Solo in the Anti Atlas

Of note for future trips Agadir Airport is very simple and has flights to the off shore non Moroccan Islands such as the Canaries which would enable you to exit Morocco before the 90 day visa expires and then after a few days in 'Europe' re enter for another 90 days. As airport parking is very secure and right next to the terminal building at £3/night this would seem an excellent solution and it appeared by the number of camper vans and 4x4 expedition vehicles parked up that plenty of people were doing just that. Overnighting in vans seemed to be tolerated as well which bodes well for future early departures as strangely vehicles can stay up to 12 months.

Anyway the flight was on time and in fact arrived almost an hour early in Manchester so Mandy was soon home whilst I negotiated the numerous busy roundabouts of the Agadir peripheral road. This eventually splits with the N8 heading inland to Marrakesh whilst I took the N1 coast road passing a large stretch of tourist development that will inevitably destroy the very reason for coming here. Endless apartments in various stages of completion looked across the beach and bay whilst above Taghazoute which caters for the western surfing brigade stands the Hyatt Place luxury hotel whose heavily irrigated golf course stands out surreally on Google Earth in what I personally regard as an obscenity in a country where water is scarce and many of the rural women spend many hours carting water of dubious quality significant distances just to survive.

After passing Cape Rhir I turned inland stopping to pick up an old guy hefting a huge sack of rice and depositing him at the top of the climb to a dramatic limestone escarpment. A stunning road followed this round for miles and I found a place with excellent views across to the coast to stay the night.

Heading east through stunning scenery I eventually crossed under the main Marrakesh road and parked up in Imi N Tanoute to pick up fruit, veg, milk, eggs, yoghurt, bread and meat for the few days ahead. Whilst returning through the back streets I was tempted by the smell of grilling fish so took a seat in a tiny cafe and enjoyed a plate of grilled small whole fish, a lentil dahl, olives, bread and water for the remarkable price of 30Dhm.

Beyond Amizmiz I took the twisting mountain road over to the salt mines at Azegour and then after collecting another local with a heavy sack took a stunning road over to Iberdaten. As we dropped in to his village the tarmac finished and the road narrowed to a rough sandy track between high walls that almost scraped the mirrors. It got worse as the gradient increased before I reached the dry river bed and took a sharp right after which there were houses on one side and a long drop in to the valley on the other. I was very grateful to have such a compact vehicle as there was nowhere to turn and after a few hundred cautious yards things opened out. From the look of the locals - adults and children alike - I was something of a novelty but still received friendly waves and greetings.

A couple of miles of track led to a pass beyond which lay Adassil but I decided the clearing to one side would do me for the night and as dusk fell was surprised to see four different shepherds and their charges returning from what looked like bare grazing higher in the mountains and a group of cheerful young women bent under heavy loads of fodder and firewood. As so many times before I find it hard to comprehend the joviality and friendliness of people living such harsh lives compared with the social media obsessed and apparently angst ridden youth of the Western world who really would have 'issues' if they had to live with even a fraction of the deprivation that these mountain people endure daily. I am well aware of my privileged status and hope that offering lifts, shopping locally, taking the time to meet people, have a chat and just share our lives may do some good in a divergent world.

The following morning I had decided to attempt a distant summit of some 10,600' that as the crow flies lay 3 miles away. Setting off up a new track carved in to the hillside I soon reached a small hamlet where a number of guys were awaiting the 'Berber bus' , those ancient overloaded Mercedes vans that link these remote villages carrying substantial numbers of people and all manner of goods and produce. They were very friendly and indicated a path that led off uphill and was even shown on my GPS, asking as to whether or not they thought I was mad initiated a variety of responses few of which I really understood but there were cheerful comments and smiles as I headed off soon passing a small school room where my presence distracted a group of small wide eyed infants repeating their numbers in unison.

The next four hours took me over rough ground (with a small diversion as a tethered donkey was threatening to bolt if I got too close and the young girl risked severe injury trying to placate him) before the path ended and I climbed up an increasing gradient towards the snow line. It became exhausting and my rate of progress dropped off a cliff, something I felt prone to as the rocky slopes disappeared to my right. By 2 o'clock with only half a mile and 500' to go I had to call it a day as although if I could have reached the ridge my descent would have (probably) been easier I knew that final stage would take at least an hour. Thus I descended carefully across steep screes and finally staggered back to the van after 8 hours, 6000' of ascent but only 5 miles. As I recovered from one of the hardest walks I've done recently the same shepherds returned from the same barren grazing and the same women came in from a different direction with their heavy loads leaving me truly humbled and reflective.

Returning the next day to Amizmiz via the same tortuous track I then began to climb through the ranges that led over to the Tizi n Test pass which I joined at Ourigaine. I had crossed the river by a bridge that when I was last here had stood bizarrely unfinished but was now freshly painted and incorporated in to the road - a sign that however slowly Morocco is upgrading its infrastructure across many sectors. 

Solar powered water pumps are transforming agriculture on many scales, drinking water quality and availability is improving, the cellular phone network is comprehensive and the road network is improving. Many towns are building water treatment works, a few even have rubbish collections but sadly this latter issue seems to me to be one of the biggest facing the rural population and the long term effects of the plastic being left everywhere are likely to be significant. This and broken glass are to me the main problem areas, metal and paper can be absorbed in to the environment with I assume relatively little harm.

The weather had turned overcast and dull with even a few flurries of sleet at the top of the pass so I descended to the plains and turned off at Aoulouz intending to see if the back road to Toubkal ws open after the enormous rockfall that had prevented me from passing this way last time. As it was evening by now I had intended to stay at a spot overlooking a new reservoir that had only been partially full last time. However not long after parking up a friendly guy knocked on the door and said he thought I was taking a risk as there had been the murder of two Scandinavian girls before Christmas up at Toubkal's main village Imlil, some 30 miles away. I considered his advice carefully, particularly as on leaving he had given me his cousin's adddress who happened to own a campsite in Taliouine.

I think the constant reporting of bad news around the world skews our sense of risk - when things go wrong it is a personal tragedy of course but most homicides are by a known assailant and the press soon forget for example the horror of the insane Anders Breivik who killed the 69 youngsters on a camping trip in Norway.

However I also felt it wise to respect local advice whatever the possible ulterior motive and decided to trundle round to Taliouine and pull in to a small campground - but not the one suggested.

A couple of enormous motorhomes and a Unimog off roader were in situ but otherwise there was plenty of room and I was soon set up, still somewhat fatigued by the rigours of yesterday.

I had read about a good road over to Agadir Melloul and after a false start by the Tom Tom which put me in a mosque courtyard miles from the actual road, much to the amusement of the local mullah, I was heading in to some seriously impressive but desolate mountain scenery. A lunch stop in a dried up river bed was remarkable for the sense of isolation and after crossing the Tizi N Ousour pass I descended passing dozens of beekeeping camps where a hundred or more hives stood adjacent to each beekeeper's tent. From Tisnassmine the road headed south passing a large group of wild camels to Tissinnt where I turned east to arrive at Foum Zguid for the night. Camping Sable D'Or was a bit run down but provided a hot shower and memorable tiled floor and its walls kept the strong winds that accompanied a grey sky at bay.

Next day the dull atmosphere and strong winds decided me against an 80 mile ride along a piste towards Mhamid as the mausoleum that lay that way may not have been adequate reward for what would be a tough ride. (I believe Heike the German cyclist had done the through route but she was an exceptional character and probably almost half my age). Thus I walked in to town for supplies passing a large military complex as the Algerian border is only a few miles to the south and enjoyed a rest.

Heading north to Tazenakht I took a turning east across to Agdz and came across a camping 'a la ferme' that has turned out to be the best of my many camping experiences in Morocco. Situated a mile west of the town on the R108 which had passed a potash and cobalt mine before descending through a superb valley Ferme Maison Tanssift became my base for the next four nights. Run by Corinne and Sayed with the charming Brigitte a fellow camper it had plenty of level space amongst the palms and the most stylish and well kept showers I have encountered. After settling in Corinne invited the two of us to join her and Sayed for a meal that evening - this was a thoroughly enjoyable experience with delicious food - a chick pea soup, grilled fish, olives and bread served with a bottle of Moroccan rose, and whilst the conversations were entirely in French I understood the gist of things with Corinne filling in the gaps with her excellent English. Brigitte was lovely and full of energy with a passion for travel since her retirement some years ago - she tours in a Fiat Ducato motorhome with a tiny dog and has ambitions to ship the van to Oz or South America at some stage. 

The following day I rode in to Agdz and spent a few hours exploring the palmery located in the Draa Valley meeting women washing clothing and carpets in the fast flowing irrigation channels, passing ancient kasbahs, some intact and providing housing or guest accommodation but many crumbling back in to the stones and mud they came from. 

Twenty absorbing miles put me back at the site ready for a couple of hours in the evening sun with the cat making good use of my solar panel - this seems to be maintaining my leisure battery very well as I don't think I've used a hook up for perhaps three weeks and regularly charge batteries, the lap top and other devices plus run the water pump for showering, lighting for perhaps four hours a night and so on. It is only a 40w panel but of course down here the sun is strong, high in the sky and reliable. Incidentally whilst on practical matters I have for the last five weeks been using two biological washing powder tablets in the loo's waste tank and despite the hot weather it seems to keep things fresh whilst also assisting with the decompostion of the contents - much cheaper and easy enough to find in any country. I use the tablets for extra convenience but no doubt loose powder would do.

Yesterday (Thursday) I passed through town as it held its weekly souk intent on exploring the palmeries to the south and had a thoroughly rewarding day. A good road linked the various palmeries which I explored on the intricate network of easily rideable sandy tracks. In the villages the children were delighted to wave and one lad accepted an offer of a tug and was beaming as we flashed past his mates. I crossed the by now dry river bed of the Draa which appears intermittently until way south of Zagora it is lost under the Sahara to appear 300 miles away on the coast just north of Tan Tan - remarkable. 

The newly improved N9 incorporated a decent cycle lane - the first I have seen in Morocco - so I sped along until spotting on my right a huge kasbar on a prominent hill. I turned off and was soon climbing a rocky track to what I thought would be a posh hotel or private dwelling.

To my amazement it was neither being completely empty and despite its robust exterior very much starting to collapse inside. I explored cautiously in case it was out of bounds and was absorbed by the intricate carved pise decorations, remnants of old wall colourings and the substantial internal gateways and towers. A young lad appeared from nowhere who claimed to be the gardien but he was happy to let me explore unaccompanied so I gave him 20DHm before jumping back on the bike and literally losing myself for an hour or two in the palms on my return. 48 rewarding miles put me on track for an 11 hour kip and although I had planned to leave it was tempting to stay another day and thus this rambling reportage has occupied much of it.

I head to Nekob tomorrow with a ride over to see Bab and Ali planned so until the next post enjoy these piccies by clicking here.

West to the Coast

We cycled up the Todra Gorge in perfect conditions, soon escaping the colourful stalls that line the narrowest lower part of the Gorge. A group of live-in buses occupied a dusty gravel pull in - the occupants largely climbers keen to test their skills on the sun drenched rocks but within minutes we had the impressive canyon to ourselves.

A sinuous road on a largely gentle incline took us up in to the High Atlas range with at one point a family living high up on a cliff edge that looked to be a precarious living by many definitions. Several miles further on we looked across to a small hotel and decided to stop on our return so carried on a few miles more to the construction site for the dam we had passed on our way in the day before The security guy in his tent was very friendly and said the 4 year project would result in a 60m high dam that would regulate floodwater and provide irrigation water. He seemed delighted to have stable employment ahead and said he lived a few miles further on in Tamattoucht where I intend to stay in a couple of weeks.
The small hotel was immaculately kept and we enjoyed tea on the sunny terrace taking in the impressive gorge as the rocks changed colour in the setting sun.
An easy downhill soon had us back at the Hotel Atlas where our laundry had dried and we made preparations to move on the following day.

On departure we picked up a cylinder of gas for £5 which would have been £60 back home - they are rather dilapidated Camping Gaz cylinders so I hoped they would fit my regulator as our 2 European cylinders were almost empty and then headed across the Moyen Atlas towards Alnif and then west to Tazzarine passing through stunning but barren mountain scenery with the odd goatherd, several groups of wild camels and some very simple dwellings.

Camp Serdar a few miles south of Tazzarine was reached by a rough track that wound across the desert for several miles - situated behind high walls against the desert winds the large camping area had been extended since my last visit. The works included a new toilet/shower block only opened the previous week - they were of a standard and quality that would put many European sites to shame and the friendly gardien seemed to genuinely remember me from my previous visit. We tucked away in a corner as we had no need for a hook up - with such cheap gas and really only the fridge to run there seemed little point and we enjoyed the hot solar showers before taking a walk across the flat, dusty landscape as the sun set. The local gas cylinder was fitted and worked a treat which is great as it means longer stays off grid are now entirely feasible. Better still by laying the empty GB cylinders on their side I was able to fit all three in to the gas locker which avoids the need to strap one on the bike rack.
Next day we set off on the bikes following the tracks shown on the Satmap 1:25,000 Moroccan mapping and enjoyed the emptiness and far reaching views to sun baked mountains away to the south. Beyond these lie the Algerian border, long since closed which seems such a shame as it denies us the chance to explore another country and those locals a chance to benefit from visitors. Tourism is clearly an important part of Morocco's economy and the people seem to genuinely appreciate our presence and interaction and are always keen to help or advise.
We reached a small marble quarry where the couple of machines lay idle amongst huge blocks of the coloured marble that contained hundreds of fossils best seen when the surface was wetted.

A hot few miles north and a dusty track through a dried up palmery brought us in to Tazzarine where in a cafe at the quieter end of town we enjoyed a superb meal on a shady terrace, good bread, a salad and a meat tagine for two was followed by fruit and coffees for around a tenner.
This fuelled us for the 12 miles back home where more hot showers and an evening walk finished off an excellent day.

We took a road that my old Tom Tom didn't show but which took us across to Zagora through even more remote surroundings where on one occasion we gave a guy a lift in the middle of nowhere to the middle of nowhere and donated a couple of bottles of water to shepherds, also in the middle of nowhere.
On the edge of Zagora we stopped to visit the enormous market spilling across a large area of waste ground, with Mandy buying some earrings from a lady from Mali and the usual huge bag of fruit and veg bought for rock bottom prices. These markets are colourful,absorbing, noisy and stimulating and it is very easy to spend hours at one but we had a fair way to go and headed west towards Tata, stopping briefly at Foum Zguid.

Tata is a popular place for overwintering Europeans in their huge white vans and most of the sites in town looked crowded so we decided to stay in the yard of a hotel that also offered camping and walked in to town to explore the maze of alleys and the various markets. We decided to eat out in a small cafe on a large square and were soon talking to a Moroccan man on a short break away from the snows of the High Atlas. He was very interested in our journey and good company.

Of even greater interest to all of us was the sudden arrival of a tough, wiry and dusty touring cyclist who turned out to be a German lass (Heike) four months in to a four year overland ride to Cape Town. She had last year finished a multi year ride across Asia to Japan and was currently concerned as to how to extend her 90 day Moroccan visa to give her time to get south to Mauritania. Over a good meal we all discussed the various options and enjoyed a good conversation as her English was excellent - however with very little French she had made no progress on the visa extension and was having to consider a brief flight out to Europe  to reboot the visa period.

If you ever need impressing or motivating check out www.pushbikegirl.com 

The road through the Anti Atlas to Igherm was a cracker climbing through tiny villages, passing flowering almond trees and finally reaching the col via a series of tortuous S bends. Igherm is at the junction of a couple of trans Atlas roads so was busy but not crowded - we parked up and walked through the town which seemed to have quite a strong military presence. Down a side street we came across a shoe shop with the most remarkable display of traditional footwear and scarves and had soon bought a few items at the rate the locals pay. A small cafe incongruously playing UK Christmas hits did us a delicious scrambled egg before we dropped towards Tafraoute our next destination.

Mindful that up in the main town sites would be busy we pulled in to an empty courtyard where the toothless smile and warm welcome of the owner was enough to convince us to stay despite everything looking rather run down. Again we tucked away in a shady corner before walking across to explore a couple of the Amelm valley villages on foot passing crumbling ksours and shady palms.The following day we offloaded the bikes and followed the Amelm valley taking side tracks in to the various villages before reaching the road back to Tafraoute. Just before the town we turned right to pick up a dusty track round to the Painted Rocks that provided endless photo opportunities. A few vans were staying up there but we were content just to cycle round (and occasionally climb) the dramatic formations before having tea at a former cafe that looked closed but whose owner seemed very happy to produce a brew for us and two French couples on his simple wood fire.
An easy downhill back to the campsite had us back before dusk - we were pleased to see three other arrivals, one of which was a German couple in a tent who we guessed were getting about by public transport. We got bread, sardines and biscuits from the small shop before watching the sun set on the famous Lion's Face formation visible across the valley on the impressive cliffs. In a touching link with one of my favourite parts of mid Wales a fellow bothy enthusiast is currently writing a climbing guide to this amazing area but unfortunately this year our visits did not coincide.

With Mandy's month here coming to a close we headed west again and then south to reach Amtoudi where the main attractions are two huge fortified grain stores (agadirs) set high above the village on rocky outcrops. The campground was as before supervised by the ever attentive deaf mute gardien who through hand gestures can of course 'converse' in any language. We parked up with a perfect view of the main agadir (grain store) and then walked along the gorge floor to the village to explore the streets and passages that by now were in the welcome shade. 
During the day we have been experiencing temperatures in the mid twenties and single figures at night with almost zero humidity which has been very comfortable.
After breakfast outside we walked up to the main agadir following a group of French tourists who had hired mules - somewhat unnecessary as it is less than an hour's walk and later we noticed that they were too afraid to ride back down so walked whilst their amused guides took to the saddle.
The old gardien took six of us round the impressive structure with dozens of tiny rooms leading off dark passages, numerous stone beehives and pigeon coops. Water was collected from all the flat surfaces in to a cistern and touchingly several small round pools were incorporated to provide water for the bees. It was a fascinating experience enhanced by the cordiality of the two French couples and we took full advantage of the panoramic viewpoint looking back to the camp area and dusty plains beyond.
Returning by an alternative path we reached the gorge and decided to follow the concrete irrigation channel until its source at the river and then follow the intermittent river through the superb gorge. Occasional pools contained various fish and dozens of small frogs leapt in ahead of us. The guide books mention waterfalls and we now realise that these are the first cascades reached along the route that involve a steep climb up one side rather than a huge single drop waterfall that we expected. We walked another couple of miles before turning round as the valley penetrates many miles in to the mountains and we were rather hot and thirsty.
A German couple we had passed were now swimming in a pool - clearly oblivious to the risk of bilharzia that is endemic in the area. Back at the village we collected bread and a refreshing soft drink before arriving quite gratefully at the van for a relaxing evening.
I decided to give my old pair of binoculars to the gardien as sight was his only usable sense - he was very grateful and waved us off as we took the road south and then west to Guelmin which the sat nav bypassed to put us on what it thought was the way in to Fort Bou Jerif. However it didn't look familiar to me and after a few miles the road descended in to a valley that had been badly affected by flooding 5 years ago leaving the road impassable. Thus we turned round and on our way out found the tiniest of shops to get bread and water in an area where huge amounts of fruit and veg are grown under cover for export to Europe.
Using the Maps.me app on my phone I worked out the right track we should take and soon we were off on the rough 14km track to Fort Bou Jerif.
This remarkable complex is miles from anywhere and springs out of the harsh rocky terrain like a mirage. A diesel generator provides the power with water from a borehole and a large courtyard accommodating rooms, a small restaurant, elegant function room and set to one side a small but very beautiful hotel.
It was clean and well kept with good toilets and showers and as we were the only guests we chose a spot away to one side where we could enjoy the next three days. We walked down to see the old French Foreign Legion fort that was built in 1935 and only occupied for 30 years. It is huge with three distinct areas, one a large parade ground, then a collection of rooms and stores and finally a central garrison with motor inspection pit, officers quarters and the munitions store. With the setting sun and isolation it was a very moving and thought provoking experience. Down at the river a couple off road trucks were parked up, somewhere to consider for a future visit although mozzies might be a problem and the surprisingly loud croaking of frogs might eventually prove tiresome.........
Back at the camp we settled down outside to enjoy the sunset and then amazing starscape, particularly impressive after 11pm when the genny stopped running and all light was extinguished.
The next day after an early morning sea mist had burnt off we were away on the bikes heading for the coast at Foum Assakka which was at the end of the flood damaged road from yesterday. The Satmap took us along a mixture of tracks and trails - some with deep sandy sections, some very rocky but all generally rideable. It was gloriously sunny - again - but with more humidity due to the coastal influence.

A steep drop down to a bridge that meets the new road in to Foum Assaka from Sidi Ifni 20 miles north then put us on the last half mile of track to the tiny beach side hamlet. Numerous half finished buildings and a few occupied ones gave the place a very low key affair and the owner of the simplest cafe imaginable produced an excellent squid tagine for me and grilled fish with rice for Mandy. The bill was beyond reasonable and he explained his plans to enlarge the cafe to include a panoramic roof terrace and possibly one day rooms to rent. As access from Sidi Ifni is good now I hope his plans will succeed as he had four young children to support and the location was stunning. We pushed the bikes back up to the cliff top, diverting briefly to a look out point with amazing views before retracing our route back to FBJ for another starry night. Two other vans had arrived including a German family with 2 young children in a Land Rover based camper, it looked very cramped and both parents were particularly loud in the desert stillness.
Our final day was one of rest and recovery with the tempting pool proving a little too cool yet but we sorted through photos, dealt with the loo, gave the shower a good clean, changed the gas (one cylinder having provided showers, hot water, cooking and the fridge for a week at a cost of £5) and did a couple of loads of hand washing which quickly dried in the hot sun and gentle breeze.
We also lazed in the shade of a stone semicircular structure with comfy cushions on stone benches and bright rugs forming the roof where sweet mint tea was thoroughly appreciated.
We had arranged to eat in the small restaurant and although delicious it was priced at more European levels - I had a camel tagine whilst Mandy settled for more conventional grilled chicken.
A 4WD T5 high top camper had turned up with another Land Rover based camper and I was glad that trade continued for this amazing place - the Paris-Dakar Rally used to pass through but the politics of North Africa means that this event is now I think based in South America. After dark we walked down to the old fort again with the ruins looking dramatic against the moonlit sky with nothing to disturb the silence.
We decided to leave via a different route as part of our bike ride had brought us out on a piste that the Satmap indicated would take us out to tarmac and this in fact proved to be a much easier route out than the bone jarring way we had come in. Bulldozers and graders were improving the sandy track and we kicked up a lot of dust - reminiscent for me of the Outback almost a decade ago and we needed to power though the odd section of deep sand but the sealed road was reached and we were soon on the way to Guelmime.
Here we went to a branch of the only Moroccan supermarket chain - Marjane - and were amazed at the variety of goods and produce available. 90% of the clientele were European vanners but we only bought some essentials that are hard to find in the small villages as we much prefer to shop daily for the freshest fruit, veg and bread. The town seemed very hectic as we passed through - traffic weaves and wobbles without apparent incident but any notion of driving in a polite western style has to be abandoned as the locals just don't expect it.
I nipped in to a satellite TV store to get my data allowance topped up - £16 for 20Gb as the same allowance had lasted almost a month. Having internet access, Whatsapp, email, mapping, Spotify and the BBC Sounds service available almost everywhere has been an absolute bargain for around 50p per day. Morocco's 3G service is remarkably comprehensive as most of the population have skipped the old copper wire technology and masts are near almost every town.

We took the road out to Sidi Ifni where the crowded overwinter campsites start in earnest and only stopped briefly for lunch above the port before heading north and taking a rough side track down to a cliff top for a night wild camping. Out to sea almost a hundred small sardine boats were bobbing on the gentle swell and we enjoyed the view as the sun set with just one interruption from an old guy walking south with all his belongings in a simple shoulder sack. He was very grateful for a bottle of water and the four pain au chocolat we offered and hobbled off as the sky darkened.

So today has been our last full day together and after a lazy breakfast outside we drove to Tiznit, parked under the watchful eye of an old gardien and explored the large walled town with its maze of alleys and numerous small shops. There is a jewellery quarter with dozens of tiny shacks displaying tray after tray of intricate rings, brooches, necklaces and bangles and a clothing and garments section with every colour imaginable on display. It all felt very relaxed and we spent a fair time ambling round before settling in a cool side street for a lunch that cost £4 for salad, paninis and chips, soft drinks and water.
A final hour north to Agadir has put us on a small campsite within half an hour of the airport ready for Mandy's departure to Manchester tomorrow. We called in briefly to get our bearings and were pleased to find it is small, compact and well signposted which should make the logistics of tomorrow quite straightforward.
My onward plans are fluid as I have 5 weeks until I fly back from Malaga in late March so I expect to spend another month over here and then return to Spain as the van will need an oil change and I would like to catch up with the friends recovering from a pre Christmas accident.

Thus pictures from the above can be seen here and I will try to report my locations over the next few weeks here.