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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
|
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.
