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.
.JPG)
No comments:
Post a Comment
Help keep us in touch by adding your news and views!