BACK ATLAS (T)........

 We left Tarifa early planning to stock up in a Spanish supermarket only to find that it was Andalucia Day and everywhere was shut - hey ho we were hardly desperate so arrived at the eerily quiet port in plenty of time. In fact plenty of time as it turned out as although we weren't actually informed the ferry was running three hours late. Anyway as always the time soon passed and we watched the HGVs reversing on to the lower decks before we were directed on to a middle deck with perhaps another ten vehicles.

Departure past the cranes of Algeciras and then the Rock of Gibraltar was as exciting as ever and we were soon in the short queue to fill in the white immigration card and have our passports stamped by Moroccan Police.

After disembarking we were directed in to a line for the large HGV mounted scanner that passes over vehicles to scan their contents and look for stowaways. The officials also asked for the Carte Grise or V5 and this was duly returned with a small white card. Moving a few hundred metres on to the Customs Shed we were asked to wait perhaps ten or fifteen minutes but not actually searched, unlike a Moroccan car and trailer full of secondhand vehicle parts who were told to offload everything.

That was that then and we pulled up at a row of booths offering currency exchange, ATMs and the all important vehicle insurance. Passport and V5 were copied and a Certificate issued valid for 90 days and costing 200 euros - far less than I had expected. The guy's mate also fixed me up with a Moroccan SIM, set it up on the phone and even put our destination in to Google Maps for us. £20 covered the SIM and 20 Gig so as in Spain and Portugal we will use an old phone to create a hotspot thus saving roaming fees which here are an outrageous £5/day.

 

We set off over the hills passing the security fencing of Ceuta and arriving at dusk at Cabo Negre where a hotel offered camping on a series of grass terraces. It felt amazing to be back as had insurance not been available Brexit rules would have seen me home in a week...... We soon adapted to the Moroccan driving style and arrived the following day at the rather shabby campsite in Chefchaouen high above the town. The electrics were as dodgy as ever and the facilities as run down but we were as always warm and comfortable in the van so walked down to town for a few hours exploring the maze of streets in the blue quarter, taking tea above the market in the newer quarter and returning after dark through the old Jewish cemetery.

A drizzly morning saw us heading off for the few hours drive to a campsite I used a decade ago near the Roman ruins of Volubilis. We stopped at Ouazzane for a walk round and ended up in the old souk with its maze of streets and numerous shops and workshops, market day was starting to pack up and the donkeys were eating up the vegetable scraps. I was surprised to see a guy in a shack using an old typewriter to compose a letter for an elderly couple as generally Morocco seems to have adapted to the digital age and their 3G coverage puts the UK to shame.

The site near Moulay Idris had obviously seen some rain but we got on and off OK, filled with water and dealt with the loo before heading round to nearby Volubilis which is about 100 acres of the ruins of an important city of the Roman Empire. There were superb mosaics, graceful arches, latrines, fountains and swimming pools, olive oil presses with grooved floors and slaughterhouses with the same as well as two huge gateways at either end of the very obvious main street that would have had galleries either side full of shops and businesses. Entry was a fiver each and there was no pressure to have a guide - already I get the impression that people have been advised to ease off persistently harassing tourists which makes the whole experience much pleasanter. A late lunch on the cafe terrace was delicious  and a short drive later we were following the huge walls of the Royal Golf Course in Meknes to the guarded parking in the centre. Before taking a walk through the medina we visited the impressive mausoleum of Moulay Ismail where we were allowed in and were mesmerised by the chanting in an adjacent room. The huge Bab Mansour gateway was undergoing restoration but a large and very convincing banner had been put across the scaffolding to recreate the impressive sight. Similarly the large square opposite was being refurbished so was much reduced in size but still contained a melee of cafes, acts, monkey photo opportunities and locals just enjoying the sunny evening. We disappeared in to the souk once more to be enthralled by the level of activity in both workshops and on the street stalls with almost everything available from shoes to sugar and prams to potatoes. We emerged near Bab Mansour, declined a kebab but bought some fresh berries and dropped these back to the van before heading out once more to experience the whole scene again after dark.

 

Next day before leaving we bought two full gas cylinders, that match the Camping Gaz 907s in size, weight and regulator but only cost £4 each ( upwards of £65 in the UK). We will use these for the rest of this trip and will exchange where possible for about a pound or just buy a full cylinder and give the empty one to rural families who will genuinely appreciate a spare.We took a final walk over to the souk on a hot morning, sampled a glass of sugar cane juice and then set off to climb in to the Moyen Atlas soon reaching the high plateau with its giant Cedar trees.

Round at Aguelmame Azigza where I had wild camped a decade ago it was all change with a large Berber gathering very much settled in as efforts have been made to improve their lot in a changing world. There was a large car park beyond which a row of sturdy shacks had been erected to offer outlets for crafts and refreshments. After enjoying encounters with the Barbary monkeys during our walk round the lake we stopped at a small cafe whose owner was beside herself that we had called. Hot sweet tea and flat breads were enjoyed and her children shyly watched us from inside.

Overnighting in the car park was not allowed but I had stayed out amongst the trees a couple of miles away four years ago so we soon tucked discreetly away on the edge of the woods as dusk fell. We were just turning in when two German ladies arrived - they were part of a group of four in a large hired camper that had got stuck in a muddy section. We walked over to inspect and I then produced a shovel and four rescue mats and after a bit of digging we had them out safely. They insisted we took a bottle of wine which was kind and we all retired to spend a remarkable night in the peace and quiet.

 

 

A stunning drive took us down on to the plains for a while before the two hour climb through the High Atlas to Imilchil where we pulled in to the Auberge Tislit I had last visited four years ago. As they draw water from the lake and deter foreigners from drinking it we nipped the few miles in to Imilchil itself to get some diesel and fill up with water at the service station, as well as bread and a couple of cakes.

Back at the Auberge it appeared the lady was running it on her own and whilst very friendly and kind she seemed to worry constantly. We assured her that we were OK with the local kids and that we doubted our solar panel or bikes would be nicked and then set off to walk round the stunning lake with its backdrop of snow capped mountains. A couple of vans were parked on the shore but we feel that it is only fair to use sites where available and at about £6/ night it is worth it for the security alone.

The following day she brought fresh bread to the door after which we jumped on the bikes to cycle the 6/7 miles to the larger lake on a sunny fresh day crossing the bleak 7000' plus landscape. Surprisingly after Lake Islit the stony track became firm gravel as the road descended a gorge. Four years ago it had criss crossed the river but now followed one side of the gorge to a point where last time I had stopped on the edge of a tiny village. This time we continued to the end of the road passing a group loading perhaps 150 sheep by hauling them on to the upper deck of an open topped lorry. 

 

Just as were turning round a young woman called out to us in Berber which of course we didn't understand but she was both persistent and friendly and beckoned us to follow. She led the way to her home and pointed us inside. Here in a simple mud floored room with a stove and rugs at one end we were indicated to sit after removing our shoes and she proceeded to produce tea, bread and olive oil. She declined to join us (we later found out that strict Muslims fast on Mondays and Thursdays) but she was obviously delighted that we had stayed. With of course a huge language barrier I showed her some photos on my phone and pointed out the various things that interested us in her simple room. Eventually her parents turned up with Dad speaking some French and her Mum a beautifully dressed woman bent almost double clearly fascinated by us.

Eventually we said our goodbyes and offererd a gift to cover the food plus a small bracelet for Harima herself. We cycled away very much humbled and overawed by the whole experience and wondered what the future held for all of them. A side valley down in to Imilchil took us past men ploughing tiny fields with pairs of donkeys before we reached the town and took a table down a side street for a superb omelette and sweet mint tea. The owner's small boy was fascinated by us but very polite and I topped the bill with a few extra dirham for him and his brother. A short uphill ride brought us back to the auberge where the lady said that two German lads on bikes that had been staying as well claimed to be orphaned brothers and could not pay for anything - we immediately smelt a hamster as even getting to Morocco costs and what were their onward plans....

On leaving the following day we added a hefty tip and some good warm gloves as she was clearly suffering pains in her hands from the cold weather - below zero over night and perhaps 15 by day. We had had good solar during the day and been very warm at night although the Eber took two attepts to fire up - Google revealing that a high altitude kit is recommended above 1500m and we were at 2300m. We had noticed feeling more exerted on our ride but put that down to not having ridden many hills recently.

Heading south towards the Todra Gorge we turned off on a new road that would take us over to the Dades gorge and climbed steadily through the most incredible geology passing shepherds with flocks seemingly grazing on bare rock and eventually reaching patches of snow and meeting a lone German cyclist. He was sure he would get through as he'd met two Swiss cyclists previously but I had a feeling we would be thwarted and indeed a few miles further on after passing some snowy sections we met a larger drift. The Michelin Agilis Cross Climate tyres had done well but we lacked the ground clearance to continue and the road was due to climb another 1500'.

 

Thus we retraced our tracks, dropped for miles through the high mountains via a lofty viewpoint and eventually drove up a steep track to a large partially finished and unoccupied hotel that allowed parking on the gravel terrace overlooking Tametetoucht. I had stayed before and wondered at the grandiose plans of the French owner - the buildings were beautiful and there was much terracing and walling going on but no sign of any real business activity. We walked back down to the village,  took tea at another place offering van parking and decided we had the best position at our lofty perch above the small village.

 

 

After a quiet night we started on a road that we had been told was well surfaced all the way to the Dades gorge but turned round at a remote campsite as the surface was not as good as we had hoped for.  Dropping through the astounding Todra Gorge we passed the newly built dam that will, once full, and that may take a while, provide irrigation water and prevent flash floods. Down at the narrowest point where a clear spring emerges was the usual array of shawls, clothes and jewellery to entice the tourist throngs but again the high pressure pestering seemed muted as we walked through to gaze in awe at the towering cliffs.

 Turning right towards Boulmaine de Dades in Tineghir we were once more on the hot plains without a cloud in the sky - back home a cold snap was providing unusually heavy snow in the south and west so we counted our blessings as we turned up the Dades gorge. This road climbed steadily north before climbing through a series of tight hairpins to a viewpoint and cafe. Further on we pulled in to the Camping Berbere de La Montagne and parked in their sunny yard for the night : £6 including excellent hot showers, water and Elsan disposal. After a short rest we cycled back to the viewpoint to watch heavy lorries tackle the remarkable road and then in a fit of madness decided to descend at speed and enjoy the climb back up and reward ourselves with fresh orange juice - so worth it...

 

 

 

 

So it will be a quiet night here with a few other vans before dropping back to the plain and seeing if another possible new route over to N'Kob exists, if not we will have to go round one or other end of the remote Djebel Zahro range....

 

Piccies here.