Last week in Morocco then Spain and the Sierra Nevada.

So : Meknes...... A brilliantly central place to stay enabled me to do justice to this fascinating city with a walk through the stunning Bab Mansour gateway bringing me out in to the main square where from early evening people gather to socialise, small stalls selling a variety of street food materialise and a variety of acts from an ostrich via boxing, bands and henna stalls to monkeys and a raucous Maroc Telecom promotional van filled the evening with an atmospheric air and bustle. I walked round absorbing it all before discovering the covered market with its fabulous displays of colourful stacked spices, olives and fruits. I stopped for a spicy sausage burger loaded with coriander and eventually returned to the parking for a very good night's rest.

A long walk around the perimeter of the Royal Golf Course brought me to the site of a huge agricultural symposium with enormous marquees being erected for the big event next month - apparently it draws a million visitors annually and was initially proposed by the king to encourage new thinking towards this important element of Morocco's economy.
A little further on was the site of the now defunct Meknes campsite and nearby was the site of the old royal granary and stables. A few dirham saw me inside to first encounter enormous store rooms each with vaulted ceilings whose walls were thick enough to maintain a stable year round temperature similar to caves. In the stabling area water was raised by horse power from a huge lake alongside and apparently these impressive remains are one seventh of the original as much was destroyed by the same earthquake that raised Lisbon to the ground.
The famous mausoleum was closed for 'works' but I was more than happy to disappear in to the complex maze of streets and alleyways in the old medina that lies within the many miles of the enormous city wall.
Emerging eventually near Bab Mansour I then disappeared in to the many souks that largely divided themselves in to food selling, metal working, woodworking, jewellery and clothing and thoroughly enjoyed the immersive experience.

Back at the van I decided to stay in as the wind had picked up & indeed later there were a few showers of rain, the first for many weeks.
From Meknes I headed north east to Taounate avoiding Fez & finding some very empty roads before taking the sinuous R505 to Ketama stopping briefly at a small workshop to get the rear wheel raised so I could remove the broken spring pig tail that had been giving me an authentic Moroccan rattle over every bump for weeks.

Again the Rif were spoilt by the leering idiots in cars who overtook, slammed on the brakes gesticulated and generally acted like arses trying to sell me some hash - it is a great pity as it really does deter me from exploring what is an absolutely stunning area of mountains and valleys. There had been some heavy showers and just before Ketama a large souk was dispersing for the day with everything looking rather sodden.
I glimpsed the Med in the distance and eventually crossed the N16 as the sat nav set me on the route to Kalah Iris. WARNING - do not approach this place on the piste from the west unless you have a Unimog with the optional super low ratios and super high suspension - you will not get through. Suffice to say the many miles of steep, rough, loose piste with tight hairpins was one of the most challenging I have driven and with nowhere to turn and no hope of reversing I ploughed on absolutely astounded by the abilities of my FWD T4. From the highest point and where I could have turned round I could see the village a couple of miles further on so cautiously descended passing one section that I knew I would not be able to return up but fortunately I eventually reached the delightful Kalah Iris campsite - a small enclosed area right on the cliff edge with stunning views. The owner didn't seem to believe I had come in that way but soon had me parked up with one French, one UK and two German vans nearby.
It was a spectacular location and as the sun set fishing boats from the small port began to haul in their nets and return to base on a calm sea.

I spent the next day walking in to the village and having a sort out of tickets, vehicle import forms and the like as I had decided to head to Tangier the following day - Saturday.
Thus I was back on the N16 the following morning via a much better road and followed its swoops and curves all the way to Tetouan from where I took my first toll road - a few kilometres of motorway heading towards Ceuta with sporadic tourist development spread out along the coast. The Ceuta border point was teeming but I managed to avoid the worst and was soon on the last miles to Tangier Med with Spain and the Rock tantalisingly close.
I might have caught the 3 o'clock ferry but for the usual slow Customs Scanner so parked up as directed for the 6 o'clock departure only for us all then to be moved to another dock for loading. The FRS guy rather unexpectedly asked me for my outbound tickets but I had cleared out the last of what I thought would be unnecessary paperwork at the other dock so had to drive back there, root through the  bin and then return at speed - a good lesson learnt about being too ruthlessly tidy with documentation.

However we were all soon loaded and the last of the HGV's boarded - they seem to operate on a standby system so only load after the scheduled departure time meaning the boat is always late.
Thus it was after dark when we arrived in Algeciras and the Spanish Customs were being somewhat thorough making me a bit late to be pulling in to the camp site at Tarifa. Fortunately I knew of a large free camping area nearby and was soon parked up grateful for the self contained facilities this van provides and quietly reflective on what another superb experience Morocco had given me.
I pulled in to the campsite mid morning, put two loads of laundry in and then gave the van a good sweep out before walking out to the beach for a lingering look across to Tangiers - I will go back as the country has become very special to me but for now there were practical matters to address.
The new van has proved to be as tough and dependable as the old - my main reason for sticking with the VW T4 but the superb engine which pulls me around does not lend itself to roadside oil changes and although only due every 10,000 miles I have been away 6 months and the clock was ticking.
Thus on the Monday I set the sat nav for the VW main dealer in Malaga where the friendly Reuben booked me in for Thursday 9am. I then headed out past the airport to a motorhome dealer who allows a month's parking and the option to actually camp at either end for people returning to the UK. 70 euros seemed a good deal as he has 24 hour security and sorts out a taxi to the airport so I agreed to return the following week.

So with a couple of days to spare I headed away from the busy coast to Antequera up in the hills and parked alongside a few other vans on the edge of town. It was a lovely place to spend a couple of days with a number of beautiful churches, the impressive castle and some UNESCO dolmens a short walk out of town. With temperatures in the high 20's I was glad of a cool beer near the impressive bullring and the small fan I keep in the van. I am amazed that Spain seems to be able to employ large numbers of gardeners, street cleaners, various orders of police forces and have lively active high streets with few vacant shops, plenty of cafes and bars and the bigger supermarkets as well - it seems to contrast sharply with our rundown scene at home - where do we spend all our civic revenues?
On the Wednesday I decided to check out the Camino del Rey at El Chorro as their website seemed to indicate that every day was fully booked for weeks ahead and as I arrived I was surprised at the large number of visitors - many come up on day trips from the coastal resorts so most tickets are block booked and as I couldn't even book for when we are back in late April ( I guess because it is Easter - one of Spain's great holiday times) It will have to wait until an off season visit one winter.

I drove across a couple of the dams to find a site for lunch and then dropped down to Torremolinos where overnight parking is tolerated almost on the beach in the access spurs to an as yet unfinished housing complex. I walked along the beach with its towering hotel and apartment blocks and failed to see the attraction of this popular resort despite the long stretches of sand and the blue of the Med.
After a very quiet night I was soon booked in at the garage and two hours later for what seemed quite a wedge of wonga both oil and filter were done and I was away once more.
I had decided to return to the Alpujarras after more than a decade and after failing to find anywhere that stocked Campingaz (it was so easy in Morocco) I eventually passed through Orgiva after a fast dash along the coastal motorway. From here a steady climb brought me to the second highest village in Spain, Capileira, high above the Poqueira valley and tucked in to the slopes of the Sierra Nevada.
Above the village was a quiet parking area with extensive views back to the Med and once settled in I walked down to the 'pueblo blanco' for a refreshing beer. I had been considering a local walk along the valley but a more ambitious plan was forming and I returned to the van to consult my books, the web and my GPS.
I took the mountain road as high as is permitted and parked up. From there I cycled some 6 miles climbing 2,500' to the point where in the summer a minibus relays people for the start of the 6 mile round trip and another 2,500' walk to the summit of Mulhacen the highest mountain on the Iberian Peninsular at 3,400m. From the Mirador de Trevelez  I could see that the low winter snowfalls (as seen in the High Atlas) mean that an ascent of this summit was feasible for the following day. The return ride took twenty minutes as opposed to ninety up so I was back in time to enjoy the panoramic views from the picnic area and see the refuge warden's 4x4 pass the barrier and head on up for the weekend. Later on a few cars arrived and walkers set off on the 3 hour walk to the refuge so I expect to have company somewhere along the route.

It was a fresh night up there at around 7,000' but the Eberspacher was quietly running so all was well.







Since writing the above the mighty Mulhacen has indeed been achieved - more than a decade since my first attempt which was thwarted by high winds after a long walk up from Trevelez.
I followed the plan and rode up to the high point - the Alto de Chorillo - once more, locked the bike up and set off on the five hour return trip to the summit. Perfect conditions and an obvious path brought me to Mulhacen 2 meeting en route a guided group of young Brits who were descending and staying at the Poqueira Refuge. Shortly afterwards I spotted some shy ibex moving slowly across the stony screes.
From there another half mile and several hundred feet with the last section crossing some slushy snow brought me to the rocky summit where a couple of moufflon were in residence but otherwise I had this remarkable vantage point to myself. To the NW lay the city of Granada, to the SW the Rif mountains of Morocco were just visible, to the SE along the coast of Almeria what looked like a great band of snow was in the fact the vast expanses of polythene for the horticulture that so dominates (and ruins) that area and to the east lay the valley containing Trevelez.

The return walk was straightforward enough and the fast return by bike required an extra layer despite the clear skies and full sun.
Back at the van I decided to stay a second night and opened a bottle of red - my first wine in two months - by way of celebration but as is often the case after a day's exertion had trouble getting to sleep later that night.

So today after a comfortable night I returned to Capileira where just before the village an air ambulance was landing in a cloud of dust to meet a waiting road crew - with such slow and winding mountain roads between these villages such a service must be vital. A route through more of the pueblos blancos (Bubion, Pitres, Capilerilla and Busquistar) brought me to the campsite at Trevelez where I drove up to one of the terraces with its stunning views and pitched up.
Hook up, a tank of fresh water, and the cassette emptied put me perfectly organised to spend two nights here with the likelihood of a walk in to the village tomorrow although there is hint in the forecast of an unsettled afternoon.

With my return to the UK on Thursday this will be the last post for a couple of weeks.

Next post probably from the UK so enjoy this lot  finishing off Morocco and this lot covering Spain.

North Across the Atlas

It was only a short hop along to Nkob and then a couple of km north on a good piste brought me to Camping Auberge Bassou which is well kept and pleasantly run by a French lady and her Moroccan husband. Perhaps understandably therefore all the guests were French, mostly in large vans with trailers on the back for a variety of quads and dune buggies. The facilities were good and on a hot afternoon I was content to stay cool and fresh in the van with all windows and vents open but the fly screens across to deter intruders.
Early next morning a group of the quaddies set off to explore the local area after which peace resumed once more and I prepared my bike for the day's ride. In such dusty conditions oil does more harm than good on the chain and with a rocky route ahead I dropped the tyre pressures slightly before setting off with oranges and 3 litres of water towards the Jbel Saharo whose tough terrain had thwarted my ambitions in 2015 and led to us limping home with suspension trouble.
The GPS showed the track accurately and after a steep climb I had a panoramic view in to the palm lined valley with its string of dusty villages. It was a pleasure to ride through and meet people, at one stage I raced a youngster whilst balancing his tiny brother on my crossbar much to their amusement and after a couple of hours reached a spot where I had camped 4 years ago. It was even at that time just a dusty patch of level ground with a couple of huts and a hole in the floor loo but now even this was gone but nearby a small brightly painted school was evidence of this nation's determination to improve the lot of rural communities, especially the largely illiterate girls and womenfolk.

I took a track heading west that climbed towards the two rocky outcrops known as Bab and Ali which then became a rough footpath at the top of the pass before improving as I descended ever faster towards a distant village. En route I passed a beekeepers tent with its many hives before picking up another piste that headed south, climbed steeply for a mile or two and then gave me a fast descent back to the campsite. 


A Merc bus full of people and goods with at least half a dozen guys on the roof was lumbering along the track and all gave a friendly wave as we passed in the dust. Later the quad brigade roared in but were soon all tucked away in their vans and peace reigned once more.
Another short hop took me back to Camp Serdrar south of Tazzarine, a place that is always good to return to but this time I wanted to make use of their new washing machine to deal with accumulated laundry. The site was fuller than last time but the modest dimensions of the van saw me tucked away beneath the palms in a quiet corner. Leaving the washing to dry I rode back out to the road and then headed west for about 15km on a piste that was rough to begin with but much improved as it followed a palm lined valley via sandy track. The isolated village of Ait Ouaazik is the site of 'prehistoric rock carvings' claimed to be some 5000 years old and whilst the simple images of antelope, giraffe, rhino, fishing baskets, a sundial and basic hunting weapons were fascinating I'm pretty sure that they had at the very least been 'enhanced' with a modern pointy thing. Anyway the young guy in his stone hut was very pleasant and explained the images very well - he also answered my question as to what was growing in the area that needed polythene cloches in such heat - namely watermelon whose early growth needs protection from the cool overnight temperatures. Further research later revealed that Morocco is the world's 12 largest producer of watermelons with most of the 50,000 tons exported to France and production increasing by 250% in recent years - amazing considering that it is presumably a water dependent crop.

The return journey was enhanced by a group of camels grazing in the valley and a friendly guy balancing a large bag of oranges on his moped who insisted on me having a few.
The following day I rode the few hot miles over the hammada to Tazzarine for a tagine at the excellent small cafe we used last time and returned mostly via the smooth tarmac until a point where using the GPS I cut across the desert to reach Serdrar having lopped 4 miles off the journey. 
Back on the road I had met an Australian architect from Melbourne, Jack, who was cycling from Marrakesh to Prague over the next few months - we had a good chat and I offered him a lift across to Spain if our dates coincide as I will have a spare return passenger ticket.
On leaving Tazzarine I wasted some time returning towards Nkob as I had been told there was a new road across the Djebel Saharo heading north but I found no trace of it so took the standard route over to Tineghir, stopping only to exchange a gas bottle - some outlets seem tied to a specific supplier but others will exchange any brand but it would seem Total is a fairly popular one and of course their filling stations would stock it. A diesel top up confirmed a steady mpg in the mid forties and I pulled in to the Hotel Atlas once more only to find it more or less full. Not wishing to be squeezed in I decided to head up the Todra gorge and seek an alternative at Tamtatouchte. After securing the Go Pro to the windscreen and hooking up via wifi and the app to my phone I set off up this impressive gorge noting en route that the cluster of live in vans from last time had moved on - perhaps the local gendarmes had decided that the precedent might harm the tourist trade.
Work on the new dam was progressing and in the village I took a steep rough track up to a partly finished hotel and camping area that had the most remarkable view back over the village but little else going for it. The friendly owner showed me round the hotel which may one day be stunning if it gets finished - certainly the ensuite rooms he showed me were of a good standard.
He brought  tea over and then pointed out the limit to which the dam waters were expected to reach, some agricultural land and a few homes would be lost but he felt the benefits to the area as a whole would outweigh this.
It was a superb vantage point and I scanned the village with binoculars watching the life on the flat roofs that is rarely seen, noting shepherds bringing their flocks down from the rocky slopes to the south and watching a young couple booking in to a basic looking auberge whose rooms were unlikely to be as cosy as the van would be that night. At around 5000' the nights were fresh and the heater kept me comfortable in the evening and first thing before the sun warmed things up after eight.
With far less snow on the tops than on previous visits I had no qualms about taking the Tizzi Tirherhouzzine that reaches almost 9000' and was pleased with the sturdy power of this van that took the ascent mostly in third - the previous van had also coped but needed frequent changes down to second or even first.

I stopped to offer assistance at a broken down car at the top of the pass - they had not checked their coolant, boiled over and by the lack of compression on turn over had clearly blown the engine. With little else to do other than leave them 5l of drinking water they were facing a lengthy wait for assistance which they were busy arranging by phone - again the network availability across Morocco is remarkable.
Soon after Agdoul I reached Imilchil and 5km north of there pulled in to the superbly located but somewhat careworn Auberge Tislite whose sole but major attraction was its location on the shore of the beautiful Lac Tislite. I parked up on the shoreline with a remarkable view across to distant peaks and the water a brilliant shade of blue. There was a fresh wind  but I parked to give me a perfect view with shelter, opened up the solar panel and  enjoyed a few hours in the sun after a spectacular drive.
Overnight temperatures dropped below freezing so I was glad to have secured the thermal screens around the cab windows and doubled up the down sleeping bag but a bright day dawned once more as I set off around this lake to head towards the larger Lac de Isa. Here I met group of Moroccan lads from Casablanca who were on a camping trip but had been very cold overnight camping by the first lake.
Again it was a very beautiful scene and I followed the track for a few more miles before it dropped down a valley crossing the stream several times before after a short gorge a small village appeared, miles from anywhere. I decided to explore further another time and returned to the van passing a few shepherds, women collecting brash for firewood with their donkeys and a large French 4x4 camper based on the Iveco Daily.
I woke after another comfortable night despite sub zero temperatures on my 59th birthday and enjoyed contact with friends and family before taking a series of tracks down and round to Imilchil where I celebrated with a hefty meat tagine and met the camping lads who were heading home. The busy village has on the outskirts a mobile medical unit and it was sobering to see the many people queueing patiently outside for medical care, we take our own access to top quality health care for granted and I was quietly grateful for the interventions that sorted me out 8 years ago and Mandy only last year.
Reluctantly on the Saturday I headed north and down on a sinuous road that after a couple of hours reached the main road linking Fes and Marrakesh. Turning right brought me in to Khenifra for a cash point and surprisingly a modest Carrefour supermarket where the range of goods came as a sharp contrast to the last few weeks buying fresh meat, fruit and veg plus bread, milk and yoghurt from the markets and village shacks. It struck me that much of what we buy at supermarkets is mass produced, usually highly processed junk food that is largely unnecessary so I was glad to throw in the biscuits, Pringles and some camembert as life's too short!
I had decided to head for the lake up in the cedar forests of the Middle Atlas mountains and climbed steadily away from Khenifra before turning left to Aguelmame Azigza where I had stayed on my first trip in 2013. It was as lovely as before but the nomadic Berber families were very much settled in around the lake with their livestock, tents and belongings so I felt it inappropriate to intrude and retraced my route for a couple of miles to a large level grassy clearing in the woods that was a popular picnic place for families from Khenifra. It was a great atmosphere as children played whilst parents cooked on open fires but as the sun set everyone left leaving just myself and a couple of live in trucks tucked away. One family had managed to flatten their battery playing music so I nipped across with the jump leads and they were soon on their way.
It was a memorable place to stay the night and with no urgency to my timetable I decided to stay another day and used the GPS to plan a route following the many forest tracks on a roughly 35 mile circuit. As I was re inflating my tyres as I expected to be on mostly hard surfaces two young boys came over very shyly and showed me their rather soft footballs - the look of sheer delight as they became far more footy friendly was worth a million dirham and their Dad called out gratefully as I headed off.
The ride was superb passing a couple of lakes where Berber families were in residence - behind each tent was an enclosure of thorn branches for the overnighting of livestock - and I noticed a well with windlass was alongside each camp. The ride followed a long fertile valley before climbing back in to the hills and after several rewarding hours I was back as the last of the families were departing. I noticed a German lorry head towards the Aguelmame and sure enough  he was back shortly and pulling in rather closer to me than absolutely necessary given the size of the area available. However they were very quiet and we had a good chat in the morning - they have been over for 8 weeks and were also heading slowly north.

I took the mountain roads towards Azrou that had been cold and snowy 6/7 weeks ago and stopped briefly at a point where a troupe of shy Barbary apes were skittering around in the tree tops before arriving at Camping Amazigh that had looked so bleak in the hail and sleet. It was now warm and sunny and I took the opportunity to give the van a good clean, especially the shower enclosure as I had opted for hook up and had plenty of hot water on tap. The loo was emptied and water tanks filled as I didn't anticipate using a site for a few days but I had a poor night's sleep thanks to a distant dog that yelped from dusk till dawn and then didn't make a sound.
I took a very indirect route from Azrou to Meknes by heading west and then north via Oulmes passing through a very different scenery strangely reminiscent of the Yorkshire Wolds with dry limestone valleys, rolling hills and almost no traffic. At one point we had to wait as two tractors struggled to recover an HGV from a ditch but before long I was on the outskirts of Meknes slightly concerned about dealing with city traffic after so many weeks out in the sticks. However the city is well laid out and I was soon following the huge walls of the Royal Golf course that form part of the Imperial Palace as directed by various soldiers to reach after a very tight right turn through an arch the area that serves as an aire for Meknes. The parking gardien asked me to wait a few minutes until a space was vacated after which he saw me in to a tight spot tucked between a large Iveco 4x4 camper and a German motorhome. At 50MAD a night (£4) with such good supervision from the many guards, soldiers and police it appeared to be an excellent spot for a couple of nights. The report on Meknes will appear next time, possibly from Spain as I leave this amazing country within the week.

Photos re the foregoing appear here.

Long term readers will be familiar with my involvement with the event below : last year was a no show for me but I aim to be back in time to attend this year. I will probably be lurking around the campsite ensuring everything runs smoothly and may even give a presentation or two.

It is a well run and hugely enjoyable event with good discounts for signing up early.

Have a look at the website and make a date in your diary.