Andalucia and Murcia

 After a quick shop in the Lidl at Tarifa we moved on to the windsurfers' favourite free camping a couple of miles west of the town. It wasn't as full as I had expected so we parked up and walked along a moonlit beach looking wistfully back across to the few lights marking Maroc.

 

A daylight walk on the Sunday gave us the chance to admire the kite surfers enjoying good conditions and in some cases performing amazing stunts by using waves to gain lift off and flying through the air for a remarkable distance. Last week's rains had filled the lagoon and the exit river proved too deep to cross so we walked back and collected the bikes for the fifteen minute ride in to town with strong side winds something of a challenge - indeed on the spur across to the Tarifa fort the blown sand provided free exfoliation as we marked the transit between the Med and the Atlantic.We cycled out on the harbour breakwater before heading in to old Tarifa for a couple of beers and then rode back to the park up and enjoyed nosing at the variety of vans, old buses, live in lorries and so on.

 

After a quiet night we drove on up to and past Cadiz to park on the riverside at El Puerto de Santa Maria where supervised parking at 8 euros a night provides a safe place to leave vans and catch the catamaran across to Cadiz. We cycled in to the National Park that projects out in to the lagoon and checked out the ferry times before enjoying a quiet night despite the adjacent circus.

The half hour trip saw us arriving in style at Cadiz which we thoroughly enjoyed exploring on foot as it is a compact city. Preparations for Easter were well under way around the cathedral and we enjoyed walking out to the excellent beaches on the Atlantic coast and then past the docks where a huge Carnival cruise ship was undergoing a multi million pound refit before a ghost crew sailed it round to Los Angeles for the forthcoming season - that would be a fun trip...... A good lunch in the main square left us ready for a final walk round the old traffic free centre before we caught the ferry back - another sea fog had rolled in adding to the atmosphere but back at Puerta it had cleared and we walked round the town before enjoying a good ice cream at a place we found out later was run by the good friend of the guy Salvo I had met in the Western Sahara.

 

The large Carrefour in El Puerto provided free servicing facilities so we drained and filled, did a good shop and then found a laundrette nearby with Mandy taking a shower in the van whilst I supervised the washing. We then called at a self service car wash to reveal the van's true colours once more after 3 months of Saharan sand and Atlas slush and mud. After nipping back to Carrefour to replenish the fresh water we drove off to Marchena located midway along the Via Verde De La Campina. The reviews had said access was tricky but presumably they had been left by the bigger vans as we had no issues and parked up for a ride out towards Ecija before walking up to the town later.

Moving on we parked at Ecija itself in a familiar aire close to the multi towered town (13 in total) and rode out on the VV towards Cordoba with a stunning burst of spring flowers lining both sides of the track. Walking round the town after dark was lovely as all the towers are lit up and the streets hummed with the usual gentle buzz of Spanish cafe culture.

With the start of Easter approaching we headed to Cabra on the Via Verde del Aceite as we hoped the free aire would be quieter than the one further along at Donna Mencia and took up a short bay with no room for immediate neighbours. Cycling west we passed through Lucena and reached Puente Genil for a drink before returning via the old station cafe back at Lucena for coffee and cake. At dusk a guy in a trackie shambled around asking for money and seemed content with just a euro - if each van was similarly inclined he would be clearing 30 euros a night...The walk in to town next day was a fair way but gave us a chance to have lunch in the Plaza Espana and a look round before we rode out to Donna Mencia which was was emptier than Cabra which had by now filled up. We rode in to town again that evening and went up to old castle with its panoramic view and a lovely Moorish church gateway. The munchies caught us out after a few beers in the square so we succumbed to a pizza parlour before pedalling back uncertainly after dark

 

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Driving east we spotted lovely Zuheros and its castle and then turned off to Luque located even higher in the Sierras Subbeticas. By chance the Easter parade was just starting and we were absorbed by the sight of locals dressed in white carrying an Easter religious float through the streets and up to the main church.

Moving on we decided to stay out in the sticks by a reservoir parking in the picnic area near the impressive dam on the Rio Viboras near the small village of Las Casillas. A change in the weather brought in cooler conditions as we walked in to the village and rain arrived overnight. However we were as always warm and cosy and moved on through at one point a fair fall of snow via Guadix to Orce. We stopped briefly in Guadix to walk round the old troglodyte houses in a rather scruffy neighbourhood and Orce was a random decision to pull off as it claimed to be one of the oldest villages in Europe. An easy to use service point on one side of the village was a bonus and we parked up in the large car park of the museum dedicated to the remarkable fossil remains found in the area that rewrote the time line of human development. Donning down jackets against the chill we walked in to the village and checked out a possible restaurant for the following day. We came across a remarkable little shop stuffed to the rafters with a huge variety of produce and obviously little changed in fifty years and bought a few bits and bobs from the friendly owner before returning for the first night with the thermal screens up in months.

 

The museum was excellent with Google translate via our phone cameras explaining things well and an enthusiastic guide leading the other Spanish visitors round. A short film at the end giving a glimpse of a day in the life of Neanderthal man was excellent and thought provoking and in that spirit we retired to the Mimbrera restaurant and devoured in my case a whole leg of lamb roasted in garlic and lamb chops for Mandy over a leisurely lunch - quite the best meal in recent times.

 

Arriving at Caravaca De La Cruz the town aire was busy but we tucked away adjacent to the path down in to town and walked down to the impressive main square and managed to get up to the hill top Sanctuary before the sun set. After a quick meal we then walked in to enjoy the moving spectacle of an Easter Parade with a huge float carried from the central church by 30 or so volunteers through the city's streets. A rousing band with drums and wind instruments was accompanied by people in capes and pointed hats and the scenes were witnessed by large numbers of people, many enjoying an aerial overview from their balconies. By checking out the street maps on our phones we were able to cut through a number of alleys and see the remarkable procession from numerous viewpoints. After several hours the parade returned to the church at around midnight and we strolled back to the van, glad that we had left the heater on. Ten minutes or so later after a hot cuppa we had made, and were in bed on a very gusty night when I heard a noise from the bikes as if a strap had come loose. Less than a minute later I heard another noise so looked out of the rear door window to find both bikes had vanished....

Within seconds I was outside in the freezing cold but well lit aire to confirm that the cable had been cut, another lock opened and all four wheel retaining straps ripped open - this latter act would have taken considerable strength and had I later noticed partially dislodged the whole bike rack. There was no sign of the thieves as they would have been able to ride off down hill and out of sight so rather than wake the large number of surrounding van occupants who would have seen nothing anyway I rang 112 for the police and was put through to an English language service and advised to report it to the local police later that day so we went to bed in a state of disbelief. Next morning we found a bungee discarded down the path but no other evidence and fellow stayers were oblivious to the drama. We walked down to the Policia Local office but were told it was a matter for the Guardia Civil a few minutes in another direction. Here using Google Translate we gave a statement and received a copy of the report by an efficient officer who said it was a bad area to park and had a bad neighbourhood alongside - perhaps not the best place to locate a popular aire in a popular town. On our way back to the van we looked in at a couple of bike shops as we intended to replace them as soon as possible and one guy was very apologetic about our loss and asked for contact details and photos of the bikes in case they were brought to him for repair.A very kind gesture but  the bikes would almost certainly have been sold on to relatively innocent third parties. 

Taking the approach that such an occurrence was no more than a frustrating inconvenience (and one that would have been unlikely to occur in Morocco) we decided to have a look in a Decathlon store at Alcantarilla less than an hour away. Here Hiscio a really friendly staff member with good English was sorry to hear our story and spent the next couple of hours helping us choose two new budget bikes plus a few accessories and two Gold Standard D Locks to get our plans back on track. Fortunately they had plenty of stock so Mandy now has a decent gravel bike and I plumped for a mountain bike with a reasonable spec. Hiscio set these up whilst we did a supermarket shop and then feeling much more positive we headed over to Mula situated mid way along the Via Verde Noroestre that had a large aire and adjacent car park. 

 

 

A three hour run west along the old railway line to Bullas gave us a chance to give the bikes a final tweak and enjoy decent tapas and a beer or two. Back at Mula the aire had filled up and even the car park we had plumped for was filling up rapidly. The famous Drum Festival and Easter parades were the attraction and up at the town a long procession was getting going up at the main church with two horses ridden by costumed Centurions leading the way. The horses were superbly controlled in the tightly packed streets and about 6 different floats, bands and accompanying marchers began a 6 hour parade through the town - a remarkable experience. Good Friday was cloudier and cooler so we enjoyed a rest day but walked up again in the late afternoon as it was the drumming day and the streets were filled with dozens of people creating an ear splitting cacophony of drum rolls as families strolled round many with infants amazingly fast asleep and oblivious to the noise. A steep walk up to the castle offered great views across the town and surrounding lemon and orange groves before we walked back for an evening meal and some more tv courtesy of IPlayer.

 

Yesterday we rode east towards Murcia on the VV covering fifty miles with a head wind in each direction and having a drink at the station cafe half way along at Alguazas Molina, returning to find the aire much emptier than before. We could hear chanting and drumming so walked in to town only to discover that it was the local football ground so we decided to stop and watch the final half hour amused at the amount of noisy support a few dozen spectators could produce.. Up in town the streets were quiet but a candlelit service was beginning that might have gone on a bit but would have been very moving. We slept well overnight after an energetic day knowing that being under our multi strapped cover and with two very tight fitting D locks in place we were unlikely to have further problems - in fact I think the cover alone would have been sufficient deterrrent as it has 9 different straps and unless careful these can easily get caught in the bikes around handelbars and saddles when removing it - so a good lesson learnt.

 

Today we have moved on to Yecla and are sitting out a rare rainy day - the last for the foreseeable future - in an almost empty aire as Spain is back to work tomorrow. More VVs await us over the next fortnight as we work our way north through Valencia and then NW to Bilbao from where Mandy heads home in a little over two weeks. As with the van burglary in Milan five years ago (carried out with the full knowledge and cooperation of and by the staff at Parking Suprema Malpensa Airport) the theft is upsetting but fortunately for us we can afford replacements and no one got injured or hurt so as ever onwards, upwards and count our blessings.

PICS HERE 

  Next post somewhere before Bilbao.

Au Revoir Maroc

 Our meal at M'Hamid was excellent and we watched a Saharan sunset from the roof terrace lying on comfortable banquettes with just the odd light visible out in the sands. Heading back north through Zagora we enjoyed the extensive views over the huge palmeries of the Draa Valley before turning east to N'Kob and arriving at a small campsite near the town. The large pitches, each with a huge area of carpet to keep the dust at bay, in a walled compound, were ideal and the loo facilities were excellent and beautifully decorated. We walked in to the vibrant town for the usual staples and sat at a corner cafe for fresh orange juice as the sun set once more before a very quiet night.

 

The following day we took the former piste, now a well surfaced but still very exciting steep and twisty road north through the Djebel Sahgro passing the lofty twin outcrops of Bab and Ali. At the top of the pass at around 6,500' we stopped at a small cafe and then as it offered overnight parking decided to stay the night even though it was only late morning. We parked on a lower terrace with a superb view across the rocky mountain slopes and then enjoyed fresh tea on the small terrace. The owner's wife, and then her elderly mother persuaded us to buy some small handicrafts after which we took a walk out to an outcrop across the road with dramatic views down to a small village way below and then followed a track in to the hills. An ancient lorry rattled past, drove across very uneven ground and then stopped for the three occupants to begin filling it with large rocks, by hand. It was sad and a surprise to see a huge pile of old nappies dumped amongst rocks further along - hard to believe that the local parents can afford to use them as as far as we could see there was no one living up here for miles. Back at the van after sunset the temperature dropped so we booted up the heater, installed the window insulation and were as cosy as could be.

 

Dropping off the range we turned right for Tinerhir passing through numerous humble villages surrounded by apple orchards and then parked up on the road through to the Todra Gorge at a site I'd not used before as my previous choice claimed he was fully booked that night. The second place was in the grounds of a hotel with large shaded pitches and within easy reach of the palmery that led to the old kasbah across the river. We enjoyed a couple of hours exploring both and returned to the site to see a huge French lorry sized camper towing a trailer containing a quad, and with a small car in its garage, had managed to squeeze in. Later on we cycled up to the gorge to see it in the evening light with far fewer people around before returning for another quiet night.

The following morning we gave a Dutch motorcyclist a lift to the mouth of the gorge and then drove through and on towards Tamtattouchte before climbing the steep pass towards Imilchil. An old guy was pushing his bike up the long climb but we couldn't really have picked him up and in fact when we stopped at the top of the pass for a break he was soon dropped off by a local grand taxi to freewheel his way down the other side. At Agoudal we turned west on the piste that comes up from the Dades gorge that provided me with an exciting drive last year and pulled up at the very simple Auberge La Grotte that I had noted. We parked on a large area of gravel by two friendly dogs and after tea with Abdul started the walk out to the cave located three miles up a side valley. One of the dogs followed us along the stony track where at the far end two Dutch offroad campers were parked up. We then took a path through the gorge to a stone platform but with no sign of the cave - after asking the Dutch people it seemed we had to go beyond the platform and ascend the valley via a series of stone steps. Eventually we found the large entrance beneath an impressive domed formation with two huge holes in the roof and a wide passage leading in to the darkness. I had brought along two powerful torches so we set off inside leaving 'Bonzo' waiting patiently outside. After skirting a deep drop off in to a lower chamber we met two Moroccan lads using their phones as torches before climbing two rather precarious iron ladders to reach a large passage with some nice formations. I ducked under a large calcite flow in to a smaller passage which went a fair way before crawling woud be required at which point I turned round. As we returned to the entrance Bonzo began whining in relief and happily followed us back to the van as a rain squall caught us out. At the auberge we were the only ones staying and as it had turned very cold we were soon in 'winter mode'. The wind blew with a vengeance all night long and when we woke there was a covering of snow everywhere and ice on the windward windows. We paid the requested 50 dirham and then decided to see how much snow there was further up...after a couple of miles and another 1000' or so the snow was much deeper and a 4x4 from the local village was indicating that the pass was closed so we turned round carefully and began to leave the High Atlas by heading east towards Er Rich in the Ziz Valley. 

 

From here after a stunning drive we continued east to Gourrama noting that we had seen no other foreign vehicles or campers all day as this is a relatively unvisited part of Morocco and organised park ups were almost non existent. However there was an opportunity to stay on a smallholding run by a German guy,  Thomaz, so turned up on a dusty yard with several friendly children who all spoke only German or Arabic. This tested the dustier corners of my mind but it seemed we were welcome to stay and that Thomaz would be back later that day. Thomaz was a fascinating guy who had worked all over the world looking at plants and herbs as sources of new medicines as well as mentoring a troubled teenager from Germany and directing the Moroccan family who were running his small farm. After some football and other ball games with the kids we retired for a very peaceful night and left the following morning - Thomaz would not take any payment but I gave him the £150 worth of Mauritanian ouighars that I'd been left with as he would eventually be able to change them or pass them on. Heading north we picked up a young lad hitch hiking who seemed keen, as it was Ramadam, to ask our opinions on Islam and the Quran. We answered honestly that we had little detailed knowledge or insight in to the subjects and indeed were surprised to learn that both Jesus and Mary are mentioned and in fact Mary is seen as a supreme woman and is referred to more often than in the Bible. After dropping him in Missour the sat nav took us up in to the Djebel Bou Iblane of the High Atlas on a series of ever diminshing roads until eventually we were on a rough track above the snow line. A sharp hairpin that due to the snowdrifts took two attempts to negotiate saw us heading to a pass with deep snow piled high. At the top a Moroccan family who had come up from the far side assured us the road was passable so we descended cautiously with the snow melting and a glutinous mud converting the van in to a passable clay model of a T4. It was such a stunning area that we decided to stay out for the night - whilst looking for a suitable spot we noticed the remarkable sight of a dry riverbed being slowly transformed by a tongue of brown meltwater threading its way downhill. After some potential gravelled areas on tight bends we eventually saw a perfect flat area reached by driving over a couple of hundred yards of open ground with a remarkable view back to the snowy ranges, cedar trees nearby and a road with no traffic. After a memorable sunset we took the usual precautions against low temperatures and enjoyed a night of total silence under the new moon which signalled the start of Ramadam.

 

After a leisurely breakfast in  the warm sun we gave some wandering donkeys our left over bread and orange skins before dropping to the Chiker Plateau and the Gouffre de Friatou I had descended on my first visit 11 years previously. The cave entrance was undergoing 'improvement works' and the cave itself seemed to be shut but a young lad on a moped said to come back at 5 and he would take us down. We checked out the slightly eerie and deserted village of Bab Bou Idir which I remembered from before as an unfinished and slightly spooky holiday resort. Fortunately at the Auberge Dayet Chiker opposite the track up to cave we were able to stay with the charming, polite and super friendly Siham and her family. There was only enough space for 3 vans so we tucked in by the wall as chickens, geese, donkeys and a cow grazed nearby. There was a well decorated lounge and some rooms but we were happy enough in the van and Siham produced fresh bread as if by magic. We ordered a chicken tagine for the following night and then walked up to the cave to be met by Abdul. He took us in and down the first couple of hundred of the five hundred or so steps at which point we had to stop as the steel covered walkway had been completely destroyed by a rockfall. It turned out that he was part of the team charged with stabilising the various rock faces of the cave walls and would be netting much of the cavernous opening that led out to the plateau far above us. Once the area had been made safe a new steel staircase was due to be installed with all works due for completion this year - thus convincing us to return next year as from the floor of the main chamber it was possible to follow the system for another 3km to the Gouffre de Chiker. As we returned to the surface it transpired that later this year he was tackling the Gouffre Berger over in the Vercors in France, a system I had visited twice in 1984 and 1985. The following day we cycled back to BBI and then a few miles outside the village took a side track which climbed for 6 miles up to the peak of Djebel Tazzeka. We passed a German 4x4 camper parked on a spur, greeted a friendly shepherd and as we neared the summit saw the van occupants walking back from the summit. Two 4x4 pickups, each carrying a generator passed us heading towards the summit antennae and we eventually reached the wooded top above the snow line after passing through some lovely cedar trees. A soldier occupied the small military hut and watched as the two 4x4 drivers began to ascend the masts with no regard to PPE or rope work. We were soon on our way down as it was quite fresh, stopped to talk to a one armed shepherd and then rolled back to the tarmac and on to the van where after hot showers the lovely Siham knocked on the door with bread, two plates of pasta salad, a huge and delicious tagine and fruit as a dessert. It was all excellent and we were glad that within the hour the family would also be eating. Two other vans had arrived and everyone seemed to appreciate the peace and tranquility of this very special place.

 

The following morning we returned to BBI to fill the van from a tap we had seen by the roadside but felt a bit uneasy as there were dozens of people sat around for no obvious reason. However nothing was said and we followed a lovely meandering road down to the N6 passing through cedar and then oak forests before picking up the motorway - an unusual experience of late - and then a turning north to Taounate, a rather nice town that lay draped over a long ridge. We recognised the turning down to the reservoir and then found the track up to the Montazyfrane base avoiding last year's sat nav guided tour of impossibly tight village dead ends. At the gate a huge French lorry was parked up outside but we were able to pass in to the compound and take a level terrace below the main area with an excellent view across the waters and later a good sunset. The place normally provides food and is a popular place for get togethers but during Ramadam just offers a warm welcome and a peaceful place to sit and enjoy the views.

 

On the Friday morning we dropped back to Taounate for bread and gas before setting the sat nav for Tetouan which came out as a five hour run. Unfortunately I didn't preview the route and before long we were on a very poor twisting and badly potholed road that ran on and on for some forty plus miles. As it also climbed steeply and required mostly low geared driving I began to worry that we would run out of fuel - the jerry can only has petrol in for the genny. Fortunately however the warning light never came on and we were able to coast a fair bit as we dropped down to the N13 where a Ziz station wouldn't take cards but did accept payment in Euros at the standard 10 dirham/euro rate. 76 litres went in to the 80l tank although I believe it's irregular shape does mean that total capacity can be 85l.

We were tempted to head up to Chefchaouen for the night but that would have meant an early start on the Saturday for the ferry so we trundled on, bypassed central Tetouan and arrived at the camping spot at Cabo Negre. Again due to Ramadam the hotel was effectively closed but still welcomed vans at 60 MAD/night with access to good water and an Elsan disposal point. We took a walk through the local area passsing many guarded appartment blocks before returning to the van at sunset.

 

Saturday saw us servicing the domestic aspects of the van, driving the hour or so to Tangier Med and then nipping in to the small village for a final gas cylinder and fresh bread before turning up at the port in plenty of time. Outside the Transmed office a guy caught my attention and said he could get us on the 11am ferry which seemed unlikely as it was already 10.30 but within minutes he had a colleague print out our tickets but then asked for cash - I said that we had no MAD or Euros left and that as I hadn't asked him to help would give him nothing anyway - he took this in its stride and we headed off to get our passports stamped, the van import paperwork cancelled and then joined the queue for the scanner.

After all this it was past 11.30 as expected so we joined the line for our original sailing and by 13.30 were loaded and on our way. As we left the port a sea mist descended bringing yet another amazing trip to a fitting close.

 

Six weeks in Spain will be followed by a couple of months in Eire for me so until the next time enjoy a smorsgabord of piccies here.

CLICK

A Moroccan Rendezvous..............

Leaving El Ouatia after a very useful service stop I bought fresh veg and continued up the coast past Cap Draa which is near the point where the mighty Draa river enters the sea after flowing largely underground from several hundred miles east having disappeared at M'Hamid south of Zagora. The huge cliffs to the south of the dried up river bed mostly mark the largely mined Algerian border - a sad sign of the ongoing friction between these two countries. I turned off to Plage Blanche, a place I have long been aware of and was pleased to find a good but empty road took me across to a small fishing village and then the descent to a large tarmac parking area that looked out to the huge expanse of sand threaded by a brackish river. A dusty track led on to the beach where it would have been possible to drive out and camp but I decided a firm surface and good view was preferable to a nervous night as the tide came in. There were a few other vans of various nationalities and disappointingly quite an accumulation of rubbish round the two bins - surely with vehicles we can take our own trash out - the same might be thought of bothy users back in the UK, a constant source of irritation.

 

Anyway I walked out to the surf and was amused to see tucked away between the simple fishermen's huts across the river stood an old VW Type 2 bus - the base vehicle for my very first camper van 40 years previously. A group of off road bikers turned up, posed for selfies and then roared off south followed later on by a group of Daccia Duster 4x4s on a similar jaunt. This contrasted sharply in my mind with the local woman who walked down at sunset selling bread at the doors of some enormous French and German rigs. After a very quiet night I left for Foum Assaka reached by another newly surfaced road and bounced the last couple of kilometres down to the beach where numerous half built homes were unchanged over the last two years since my last visit. The small cafe had reopened but I parked up to walk out to the Rayon Vert auberge - the quirkiest most unique place you could imagine - and checked out the availability of a room for our guest next week.

I stayed the night down on the beach, grateful as always for the practicalities and comforts of this van and reflected on how different the set up was in 1984 where a single cold tap and a few lights were the height of sophistication. Only the cooking set up is familiar with two rings and a grill being present in both! Up at Goulimime I avoided the the pricy European temptations of the Marjane supermarket and picked up the N12 heading east. At Ait Boukha I decided to try out a small campground in the oasis and after threading my way down a maze of tracks found myself at the gate of Aain Nakhla, a small well kept campsite with neat gardens and borders and a friendly young man in charge with good English. Before long I was off on the bike as I always enjoy nosing around these palmeries and then came out on the dried up river bed where a large number of camels were browsing - Goulimime has a large camel market every Saturday so these remarkable beasts are seen all round here. After a very quiet night I was back on the bike to find the 'Eye of the Desert' a hot water spring that had been left after drilling in the area for minerals. I arrived after a few miles of dusty tracks and more camel herds to this unusual feature where a steel pipe disgorged clear water at 40 degrees C in to a roughly circular pool to provide a desert spa experience. Of course the earth banks had muddied the waters but it was quite an experience, shared with a few other visitors who were camping out there, south of the village of Fask. I cycled back along with two French couples on scooters before another quiet night on the very peaceful site. 

 

My route north to Tafraoute followed an upgraded piste passing the recently completed Fask barrage and out to the N12 where a turn north on the R107 headed up through some remote villages and a series of dramatic hairpins before emerging on a high and desolate plateau with views north to the red ranges of the Ameln Valley at Tafraoute. A side road, again an improved piste, took me across to the Grand Canyon of Morocco - the stunning Igmir Gorge where on a gravel area above a deep hairpin bend in the canyon itself I decided to stay a couple of nights. The view was remarkable and the light sublime as the sun set and I had the place to myself and remarkably a good 4G signal. I walked down to the tiny village of Aoukerda where by following a path behind the mosque you could enter a tunnel that connected two loops of the canyon - I guess you could walk it north or south to other villages but this was the end of the road and I returned to the van passing the large rock arch once more to find I had been joined by a German guy I had seen in El Ouatia in a large overland truck.

 

Heading out the following morning two old guys I had spoken to outside the mosque were walking out of the gorge so I offered them a lift to the next village before beginning the long twisting descent to Tafraoute where I intended to check out the availability of rooms during the following week's Almond Festival. I based myself on the outskirts of town amongst the palm trees and as always was amused by the various vendors passing by offering bread, cakes, haircuts, windscreen wipers and the services of a mechanic and bodyshop in town. The following day I checked out other options but most places were already full and wanted a reservation paid up front - tricky as we had no set schedule. Various vans were having dents and scrapes attended to or even full resprays at the local garages specialising in foreign vehicles and the various markets and side streets were as intriguing as ever. I met another couple I'd bumped in to earlier - they were English but live off grid near Granada in Spain.

With the arrival of Mandy and her brother imminent I left Tafraoute to take the high road north to Agadir and stopped a night outside a cafe and craft shop building in Ait Baha which overlooked the town. I walked down in search of new crocs and refreshments and noted a number of bike packing cyclists probably on a loosely organised tour. Coffee but not foot wear was found after which I returned to the van where a few locals had come up to the cafe to enjoy the sunset.

Saturday dawned bright and sunny as I dropped down to Agadir and checked out  a site near to the airport that had rooms and booked a pitch and a room for two nights. I offloaded the bikes and had a good tidy out of the van and various cupboards prior to the arrival of two extra passengers. The site was run by a French couple and of a very high standard so appealed to numerous French and Dutch couples clearly set in for lengthy stays and was only half an hour or so from the airport. Having tracked Les's flight from Lisbon I knew it was on time so drove over to the modest sized airport and parked up where we had overnighted in previous years before walking across to Arrivals. Les emerged and we were soon back at the site for a catch up and evening meal, a delicious chicken tagine from the site's kitchen before turning in with another day to go before Mandy arrived from Manchester. 

We cycled out to the coast and were amazed at the large numbers of demolished buildings along the coastline which is supposedly in a national park - whether it was earthquake damage or unauthorised structures pulled down by the authorities was unclear but it was a hell of a mess and compounded by the usual broken glass and plastic waste. We followed tracks to complete a circuit as the sun got hotter and returned for a few hours in the shade before dropping in to Ait Melloul for Les to get a taste of Morocco and have some street food - a delicious flat bread filled with fried fish and Moroccan salad.

Mandy emerged from Arrivals after a trouble free journey and we returned to the site for a catch up stopping en route at one of the small shops for some basics before sitting outside on a warm evening. We headed out to the coast and stopped at the Legzira Arches again - the track down to the spot I'd stayed on a few times was unusable due to a new pipe being trenched in so we parked up a mile further south and walked down to the beach from there for a good view of the southern arch. We couldn't decide if the tide was ebbing or flowing so whilst Mandy and I skittled through the water to get through the middle arch we decided not to risk a stranding by walking up to the north one. Before long we were at Le Rayon Vert where Lez had a quirky room with a sea view and sheltered seating area where we enjoyed tea and watched the waves come crashing in, trying to decide if swimming was a good idea. A German guy said broken glass and spiny sea urchins would be an additional unseen hazard so we contented ourselves with the amazing view. We enjoyed a quiet night down on the beach and Les slept soundly in his room and was up talking to the two staff when we returned the following morning. We decided to stay on a second night so everyone could rest up but all the rooms were booked up so Les opted to sleep in the large tented lounging area and we brought the van up to the small parking spot. After walking along the beach for a fair way we returned for an exceptional  meal - grilled fish for Mandy and excellent octopus tagines for the guys. A French group who live in Agadir were also staying as well as two young Spanish doctors on a cycling trip who we invited to join us for a game of dominoes in the carpeted and cosy tented area. 

 

 

We took the new road south and then turned off to an old favourite of ours - the French colonnial fort of Bou Jerif and met an English guy carrying out some survey work for an archaeological archive. He filled us in on some of the history of the fort and the way it was both provisionned and defended before we took to its crumbling structures for a closer look round. From there it was a short hop to the FBJ campsite which we thought Les would find remarkable situated as it is in the middle of nowhere and yet providing camping, rooms, a small hotel and even a restaurant. We took tea in a shaded area alongisde the huge bones of a long deceased whale and spoke to a Swiss couple who took a shine to the van as they find their LandCruiser a bit cramped, before returning to Goulimime for the temptations of the Marjane. 

Returning to Amtoudi off the N12 we were surprised to see that the once dusty yard with basic facilities had been much improved with marked pitches, a new ablutions block and rooms arranged round a central courtyard that met all our needs. After a walk in to the village we were soon set up for another evening of chat and played a closely fought game of Scrabble as dusk set in. The following morning we took the mountain path up to the agadir or grain store perched precariously on a rocky outcrop above the village. The same wizzened gardien opened the old door and after taking a fee of 20 dirhams each encouraged us to explore the sprawling structure by ourselves - I think he's getting a bit old for the walk up every day and I explained I'd visited twice previously. The maze of passages, dead ends, storage rooms with shelving, cool alcoves and dark pits would have stored a range of produce from the surrounding area against vermin and invaders. Much of the access was child sized so we bent our backs and scraped our heads having a good look round. In the various enclosed yards ancient structures that would have housed bee skeps were in abundance and all the flat roofs were limed and arranged to direct any rainfall in to a large cistern. With only the one entrance and just two paths winding up from the valley below it would have been easy to defend as most of the walls were atop vertical cliff faces. We took the second path down, stopped for a welcome orange juice in a small cafe and then returned to site to pack up and move on.

 

A return visit to the Gorge left everyone suitably impressed before we began dropping to Tafraoute and took the optional route through Tarsouat in the hope that the closed site might have opened for the Almond Festival but its gates were firmly closed so we carried on to Tafraoute - eventually a cafe owner rang a friend and we found Les a room in a riad that was perhaps a little above budget but every other option seemed to be full. After following the owner on his moped we left Les to settle in and took up a reasonably quiet spot back in the palmery despite the large numbers of festival visitors. We walked back in later to meet centrally and then enjoy various Berber music and dancing routines performed by a large number of white robed men in one case and seven veiled woman in another all sharing the same veil. After some food in a cafe watching the good natured crowds and beautifully turned out women go by we went our separate ways - our walk back through the palms led us to the van where the gardien had been waiting to give us the 5 dirham (40p) change for our parking fee, such decent people.

 

The following day we met up in town where Mandy and Les shopped for gifts and dropped a pair of Moroccan slippers off for resoling whilst I bought meat, chicken and veg for the next few meals. A quick trip up to the painted rocks provided some excellent photo opportunities under a hot sun and deep blue sky and on leaving town we spotted the lion's face on the imposing Ameln Valley mountains. A few hours drive through stunning scenery via Irherm brought us to Talioiune and the small site at the end of town we had used before. The old gardien Ali didn't recognise us but was as friendly as ever and the owner proudly showed us the new building he is putting up to house a cafe, restaurant and small hotel.

However this time round Les had to take a room in the Auberge next door after which we walked up to town being greeted by friendly teenage students and finding a cafe that produced an excellent meal in the shape of chicken brochettes, fries, salad, bread and drinks all for about a tenner. The N10 took us to Tazenakht after which the P1507 snaked across to the outskirts of Ouarzazate which we bypassed to pick up the N10 again and pull off at Skoura for the Camping Ameridil situated a five minute walk from the eponymous kasbah. After checking in and getting Les a room we all walked over to explore the well preserved kasbah with its cool courtyards, shaded seating area and roof top terraces. Various pieces of equipment and tools used in domestic life or the construction and repair of these mud walled buildings were on display and helped explain the various techniques and traditions. A few photos on one wall showed the kasbah and surrounding palmery covered in a foot or so of snow - that must have surprised the locals!

 

Moving on again we soon stopped at a village where the large weekly souk was spread out over land at the edge so enjoyed a good walk round the numerous fruit, veg, spice, grains, date and nut stalls as well as the various butchers, fishmongers and the small blacksmiths who had set up tiny hearths and were producing or repairing all manner of tools. Moving on we turned north at Tinghir to visit the impressive Todra Gorge with a clear spring emerging from the vertiginous cliff face - normally we would continue over a dramatic pass and emerge at Imilchil but with only a few days left before we needed to get Les to Marrakesh for his flight home we returned to Boulmaine Dades and climbed the dramatic series of hairpins to reach the cafe and lookout. Further on the excellent Hotel Berbere De La Montagne which we had stayed at last year had a room and quiet camping - perfect. It was cooler due to the altitude so we made use of the lounge area with its roaring fire and played dominoes before two Dutch couples celebrating a birthday joined us to eat dinner. The chef produced a cake which they kindly shared after which chef and the gardien Idris produced three drums and two sets of maracas for an impromptu music session. Idris also teased us with a couple of clever tricks which no doubt I shall be imposing on the folks back home one day.

Returning down the hairpins of the Dades we turned back towards Ouazazate and then took a very twisty road across to Demnate that had been a rough piste on my first visit 10 years ago with at the time several metres of snow banked up on either side. By last year the road whilst still very twisty and steep had been much improved but unfortunately last year's earthquake had dislodged huge tonnages of boulders from the new cuttings reducing the road to single track in places and requiring numerous collapsed bridges to be avoided by driving through the river beds. In the villages there were many deliveries of concrete blocks and rebar to help the locals rebuild and heavy machinery was undertaking the road repairs required. We stopped for lunch high in a pass noting how chilly it felt before dropping down to the natural rock bridge just short of Demnate. A large hotel was happy to allow us to stay in the car park whilst Les took a room and we walked back down to descend the steps in to the gorge leaving Les to play football with the local kids. A meal in the van and a game of Scrabble was accompanied by my first rain in 8 weeks and the cool temperatures encouraged me to fire up the Eber - lovely.

Camp Zebra at the Cascades D'Ouzoud met our needs as previously but Les wanted something cheaper down in town so we dropped him off to sort himself out and later met up to walk over to the falls. A large and to my mind over the top flood reduction project meant that one path down to the falls and many of the streets were dug up so we took a side street and then cut across through shady trees to reach the viewpoint. Here new railings prevented people from getting too close to the edge and therefore the best views, but a little further on the casacading waters could be seen albeit slightly muddied by the drainage works. A network of small paths brought us to the foot of the falls via a few stalls selling gifts after which we crossed the two sandbag bridges and began walking up through the dozens of souvenir stores and cafes. At the top we were tempted by grilled chicken so enjoyed kebabs, salad and chips with good fresh orange juice. After a final walk through the fascinating side streets away from the more touristy centre we left Les to get a shave and haircut whilst we headed back to service the van domestics ready for departure the following day.

 

We picked Les up next morning and set off for Marrakesh stopping an hour or two later to enjoy a final lively market before hitting the drama of the Marrakech traffic, a melee of scooters, taxis and buses that weaved around in a fog of fumes and tooting horns. We reached the long term parking without incident - Marrakech is not a huge airport and overnighting is allowed. A walk in to the nearby suburb was a final chance to experience the vitality of Moroccan street life and we also saw our first example of earthquake damage with a small number of collapsed buildings taped off. A lively cafe fed us well with pizzas for a change and we then saw Les safely through the security at the departures door before retiring for a quiet and comfortable night as flights ceased by late evening.

Leaving Marrakech we headed south picking up the Tizi n Tichka which I had last tentatively crossed in 2015 with defective suspension on the old van. Whilst a number of hairpins have been straightened out it is still a remarkable feat of engineering climbing to almost 7000'. I had misjudged fuel so we dropped down the south side to the first town with a filling station, took on food for ourselves as well and returned the 15 minutes or so back up to the turning to Telouet. We decided against staying there having visited the kasbah extensively last year but spotted a sign for camping up a rough track off the main road that had been closed due to road building last year. The works hadn't achieved much as we bounced our way along a precipitous edge, through some very tight hamlets and over some pronounced hump backed bridges. eventually we decided to turn back as there was no obvious sign of a place to stay and eventually pulled off above the village of Barda just along from the phone mast. It was another memorable place to stay with amazing stars and total peace and quiet and no passing traffic. We had noticed that in some villages individual houses had blue frame tents erected on flat ground and indeed just along from us were the remains of a few more alongside a water tank. Clearly after the quake villagers had moved on to this flat ground well away from the cliffs that tower over the villages and then returned to their homes once the fear of aftershocks had receded - the tents on the plateau had presumably being destroyed by the winter weather but no doubt the fabric and poles would be repurposed elsewhere eventually.

 

Next morning an old couple appeared by the van and after initially saying no we decided to buy a few bits and bobs and give them some extra as clearly the area had experienced huge challenges on top of those that are normally part of every day life. We dropped down to the valley floor and decided to walk in to the village where some women were washing clothes, rugs and blankets in the river, children were cutting forage for the livestock and men were rebuilding some of the damaged homes. After returning via a rickety wooden bridge we saw a woman hefting a gas bottle over her shoulder and as we caught her up she asked us to come to her home for tea. Mina soon had a pot of tea and some warm bread in front of us and her two children and their friends turned up as well - we had a lovely time showing them pics of things in Britain they would never see here such as steam trains and the Cumbrian lakes, before heading off. We gave her 200 dirham as a gift for the family and she asked to exchange contact details. We passed the huge, and popular kasbah at Ait Benhaddou and then took the N9 to Ouarzazate and eventually on to Agdz via another impressive pass( the Tizzi'n-Tinififft ) that had been improved on the north side with work underway on the south.

At the Camping a la Ferme Tensift Said recognised us and the van and made us very welcome. He had quite a few staying so we tucked in against a wall in a space not suitable for the larger vans and had a tour of the new loo and shower block finished only a few weeks ago. It was good to be back in such a well run place and we took the bikes off for a ride down to the busy little town in search of a replacement gas bottle which was quite a challenge to ride back with. The following day we rode out on one of the roads leading up in to the mountains passing several of the ancient pise kasbahs that being no longer lived in are now slowly collapsing. Having reached the end of  the tarmac after a few miles we stopped at a decorated public water tap and then returned with a quick detour on a side road bringing us back through the extensive palmery. A large German off road truck had pulled in and a Swiss estate car pulling a huge caravan - yet again we decided we preferred our more modest arrangements. Next day we cycled along the N9 to the huge and empty Kasbah Tamnougalt whose sheer size and scale never ceases to amaze. A nearby structure sports some street art but the main building shows evidence of much older artistry with its decorative arches, windows and columns still visible. We then decided to follow the road east running parallel to the superb Jbel Kissane until we could turn off across the dry Draa riverbed and pick up the N9 with its cycle lanes and head home. John, a British off road biker turned up with a dodgy knee from riding the pegs all day and seemed to appreciate a chat in English and a hand fixing a couple of loose bolts on his Royal Enfield Himalaya.

 

We left the following morning and are now as far south as tarmac will take us in the Draa Valley  at M'Hamid which I last visited on my first trip 11 years ago. The small camp ground at the far end of the village on top of a small hill still has its amazing views in all directions but there is also now a new building with a small restaurant, huge new kitchen and a terrace on the roof. The owner may well have been the guy I met, or his brother, and a lovely French lady who used to drive HGV's around Europe including the UK made us feel very welcome and gave us a spot with a good view west for the setting sun. We decided to have electricity, the first in two months for me, just to give the 240v systems a run - fridge, hot water and the LB charger, but it would work out more than the gas at say 15 dirhams a night when a full gas is only 11 and would last a week but I like to ensure everything is working OK. We cycled back in to the village which was busy with evening shoppers, mostly elegantly dressed women, at the dusty market and took the road across the dry riverbed for a circuit of the palmery.

Today we rode a few miles east past a desert camp beyond which the track became too sandy in places to ride. We met a deaf and dumb Tourag lad who was looking after a large number of camels and drew pictures in the sand to show he had a house tent deeper in to the desert and a compound to lock the beasts up at night. He also indicated that he milks the camels and seemed pleased to have an interaction with people as most fly past on 24 hour desert nomad experiences in shiny 4x4s. We rode back in to town for  fresh orange juice in a cafe whilst watching a guy hand paint a sign for desert tours and then picked up 5l of water and returned to the shady lounging area of La Boussolle du Sahara where at 6pm we are booked to dine up on the terrace.

 

Ramadan starts this week which may influence our onward plans so I will report back in due course.

 

Pics as always right here.