the guide's commission. After all, I was already paying the guide a rate ten times that of the average Moroccan daily wage AND was listing the places I wanted to go.
The campground was not able to find anyone wanting to guide a non-shopper. I called the number for the female guide listed in Loser Planet and she wanted double the standard rate before I even got around to mentioning I did not want to shop. I guess the boost in business from being mentioned in the Loser Planet allows for that luxury! Also, I have finally figured out what is so weird about the Morocco Loser Planet! It is exclusively written by women...not that I have any specific problem with women, but I have been troubled by numerous oddities in the writing my entire time here. For instance, why would you specifically mention only female guides...and not just in Fes!. Why does it matter? Is it just so women travelers can feel "safe" in this country with such an incredibly LOW crime rate? Well that's bullshit! There are more male travelers than female, so why not cater to them? Or, not mention the sex of the guide at all? If they are good, it should not matter. Again, this is the worst Loser Planet ever...take some other guide book to Maroc.
Ok, once off my tirade, I decided to drive into town, park, and snag a guide. Ali and Sofi, along with one daughter, decided to join me and split the cost of a guide. Right off the bat I learned that the Dar Batha Museum and the Jewish cemetery are closed on account of some five day holiday. In addition, the "water clock" I wanted to see is no longer functional so we instead decided on a wild goose chase through the new village in the hopes of locating the home of Sofi's father. She had rough directions and knew it was near one of the very few Catholic churches in Fes. Our guide proceeded to show us every uninteresting church (they really are quite drab and understated...looking more like an office building with no windows instead of a church) in town before we convinced him that we didn't care one iota about churches...we were just using that as a reference point! As a result of street names changing, we never found the home.
Back in the medina our guide lead us through a tangled maze of alleyways to catch a glimpse of the whitewashed Jewish cemetery though holes in a chain link fence. Seeing it this way may even be better than when it is packed with tourists.
Next we piled back in my MoHo for a drive to the northern edge of town where all the potteries are located. It was easy to spot since black smoke billowed up from the entire area, marking it well.
Inside the walls, our guide handed us off to a salesman who gave us a very good guided tour where we were able to see each step in the process of manufacturing various ceramic items...from plates and bowls, to roof tiles, to mosaic fountains. I didn't realize they use cracked olive pits to heat the ovens to over 1000 degrees centigrade!
It was then into the display room crammed with various items. He covertly mentioned we could have a 20% discount, but any other attempt Ali made at price reduction fell on deaf ears. No bartering when you show up with a guide. Ali got a plate, but, explaining I was a penniless and homeless traveler, I passed.
Back to another part of the medina and we tried to slow down a bit and check out some shops. Ali and Sofi wanted to visit a pastry shop to get a nice little traditional sweet for Sadie (?), and Ali wanted to look around for some leather sandals, while I enjoyed briefly popping into a drum store. It was strangely interesting to see our guide steer us away at every one of these deviations on his path to his best commission.
He knows the best drum store and can take us there, don't waste time in a pastry shop offering no commission, and a special shop above the tannery will have the sandals.
Although seeing the tannery was not on my to-do list, it was fairly interesting, and the smell of singed hair, boiling body parts, and ammonia-bleach baths wafting up from the sweaty workers below, was not nearly as horrific as rumored to be. Still, they offer everyone a mint sprig to hold under their noses, if desired. We all passed.
After bleaching, the skins are then soaked in dye for a couple of days. They then are laid flat on the surrounding roof tops to dry in the sun. Yellow was last weeks color and this week is red. Blue will be in the rotation for next week.
There were several leather stores closely packed and, when I tried to wander into one for a bit of window shopping (just killing time as I definitely do not need/want any leather items), or when Ali tried to look at sandals in the "wrong" shop, our guide would usher us away from the "bad" place and ultimately got us into the "right" spot. We were all getting fed up with him leading us to high pressure sales areas with a high commission for him and poor prices for us.
No, I don't want a leather jacket! I am sure it would look good on me, but I already have one. No, my MoHo does not need a leather foot stool, nor do I want another leather belt. When Ali was given a price on some sandals I suppressed a chuckle, while he exclaimed that that cost is more than he would pay
I took my leave as more negotiating ensued, and
ultimately Ali wound up with a coin purse and sandals for about 50% of
the asking price. I wound
Our guide then led us off to a fabric store and a spice store which none of us were interested in seeing...and more importantly, making a purchase in. He was becoming a bit angry with us on account of our minuscule purchases, but I didn't care. When we were parting ways, I let Ali deal with paying him since he was the one that found him, but I did query Ali about if we should tip the guy. "No way! He was not that good, or friendly." I was happy to see he felt the same as I did.
The Fes medina is an utter maze and everyone I talked to strongly suggested getting a guide. An official guide is supposed to cost 150dh for a half day (three hours) or 250dh for a full day (six hours). Additionally, in most cases, these guides get a commission on everything you purchase which essentially prevents you from partaking in the national sport of haggling. For instance, if some item is priced at 100dh, the real "price is ~50dh. The shop gets 50dh, the guide gets 30dh, and you get a 20% discount. The guide, who is already being paid a wage, gets this commission on EVERYTHING, else he wont take you to that store, and will rush you away if you happen to wander into it. I have a problem with this, knowing the average wage in Morocco, for an honest days work, is 30dh.
If I were to do it again, I would NOT hire a guide, but would simply get lost in the throngs of people and confusing maze of streets. When I wanted out, I would dig out my compass (getting a GPS signal may be difficult in some of the narrow streets) and simply head in one direction. If worse came to worst, I would give some unofficial guide, or kid, a few dirhams to lead me to a landmark or gate.
So, this was not exactly the day I had thought I was signing up for, but it was tons of fun, and very interesting, nonetheless.
Even after that busy day, I still had time to clean the bathroom and kitchen...thus completing the removal of the last of the Saharan sand, dirt, and dust.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: -- Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: ~8e Supplies: 0 Misc: My share of guide ~13e, parking ~1e Odometer: 134823
Wednesday April 11th
Meknes, Maroc:
This darn broken pump situation, and and the need to meet some
friends on May 1st in the Pyrenees has me itching to make a break for
it, and head back to Europe. I said goodbye to everyone,
got some
With a wander around, I saw there are a lot more
manufacturers located here than our guide of yesterday indicated. They all
have a similar high quality product and prices.
Poteriefes
happened to have more of the shape and decorative style I wanted, so
this is where I spent a couple hours searching through stacks of plates,
bowls, and something in-between. I was happy to wind up with a dozen
pieces which will, hopefully, make it home in just 12 pieces. They are
all hand-made, hand painted,
and unique.
At
150dh (or about 15e) each, I think it was an OK deal. Interestingly the
In the pouring rain, I then left for Meknes and met up with the Scotts again. A cold kept me in despite the invitation for home cooked chili.
Camp Fee from prior night/s: ~16e Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: ~2e Supplies: ~4e Butane Misc: ~.3e net, ~12e tips (stupid me!) Odometer: 134941
Thursday April 12th
By 11:00 there was still no hot water. I went to check on why, but no one was in reception, I then rushed back to my camper in the pouring rain. Same story around 13:00 and then again at 16:00, but this time I was able to track down the host and let him know I was leaving. He started to tell me that I needed to leave by 12:00 or pay for the day, but, being cold, wet, and having a full-on cold, I put a quick end to that bullshit before heading out of town...and away from several spectacular hours of hail, rain, thunder, lighting, and the flooding of my MoHo from water coming in through my refrigerator vents!
I found a campsite near Volubilis with no hot showers, but supposedly power...which would at least make me pleasantly warm through the night. The power supply wound up being only from 19:30 to 21:30. I headed out, with the intention of just driving all the way to Tanger and jumping a ferry. Seriously, on this day I am finally fed up with Maroc and every other 3rd world country! However, about ten clicks down the road, I bumped into the "four" star Hotel Volubilis Inn with tons of hot water, an in-room heater, and satellite TV with TWO English channels! It has been a while since I've slept in a normal bed...
Camp Fee from prior night/s: ~3.7e Fuel: 0 Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: 0 Supplies: 0 Misc: 0 Odometer: 134983
Friday April 13th
Tarifa, Espana:
Took another steamy shower this morning, which has really helped with
the congestion of my cold, and then
headed out to see the ancient Roman ruins of Volubilis. A lack of
enthusiasm on my part, and a plethora of rain on the part of the Roman
Gods, had me changing my mind and driving north. My cold, my shortness of
time, and that damn broken water pump
Camp Fee from prior night/s: 0 Fuel: ~46.5e for 63.5l at 135235/597km Tolls: 0 Food/Drink: ~5e Supplies: 0 Misc: ~69.5e for last nights hotel Odometer: 135248
Click here to see Section 29: Iberia in Spring of 2007
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Probably
as a result of my miniscule "tip" I had some problems with the border
official. It seems they did not want to accept my authorization to drive
my MoHo because the letter Matthias made for me did not have an official stamp
on it. They finally sent me upstairs to the police, which required a
guide regardless of my being able to see the directional signs clearly.
I had to cough up another two euro for him... Anyway, the police just
asked how long I was going to stay, told me to have fun, and sent me
back to customs, where they too were satisfied to send me on my way.
barely able to dig out my camera to snap some
of the riders PUSHING a full sized bus in the rain!), some cars were
floating, and those not floating were slowly progressing with caution.
preserved
(OK, it had some restoration after retreating Portuguese forces blew the
ramparts...along with a large part of the Sultan ben Abdallah's invading
army) fortress on the sea.
Thursday February 22nd
spending
the evening here offered a chance to get in a bit of a hike and watch a
few birds in this evening's twilight hours.
Next
on my list, although I didn't actually have a list...and was simply
enjoying a bimble, was back down to the water to check out the surf.
wander
around looking at this art.
Saturday
February 24th
Tuesday February 27th
North of Mirhleft, Maroc:
After a few weeks my new batch of basil has finally sprouted. I have
been out for the last few day, so I can't wait till it is ready for
harvest!
me to stop for them and, presumably, give them
some money. Interesting at first, it quickly became intense as they
continually jumped out in front of me. The slower I went, the more they
edged into the road. I ultimately found the only way to get through them
is to go FASTER and hug the shoulder. They all seem to stand back a bit
when they see some crazy bastard acting like he is trying to hit them.
Plage Legzirn Freecamp, Maroc:
Feeling restless, regardless of being sick, I drove the ~ten clicks to
the Eagle's Nest but no one was flying and the wind was nil. Around noon
the Swiss tour, staying in the hotel up top, drove down...deciding it
was a better day for sight seeing. I waited around another couple hours
before deciding I was really still too sick to fly anyway, so headed
south.
throwing rocks at the dogs!!!! But
I then assimilate it all and think...hey dude you should get your ass in
your MoHo so you don't get bit.
Plage Blance, Maroc:
Left Plage Legzirn in search of the paved back way (the dirt road on the
front is too steep for the MoHo) up to the Eagle's
Nest, but never found it. Instead, my search simply wound up as the long way back to Tiznit,
where I filled my GPL and restocked my food supplies.
Plage Blanch, Maroc:
In the dawns light I can see I am camped on a ridge about 100 feet above a wide river valley to the southwest, the shifting dunes to the
northwest, and the Atlantic surf another click beyond. At first glance,
in these cool temps, and under the low clouds, the place seems a bit
dreary. But, the shifting dunes, shimmering in the occasional ray of
direct sun, are really quite fascinating. Also, since the wind let up
enough to be flyable!
smooth
air. Once comfy, I hung a right and flew about five clicks before
wishing I had my camera, so headed home for a top landing where the rest of
the campers were starting to wake up.
sure.
I waited around for a few minutes, hoping the wind would pick up so I
could fly back, but all I got were light thermal cycles and, on a ridge
that is now only about 40 feet high, that makes it tough.
After
an hour of hiking, I made it back to the profusely promoted restaurant,
bar, and hotel just as I finished drinking the last of my three liters of water
I had with me. Of
course they are closed, and there is really not much there anyway, but
that didn't matter now since the free-camp is only a few hundred meters
away.
damaged in my electrical system as a result.
it reaches the Qued (river) Assaka the scenery improves dramatically with stressed argan
and olive trees, with the occasional coniferous
tree as well, fighting for a foothold in the rocky basin. Along with
that there are several oases filled with palm dates and green grasses. Berber Pise,
homes and entire villages made of from mud of the abundant red dirt and
rock, are scattered amongst the terrace hillsides.
trying
to work up a few tours in his beat up old Range Rover. It was good to
speak English without the oft required accompanying sign language.
Wednesday March 14th
new
tajine I just purchased.
them.
The goats climbing the argan trees also makes for a bit of fun.
laundry
session, and the afternoon rain, left me feeling great about being so
clean and fresh!
A
couple of barefooted guides, on their way to pick up some camels at the
road, asked if we wanted to join in at the tourist camp for traditional
singing and dancing but, since it was four clicks away we opted out of
it and enjoyed a quiet desert barbeque, and the stars, instead.
Tazzarine, Maroc:
Well past dawn you could practically stare at the sun through the hazy
filter. Chunky from dirt and bloodied from dryness...what I am blowing
out of my nose, coupled with the grit in my eyes, had me deciding to leave this stinking desert. After breakfast
we all plowed through our maps and determined that Susie has to start her
trip back toward the Agadir airport, and I need to make headway toward
the dunes of Merzouga and the gorges north of there.
Mersouga, Maroc:
getting
led around by the non-English speaking guide. Not what I expected, but
such is life.
backdrop,
and the most beautiful sky I can remember were my rewards. I slept
little as I absorbed it all
Friday March 23rd
Saturday March 24th
Tide
from the downstream villages. I have seen this often.
Sunday
March 25th
washing
laundry...in addition to the spring flowers, stressed trees, and seeping
rocks.
As
I walked through town, I passed a very nicely painted, clean, and tidy auberge (not quite a hotel...but a place with rooms and typically a
restaurant) and campground. 30dh will get you a camp spot with power and
hot showers. Where I stayed last night charged 25dh for just
parking, had no power at any cost, and wanted 25dh for a hot shower.
the
hike to my
camp
of last night, I decided I was going to move
my camp...IF I was able to drive up the
badly washed out valley road.
without
falling 15 feet to the rocks and river below.
Ait
Hani is at the end of the newly paved, although, as pointed out
yesterday, much of it has more recently been washed out, road up the
Todra. As typical in Maroc, their school is a mud wall, enclosing a
couple of simple mud buildings with a Moroccan flag topping it all off.
As I drove past this one, a simple solution came to me regarding all the
kids begging yesterday. Since picking up offerings of pens and notepads
early on in my trip, at the advice of a Moroccan school teacher, I have
come to the realization that even these "educational" gifts are being
misused when the children turn around and sell them to other unknowing tourists. Essentially just causing one extra step for
them to get the money in their pocket, candy in their mouths, and
diabetes in their hearts.
Wednesday March 28th
a
bombero (firefighter). He also wrapped the rest of the almonds and
insisted I take them. Very classy.
subjecting
animals to torture...despite 
cultural differences
or need for human entertainment.
our
own tajine and tomato-pepper salad...complete with tomato skin rose of
varying attractiveness!
Barrage
de Lalla-Takerhoust, Maroc:
I decided to head south of Marrakech to a paragliding site near
Aguergour. As I climbed into the High Atlas, the rain started pouring
down, and it kept up through most of the day. When I did a quick stop to
download email, I wound up picking up a very aggressive hitcher who
tried to sell me a bunch of jewelry. Eventually I had to tell him in no
uncertain terms to get out of my MoHo or I would call the police. I dug
out my phone, and he bailed. The snow started about then....
Barrage de Lalla-Takerhoust, Maroc:
More rain today, but a couple of the French tour groups managed some
sled rides between showers. I never bothered digging out my gear but
wound up reading an entire book, instead.
Wednesday April 4th
Et Tleta-Ouzoud, Maroc:
My nearly exclusive camp-ground morphed into an interesting picnic area
all day long. Moroccan families would show up, toss out blankets, set
the kids loose, and enjoy a long lunch, interspersed with leisurely walks to
the view the falls.
supplies
I picked up a few days ago, before continuing my backtracking escape
from the hills.
back
in France! Our leather salesman and guide finally agreed to "take it in
the shorts" and offer a 20% discount. I started to comment, thought
better of it, and was turning to go, when the salesman, thinking whatever
I could say would only better his cause, asked me to offer my opinion.
To Ali I said, "What about that other pair of sandals you liked in the
other store...they seemed to be a lot less expensive." Although
there
were no other sandals, Ali agreed and, as the salesman's color darkened,
started to go.
up
with one pissed off salesman hating my guts! When the deal was done, and
Sofi and I returned to regroup, the salesman pointed at me and said, "I
know you! I know your are coming! I can SMELL you coming!" Was it
something I said? Regardless of all the venom flowing from the salesman,
Ali was thankful for my timely comment. Amused too! :-)
butane
at the nearby
Salam Gaz, and then headed back to the pottery manufacturers for some
shopping.
salesman asked for a tip
when the deal was done. Oddly, I unthinkingly gave him one . Had I
thought, it would have gone to the girls who wrapped the pottery and the
guys who made it.
Volubilis, Maroc:
Upon checking in last night, I was told that hot showers were going to
be available again today. I guess they ran out of propane three days ago,
and had not gone to get another bottle yet. Hmm. Not
having a functioning water pump IS a drag, and forces me to consider
these things.
encouraged
me to press on through the driving rain, and catch the ferry back to
Tarifa where I am free camping in the lot near the port.