BACK IN TO EUROPE AND HEADING EAST

So after 24 hours at Tangier Med we moved through the exit formalities which included passport control, customs who dealt with the vehicle export by cancelling the small white slip of paper issued some 3 months previously and then the whole vehicle scan which involved all occupants and pets exiting their vehicles whilst the truck mounted scanner carefully screened a batch at a time. From there we were directed to one of many lines of vehicles for the final wait, slightly extended by two hours as our orignal vessel had been replaced. Alongside us were dozens of Moroccan Mercedes and Transit vans all carrying huge roof top loads - presumably those many carpets being delivered as well as other goods and produce heading for outlets in Europe. I also think a lot of the vehicles were Moroccans working in Europe and returning home after Ramadam - presumably they send money home regularly but perhaps rarely make the journey as travelling each way would be a significant sum. Late evening our vessel docked and disgorged a comical variety of similarly overloaded vans with roofracks piled high with bikes, sinks, furniture and all manner of goods for onward sale in Morocco. I was surprised they had escaped the attention of the law in Europe but over here they fitted in just fine. One guy's exhaust fell off as he jolted over the ramp but he just jumped out and tucked it inder the roof top netting and carried on his way. A couple of HGVs also disembarked followed by a huge 360 excavator on a special loader before we were finally waved on board after one final police check around 2am. I had given away a gas cylinder and regulator to a group in a van who were very grateful - no point me lugging around an empty one until my next return.

We found our cabin which was huge with a lounge, shower/loo and porthole but it was dated and lacked coffee making facilities or any of the similar touches you might expect. In fairness I think this ship had been drafted in at very short notice and replaced what should have been a modern and luxurious vessel and this became more apparent as our voyage unfolded. We had paid for two super food passes but at breakfast the next moning the choice was very limited and the cashier said we had to pay extra for a paper plate of congealed scrambled egg and drinks. I refused so we sent it back and later consulted the purser at information who said it should have been included - I became very aware of our overall good fortune compared to the Moroccan people we have just spent time with but felt that the ship was not providing the level of service we could reasonably expect. Their queuing and payment systems both at this cafe and the lunch bar were haphazard which again led me to believe that the crew were working an unfamiliar ship. In the shop the girl more or less ignored us and at dinner the staff seemed confused by the two eating options side by side with different menus. Anyway without wishing to go on it was actually a very enjoyable way to reach Italy with two and a half days on board to enjoy the calm Med, warm sunshine and views of the Balearic Islands before a stop for a few hours in Barcelona. A number of motorbikes joined the ship after a few vehicles had left and we enjoyed the view of the much overdue cathedral, two superyachts owned by Arab sheiks and the sight of tourists passing above the ship on a cablecar. We also had phone connectivity for a couple of hours before we headed once more in to the simmering blue Med bound for Genoa. During another exploration of the ship we found all the Moroccan van drivers had set up camp in and around the cinema and reclining chairs as stretching to a cabin would be be beyond their reach - again we should count our blessings.

Genoa was reached on the Thursday morning giving me a couple of days in hand for the Brexit ballet as time aboard doesn't count. It is a busy port with links to Sardinia, Sicily and Corsica amongst others so we threaded between numerous container ships and brightly painted ferries before finally tying up opposite a queue of yet more heaviily overloaded vans heading back to Tangiers.

 

We were soon off and away and had decided to have a quick look round Genoa but the sat nav flagged up an environmental zone ahead so with no knowledge of its limits or implementation decided to head north to our intended stop at Voltaggio with a brief interuption at Compomorone where we withdrew euros, enjoyed a first Italian coffee and replenished the fridge and food cupboards at a small supermarket. We had also stopped at a motorhome workshop to get a replacement water cap but they didn't do gas or our sort of regulator unfortunately.

Voltaggio provided an excellent first night's stay with a walk up in to the hills above the medieval village, coffee and ice cream in a friendly cafe and a walk down to the 12th century bridge. The aire was on the edge of the village by the football pitch and had water available. We slept very well and woke to a couple of guys setting up a spit roast for a whole lamb that would take all day to cook - it was a public holiday and a bike race was due to pass by late morning. We decided to try and catch it so walked back in to the village, decided it was unlikely to fly through the narrow cobbled streets and walked down to the old bridge and on to the main road just in time to see the safety cars and peloton flash by followed by the local police.

 

We decided to move on in to the Apennines in case the lamb roast got busy and after some hair raising encounters with suicidal motorbikers, one in particular jamming on the brakes and compressing his forks as he headed straight towards us, we turned on to minor roads through the hills and climbed to La Piane campsite located above lovely Cerignale. We were greeted by Tracy from Yorkshire who has lived in Italy for 20 years and has run the site for a couple of years with her Italian husband having both previously been welders. She had a lovely mixed accent and parked us up in a spot beside one of the many wooden cabins that she said would be drier ground if the forecast heavy rain materialised. We walked down to Cerignale and then returned to eat at their quirky onsite restauarant and enjoyed some good cooking whilst talking to a German couple.

Next day we did a good walk up in to the hills passing a large well maintained walker's refuge and returning through Cerignale after a short thunderstorm for coffee and cake.

Dropping down to Bobbio the next day after doing our laundry we encountererd more mad bikers but enjoyed the large square, cathedral and impresssive bridge in this attractive little town. Leaving the hills behind we dropped in to the Po valley with its flat arable fields and stayed the night at Farini adjacent to the river where in a very friendly bar in the otherwise closed town we enjoyed snacks and pizzas with our drinks. 

From Monticelli D'Ongina we enjoyed another ride clocking up 45 miles around the embankments above the river and walked in to to the town with its brick built castle and cloistered streets. The following day we rode along the Po and crossed in to Cremona partly in a futile search for gas and stopped at a Decathlon where we bought a small bar bag and gel saddle pad. Back at MDO we walked in for a drink before sleeping well in the aire alongside a couple of other vans. 

Moving on east we stopped at Sala Baganza at an aire next to a sports centre and hooked up to the electricity for a couple of hours as the gas side of our 3 way fridge has packed up - I think the exhaust and flue have collapsed after 20 years so hope to repair or replace when home later in the year.

We cycled up the valley and then turned in to the hills for some steep climbs on a sunny evening before returning to the aire where a huge Swiss van had also arrived. Next day we cycled in to Parma and really enjoyed this very cycle friendly city with its fine buildings, pretty squares and gentle pace. Raw horse meat for lunch was surprisingly good and with no apparent side effects and we cycled home just ten minutes too late to avoid a downpour but soon dried off in the van. We noted in Parma as elsewhere that there are large numbers of beautiful old bikes still in use, many must be approaching 50 years old and were generally kept in very good condition.

From Guastalla we again enjoyed a long ride through the countryside along the Po river which had almost dried up last year and yet saw damaging floods earlier this year. An intricate network of leats, drains, canals and levees has operted in this area since Roman times and it is still a hugely productive area although a fair bit of the arable crop had seen wind damage.

With the weekend approaching we pulled in at Pieve Di Cariano and paid the 20 euros for 3 nights that included power - partly because of the fridge issues and also because yet again, as in Spain Campingaz was proving elusive. We walked in to the village and had a beer at a restaurant busy preparing to serve at least 50 covers and checked out the water and waste point by the council yard for later as the water at our site by the river was apparently not drinkable. Later that evening we were treated to music from a local group down on the pontoon and were very moved by a Dutch couple in a camper who danced gently - she was clearly suffering from some form of dementia but came alive with the music. A little further on a huge American army truck had pulled up and was providing food and drink to the various people who turned up - we enjoyed a beer and a prosecco before joining the music.

Next day after walking in to the village again for bread we enjoyed a few hours relaxing as it was very hot but still fitted in a 25 mile ride that afternoon and had a quiet night with no further entertainment. On the Sunday we set off again on the bikes following a number of cycle tracks along various water courses and discovered beautiful San Beniditto Po with its huge square, large church and cool cloisters. We enjoyed drinks at a small cafe just before it closed and then set off again to find a place for lunch but eventually returned to the same village and stopped at a tiny pizza place run by an old lady. Her pizzas were absolutely delicious and were served in a shady seating area by a girl who spoke excellent English. Back by the river the truck had returned so we walked over for a beer but due to a misunderstanding ended up with a bottle of prosecco instead of a glass so decided to stick it in the fridge and substitute it for a glass of our own wine. The truck finally left around midnight giving us another peaceful night in this lovely area.

 

Monday the 12th of June saw us moving on with a stop at the walled town of Montagnana to Este where the aire was tucked away in a square in the town centre and had free hook up with only the parking to pay for at 1 euro per hour until 6pm. We found a hardware shop for some glue as the mirror glass door runners in the shower had slipped loose - fortunately the falling glass did not break and all was soon well - at 20 years old it's not surprising that some of the van's fixtures and fittings are on the way out but all should easily be resolved in due course. Having been away 7 months and with 2 still to go there is an ever lengthening list of minor jobs and repairs to keep me occupied back in the UK from mid August. Este had a large castle and gardens and made for a good walk round and we moved on the following day to Montselice and Padua with again the odd futile foray in search of gas - fortunately we have two full cylinders in hand and with not using the fridge or cooking much due to the heat I expect it to see me through to Germany in late July.

 

 

We had decided to stop at Noale for one night and arrived at the aire adjacent to the bus station to find a barrier in situ, a quick call to the number on a poster and we were in - as well as being informed that the electric was not working. However we had bought a bag of ice in Este and filled water bottles and a lunchbox so that plus some driving had kept the fridge cold enough. Noale was suggested as being a handy place to get the train to Venice and although we had had no intention of going in in the van this option came as a surprise to us and we decided to give it a go. A quick walk down to the station confirmed train times for the following day and we returned to the van to find a local flag waving group practicing nearby.

 So we were at the station first thing next morning but failed to get the ticket machine to work so Mandy asked in the adjacent bar and they promptly issued two returns for the thirty minute journey. We hadn't really realised that the city was actually connected to the mainland and were delighted to arrive on the edge of this remarkable place and be straight out on to the Grand Canal. Plenty of people were heading out trailing suitcases behind them as we set off to explore deciding just to wander randomly and head for the quieter areas. It really was an amazing place with beautiful buildings, hundreds of bridges, dozens of canals and backwaters and at the outer edges remarkable views across to other islands around the bay. We lunched alongside a side canal and were served by a very friendly Tunisian waiter. Watching the life on the water was fascinating as apart from the passenger ferries and gondolas all the construction materials, hotel and shop supplies, food and drinks etc were being delivered by numerous barges of various sizes all jostling with one another to tie up, move off, load or unload. Inevitably we arrived at St Marks Square which was busy but not rammed and admired the fabulous basilica before seeking out the Bridge of Sighs and then following more paths and bridges around the edges.  Reluctantly after a wonderful day we caught a train back to Noale and just had time to look round the town which was preparing for a medieval festival which I'm sure would be worth returning to another time. Before leaving the next morning we took a look at the huge market that occupied most of the town and then headed off for Treviso pleased that the barrier opened automatically - no one had come for payment and we had been able to fill up with water.

 

The aire at Treviso was on the edge of a tree shaded car park but was itself in full sun so we nipped out for another bag of ice and then explored this lovely town with its narrow streets, a few waterways and several waterwheels. We watched a laid back coypu float down the river, saw a pair of swans with seven cygnets and admired the large fish swimming in the clear water before returning to base. Later that evening we walked in to town again and after following a flow of people along the city wall came across a large event we had seen posters for - basically an Elvis Tribute festival : The King is in Town. All manner of fast food stalls were offering dishes from around the world but with a leaning to the American scene and there were stalls with t-shirts and other merchandise as well as some lovely old American cars and motorbikes. It was a great atmosphere and before long a superb Beatles tribute band - the Beatboys from Spain - were belting out some old favourites. They were very good and kept the crowd entertained for almost two hours leaving us a late night walk back though empty streets. I misread our direction so we ended up with quite a walk back but at least saw parts of this enchanting place we might otherwise have missed.

Passing the oustskits of Trieste we arrived at the parking for Grotta Gigante and booked for the guided tour giving us time to look around the informative museum before as a thunderstorm erupted we began to descend the 500 steps in to a huge underground chamber richly decorated with stalactites, stalagmites, columns and flowstone. It was all on a remarkable scale and the main chamber is high enough to allow two long pendulums that can actually detect slight movements in the earths crust - for example a slight deformation when there is heavy snow on the Alps.

 

Back on the surface we crossed briefly in to Slovenia and then in to Croatia where at the mid point of the Parenzana cycle trail lies the Eco Gecko mini camping at Triban. The friendly if eccentric Michael cycled over to open the gate and we decided to pitch up in shade behind the small facilities block. There were perhaps a dozen pitches in total with a range of nationalities and Michael lived in a caravan/awning combo on the adjacent field as he was also renting out the house. We walked in to the village to check out access to the trail and then retired for a very peaceful night after sitting in the evening cool.

The trail took us along the route of an old narrow gauge line that ran back to Trieste so dropped gently to Izola on the coast passing through a busy campsite where people were lying on the pebbly beach. We found a beach cafe for lunch and a beer before returning round the edge of the salt workings that occupied many acres of enclosed lagoons and climbing past a hotel on a back road to cut off a long loop out thus returning us to Triban after 42 miles.

The trail in the opposite direction the following day was much more rural and passed through a number of cool tunnels and over various viaducts before we reached Livade. Here a restuarant with a shady terrace tempted us to enjoy a good lunch out of the heat before we pushed on and climbed steeply to the hill top village of Montovun. This is arranged on various levels and contains a variety of old buildings surrounded by defensive walls. We pushed the bikes up the last few steep streets and then locked them up to explore further. There were great views across the valley and forested hills beyond and we could well understand local opposition to a proposed golf course and 500 room hotel down below. Drinks on a terraced bar and replenished water bottles saw us fit for the long but steady climb back on a hot afternoon and we made the right decision to deviate slightly to beautiful Groznan which we felt topped Montovun. Ice creams refreshed us before we walked the maze of streets with houses decorated with flowers and painted bicycles - it is an area renowned for truffles but we only stretched to a bag of truffle flavoured crisps as we weren't stopping to eat. Another musical evening was scheduled for later but we still had a few miles to go so set off back along the track to find the campsite almost empty. Chatting to Michael the next day he explained that Croatia is aiming for upmarket tourism and he was only allowed to open as a 3* site which meant providing more facilities than he had planned but he is closed for the winter as visitor numbers drop right off. He had an interesting lineage and life story and I look forward to returning there one day as I plan to return to the Istrian peninsula and further down the Adriatic coast in the off season.

 

En route to Divaca from where we could cycle to the Skocjan Cave we visited a tiny church in the rural village of Hrastovlje which contained stunning centuries old frescoes including one of a macabre line of skeletons dancing as well as depictions of biblical scenes in the various roof vaults and wall niches.

The aire at Divaca was very well organised with power, water and picnic tables but a bit near a busy road. We offloaded the bikes and cycled the 20 minutes over to Skocjan Cave where we just managed to join the 2 o'clock tour. After a walk down a limestone valley we reached the entrance and joined the English speaking tour. Unfortunately photography was not allowed inside the cave which was reached by a long tunnel blasted through the rock so you'll have to Google it for piccies. It was another remarkable place with an almost unbelievable array of karst formations occupying numerous chambers and passages. At the far end there was a choice of routes back to the visitor centre and we chose the longer option which took us through a deep gorge through more caves, past waterfalls and over a bridge before a final massive cave passage brought us back to the surface. After a quick ride home we walked in to the small town for a beer near the station after a quite remarkable day.

The continuing high temeperatures triggered cave fever so we booked a trip to Postojnska cave and drove there the following day - it had an aire and we could have stayed but time was against us so we parked up after some confusion over ticket procedures and walked through to the main visitor centre. This venue was far more developed than the other two with additional attractions available, a host of gift shops and cafes and a large hotel. It was also much busier but we only had an hour until our tour so were soon on our way in. We were directed on to a long train of simple metal carriages and were then taken at quite a speed through 2km of cave passage - quite amazing as other trains were returning on the parallel track, such was the scale of the passage. We all then dismounted and began a long walk through a cave system that defies description in terms of size, content and variety. It was almost unbelivable and despite the huge numbers of people down there the caverns still towered above us in all directions. It was hard to take it all in such was the scale and extent of the place and whilst the trains are questionable it is probably the only way most people would ever see such a remarkable place. We bagged a front seat on the return journey which was perfect as the small engine whizzed us back to the entrance.

Our ticket also included entry to the Prejama Castle a few miles up the valley (but not the parking which is a bit naughty) so we headed off there and were yet again totally absorbed by this cave castle. It had been built to allow for the natural rock features so many of the internal walls were the actual limestone and channels had been cut to gather fresh water for times of siege. In the cave high up behind the main castle a metal shroud had been fabricated round a dripping stal to gather further water and a secret cave tunnel had allowed the occupants to reach local villages to restock if a siege was mounted. Various steps and passages led out to terraces above the valley whilst within the rooms included the kitchens with a cave shaft used as the chimney, the armoury, master bedroom and adjoining chapel, a rather gruesome torture chamber in a deep dark cave, the day rooms and servants quarters. It was another place well worth visisting and topped off a very enjoyable few days in a fascinating area. We moved on to a farm based camping with excellent facilities and pitched up in a recently mown hay field with a few other vans dotted around at Grahovo Lipsenj.

The continuing very hot weather tempted us to stop by a river on a small campsite at Priseki where we hired an inflatable canoe to spend an hour on the river to cool off. The owner Stefan was a really nice guy and had gone to great trouble to provide a smart site with excellent facilities in the field behind his mother's cafe. He'd only been open 2 years but was full of enthusiasm and interested in my suggestion that he should stay open in winter for self contained vans. He explained that the cafe closed at 4 as his mother couldn't find any staff as many Croatians leave for better wages in Germany and beyond. Croatia has only just adopted the euro this year and is hoping for a more stable future so I hope he does OK. In fact it was so nice there that we stayed another day in the shade of adjacent trees and occasionally sitting by the river.

After dealing with the various van services we departed for Zagreb and arrived at a small site on the outskirts having decided against visiting the city as rain was forecast. The owner greeeted us with bread,ham and cheese but was a bit obsessional about lining up the van to his power post. We sat in the shade until in the early evening a dramatic thunderstorm erupted with lightning filling the skies. It eased by bedtime and Saturday dawned bright and sunny for our short drive to Zagreb airport. Another slight confusion about parking was resolved and we soon had Mandy waiting to check in in a couple of hours time. I headed off and was pleased to hear of her safe arrival back in Sheffield later that day.

My travels east continue so until next time the usual piccies sit here ....

 

Moroccan Finale

 From my eyrie above the Tizi'n Test I headed north passing the Tin Mal mosque where the restoration had made some steady progress. I had thought to stop there but as it was early I carried on down through Ourigane and took the turning west to Amizmiz. Almost immediately I spotted a nice stand of well spaced pine trees used as a picnic area and decided it would suit me very well for a lay up. The shade was welcome as the temperatures approached 40 degrees and I walked up to the small village later on to buy bread and a huge melon. I spent a very relaxing couple of days with shepherds passing, locals stopping to chat and a walk up to the dam of the nearby reservoir.

 

I also headed off to Amizmiz stopping at a font for water but found nowhere nicer above the lake so was back amongst the trees later that day. The following morning a tortoise emerged to enjoy some vegetable scraps before burrowing under the pine mulch to avoid the heat of the day.

On the Monday I tracked Mandy's flight down from Manchester before heading to the airport parking, stopping briefly at a small supermarket for a food top up, filling up with fuel and taking on board water from the car wash. the large empty parking was ideal for awaiting the evening flight and slightly ahead of schedule I walked over to the modern arrivals hall in the evening heat.

We decided to take some exercise and walked in to the local neighbourhood, ducked in to the backstreets and were immediately rewarded with that heady mix of noise, light, smells, vehicles and people all buzzing around the roadside stalls. We stopped in a cafe for drinks to soak it all up before returning to the parking for a good night's rest. I had noticed a number of UK plated cars jotted about on flat and perished tyres - all had long expired MOTs and tax with some having being dumped there for a decade or more. I guess people just fly out and forget low value wrecks but It's surprising that they are just left in situ.

The following day we headed out to Camp Zebra at the Cascades d'Ouzoud and whilst my previous pitch was occupied we took a nice one with plenty of shade and privacy. It was very hot so we stayed put until late afternoon and then walked down to see the falls and take tea on a cafe terrace where the local lads were absorbed in the footie on a large TV.  A sheet was all that was needed overnight and the next day we set off early to walk down to the cave at the confluence stopping at two lovely simple cafes down by the water's edge and returning past the string of shops and stalls on the one side of the gorge. A very relaxed group of monkeys were delightful - even a mother with a small baby was trusting enough to be photographed. The afternoon saw us in the pool again and talking to an amazing Dutch couple who had spent almost 20 years criss crossing the globe in a Land Cruiser camper. On our last evening we walked in to the village again for a delicious dinner half way down the gorge before another very warm night.

 

The natural rock bridge of Imi n'Ifri near Demnate was well worth the walk down and through with a local guy shovelling up the bird droppings in to bags as fertiliser and the worn and exposed steps adding some excitement before we headed east to take R203 towards the Ait Bougumez Valley. This is clearly an area to return to and spend more time in as we passed through numerous small villages with stunning mountains to the south, endless terraced fields and plenty of places to stop overnight.

We eventually passed over the Tizi n Ilisi pass at the snow line before dropping sharply down to Zaouiat Ahansal and pulling in to the Auberge Ahansal where we could park up on a level terrace surrounded by rose bushes. The facilities were excellent and we had a good look round the very beautiful accommodation and decided a meal in the remarkable dining room would be a good choice. A French group were also staying and we enjoyed a very good chicken dinner before a quiet night under starry skies.

 

From here I knew we could cautiously follow the R203 as it became a piste and threaded its way through the craggy mountains to arrive once more, for me, at La Cathedrale where a few Moroccan groups were also staying for the weekend. We parked in shade and set off to walk up to the summit passing a large flock of small black goats being tended by three generations of women. It was a good view back down to the river and van and further along at the summit some lads were set up with food and drinks - one was planning to stay the night for sunset and dawn photographs so had made up a sleeping bag and foam mattress. As we dropped back to the van we decided to give the ladies some coins as they looked pretty impoverished but turned away as I took out my camera where I keep notes stored.

The locals were enjoying themselves around camp fires on our return but it was all quiet by mid evening and we slept well before heading out to the Bin El Ouidane reservoir again. We stopped at the garage for fuel and water and made use of the jet wash to clean the bikes and van - a few lads were kicking a 5l water bottle around and were beyond delighted when on impulse I bought them a football from the garage. Staying out at above the water was as sublime as ever with a lovely sunset and the lights of tiny houses emerging across the water. Our road east towards Imilchil passed through more mountain ranges and after stopping for lunch in a very basic roadside cafe we pulled up at Auberge Tislit pleased to see that the lady in charge was back from her stay in hospital. Unfortunately she said that the lad who had been in charge during her absence had run off with the takings - he was the artist and I had asked him to do me a portrait so was glad not to have paid in advance. As always it was a great place to stay and a couple of other vans turned up with a few spread out across the lake and some Moroccans in tents on the disused campsite - surely a good business opportunity in such a stunning setting....We cycled off down the valley south of Imilchil and reached the end of the tarmac having been joined by an energetic and friendly group of boys on a real mish mash of old bikes. At the final village we got talking to an older guy who said that the valley continued west and would after a four day trek reach the La Cathedrale valley - something we later confirmed on the map - remarkable..... we had a good tajine in the village before,during our final night, the weather turned as forecast and it rained heavily with the temperature falling and to our surprise fresh snow on the higher tops next morning

Our route east towards Boumia took us high up in to the Atlas on a rough road with snow falling - at one point as we waited for a straw lorry to unload a guy asked us for a lift so we took him the 20 miles to Tounfite where he insisted we came to his house for refreshments. He directed us up a narrow side street and across a largely dry riverbed to his simple home where his rather surprised wife soon produced omelette and bread, he'd even nipped out for some fizzy orange juice for us and we felt very honoured to be in their humble home - he had five children and showed us the physics and maths textbooks in Arabic that he was using to study for a baccalaureate.

That night we stayed up amongst the cedar trees of the Middle Atlas - the rough and dusty tracks of recent weeks had taken their toll on the fridge and I think the exhaust flue has failed as the CO alarm kept activating. It will have to wait till I get back in August but still works on 12v when driving or hook up if on site so is not a big issue. The Trumastore water heater was also acting up but removing the second cowl seemed to resolve that for now.

We moved on to Azrou and stopped for a walk round and an excellent lunch in a smart cafe before pulling in to the Camping Amazig we had used before. However with no one around we returned towards town and decided to experience the bizarre Eurocampings set up. A huge and elaborate hotel with Disney style towers, a double gated arched entrance and extensive gardens provided camping up on the higher terraces with an enormous circular tent as a meeting place, elaborate loo facilities and what looked like a spacious owner's house even higher up. There were a few other vans there and we took a spot with hook up near a trio of 6 wheel drive French military style trucks. We walked back down to the hotel itself passing a sorry looking pool with a collapsed boundary wall and were invited in by a friendly guy with seriously deformed legs to look round the main buildings. It was absolutely amazing to be shown huge furnished suites with extravagant bathrooms, endless upholstered seats and benches, a huge but empty basement kitchen and a similarly bereft ballroom. Clearly the place had never opened since being completed a decade ago and would need a lot more spending on light fittings, linen, tableware and catering appliances - none of which seemed about to happen. We were at a loss to explain it all but enjoyed a quiet night overlooking the well tended gardens. 

 

We pulled in to Ifrane which felt very different to other places with clean wide boulevards, smart detached colonial houses and numerous hotels although many of these were empty or in disrepair. The king has his summer palace there and there is a large university but it really felt quite out of place and yet had a large number of tourist coaches stopping by.

A longish drive took us in to the Rif Mountains where at Taounate we turned off in search of a camping spot - the sat nav took us down some very rural tracks and through some tight hamlets with no sign of the correct location so we circled back on to tarmac and then spotted a sign in Arabic only that looked promising. A steep forest track climbed up for a mile or so before emerging above a lake overlooked by a number of Berber tents within a fenced off area. This was clearly Montazyfrane and the friendly gardien Abdelsamallah directed us to park up with the most amazing view. We stayed two nights and did a 30 mile ride round the lake which took in a fair few hills. In Taounate which is draped over several of these we had a fresh orange juice in a cafe where the locals were amazed to see a foreign face.

Back at the camp a group of retired bankers had been having a reunion and meal with a small band playing in the open air and a very happy atmosphere. We were a source of intrigue and plenty of people came over to talk to us whilst a drone hovered overhead. We had arranged to eat in the largest open fronted tent and enjoyed an excellent tagine with the tenderest meat as the sun set.

Moving on north we stopped at Targuist for a phone top up and emerged at the campsite at Kala Iris set above the small fishing port where recent heavy rain had caused a substantial landslide. We walked up the track I had arrived by a few years ago which had been very rough and was now almost impossibly slippery and indeed ended up pushing a local guy in his van that was struggling on an incline. After walking down to the port for a coffee alongside the main gate we watched the various fishing boats leave before dusk and noted the dramatic change in colour of the bay as the local red rivers entered the blue Med.

A showery day saw us ride down to the small bay at Torres de Alcala but we soon sought shelter in a small cafe as a heavy shower passed and decided to cut our losses. It cleared up enough to to ride up to the recently restored towers and as we headed back a large digger and two lorries were making good progress at removing the landslip.

 

A recently married Moroccan couple were in a tent and a German couple occupied a low roof T3 with an awning for extra space but we were grateful for more solid accommodation as heavy rain fell again. A wiry cyclist turned up as well and pitched his small tent in a corner but was away early the next morning. After 3 enjoyable nights we moved on too and headed along the coast road to El Jebha for food and grilled sardines in a coastal cafe. The Park4Night App had listed a small place in Oued Laou which we found tucked away at the end of a sandy track right by the beach. It was simply a parking area with a primitive loo but suited our needs and gave us the opportunity to walk in to the village, pick up the promenade and return via a cafe and for me a barbers for a much needed trim.

It was a lovely simple place to stay and worthy of a return - a Dutch couple in a Land Cruiser camper provided amusement by attempting to shower behind a makeshift shelter and we were pleased that less dust and perhaps some time on hook up had sorted out the water heater issue. The van has performed amazingly over the last 6 months and 7000 miles but I am aware that all the appliances and bathroom mouldings etc are now over 20 years old.

Moving on to Chefchaouen via the swooping coast road included a brief stop at another beach with an opulent well landscaped promenade - at one end the police and local security forces were supervising a group who were being evicted from some makeshift housing - with Ceuta the disputed Spanish enclave only a couple of hours north this may have been to do with managing potential migrants and was thought provoking.

Chefchaouen campsite was fairly empty and we took a pitch overlooking the town with EHU and near a huge French lorry that contained a family of four on a 5 year odyssey to save the planet and spread goodwill, according to their website - donations welcome.....

We walked down in to town noting that the Hotel Atlas was still closed up and enjoyed the familiar sights and sounds of the densely packed alleys in the old centre. From a cafe overlooking one of the squares we watched families enjoying fairground rides before taking the steep path back.The following day we walked down to the springs and took the path up to a mosque with good views across the blue town before dropping down and exploring parts new to both of us.

That night an impressive thunderstorm and torrential rain passed through but the morning dawned bright and sunny so we dropped down once more for a final look round as our departure for Genoa was looming. 

Tetouan was well worth a visit en route to Tanger with a a long bustling souk full of masses of fruit, veg, fresh fish, clothing and shoe shops, metal and woodworking shacks and a twisting mass of busy people. Out at Martil we had a huge salad overlooking the sandy beach and finally turned up at the port with an hour left on our 90 day vehicle insurance. We were a day early for the ferry but have been allowed to stay overnight and are now watching a large number of Italian registered vans lining up for the 55 hour journey to Genoa. Presumably they are importing Moroccan goods as all are hugly overloaded so no doubt customs will be busy.

It has been a fantastic return to to this amazing country and I hope to be back again before long - we have 3 weeks left together to cross Italy and drop in to Slovenia before Mandy returns home and I begin a slow loop home via Hungary, Slovakia and Germany.

All police, customs and vehicle export formalities, including the whole vehicle scanner have been accomplished so : that's it.......

 

More pics here.

Using The Atlas

Heading away from my location above the reservoir I stopped for fuel in Ouaouizaght and topped up my water tank before heading towards Tilouguitte on the R302 which looped round the drier reaches of the reservoir before climbing steadily over the col with good views across to the High Atlas to the south west. It was a decent surface that plunged in to the hillside village via a series of hairpins, wriggled through the town and then crossed the river at a point where the women were washing carpets and clothes and children were swimming in the gorge. Another set of hairpins and a final dusty village as the tarmac ran out put me right by the river on level gravel under the trees with the lofty and impressive Cathedrale looming over me.

 

This is a huge craggy buttress that rises perhaps 1500' above the river in dramatic fashion with its red hues, vertical crags and shrub lined ledges. I took a nose further along the valley but thought the track a bit too rough to pursue as it led through to the Ait Bou Goumez Valley and Agouti some 40 miles further on. The location alongside the river was sublime and to add interest there was an abandoned timber mill housed in a long shed with the remnants of the saw mill complete with 4' diameter blades, a thicknesser and other items - no manufacturers' plates remained but it all looked very dated and would presumably have processed the mainly cedars that clad the local slopes. 

 

An English girl and her Portuguese boyfriend were in a van by the river and remarkably further up was a small Eriba caravan and another van. It was a great spot and I was up early next morning to take the two and a half hour walk up to the summit. The path started off near a small gite, climbed steadily to a quirky art deco picnic spot and then began to get quite exciting as it approached the main bulk of La Cathedrale. Rough steps cut in to solid rock were followed by loose screes, steeper sections and then a scramble with a wire for reassurance on to a fairly wide ledge that ran around the cliff edge past some caves. There was a 500' drop on the one side and I would have preferred a wider ledge but eventually the path climbed steeply again via some rough steps to emerge half a mile from the summit with wonderful views back down to the van parked up way below. It was a remarkable vantage point in hot sunshine but a strengthening wind was heralding the arrival of thunderstorms from the west. Carefully returning via the same route I was back at the van after 6 hours having spotted a bright blue roller bird on a power line - hard to photograph but a beautiful sight. I spoke with the young couple for a while and prepared for a quiet night. However whilst it was still dry and sunny I could hear some significant storms away in  the distance and an hour later noticed tthat the river had turned a dirty brown colour, was carrying logs and other debris and was rising quickly. Then the heavens opened around us so I decided it might be prudent to move off the gravel flood plain so headed back to the track and then looked for a place to stay on higher ground. I took a side dirt track but torrential rain and hail rapidly turned this in to a slippery quagmire so I turned round, dropped back to the main track and crossed the bridge which confirmed that the river was indeed rising rapidly. With wipers on full tilt I reached tarmac and then climbed well above the valley floor before finding a side turn on to a level rocky patch that would do for the night. Tremendous thunder and lighning abated after a couple of hours and apart from one truck and a moped nothing moved that evening. Next morning dawned bright and sunny but the higher slopes had a white coating of snow and hail and as I returned to Ouaouizaght I could see that the higher ranges of the High Atlas had seen a significant fall.

Grateful not to have been caught out I spent a night back above the reservoir where a lovely old Moroccan guy turned up and told me a sorry tale of his ailing mother unable to afford medicines for heart trouble and his five children - he normally makes a living from catching fish but had been having little luck and with Ramadam demand was way down anyway. I was very moved and whilst slightly dubious asked how much the drugs would be. One hundred dirham was quoted but mindful of how fortunate I was to make a full recovery from my excitement over a decade ago now I gave him 400 and wished him and his family well. At this point he burst in to tears and embraced me tightly for many minutes whilst I reassured him that it was fine and he shouldn't be upset. Eventually he wandered off leaving me to feel very humbled yet again by these amazing people and their wonderful country. I had decided to approach the Ait Bou Goumez valley from the west so drove to the huge Bin El Ouidan dam and crossed it taking the road to Azilal. From here many miles of remote twisting tarmac took me through bizarre geology to reach a T junction with the R302 again. I turned east and dropped through remote Berber villages clinging to the rocky slopes beneath snow coverered summits and eventually arrived at Zaoulat Ahansal. From here it was only perhaps 30 miles back to La Cathedrale and the road was being upgraded so I decided to take a punt. After ten miles the tarmac petered out and yet again the van performed superbly on the last 20 miles of rough piste with loose climbs, washouts from the storms and many hairpin bends but after a challenging 90 minutes or so I was back at my riverside pitch against all expectations. In bright sunshine with the river still running a paler brown I followed its course and then a side valley up to a source where crystal clear water gushed out of a rock crevice. Back at the van a few Moroccan groups had arrived as the weekend saw the end of Ramadam but there was room for all and I had a peaceful night. Returning once more to Ouaouizaght I picked up some foodstuffs as the shops were selling well in readiness for Eid, the festival that marks the end of Ramadam, filled up with water again at the garage and then took up residence once again above the lake.

 

 

Later eleven young Moroccan guys arrived for their Eid party and invited me to join them for bread, salad, kebas and tea in what became a very memorable couple of hours as we swopped numbers and photos and enjoyed the superb location. I didn't want to intrude too much so left them to it and they eventually dropped down to the shore for a game of football. We said our good byes later and they drove off only for another family group to turn up for a sunset picnic - they also invited me to join them but I had already eaten too much so politely declined.

The next morning I took back roads through to the Cascades D'Ouzoud I had last visited on my first trip a decade ago and noticed that the corn crop was being harvested - hand sickled, tied in to bunches and then loaded on to donkeys to be taken home for hand threshing. I ignored the gestures of car park attendants to stop as I was heading for the Camp Zebra camping above town where the friendly patron offered me a choice of pitches as the place was quiet. I chose a shady terrace adjacent to a tap and with good views across the valley and an English couple for neighbours. They were also on a 3 month Brexit busting visit and looking at their onwards options for the end of April so were interested in our plans to sail to Italy. It was very hot so I took advantage of the shade and tap to do two loads of hand washing, strung a line between two posts and it all dried within an hour. I then walked down to town which was quietening down after the holiday weekend and walked to the top of the falls for a grandstand view of the multiple streams of water and the numerous terraced cafes and stalls across the gorge. Walking back to the site I enjoyed an ice cream from the womens' co operative stall and settled in to enjoy a quiet night.

Another scorcher dawned - Morocco was experiencing temperatures 10 degrees and more above normal and that same blast of hot air was setting records across in Spain, a complete contrast to the cold spells earlier in the year that had affected the horticultural scene. I enjoyed an hour in the pool and then took off for town again this time taking the path down through the terraced cafes and emerging out by the plunge pool where locals were bathing or taking a trip on the colourful barrel barges that edged under the falls to the delight and screams of passengers. I carried on down the gorge leaving people behind and passing ever more distant and run down camping options amongst the trees, they were very simple set ups and would provide for a magical if primitive experience. I then passed a small house before meeeting a group of lads who like me were trying to find a cave somewhere in the main gorge. Some rudimentary steps and ladders brought us down to the river and after some dead ends we spotted the small entrance into a surprisingly well decorated  chamber. It was a long hot walk back out of the valley so after finding the small bakery down a side street I stopped for tea in a shady terrace before another ice cream on the way back.

 

My new neighbour was a Swiss guy in a large Dodge RAM 5l truck with a camper body on the back which all looked very impressive and expensive - he had been down to Mauritania and said that out on the deep sandy tracks in the desert his plastic fuel filter had melted in the heat... Anyway we enjoyed wide ranging discussions in the evening cool and watched a French couple in a brand new Ducato struggle to reverse out of the dead end track below the site - much Gallic hand waving and colourful vocabulaire.

 

 

By now I began to doubt the viability of my intended trek as there had been no futher contact since an email giving very sparse arrangements about meeting up - stupidly I had actually deleted their email but felt that if they were any good they would have contacted me again with a kit list, guidance on clothing and the like. Thus I had an extra week to fill so decided to head back across the High Atlas via Demnate heading towards Ouarzazate as I thought a few days with Mahfoud and his friendly family back at Toundoute would be enjoyable. The beautiful road has again been much improved since my previous visit a decade ago and climbed majestically over the Tizzi N Outfi pass at 2150m with the bus pulling well. Just after Assermo I could have taken a back route to Toungoute but decided that welcoming as it was the auberge had little or no shade and I was planning to rest up for a few days. Thus I carried on down towards Ouarzazate and stopped for the night on a large gravelled area off the road and still high enough to be cooler. Below me in the distance the sun reflected off the impressive Noor solar power station - an indicator of where Morocco's future lies both for domestic use and international export.

It had been a straightforward enough route this time although the section from Tamzerit had yet to be upgraded and was still a narrow band of ragged tarmac with washed out riverbeds in the gorges but at least unlike 2013 there were no snowdrifts or icy patches. A large group of men pulled in during the evening and all produced prayer mats, faced east and began their ceremony - reminding me of a similar event a few years ago in the Brecon Beacons that at that time and location seemed a little suspicious. 

After a quiet night I dropped down to the N10, turned east and parked up in Skoura to stock up with food before pulling in to a camping area alongside the mighty Amahidil Kasbah. The site was almost empty but had a large bamboo and palm frond sun canopy that I could just park under which was perfect. A Portuguese guy in a tent with a van was also tucked away but didn't seem to be particularly sociable so I sat and read in the shade as dusk fell. Early next morning I was off to the Kasbah and explored its numerous rooms, levels and shaded courtyards - it was well worth a visit as the original layout and structure had been very well preserved and each room left to show its original purpose with the relevant equipment or furnishings. The cafe tucked away in a shaded courtyard was vey peaceful if a little overpriced so I returned to the van for a light lunch in the shade. Later on I jumped on the bike for a couple of hours exploring the extensive palmery - always an absorbing experience and then returned to talk to a French couple who had been cycle touring around Morocco for two months but actually lived in Tunisia. They recommended a visit but it's much smaller than Morocco so would perhaps only justify a month or two one day.

So after a respite from the continuing heat and with the trek definitely not happening I decided to stay on the south side of the Toubkal massif and see if a road we had seen several weeks ago would indeed lead up towards Lac Ifni. After a refreshingly varied, if expensive, shop at the Carrefour in Ouarzazate I headed towards the Tizzi n Tichka pass over to Marrakesh that we had gingerly crept over in a damaged van back in 2015 before taking a side road towards Sour. This passed a mining site that had covered everything in a thick black dust - not coal but I think possibly manganese and then climbed in to the hills with a number of far smaller one man band mines following what must be a substantial seam.

 

Eventually the tarmac turned south but my route lay north and for the next ten miles the van yet again proved immensely capable on a rough stony track through empty barren land. Eventually I popped out in Sour to join the road we had discovered almost two months ago after visiting Telouet and this brought me to Amsouzart, the turning to Imilhene and the way to Lac Ifni. I stopped for bread and then followed the narrow valley through some very humble villages with terraced crops and plenty of green trees and shrubs thriving thanks to the various streams gushing down from above.

It felt a bit like my visit to Nepal, cycling, almost 40 years ago now as I climbed up a steep and twisting road. Two Moroccan lads with rucksacks were heading the same way so I picked them up as their destination was still several miles ahead. They were from Taroudnant and had good English so when the road petered out near a rock and gravel but level area I got them to ask the two little boys who turned up if I could stay. Apparently that was fine and their Dad would come by later so I said goodbye to the guys as they headed up for a night by the lake some 3 miles and a 1000' further up a mule track. It was a spectacular location marking the spring line so bare rocks rose high above whilst spread out below the villages, terraces and crops looked magnificent. Dad spent some time watering his crops and a few trees but had obviously given the kids strict instructions to leave me in peace and the day ended with a cool breeze, amazing stars and a blanket stillness other than the stream cascading down across the valley. A friendly group of four in a hired 4x4 stopped for the view and were intrigued by the van and my situation, especially the one from Sydney when he heard about my visit there in 2010/11.

Next morning I was away after breakfast to follow the mule track away from the house towards Ifni. Several groups of workers were laying a better stone surface which made the going very easy so after just over an hour I reached the col for a view of the blue lake far below with the mountains of the Toubkal massif rising another 6000' above. The start of the route from the lake towards the western summit could be seen as it crossed a huge alluvial scree, again looking like the desolate valleys I had visited around Annapurna. Below the col a small tea shack was providing refreshment to a lively party of youngsters who had made it there and a couple of tourists who had taken a mule ride. I also met the guy from Sydney and one other from their group who had struggled a bit but were in good spirits and then eventually the two lads from Taroundant who had had a very enjoyable night - I promised to pick them up if I saw then again as I would be heading their way.

 

Back at the van I rested up and then walked down to the village for tea on a shady terrace - it was all very idyllic but would I am sure be very different in the winter months. I had to pull the bikes off to change a gas bottle - I should have checked back at Skoura as whilst I am not cooking much or heating a lot of hot water the fridge is working hard especially when I am parked for a few days so there is no cooling from the 12v split when driving. Later that evening the two little lads quietly and shyly came over and I let them have a look at the van but Dad appeared and seemed disproportionately cross with them so I felt a bit awkward and indeed on leaving the next day he still seemed very angry so I paid more than he asked and wished them all well. 

Dropping back to Amsouzart I picked up bread and two gas refills before the couple of hours drive down to the N10 west of Aoulouz. Before long I was climbing the lower reaches of the Tizzi n'Test that Mandy had cycled down 6 weeks ago - on the plains it had been so hot that instead of windows open for a fresh breeze I'd had them shut and the air con on - having it regassed before I left had been a good move. However for the climb in the midday heat it was all windows open and heater, with fan, full on to assist the engine in keeping its cool. I passed the turning to the lofty vantage point a couple of miles off the main road we had spotted weeks ago as I knew I could get water a little further on past one of the panoramic cafes. I pulled in by the pipe that had cool clear water pouring out and spoke to the friendly guy running the simplest of tea shacks. He had just cooked an omelette and insisted I shared it and bread with him so after filling up and moving the van to one side on  the narrow road we sat in the shade as various vehicles passed by including a dozen or so British bikes and the four guys from near Ifni who recognised the van. I thanked the guy, gave him a few dirhams and said I'd see him again in a day or two and retraced my steps before turning off to arrive at a lofty vantage point with a cool breeze. It was hazy due to dust but I enjoyed watching vehicles inching their way up and down the many twists and turns through my binoculars. A guy turned up on a moped with several large sacks strapped on - apparently it was lavender that he was taking down to be processed. He asked for a drink and was delighted when I gave him an ice cold bottle from the fridge and then refilled it and told him to keep it, such small gestures mean the world to people who have so little. Later a young lad appeared, said hello as he passed and then seemed to just drop off a cliff towards a small cluster of house way below wearing just a pair of flip flops...

The odd scooter, car and pick up passed until dusk and I watched the goatherds bring their flocks down the steep slopes as the day cooled off before a few lights emerged way below after dark and the odd vehicle tackled the tricky route.

Today I have read and relaxed whilst watching the view, I took a short walk down the track to see what lay round some hairpins and was surprised to see quite a substantial village way below which explains this improved access. The hazy dust has cleared so even more lights are visible down on the plains stretching away to the south.

Tomorrow I move on as Mandy arrives in Marrakech in four days so I will stop for water again and find somewhere on the other side of the col.

Pics as always here....CLICK

Mounting Mountains

The very hot weather at Agdz was alleiviated by riding down to the palmery and cycling amongst the shaded vegetable plots where broad beans we had seen being planted only two weeks ago were now 2 feet high. As at the Auberge a pump was delivering huge amounts of water to the network of irrigation channels and the locals were hard at work. It was still Ramadam so no drink or food was being consumed during daylight hours - a very tough call - and the town was less lively as the cafes were closed. My rear tyre began losing air and proved impossible to inflate as the side wall had worn through and back at the campground I wasted two tubes trying to fit them before resorting to fitting a new tyre - this then required a trip in to town to use the garage air supply to seat the tyre - something I must find a work round for, once home. Anyway all was well again but now I have no spare 29'' tyres left until I can replace them in Italy in 8 weeks time.

 

I decided heading to Tazzarine and Camp Serdrar would be a chance to get laundry done so moved off there after a very relaxing stay. Serdrar was much much quieter than it had been a month ago - the large French vans with quads on trailers had all gone - most are overwintering French who only get the same 90 days as the rest of us so have presumably headed north. Ibraim suggested I took a spot in the corner with its own sun shelter and I enjoyed a leisurely afternoon undertaking domestic chores. An early departure next morning saw me avoid the heat with a ride on the back tracks in to town to get my phone topped up before returning via other tracks and passing through a very humble settlement with a surprisingly large mosque.

The following day as it felt a little cooler I set off on a route that took me along the track back towards Ait Ouili where we had ridden to the rock carvings but taking a turning south just before the village that picked up a rough track leading to the Taghbalte road after almost 20 miles. The track became more and more remote with a superb mountain range on my left and the route descending in to a dry, bouldery river bed at times. I persevered though and after a couple of lonely hours began to see signs of cultivation with water reserves, boreholes and plastic piping followed by a few houses and eventually tarmac. The return back seemed to go on a bit but at least I had avoided any mechanical issues which back along the route could have entailed a long hot walk out. A number of 4x4s on a rally roared past heading the other way but as before I figured they were not really getting a true hardcore experience. Somewhat knackered after 65 miles I took a long shower and retreated to my sun shelter for a much needed doze.

Strong winds the following day were whipping dust in to the air and reducing visibility so I decided to move  on back to Nekob and see what developed. Gas and food supplies were topped up and I drove down the now resurfaced road to the Auberge that was also empty of other customers. I had a good chat with the gardien and then settled in as the winds blew and an orange and red haze hid the normally crisp outline of the Djebl Saghro. This set the scene for the following day so I remained indoors as it was pleasantly cool and could keep most of the dust at bay until things died down and I rode in to town for some cash and to watch the local football teams in a fast moving game.

Despite the hazy conditions I moved on after 3 nights and found that there is indeed a good road over the Saghro towards Ikniounn which climbed steeply with many hairpins and some astounding mountain scenery discernible through the haze. I stopped to help a guy on a moped who had run out of fuel, giving him a nip of two stroke oil as well and passed a couple of places that would be amazing to stay at high up in the range - these will be for another time as the dust was still taking the edge off the spectacular tops and gorges.

Turning off before Ikniounn I soon reached Boumalne du Dades, stopped for fruit and veg in the market and then headed up the Dades gorge enjoying the multiple hairpins once more. Passing ever more desolate and remote villages I finally reached Mesmrir where I had turned back a decade ago and far below where we had turned back on the other side a few weeks previously. The tarmac finished in a small hamlet and then began to follow a valley floor clinging to the side beneath huge rocky overhangs. Then the climbing began in earnest and I chugged steadily for many miles up to 8,500' meeting some rather surprised adventure bikers on Africa Twins who were inching down on the loose scree covered route. I also met two mountain bike tourers and ensured they had plenty of water as they still had a way to go - mostly downhill but with great care needed. Having peered in to vast deep gorges and admired still snow covered ridges I eventually reached a flatter section which after a few miles reached the top of the pass where the tarmac began again. It was an amazing spot and having seen a flat area a mile or two back I retraced my steps and pulled off a good distance from the road. That evening I teased the heater in to working at altitude and enjoyed a hot shower as the wind howled and sleet fell. For the first time in weeks I deployed the silver screens and thermal covers for the other windows and slept soundly after an exhilarating day. Next morning the sun was out and the wind had eased so I took a walk up to the ridge finding the ascent noticeably harder as the air was thinner. From there looking out northwards over the spartan summits of the High Atlas I was amazed to spot a shepherd perhaps a 1000' below grazing his goats on goodness knows what. With binoculars I could make out a cave shelter under a low cliff and a  rough walled animal compound but as for water - nothing.

 

A few bikers and 4x4 groups plus some local pick ups and surprisingly quite a large lorry passed as the sleet returned but yet again quite remarkably there was a good 3G signal and I enjoyed catching up and reading the UK paper in a remarkable location. After another cosy night I was back to Auberge Tislit by the Lake at Imilchil having passed the point where we had turned back surprisingly close to the col but I think the descent would have been foolhardy, and the two small camping areas that are also on the list for next time. A lovely young guy called Bader was looking after the place and confirmed as we had suspected that his uncle had died a few years ago leaving his aunt to run the place but since our last visit she had required hospital care and was in Casablanca. Anyway I settled in having remembered to stop for bottled water and a couple of other vans turned up later in the afternoon. I walked round the lake noting that the snow was absent from all the surrounding peaks and was somewhat irritated by the young Spanish woman who disrobed right in front of the van to enter the water and retrieve her lad's football - a disrespectful act here in a very traditional rural community and particularly during holy month. Next day I saddled up and dropped in to the village before taking a long side valley stopping to talk to friendly villagers hard at work digging and irrigating and passing through some remarkable mountain scenery on a largely flat valley road with a good surface. This finally finished at a small village but I could see from my maps that the valley continued west for many miles and would ultimately lead to the remote area above which I had camped a couple of nights previously. Bread was available late afternoon as I cycled back and I joined a Spanish couple for tea in the house next to the quirky wood burner with Bader who turned out to be a very skilled portrait artist. I wish I could help him earn a living from his talent - any ideas .......

 

Leaving the beautiful lakeside spot was a wrench but I had plans to head east on a remote back road through the valley that contains the upper reaches of the Ziz river which disappears under the desert south of Merzouga and is lost under the Sahara in Algeria. It was a decent enough road compared to recent ones and took me through simple quiet villages and past humble pise homes, most sporting a dented satellite dish and the odd solar panel. I found a good place above the dry riverbed to park up and was rewarded with a magnificent night sky.

Down at Midelt I bought some food, got out the cash to pay for my impending trip and then spent some time exploring the possibility of tackling the Cirque De Jaffar, another long and demanding off road route. However I don't want to ask too much of the van and it was further than I would have liked, to cycle in, so decided to leave it for another opportunity. Near Itzer I stopped at a souk being held largely within a walled compound as it was a windy and exposed place and bought fruit and veg before taking the back road towards Khenifra. Midelt and Zaida lie on the plain between the High and Middle Atlas with Itzer marking the point at which the Middle Atlas start to rise with their cooler slopes allowing the huge Western Cedars to flourish. Local agriculture is centred on apple production and there were many new orchards setting up. The tarmac gave way to gravel as I climbed and passed through the forests looking for a place to stay. After passing through a wide valley with many nomadic Berber families around for the summer grazing I found a perfect spot off the road on the side of a clearing beneath some of the huge trees. The Berber tents and shelters were very simple and of course easily moved although in many cases this is by pickup now rather than mule. At around dusk a well turned out young Moroccan guy rolled up on a moped and indicated his flat rear tyre so I produced first the track pump and then hitched up the electric one but to no avail as he either had no tube or the sealant was long gone. We tried stuffing long rags between the rim and tyre wall but couldn't quite make a seal so feeling rather deflated I apologised and wished him well. However he indicated that he would like to borrow the pump so I let him disappear in to the darkness confident that it would return the following day. Two hours after sunset a feeble yellow light appeared through the trees and the guy was back with a friend and the pump and a repaired tyre - much handshaking and chokranning followed before they purred off to god knows where. It was a supremely peaceful night with a magical dawn chorus after which I moved on only a few miles to the large level area near Aguelmame Azigza that we have used before. The sinuous track that led there plunged in to a valley where by a wrecked bridge I realised it was a route I had attempted in 2013 but been defeated by heavy snow. I met two French adventure bikers and then Russ an American working in Casablanca, on a month's mountain biking in the area. We had a good chat and as he was heading to Imilchil eventually I suggested he stay with Bader as his lack of French was proving a hindrance. Soon after I noticed a lot of cows individually tethered to trees along the road and wondered if a livestock lorry was coming as Eid is imminent when a lot of meat is consumed. In fact further along there was a Ministry vet and his entourage administering vaccines and issuing cattle passports - as Morocco wishes to export to the EU it has to comply with traceability  regulations but I couldn't help wondering how these largely illiterate (absolutely no criticism intended - it is just the way out here) people with no acces to IT systems felt about this mysterious bureaucracy. 

 

Anyway at the park up all was quiet and I settled in to what is a very beautiful spot despite the disappointing amount of rubbish and broken glass - I have also noticed large piles of soiled nappies outside some villages, not an obvious feature of other visits and a sad development - Morocco will have to address its waste management as there is a sea of plastic spreading through the countryside and fouling the riverbeds. I guess perhaps like the Baltic states once its collection can be monetised the issue will slowly erode. Two people in a Moroccan plated Dacia wandered over later and said they had seen me a week ago - it turns out they had coaxed their hire car above the Dades gorge and seen me parked high up on the pass . Curly from the Netherlands and Helly an American were great company and had travelled widely but were now considering a camper to do Europe and beyond so as they were planning to stay the night I invited them over for a meal at dusk. This led to a memorable evening followed up by star gazing by the fire before we all retired to bed. They had a cold night in the car and were even more enthused by van life as I'd had the usual warm and cosy night so they left with much to consider. I set off on the bike to take rough tracks through the forests meeting the odd faintly surprised shepherd before dropping in to the largely red and brown buildings of Khenifra after passing small fields of wheat dotted with poppies and olive groves that made everywhere look almost European. It was a long climb back in to the hills passing some very stylish properties up in the foothills and I relaxed with the place to myself that evening other than a few monkeys in the trees and a pair of donkeys that enjoyed the pea pods.

Down at Khenifra I filled up with water at a public font where the Berber nomads were filling all manner of containers to take back in to the hills and then turned south once more heading for El Kbab and the mountain roads across towards Azilal. More amazing scenery, vibrant fields and tiny hamlets passed by before high up late afternoon I found a good pull off to stay the night. A local shepherd passed by and we exchanged simple pleasantries - I would love to have offered him a tea and some food but of course it is Ramadan for a final week so we just had a chat.

A long descent towards the Bin El Ouidane reservoir brought me in to Ouaouizahrt where a small shop had bread and other items to see me right and I bought some bottled water as I wasn't too sure about another font I had used en route. I then pitched up on what would normally be an island high above the depleted water's edge with superb views in every direction. There was one other van - a Belgian family - parked up and we all enjoyed one of the best locations of the trip as a cool breeze kept the heat at bay. I had taken advantage of the shade of one of the few trees and spoken to a shepherd lady and her grandson. Below us on the shore line a few tents were in situ - the lake is a popular carp fishery and the relevant website has photos of some remarkable specimens. An evening under the stars was enjoyed before I slept well but with all windows and vents open as it was so warm.

Yesterday I rode the 6 hilly miles back in to the village to get my phone topped up - two 50 dirham cards but I've no idea how much actual data that is! Back at the van I uploaded the photos below and enjoyed finishing Jay Blades' autobiography and made a start on James Dyson's. This follows the recommendation of Mike from Talybont to join Powys library online, download the BorrowBox app which along with the Libby app now means I have access to thousands of books, magazines and audio books - ten of each at a time downloaded for 28 days : brilliant.

 

I was about to leave shortly but two Belgian ladies have lost their cat and so have left its travel basket and lead with me whilst they drive off in search of it. They're also going to get food and water and if necessary stay another night in the hope it appears - another possibility is that it has jumped in to either of the French or German vans that left earlier so I shall linger in case they return until the Belgians get back.

Extra pics here as per usual , next post pre or post Toubkal ; there is a hint of showers and thunderstorms in the forecast over the next few days but at the moment the sky is cloudless so we'll wait and see......

 

The Start of the Long Way Home.....

Evidence of Morocco's drive to improve the infrastructure in rural areas manifested itself in the improved access to FBJ reducing the piste to around 3 miles and judging by the drain pipes lying around further improvements are in the pipeli.......

 

Thus I was soon out on to a surfaced road that last time I was here was a rough track to various small hamlets. It climbed to a spot above the roaring Atlantic where I saw two lorries releasing their cargoes of racing pigeons which reminded me of a ringed bird that had been hopping about at the top of the Tizzi n'Test last week. In the distance lonely Foum Assaka was partially shrouded in the sea mist that rolls in most days but burns off as the sun heats things up and I descended at speed down the new road that only a few years ago had been a decidedly tricky track. Out at the beach the skeletal remains of abandoned houses gave an almost forlorn air and I was sorry to see that the small cafe we had used before was locked up and swept by sand. I parked up and walked south passing some very rough huts of plastic and fishing nets again half buried in the sands before returning and walking up to Le Rayon Vert which was as rustic and cute a set up you could wish for. A sea terrace, brightly decorated rooms and a lovely dining and lounge area made this a place to come back to but this time I only stopped for tea before returning along the dusty access track. Roaring engines announced the arrival of a number of Belgian off road karters, all travelling at a dangerous speed and one appearing round a corner on two wheels and requiring a quick avoidance manoeuvre by yours truly - they received an appropriate international sign language rebuke.

I decided to try and return via the valley floor to FBJ and soon afterwards met the trekking group and before long was in a terrific valley with an old kasbha, cemetery and associated building and some remarkable geology. However after a couple of miles the valley became too rough with deep channels and thick if stunted tree growth so I followed the Sat Map's indicated track up and out for a couple of miles uphill before reaching a junction where another track headed south and mostly downhill back to the ruined fort. Here I spotted a lovely owl at sunset and watched the shepherds run their flocks in to the safety of the old fort's semi ruined stables for the night - I'm not sure what predators lurk round here, perhaps it's just to stop them roaming too far whilst the shepherds rest up after what must be long hot days in this desolate landscape.

 

As I had expected the Belgians seen earlier and quite a few more were parked up at the site and seemed to be part of a rally with a large 4x4 support truck and a medical Landcruiser. It was good business for the site and they were consuming plenty of food and booze but being a) Ramadan and b) a country where alcohol is not consumed by the locals I felt this, plus their tearing up of the landscape oblivious to the signs of nature I quietly observe was perhaps not the way tourism should be going. The beauty and silence of the dunes at Merzouga are often shattered by idiots on dirt bikes and 4x4's but hey as long as your Insta feed is cool so what eh ......

A large MAN 4x4 truck rolled in with a young German family but otherwise I had the camping to myself and gave a young troubled looking lad, who appeared from a shelter out in the scrub that I thought was abandoned, some water, an orange and bread which he squatted some distance away behind my van to consume. I later realised this was to remain hidden from others as during Ramadan fasting is supposed to be until sunset and covers food, water and smoking.

Next day the Belgians departed in a haze of dust and noise and as I went over to pay I was disgusted by the amount of breakfast they had left untouched and which would almost certainly go to waste. Anyway I paid up - note to self their bottled water was expensive at 10 dirhams per 1.5 litre - later at a small shop 5l was only 11 dirham but I do appreciate they have a living to make and costs to cover.

Taking the new road past Foum Assaka led me north towards Sidi Ifni a large fishing port and harbour with dozens of the small traditional boats moored up. The town is an odd mix of elegant new homes, rough apartment blocks and smart civic buildings but I passed through and enjoyed the coastal scenery as the mist had burnt off. I spotted a rough track down to a large flat area on the cliffs and decided it would be a great place to stay the afternoon and night so parked up with two live in lorries nearby. It was a stunning spot with several stray but friendly dogs hanging around - these are looked after by a really nice young guy who lives in a shack and asked just £2 for the stopover - we had a good chat as the surf rolled in below us. I then walked down a steep path to the beach where a few simple huts provide what must be a remarkable option to stay the night arriving by quad or on foot.

 

A few hundred yards south was a remarkable sea arch which I walked down to and then through after judging the waves. On the far side a remarkable dwelling was  tucked under the cliff at sea level - extremely vulnerable during the storms but an amazing place.

Back at the van it was a memorable night before the following day I headed inland to Tiznit which I recognised as a place we had explored before with an extensive souk, medina and jewellery quarter. I filled up with Shell's fancy diesel at £1.10 a litre and noted the van's continuing MPG in the high forties before taking the high back road to Tafraoute well north of the usual R104 and Col de Kerdous. I had planned to stay at the Painted Rocks a few miles out of town but there were signs indicating this is no longer tolerated, no doubt due to poor behaviour and misuse as we had seen large numbers staying for lengthy periods previously. Thus I was content with exploring and photographing the remarkable rocks which recently saw a new coat of paint although already graffiti is appearing - honestly....

 

Down in town I saw a number of vans parked up in the palmery so pulled off the road and settled in at the edge near more remarkable rocks. Later on a lad came to collect 15 dirhams - about £2 and I walked in to town to get some bottled water as my tank contained the slightly undrinkable FBJ water.

I had come to realise that during Ramadam things are much quieter here - perhaps like a 70's Sunday in the UK with businesses opening later, cafes and restaurants hardly at all other than to cater for tourists and then at sundown - 7pm - everything closing as people head home to break fast with their families

Food shops and souks are still open and the various workshops, garages and so on still trade but the roads are quieter and it is generally less frenetic.

After a quiet night an old guy came pedalling round with bread and patisseries followed by a 4X4 with a 1000 litre IBC tank on the back with drinking water. Then separately two garage vans turned up with their business cards - I love the entrepreneurial flare that these people display and recognised one as the workshop in town that many camper vans and lorries head to for repairs or resprays. Later I walked down to see the usual cluster of foreign vehicles awaiting attention before heading back for another quiet night having seen the planetary alignment in the night sky

The hot, high and dramatic ranges of the Souss Massa Draa took me via Ighrem to Talioiune where I greeted Ali at Camping Des Etoiles once more, parked up and then walked in to town to get my phone topped up. Again it was a different less vibrant atmosphere but fascinating nevertheless. In view of Ramadan I have decided to delay my planned 5 day trek in the Toubkal area as I would not feel comfortable eating or drinking during the day whilst guides abstain and the opportunities for refreshments and shared meals with host families would be lessened so I hope to arrive in the area as Ramadan finishes and get in to the mountains at the end of April. Thus for the next three weeks I will head in to other hills as down on the plains temperatures are in the high thirties which rather limits activities. I gave Ali some headphones for his radio as a food gift would not have been very sensitive and then followed a superb road south through the SMD via Tisnassemine with empty roads, wild camels and stunning mountain ranges. A road east turned to gravel after 20 miles so I turned back and dropped towards Tata arriving on the N12 just north of the Algerian border. I turned east and soon spotted a place for the night which apart from a steep drop off which might deter longer vans from joining me made for a brilliant park up. The deeply carved mud canyons were rock solid but only a month ago the area had seen unusually biblical downpours which explains the good covering of greenery and healthy looking trees dotted around the otherwise desolate landscape. The night sky and quiet road in splendid isolation made for a memorable stay.

 

Then it was away to Foum Zguid where I had stayed perhaps a decade ago and then North once more before a right turn brought me to an old favourite Ferme Maison Tansifft at Agdz where I parked amongst the palm trees and have sat here today keeping cool and updating the blog. The roof sensor on the van is reading 66 C whilst inside is a more bearable 35, insulation works both ways !! Said and his crew are sitting in the shade, I'm not sure I could wait until sunset for even just water and am very grateful that the fridge is providing ice cold water on demand. Food on the other hand would be OK probably as in this heat I have little appetite which should help with my ongoing efforts to lose weight, 5kg at the last count due largely to a 10/14 eating regime.

 

 Onward plans are to head to Nekob and try to take a road north via Ikniounn over the Djebel Saghra otherwise I'll drop back to Camp Serdrar south of Tazzarine for a few days before heading north and trying the road beyond the Dades Gorge via Msemrir and through to Imilchil - that's the one where we met a German cyclist but were defeated by snow which I hope has long gone. Time at Imilchil will be well, a chill as it's high up and allow me to get back on the bike again.

 Extra piccies here.