Early Days in Morocco - from one extreme to ......

 The flight from Manchester arrived on time at Gibraltar Airport whose single runway effectively acts as the border line between Spain and this corner of the United Kingdom. Traffic and pedestrians are halted to allow flights to land and then taxi back to the modern terminal with the vast bulk of the Rock a dramatic background.
We walked back to the aire on the coast that was to be our base tucked amongst a large number of vans of many nationalities - a huge German van with an equally substantial trailer discharged a powerful trike resplendent in chrome and sporting many flags which roared off across the gravel.
I had explored La Linea earlier and got a large bag of laundry done so had an idea of where to head to for an evening meal - we enjoyed excellent pizzas and a good stroll round.

Thursday saw us walking in to Gibraltar, crossing the runway and then following the shore with its many luxury marinas, executive apartments and a remarkable amount of new construction. The noise, traffic and busy atmosphere was quite a contrast to my recent quiet few weeks but we soon escaped the chaos by taking the cable car up to the top of the Rock for panoramic views and our first encounters with the beguiling Barbary Apes who whilst inquisitive were content to leave you alone unless you were daft enough to be carrying food. They really were absorbing and up at the impressive O'Hara's battery a younger crew were demonstrating their skills and agility on the vast obsolete armaments.

Walking back through the town centre was of course very similar to any UK high street although with many less vacant outlets or charity shops - Gibraltar has an affluent population who benefit from tax and duty concessions.


Later that evening we drove round the bay passing Algeciras and reaching Tarifa in time to walk on the beach at sunset and then stock up at Aldi before calling in to get tickets for a crossing to Tangier Med on the Friday at noon - £200 for an open ended return for two and the van. Back at the campsite we enjoyed hot showers, topped up the water tanks and had a night on hook up to top up the batteries.






Friday dawned bright and sunny and we walked briefly out of Tarifa to the small island fort used to detain any captured illegal immigrants before joining a small queue for the crossing. We were directed to reverse on which was unnerving but the crew were very attentive and we were shortly off passing the large Maersk container port. After completing the on board immigration formalities we ordered some light snacks - unfortunately the card reader was out of action and as we had left any euros in the van we had to do without, contenting ourselves instead with the stunning view of Gib as we headed towards the North African coast.
Once offloaded we pulled up in the Customs Shed and had a short wait during which we were amused by the Belgian owner of a top of the range Mercedes objecting to a more detailed scrutiny than most. Returning Moroccans had cars piled high inside and out with toys, bikes, kitchen appliances, window frames, a shower unit and the like - presumably for onward sale at local markets.
Previously you were required to print off and fill in in triplicate a D16 TER customs form for the vehicle but this is no longer the case and they now merely ask for your V5 (or carte grise) which I think they must scan in.
Anyway in less than half an hour we were on our way and picking up the rural road over to Chefchaouen via Tetouan. The familiar sights of mosques, donkeys, carts, scruffy villages, street stalls selling almost everything from fruit and veg to hardware, phone top ups, animal feed and so on were reassuring to me and fascinating to Mandy.

My old Tom Tom guided us to Chef and my even older memory took us high above the town to the Municipal campsite which seemed little changed although in fact they had renovated their office and upgraded the electrical sockets from lethal to dodgy. We parked above the main terrace and then walked the steep path down to town where we were soon absorbed in to the maze of blue hued streets and alleys with all manner of goods for sale. The second ATM we tried seemed to recognise my card and we took out 2000 dirham - about £160 - to top up the local currency I had carried over from my 2017 trip. We were content to just follow our noses and eventually after dusk popped through one of the old walled gates to return to the site just as rain began to fall. Knowing that the showers were usually cold made us appreciate our comforts even more and we slept soundly as the heavens opened. 

By late morning the following day things had eased up but the path down and the streets in town were very slippery. After buying a Moroccan SIM with 20G of data valid for a month which the shop keeper was happy to set up on my phone - total cost about £16 - we made a few test calls and then  stopped for tea in a very brightly decorated cafe on the main square. Whilst the town is unashamedly aimed at tourism it is also very easy to discover the real Morocco away from the blue centre - our efforts to get a few carrots resulted in a large carrier bag full for 40p, far more than we needed so at some stage a donkey will get lucky - stop sniggering at the back Greg.
Back at the campsite we went online to catch up with friends and family and were grateful for the cosy warmth of the heater on a cool, wet night.

Sunday saw us heading south through the Rif Mountains via Ketama a noted hash dealing area and when we stopped for lunch we were soon approached by various individuals who to be fair were not that persistent and took our firm decline graciously. From Tazza we climbed in to the mountains of the Tazzeka National Park and as dusk fell followed a rough track for 5km to a recreation spot with a few tables and benches that would do for the night. It was a bit spooky especially as a lad seemed to be living in a roof, door and window less shack in this cold and windswept spot. We were very warm and cosy but did not linger long the following morning as again the weather was letting the side down. Following the road across the Chiker plateau there were some light snow drifts and the scenery had a wintry flavour which improved as we descended to the Fes road. A few of the local children were holding single eggs out for sale or asking for dirhams and looked frozen , their simple homes - often Berber tents looking unlikely to provide much warmth at this time of year.
We stopped for lunch above a reservoir shortly after being let off a speeding ticket by a courteous gendarme and then tried the Sefrou Municipal campsite which had been almost a complete wreck two years ago and was indeed now completely abandoned and closed up. Down in the town there was some confusion with le gardien as to where we should park but soon enough we were ducking through one of the walled town's gates to enter a mass of lanes and alleys with substantial amounts of fruit and veg for sale. Other areas were doing clothing, hardware and electricals and a few stalls were selling the last of their boxes of fish - the ice long since melted and the produce perhaps past its best.

We headed south to Ifrane with its curious developments of Swiss or Alpine style houses and drew up in front of the closed gates of Camping Amazigh as sleet fell. Fortunately a young girl appeared and welcomed us in to the site located amongst cherry trees - I encouraged her to jump in to complete paperwork as it was now hailing and afterwards I got quite chilled filling the water tanks from one of the slowest of taps that required the hose holding on by hand as it lacked a thread. However we were soon on a pitch with hook up and had the heaters roaring away - both diesel and electric - with an elderly French couple tucked away on the far side.

Our plan to head south to better weather was thwarted by the closure due to snow of the Col Du Zad at 2178 m - long lines of trucks were pulled in at the roadside so we turned west instead.
The large town of Azrou has a weekly souk which we walked out to and spent several hours absorbed by the sights and sounds  - the livestock area was fascinating with small flocks all tied at the neck with cords, the odd escapee being pursued by small children and the bartered stock being loaded high on to the roofs of old Merc vans, pick ups and memorably on at least one occasion a bullock being loaded in to the back of a Transit.

The overnight sleet and rain had turned the paths in to several inches of mud through which hand carts and barrows, the odd powered trike and scooters were struggling to replenish stores at the hundreds of stalls. We had lunch in a 'cafe' that comprised a shelter made from stitched up rice sacks, a motley selection of old chairs and tables and a simple gas powered cooking surface from where the woman who ran the place produced a simple but delicious  flatbread/pancake combo and sweet mint tea. The language barrier was slightly overcome by gestures and laughter with the odd customer chipping in in French to make for a memorable experience.
Back in the main part of town we were talked in to visiting a womens' cooperative that was producing carpets, rugs and shawls and decided to buy two nice scarves having explained that we had little use for floor coverings. We then enjoyed grilled lamb in a simple cafe on the main road mainly because it smelled too good to refuse.
We drove through very wintry scenes to the Sources de L'Oum er Rbia which I had mixed up with the Cascades D'Ouzoud, again passing some very barren looking villages with frozen fields, sheep grazing on sparse vegetation and shepherds despite this waving amicably. At the Source we arranged with the parking gardien to stay the night but were then caught out by a rogue who offered to walk us up to the springs and then took us for tea by the waterside. He then demanded 150 dirham as payment and turned slightly menacing when we declined - not wishing to create a fuss over what to us is a relatively paltry sum we sent him off with his cash and a strong indication that he was a disgrace. Back at the parking the gardien agreed but we decided not to stay in case he returned after dark and set off in search of a wild camp for the night. Luck was on our side though as a few miles further on a large complex offered camping in its olive groves overlooking the river.

The following day we returned to Azrou where the pass was open and started the long climb through snow drifts in thick fog following a slow and precariously loaded straw wagon. Passing through snow laden cedar trees we saw a few monkeys scampering off and on the elevated plateau many drivers had stopped to experience what for most would be the rare winter conditions.
Sidi Ali a mile off the main road was a lake located in a volcanic crater that provided a lunch stop but a strong cold wind was blowing. Despite this two stray dogs appeared and were grateful for the last of our bread.
Almost magically as we descended towards Midelt the weather cleared and at Zeida we stopped for a walk around the town which sits at the junction of a number of routes before pulling in to Timnay campground with its tree shelter belts, large pitches and clean facilities. We went over to the comfortable restaurant for tea before cooking up steaks and enjoying an early night.

The day dawned bright and sunny on this plateau between the Moyen and High Atlas, the former still fog bound the latter shimmering with hard white snow away to the west.
A side road took us across to El Ahouli, an abandoned township that had once housed 3000 people mining the local lead and silver deposits, where a few people still live in the crumbling remains working smaller veins for these and other metals plus minerals for sale such as quartz and fluorspar. We had crossed a rather rickety bridge to get there and then walked across even more flimsy ones to enter the main drift level using my high powered torch to walk some way inside. Bicycle tyre tracks led away in to the distance with graffiti indicating that the worked areas were another 1500m in - not for us today. We stopped for lunch in the hot sun before on our return picking up an old guy with a large rucksack who was delighted to be dropped off several miles further on and rather humblingly insisted on kissing my hand.

Camping in the dramatic Ziz Gorge at Hotel Jurassic confirmed that we were now in much warmer climes and we walked through newly planted olive and apricot orchards stopping to talk to the owner before returning to the camp ground where the simple, clean facility blocks had hot showers.
The roof terrace of the small hotel had dramatic views of the gorge whose red rocks towered above us whilst the shady central courtyard sported palms and lemon trees.

Yesterday we passed through Er Rachidia - a well laid out modern town with some form of demonstration being closely supervised by large numbers of police and soldiers. After passing numerous new plantings of olives and dates either side of the road, and a solitary camel we arrived at Rekkam Camping in Boudnib. This pleasant place is owned by a French man and his Moroccan wife and provides large flat pitches surrounded by palms with clean and stylish facilities, shady seating areas and a relaxed vibe. After settling in we walked in to town to buy some meat, fruit and veg stopping also to admire the work of a carpenter fabricating kitchen cupboards on the pavement and a well stocked autoparts shack whose proud young owner insisted on a selfie. There was a contented hum around the cafes and small shops as people enjoyed the cool of the evening and we enjoyed the remarkable light cast on the old French Foreign Legion fort that is now in ruins.
Today after a leisurely morning we cycled off to explore the old Boudnib - the Ksir - reached via an almost dried up river bed and pedalled gently through the palmerie meeting children collecting olives, following guys heading out on donkeys to till the land and collecting a substantial number of thorns from the same spiny ground cover that had caught us out in Spain last year. Whilst my tubeless set up coped well Mandy soon had a flat tyre that we pumped up a few times to get us home. We passed through the streets of very basic mud walled houses with kids waving shyly, had a look at the new mosque finished three years ago whose excess and grandeur seemed at odds with the actual living conditions of the locals and eventually walked the last half mile back to Rekkam as the afternoon sun beat down.
Three Danish lads who had been travelling for 3 months in a very basic LWB high top T4 were very friendly and seemed to be enjoying their rather spartan existence - for them today was spring cleaning and a large mound of sleeping bags, clothing, kit and stuff soon appeared. I attended to the bikes and will probably regret not bringing more tyre sealant before we went over to the simple dining area for an evening meal. A good chicken soup, two tajines (one chicken and one meat) and a dessert filled us up and tomorrow we head south to Merzouga for a real flavour of the Sahara on whose edge we currently sit.

The pics are here and locations now and again here - I hope you enjoy them.