Magnifique

The Todra Gorge differed from the Dades in two respects - firstly it was narrower with a long steady climb at the base of the towering cliffs rather than tight hairpins and secondly I was able to escape from the top end through some of the finest mountain scenery yet . A high wide plain traversed the High Atlas through remote Assoul passing some very basic villages and houses including Berbers camped in limestone caves. Two girls ran perhaps half a mile to meet me and all they asked for were shoes as unbelievably they had arrived barefooted after crossing broken limestone that would have shredded a mountain bike tyre. Again I felt very humbled as I had little to offer and after a sobering encounter headed on to the somewhat ironically named town of Rich. South of Er Rachidia the palms of the Ziz Valley Oases' hid numerous small villages tucked away in the otherwise barren gorge which gave way to arid plains and at Merzouga the appearance of true Saharan dunes rising to almost 1000'. Google '4L Trophy 2013' to see the adventures of several hundred brightly painted Renault 4's that had been rallying across the desert to get here from Zagora (I have taken the long way round).

After a return to Zaida I then headed off to old mine workings at Aouli where the lad I rescued cycling in storm force winds turned out to be the gardien of the once prosperous site and was happy to take me deep in to some of the various adits. I was invited back to met his mum and sisters and whilst tea and a simple meal were served was shown photos of other visitors, traditional family weddings and other aspects of their simple life.
Heading NE across the bleak Plateau du Rekkam that sits between the Haut and Moyen Atlas a gathering storm that had been shrouding the mountains descended across the road forcing me to stop driving - not for  rain as this turned out to be a somewhat alarming sandstorm that reduced visibility to almost zero, turned day in to dusk and obliterated everything in any direction. I pulled well off the road and sat with the engine off to prevent damage but the fan full on to try and minimise the dust intrusion as outside all hell let loose.
After half an hour or so things abated and I was soon tucked away in a quiet lay by chatting to a few kids who had come to fetch water with their donkeys. After settling down at dusk I was surprised by a knock on the door an hour later which turned out to be two friendly gendarmes concerned for my safety on a road they claimed to be prone to vagabonds. They advised me to drive the 40 km in to town and stay at the petrol station which I did - the gardien seemed happy with £2 and I slept soundly.
From Missour I headed north across the Moyen Atlas soon reaching the fresh snow that had fallen the day before. After Immouzzer I met a snow plough who had failed to clear the road across to Taza due to a landslide so I turned west passing through stunning scenery to Sefrou and then Fez for a night on a large but scruffy campsite with electrics to die for. This trip has not been about the cities so Fez was left for another time as I followed the Cirque de Jbel Tazzeka through pine woods with snow clad summits and extensive views. The Gouffre de Friouato was an unexpected reward - after dropping through a side passage to emerge a third of the way down a 160m deep shaft, several flights of shoddy steps brought us to the base of the enormous pothole. Khamil then dropped between two boulders and we continued on some way in to a vast chamber with some impressive formations. My fancy torch penetrated the darkness that his small headtorch struggled with - I'm not sure he had ever seen half the things we illuminated and of course he was very keen to buy it from me.
From bustling chaotic Taza a good road crossed the green and fertile Rif mountains for a moonlit night on the coast at Al Hoceima alongside a couple of other vans in an aire as the former campsite had been turned in to a civic park - walking round the town as the daily souk packed up was an assault on all the senses.
I had heard about a new road heading west and followed my nose to discover one of the most enjoyable routes I have ever driven. An almost empty, wide and well engineered carriageway swooped down in to valleys and climbed high over ridges with the greenery of the Rif contrasting sharply with the barren mountain ranges of recent days whilst to the north the Med appeared occasionally as a reminder that I had come almost full circle.
Chefchaouen was as pretty a town as you could wish for - the maze of alleys, steps and lanes in the medina made for a fascinating days exploration - the blue tinted limewash adding to the relaxed and easygoing feel of the place - a great way to finish what has been one of the most rewarding months of my travels. Today's return across to Tarifa was by Moroccan standards pretty straightforward and was celebrated in the bar with a German hiker with the first beers in a month.
I am very grateful that my first venture in to this amazing country has gone without a hitch : the perfect run up to my 53rd birthday- it may be another year before I return but as the locals say inishallah, inishallah..........

The photos HERE say it all and my meanderings up through Spain, Portugal and France over the next month will pop up HERE