Out and About before Oz

Over the 4 weeks since my last post I have been fortunate enough to enjoy largely good weather visiting some very special favourite places in Wales, catching up with good friends and planning further adventures for this year and beyond.

A couple of days on Offa's Dyke with Sarah and Liz saw early spring sunshine, empty paths and stunning views across the rolling border countryside before I walked and cycled in similar conditions in the Brecon Beacons.

I joined Jason and Hazel from Biped Cycles in Brecon (www.bipedcycles.co.uk) to check out a potential new route for the 2015 Brecon Beast Mountain bike event scheduled for the 13th of September - www.breconbeast.co.uk for full details. As this year's event is likely to include sections on land not normally open to the public it should be a true classic and will be deservedly popular so enter soon. We enjoyed good conditions and the tracks followed should add to the rigours of this remarkable but rewarding event. Any offers of assistance on the day for marshalling will be gratefully received - call Jason on Brecon 622296 for details as early as possible.

A superb walk along the Llangattock escarpment then dropped via a pub to the Monmouthshire and Brecon Canal where I reflected on my early days post MI that first included gentle walks along its peaceful path over 3 years ago.

The Black Mountains north of Crickhowell provided the setting for a long day over 'Table Top' mountain and along the ridge before returning via the Hermitage. A helicopter was delivering jumbo bags of stone for path renovation over on Waun Fach and worked non stop in the distance gradually extending the line of what looked like headless snowmen.

My third day in the area involved walking over the Central Beacons to check the state of a track that will also form part of the Brecon Beast - it was in far better shape than the permitted path down the Upper Swansea Valley that follows the old Swansea to Brecon railway as a while back a large section of an embankment was washed away during heavy rain leaving the route considerably narrowed and a stretch of fence hanging in mid air.



Whilst in Brecon a group of us attended the Banff Adventure Film Festival where a range of titles entertained us culminating in the remarkable antics of Danny Macaskill on the Cuillin Ridge - very impressive and well worth a search on www.dannymacaskill.co.uk

After a night at the well kept Irfon River Caravan and Camping Park Sarah and I enjoyed walking the only section of the Epynt Way (www.epyntway.org) that I had failed to ride last summer, making good use of two cars to link the interpretative centre with the superb viewpoint above Garth via a meandering path that follows the SENTA perimeter.

The Hereford Caving Club meal was a sociable and jolly occasion and included an interesting pair of films covering vast cave systems in China and a more modest endeavour in the shape of a long running dig in cramped conditions in the limestone of South Wales.

After catching up with family in Bishop's Castle I headed to Sheffield for an early celebration of Penny's birthday and after our traditional curry we enjoyed a good walk in the southern area of the Peak District. Kelham Island in Sheffield was a fascinating museum telling of the city's industrial heritage and charting the rise and decline of its traditional heavy industry alongside more specialist skills - many of the latter seeing a revival in recent years although the city still has acres of derelict brown field sites that cry out for sympathetic redevelopment as an alternative to new build on the more rural perimeters.

With Easter approaching I again returned to Wales for some energetic badminton, a good walk on empty tops and alongside the Wye before the troops assembled in Lower Chapel for some serious mountain biking. Fortified by Jan's excellent cooking five of us headed via Abergwesyn and the Devil's Staircase to the Towy Valley for a long but rewarding day in the Cambrian Mountains.
We took the top track to arrive at Moel Prysgau bothy more or less dry shod but this proved to be a shortlived bonus as the next couple of hours up to Strata Florida entailed numerous river crossings and many long deep puddles in the mountain track which climbed steadily as we headed west.
A friendly bunch of off roaders gave way as we toiled under a strong sun before heading full tilt down to the Abbey where the small visitor centre offered welcome tea and biscuits. From Pontryhdfendigaid (that upset the spell checker) we joined the old railway line across Cors Caron bog and down to Tregaron - this being the location for last year's memorable horse rescue and this year being the location for a pleasant lunch in the sun.
Lungs almost burst as tired legs tackled the long climb out of Tregaron on the mountain road to Beulah but with such good weather we were inspired to turn north in to the forestry to return to Moel Prysgau bothy and then head back to the vehicles via the wet lower route that again entailed four river crossings and numerous pools - yours truly achieved two spectacular fails whilst in deep water so ended up drenched much to the amusement of a tired but happy bunch of determined riders  - big thanks to Dale, Luke, Bill and Pete for such an excellent day.
Back at base Briony and Tracy had encased a salmon in choux pastry over mushrooms and rice which rounded off a superb ride far from the Easter crowds which had by all accounts descended on the main Beacons Tops.
Sunday saw Luke off on his road bike whilst the rest of us parked in Abergwesyn to walk out to the spectacular cairns of Drygarn on a cloudless day. Feminine wile persuaded a local farmer to drop the drivers back to the cars which avoided a section of road - much appreciated after a good day on again largely deserted tops.
The final energetic blast centred once more on the Cambrian Mountains with three of us starting out from Soar Y Mynydd Chapel at the northern end of the Llyn Brianne. After a steep walk up an unrideable section we set off on the old RUPP which soon became divided by a deep erosion trench that in places was a couple of yards deep but rarely more than a foot wide. Thus our descent required care and concentration but we all safely reached the gate that led south following the remarkable Doethie Valley - mostly rideable, always stunning and that afternoon bathed in sunshine. We enjoyed the variety of track and terrain, lunched briefly at the ruined farmhouse and endured a steep climb over to the forest track that heads round the west side of the water from the dam passing a property once considered as a bothy project in the mid 1980's but now enjoying a new lease of life as a holiday home. The views across the reservoir were sublime and we returned to the remote and enchanting chapel after the third superb day in succession.

That evening I met up with Chris from badminton and his cousin who organises motorcycle adventure tours in Peru and within the hour we had both agreed to join one of David's tours - five weeks in Peru, Ecuador and Colombia starting in late October. As neither of us ride we will be travelling in the support vehicle and no doubt be heavily involved in the logistics and socialising - for me it will be a useful taster of a continent I have long wished to explore extensively. Whilst this means I am unlikely to return to the Langdales this year for the traditional early winter fortnight it will be a wonderful opportunity to make contacts and fits in neatly with commitments to farm sit in September and have a rare Christmas at home with family.

So what's next??

Well after a bit of quiet time involving riding the Gorllech trail in Brechfa earlier this week, walking in to Lluest Cwm Bach bothy and cycling in to Nant Rhys bothy (both of which were in excellent order) I have today been packing for the next adventure - 9 weeks in Australia beginning with a flight to Melbourne next Thursday.
It will be a challenging trip with limited opportunities to update the blog or communicate in any way but you should be able to follow our progress here and can catch up with photos here.

An approximate indication of our route is outlined below thanks to digitally advanced GPS mapping software - essential when out in the field.

 

Unexpected Interlude

The last post saw me waiting in Bristol for the work required following the issues in Morocco to be completed with the van on the ramps at PC Motors.
Chris's competence at undertaking the tasks and assessing any requirement for further work (nothing untoward was picked up) was reassuring and he expressed some amazement that we had covered such a long distance on shocks that were at best suited to a small car and had had important bushes removed to facilitate mounting. The upper and lower suspension ball joints were replaced on both sides, two drop links renewed, ARB bushes changed and new gaiters fitted to the offside driveshaft. A new connection was made to the alternator and both belts changed as part of a service which included an oil and filter change - work I would normally do myself but it made sense to avoid a session crawling round in cold weather and added little to the overall bill.

Thus I was swiftly back on the road but with the trip to Oz only 7 weeks away and a motorhome show at the NEC imminent I resisted the temptation to head straight back south to warmer climes again. 
The show had an impressive array of vehicles with one or two catching my eye - notably the Autotrail V line 600 and vans converted by Wild Ax near Halifax and MURVI in Devon.
After spending some time visiting various stands and checking layouts a number of conflicts arose as I would prefer at least 4 belted travel seats, the choice of two single or one double bed, a maximum length of 6m and cylinder gas rather than a refillable fixed tank as these are not acceptable or refillable in certain countries. 
Few vans tick all these boxes and as this old girl seems OK for a while longer I will defer a decision until forced upon me - newer models are ever more complex with regards to maintenance and fault diagnosis and even the inclusion of such luxuries as hot water systems, showers, loos and heating add to the list of potential issues out on the road : not much to go wrong with a pack of tealights and a kettle!

So with a cold late winter period in the UK to fill I have returned over recent weks to a number of favourite haunts with walks in Ystradfellte and some energetic mountain biking over the Brecon Beacons which included passing through my old smallholding at Cwmnanthir which was looking run down and unloved - indeed had I been visiting with a view to purchase I would have let it pass, quite a contrast to my first visit in similar wintry conditions 25 years ago in February 1990 when the dilapidated house offered so much potential and indeed over the ensuing 15 years provided so many challenges but so many rewards.
A walk in to the Elan Valley bothy included a look a the Claerwen Dam where Top Gear had recently re-enacted an old Land Rover advert - an event cleverly re interpreted in a 55th birthday card from Ian and Jan that appears in the photos later on.
Other Mid Wales bothies were visited to assess their post winter condition as our biannual Welsh area meeting loomed in early March so I enjoyed walks in to Grwynne Fawr and Nant Rhys and a ride up the Towey track to Moel Prysgau where generally all was well.

A brief trip north took four of us to the Staffordshire Moorlands and a remote and bizarre pub south of Macclesfield that promised camping and comfort.
Only one of these materialised as we arrived in a blizzard at a snow covered field with a very much locals only pub and cold conditions. Whilst I enjoyed shared warmth and comfort in the van the others had eventually to rise to the challenge, brave the elements and take to sodden canvas flapping in gusty winds as the heavens opened.
Mercifully our walks were actually largely dry and took in the Roaches on the first day, the Cheshire Matterhorn on the second and Wolfsdale on the third with the latter day rounded off by an excellent meal in the Ship Inn at Wincle.
Thursday saw the others pack sodden tents and clothing in to black bags during torrential rain as I headed over to Sheffield for a couple of days walking and cycling in the Peak District with the usual warm and humorous company of Penny and her many friends.
This trip also gave me a chance to look at a couple of van converters in the Leeds area and some dealers in the Midlands as well as a quick look round Leeds City Centre and the Corn Exchange.

 

To celebrate my birthday the family lunched well in Ludlow and enjoyed a walk along the river with the town's impressive castle shining across the water and Mum again amazing me with her cheerfulness and continuing enjoyment of the new life in Shropshire.

A quick run down to Pembrokeshire saw our plans for a return to Oz in mid April take shape - I need to store the van for our 9 weeks away so am looking at options and we have built a week or so of flexibility in to our plans as by the very nature of our trip delays are very likely!

After a night near Teifi Pools enjoying the spectacular view and some windy conditions I headed round to Nant Syddion where our bothy meet took place - the quaint cottage looked in good order after a sweep out and it was a good opportunity to meet Simon the new MBA Chairman and old friends from the Welsh scene. By and large our cohort of bothies is in good order and whilst there is a delay pending HLF funding for the new project in Snowdonia this will give us a chance to remedy the minor issues that were identified during the meeting.
This week has seen a walk on Offa's Dyke in perfect Spring weather - the 1200 year old structure is surprisingly intact and passes through stunning scenery - and with good weather forecast for next week I hope to get on the bike again near Nant y Arian probably staying at the lake side wild camping spot last visited as part of a memorable autumn visit to Snowdonia. Before that is a quick visit to Shropshire for Mother's Day so until I report back in a week or two some photos sit at this link here.

Moroccan Challenges

After a night in Nekob we set off to try and cross the Jbel Sahro with the sat nav eventually picking up a rough dusty piste that headed north across dry barren land with evidence of small scale mining for an unidentified mineral. After an hour and only covering 10 miles we were beginning to question the wisdom of our planned route as it was some 80 miles in total and we had not received any reliable indication that tarmac formed any part of it.
As we crested a ridge we looked down in to a green valley with palm trees edging a small village and decided to take a break with a walk out along the cliffs towards a distant telecomms mast. En route we met a young Moroccan man walking purposefully away from the mast - Mohammed was off to get water from the mine workings and asked us to join him for tea on his return in half an hour. Up at the mast a small 8' square mud hut contained a bed, a 12v battery charged from a small solar panel, a gas ring and a few meagre posessions whilst outside a slumbering dog eyed us casually. The view in to the valley was superb but rudely shattered by an enormous double explosion and cloud of dust that rose from a small field - Mohammed returned soon after and seemed unable to explain the event.
As tea was brewed he explained somewhat incredibly that he was the 'gardien' for the mast charged with ensuring that its array of solar panels remained intact and that the batteries were topped up and maintained. He had lived in the hut for 3 years with no water or other facilities and would see very few people during the days up there - an hour's walk from the village below and an hour by car on the rough track back to Nekob for food or supplies - but seemed very content with his lot. During the spring and autumn he would help his family who took groups walking up in the remote mountains but even so it seemed a lonely life with not much likely to change and we said goodbye feeling very humble and grateful for the insight in to his simple life.
The rough track dropped in to the valley floor where as usual the women were working hard in the small fields, children were playing alongside and a few flocks of sheep and goats were being tended by elderly shepherds. We cautiously made our way along the valley with a few bumpy crossings of the almost dry riverbed - at one point we caught up with a Portuguese couple in a hire car who were obviously rather concerned about their liability for damage but were heading for two distinct mountain tops they had been told of.
After another 10 rough miles that took an hour we reached a small open area with a couple of mud buildings that constituted the Bab 'n Ali gite and campsite. It was very basic but the owner was a friendly guy with limited French and English and we decided to stop for the day and consider our options. Abdul was conscious of a withered right arm but proudly showed us the 'facilities' - an ominous hole in the floor loo, a cold outside shower and his kitchen. Two or three of the courtyard rooms were available for overnight use but of course we were very grateful as ever for the comforts of the van and were soon set up - overhead lines had snaked up the valley but clearly he was yet to be connected up so we planned for a chilly night and decided to make the most of the afternoon sun by walking closer to the spectacular eponymous rock pinnacles of Bab and Ali that loomed away to the west. 

On our return we passed simple houses to which we could see the shepherds and their flocks slowly heading home after another long day on the rocky screes in search of fodder.
We cooked and washed in the van before retiring to bed with the usual additional insulation in place to ensure a cosy night and slept well in a spectacular location with no lights visible at all down the valley. Next morning Abdul assured us that at the top of the pass some 20 miles away the road improved so we set off with high hopes as the scenery was absolutely stunning. Within the hour though after covering only 5 miles we decided that the van was going to take too much of a hammering and with a lot of ascent ahead and no sign of any other vehicles or habitation felt that the potential for things to go pear shaped was significant.
Three rough hours later we were back at Nekob and turned west on tarmac for the Draa Valley which would take us south down to Zagora and the desert once more. Lunch was enjoyed high above a palmery in the Draa and a side route took us through humble villages and past stunning pise kasbahs. We passed through Zagora heading for M'Hamed and at one point crossed a river bed as a new bridge was being built - before Christmas this was the area that had suffered damaging flooding after torrential rain.
Unfortunately as we started climbing another high pass with many hairpins we both admitted to hearing new and unnerving noises from the front suspension and after a quick check underneath (where nothing immediately amiss came to light) we decided to drop back to Zagora and see if we could get things checked out. As we negotiated the rough back streets of the town the noises became yet more alarming and we were grateful to get to the 'Prends Y Temps' camping - a small courtyard under the palms inside a kasbah. The owner was very welcoming and we had soon set up and washed a fortnight's laundry by hand. After hearing of our issues Abdillah offered to take us to the best local mechanic the following morning and indeed next day we followed him round to a strip of mechanics units that we had passed the night before. As elsewhere in Morocco numerous tiny shopfronts were tackling all manner of repairs on a variety of decrepit vehicles and if nothing else Chez Ali's stood out by having a concrete floor, inspection pit and a range of testimonial photos on the rear wall. A French couple on the site had had their leaf springs strengthened and seemed to have confidence in the guy as did a Dutch couple whose 30 year old ex German Army ambulance had suffered a broken water pump. Apparently some people bring their vehicles here for servicing rather than in Europe and the general impression given was of a competent guy. After a brief test ride over bumpy wasteground Ali's boys had the van jacked up and worn suspension ball joints were diagnosed - top N/S and lower O/S. A long day then passed as other vehicles arrived with their woes and we chatted to the Dutch couple whose part was en route from Marrakesh 400 miles away. Sarah was a star as the hours ticked by and even plucked up the confidence to wander back to the site on her own as she had now adjusted to the country's differences and no longer felt threatened or at risk. Eventually by late afternoon Ali informed me that the parts would arrive (from Marrakesh) the next morning so the van was put back together enabling us to drive slowly back to the site.

So on the Friday we dropped the van off and headed off in to Zagora to send some postcards, enjoy a good lunch opposite the mosque and eventually return to the workshop to find the van still in the air. As I had suspected he had not been able to change the top joints as a special tool is needed but the bottom ones had been done which seemed good news. Unfathomably though he had also seen fit to remove the front shock absorbers and was busy modifying another set to fit, judging by a dent in the inner wheel arch something big had slipped and I noted a nick in the drive shaft gaiter so began to question his ability to reolve our issues. Once the modified shocks were fitted the ride height was uneven which Ali claimed required spring assistors fitting to the rear and at this point I decided we would halt all further actions and return to the site for a review.
Our options were limited and unappealing as we were 600 miles from the ferry to Spain and recovery/towing would be expensive - no breakdown cover is available in Morocco. Leaving the van and contents behind had a range of implications re customs and the loss of around £4k worth of kit - sleeping bags, tools, equipment, personal goods and the like whilst flying home and returning with another vehicle made only marginal economic sense.

Thus we decided to try and make our own way home - limiting the exposure of the van to further stress by sticking to motorways and catching the ferry from Santander to avoid 800 miles through France.
So after settling Ali's bill we headed north knowing that 200 miles and the 8000' Tizi n' Tichka pass lay between us and Marrakesh where Morocco's motorways began. The creaking and banging was as bad as ever as we tentatively followed the Draa north stopping for bread and yoghurt before starting the first climb over to Ouazarzate wondering just how far we were actually going to get. Unfortunately our predicament prevented us from really enjoying the stunning scenery which I had passed through two years ago and so wanted to explore in greater detail but gradually the miles were eaten away and by late afternoon we were way up in the snow covered High Atlas on a road that ressembled a plate of spaghetti on the sat nav screen. Some families had come up to play in the snow and even build snowmen whilst a coach load of passengers had stopped to help pull a car back on to the road after a minor crash but we concentrated on the job in hand easing our way north and down to the plains. The damage caused to roads, villages and fields in the valley as we dropped towards Marrakesh was significant and would take many years to repair - heavy machinery was at work on the worst areas but I guess the fields would be left to the villagers and their donkeys.

We turned down a side track to find a place to spend the night - again aware how crucial the van is to spending a night in comfort and some sophistication when travelling under our own steam and how many issues would arise in its absence.
On the Sunday we approached Marrakesh only to find the road blocked by police and a mass of people and vehicles jamming up the area - we set the sat nav to take another route in to town which took us down a rural link road that produced the full range of unnerving noises from below - this merely served to convince us that we were making the right decision but also ended in a road block so we decided to avoid Marrakesh altogether which involved a 90 mile detour.
Whilst crossing a barren plateau at speed in hot sunshine the oil pressure light began to flash along with a warning beep and I switched off the engine immediately before coasting to a halt. As the rev counter had also stopped I diagnosed a break in one of the small alternator wires which was soon confirmed and swiftly repaired although as the break was very near the connector there was little to play with. Two officials in a van stopped to check we were OK which was very kind and reaffirmed my conviction that the Moroccan people are some of the friendliest and most helpful I have met.
Later that afternoon we were some 200 miles in to the 400 miles to Tangier when an almighty bang shook the van - in the middle of nowhere with no other vehicles, people or other activity something had fallen from the sky and struck the door frame an almighty blow - a foot or two to the left and it would most likely have gone through the screen or the fibreglass roof and killed or seriously injured one of us. Judging by the marks left the most likely (but equally unlikely) explanation would appear to be a fragment of meteor......
An hour after dusk and 30 hours after leaving Zagora we creaked across the speed humps of Tangier Med Port and after brief immigration and customs formalities were on the ferry to Algeciras - grateful for an open ticket that allowed us the much needed flexibility to get across to Spain where our recovery cover was at least an option. A final twist in the tail was that the boat also called in at Gibraltar before we finally offloaded at Algeciras and eventually found a place to wild camp just off the motorway around midnight.
Motorways took us north on the Monday - we stopped to book a ferry only to find that there were disruptions to the service caused by weather and mechanical issues with one of the vessels. We booked a crossing for the Sunday to give us some flexibility and later that day stopped in Zamora at an aire in the centre of town amazed and grateful to have got so far.
Tuesday saw the alternator wire part again - an easy fix but a new connector will be the only way to resolve the issue permanently and we decided to stop early that day on a reservoir near the motorway which offered peace and quiet, a chance to walk the shoreline in the warm sunshine and then spend a cosy night with the generator chugging away in the background providing all comforts.
With great relief we arrived in Santander on Wednesday and at the Brittany Ferries office were told we could get on the premium ferry on Thursday for an extra fee which we were more than happy to pay. The helpful lady also told us of an aire a few miles out of town that had power and loos for £10 a night and we were soon there with no one else staying on the brand new facilities.
We rang the office the next day to confirm our booking but were advised that the Pont Aven would be delayed by a storm in the Bay of Biscay with departure scheduled for Friday. However passengers were being asked to turn up as scheduled and offered the chance to use the boat as a floating hotel which seemed an attractive proposition so we packed up to head off.
Having paid the fee to the part time aire supervisor earlier we had been assured that the barrier would allow us out - guess what!! Anyway two ticks with the Leatherman and the system was switched to manual allowing us to make our escape and reach the dockside.
Once on board we found our cabin and settled down to explore the 40,000 tonne vessel that contained perhaps 10% of the possible 2400 passengers over its 10 decks.
After a comfortable night customer services announced that the storm was still causing issues and departure would now be delayed until Sunday so with at least three nights on board ahead we decided to update to their Commodore cabins as these offered much more space, better beds, TV, free hot drinks in a private lounge and breakfast with only the one night actually charged. Vehicles had remained on the quay so we popped back to get some food and clothing before settling down for a few days as strong winds and torrential rain swept in.
We made friends with a lovely couple from London who along with other dog owners were rather concerned for their pets and when the weather eased took a walk round the squares and streets of Santander, calling in at a supermarket for wine and nibbles.

So finally by mid afternoon Sunday we were off - during the day several merchant vessels arrived that had been sheltering elsewhere - but as soon as we were beyond the headland the fun began. Screaming winds and heavy seas caused the boat to sway and lurch dramatically with waves crashing over the restaurant windows on the 7th deck and side waves hammering the steel plates beneath our cabin towards the rear. We retired to bed to watch the last of our Homeland DVDs and eventually the conditions eased towards midnight giving us a good night's rest. 
The crew had to be changed due to the delays so a diversion added 6-8 hours to our journey as we called at Roscoff but by 10pm we had rounded the Isle of Wight and were berthing at Portsmouth.
Despite some heavy snow through Wiltshire along the M4 we rolled silently in to Jean's drive at Shipham near Bristol around 1am absolutely delighted to have manged to get back some 2500 miles without a major mishap. 
The van is currently having the work done by Ali undone and other potential issues inspected so I hope to be mobile again by the end of the week - yesterday saw a bike ride across to Bath for some much needed exercise and with cold but dry weather forecast I may well head back in to mid Wales.
Morocco proved yet again to be an enormously rewarding country to visit and I will return again early in 2016. Whether or not it will be in this van or another remains to be seen - there is a show at the NEC in Brum in a week or two that might give me some inspiration but in reality newer vehicles are ever more complex and would be unfixable in the remoter places that attract me.

As regards the issues this time - the wear and tear on the suspension should have been addressed given that the van has covered 307,000 miles and is 15 years old  (although in my defence your honour it did sail through an MOT immediately prior to the trip) and Ali's unauthorized bodging of the shocks and avoidable damage to the drive shaft gaiter was unfortunate. The alternator wire is a side issue - just part of running an older vehicle and to be fair we did cover several thousand miles in only a few days to get out of trouble with no real incidents. Avoiding further meteor fragments is just a matter of luck like so much in life and at the end of the day we were able to recover ourselves and return to the comforts of western life - something that Mohammed at the mast can only dream about.

Photos summarising the above sit here and our recent locations here.

Deserts, Mountains, Gorges and Markets.

With our mechanical issue resolved we headed confidently down to Midelt and out to the disused mines complex at El Aouli where until the late eighties some 3000 people were employed. The sprawl of abandonned buildings merited close exploration - a few families still work small drifts on a very basic level and I could see the family of the lad I met two years ago still living in their simple shack high above the largely dry riverbed of the spectacular gorge.
Morocco's appalling litter problem was depressingly evident as we returned to town with sheep picking over the garbage just dumped at random on the approaches to the bustling transport hub.
The Ziz Gorge took us south of Rich and we stopped at a kasbah/camping ground surrounded on all sides by majestic cliff faces beneath which a shepherd moved a large flock of small black goats.
We met a German couple who were to reappear at various times over the next few days and assisted them in filling their large water tanks from the low pressure supply before spending a peaceful night in a remarkable spot.
Returning north slightly we turned east to Gourrama, stopping to explore the town's back streets and small shops before taking coffee in a small cafe where a guy tried to sell us a small lump of what he described as hash but looked more like ear wax or worse.

Eerily desolate mountain scenery accompanied us down to Boudnib and provided a good spot for lunch in the mostly dry riverbed. We discovered a real gem of a site on the edge of town, French owned but run in the absence of the patron by two friendly sisters who were a pleasure to meet. As it was such a nice site we decided to stay two nights and during the second day Rana took us off for a three hour walk to the old French Army's barracks, the Berber village that was destroyed by floods 6 years ago and back via a small olive oil pressing business where we picked up two litres of the genuine article for £5. EHO's back in the UK would have had a fit but so far it has proved delicious and there have been no ill effects. That evening the girls produced a superb meal cooked with the fresh food bought as we returned to the site which we enjoyed in the simple lounge with the wood burner and candles adding to a memorable atmosphere and it was with some reluctance that we headed away the following morning grateful for such a local and friendly insight in to the town's hidden gems.
Picking up the Ziz valley again we passed through bare mountainous plateaux before from a crest we had a remarkable and unexpected view down in to the extensive palmeries that contrasted sharply with the hitherto barren terrain - palms stretched away in to the distance with small fields under cultivation in their shade and pise houses and ksour pressed up against the gorge's walls.
Bustling Erfoud and Rissani gave way to desolate plains dominated by the black hammada - a volcanic rock that replaces the red hills at lower levels. From Erg Chebbi south to Merzouga the dominant feature was the eponymous hundred square miles of towering sand dunes with numerous accommodation choices signed off the main road down dusty pistes.
Camping Les Pyramides provided a good spot to stay at the end of Merzouga village with the dunes directly accessible. We declined the slick offer of 4x4 excursions and camel rides before setting up for a very quiet night beneath the stars and just across from Erkart the German from Zig.
We did some laundry and I emptied the contents of our bench seat to identify the cause of an increasingly difficult sliding mechanism - in the process our various tools, spares, recovery equipment and the like created the impression of a mini souk. With nothing blatantly amiss I repositionned a plastic casing that had been catching and lubricated the runners which seemed to resolve the issue.
After the magical colour changes in the dunes the previous evening we took off mid afternoon to give us time to reach the top of the highest dunes - surprisingly hard work but well worth the effort as we looked south to the Algerian border.

From Erfoud we took a back road east to Goulmima and after filling up with diesel at 56p a litre headed up the Oued Gheris gorge towards Amellago. The gorge would be impassable during floods as evidenced by the huge swathes of gravel and boulders that had been cleared at each crossing of the river and the damaged road surface and mindful of the age of our transport we were happy to let the old Merc vans crammed with people, produce and livestock pass us and crack on ever upwards. 
At Amellago a gite promised camping but this turned out to be a small yard  within closed walls so we decided to drop back down the gorge a few km where we had spotted a track down to a small turning area suitable for a wild camp. The sun set behind the distant ranges and the temperature dropped to around 2.5 but as ever we cooked, brewed and washed to keep the van's interior warm before retiring to watch the first of the Homeland drama DVD's we had been saving for this trip.
In the small hours a stiff wind whipped up and I had to nip out and secure the bike cover but otherwise we survived a comfortable night under the starriest sky imaginable.
Our route over towards Assoul took in a few small mountain villages where the kids waved and smiled, women worked hard tilling small fields or carrying back huge loads of fire wood and shepherds moved sheep and goats across almost barren plains. Whilst in a tiny cafe run by a friendly Berber woman the local official with military escort called in to advise us that there was a severe weather warning for the next two days in the high mountains with snow forecast and he seemed anxious that we should undertake to drop back to the plains.
Thus an hour later we were climbing the hairpins towards Imilchil reaching the Tizi-Tirherhouzine Pass at 2700m for lunch from where indeed we could see that there was snow falling over the higher distant peaks. As this is an area I intend to revisit one summer we were content to return to Assoul passing a group of Dutch and Belgian bikers and eventually catching up with Erkart and his large wohnewagen. Soon after we were hailed by some locals who were trying to jump start a lorry that sported a water drilling rig. They lacked the basic requirement of jump leads and were trying to rig up an alternative with offcuts of SWA cable and I think had all a shock of some sort.
Within minutes the beast was roaring and belching black fumes to the delight of all present with smiles all round and our brownie points with the prophet assured for at least another day or two.
During our descent of the stupendous Todra gorge we stopped to explore a couple of side gorges, pleased that the clouds had lifted allowing the late afternoon sun to reflect off the towering walls before all too soon we were pulling in to Camping Atlas synchronising bizarrely with Erkart once more.
The site was more than adequate although the attached rooms and restaurant had been comprehensively attacked with sledge hammers and lay in a state of some dissaray awaiting a complete renovation that would apparently be finished in two months - I have to say this looked highly unlikely to be a realistic time frame but then again look at what was achieved at Lluest Cwm Bach bothy in a similar period. (Search this blog via the facility top right if this means nothing to you).
Today we spent an absorbing couple of hours in the chaos of the Tinerhir souk buying several days worth of fruit, veg, dates, nuts, pasta, meat and the like at ridiculously low prices with Sarah to her credit feeling more at ease and engaging with the traders who to a man were helpful, good humoured and courteous.

A climb over the Tizi N'Bouljou pass crossed the Jbel Sahro range and dropped us in Alnif where we enjoyed an excellent lunch of chicken omelette cooked in a tajine, Moroccan salad, frites and drinks for £9 with wifi enabling a check to be made on our affairs as the strong winds deposited a fine layer of dust on all and sundry.
Finally we have stopped in NKob on a small site with plans to follow a piste (unsurfaced track) back across the Jbel Sahro to visit the Dades Gorge as by then the wintry spell over the High Atlas should have moved on - apparently the overnight temps. in Imilchil were forecast to fall to -21 so we did well to take on board the advice offered yesterday.

Anyway the dongle has magicked the latest piccies to this link and the Spot monitors us via this link, both of which I hope will prove of interest.

Moroccan Marvels

The Algeciras to Tangier Med sailing across the Straits of Gibraltar went very smoothly with good views of the Rock as the Rif mountains loomed ever closer. After 90 minutes we were docking at the new container port and in contrast to the hectic chaos at Tanger Ville two years ago both our and the van customs procedures went very smoothly and we were soon on the road to Tetouan where we eventually found an ATM prepared to dispense dirhams at the rate of about 14 to the £.
The amazing roads in the  Rif climbed and swooped as we took the El Oued back road through gorges and small villages before reaching the campsite high above Chefchaouen just after dusk, despite the sat nav dumping us vertically beneath the site in a dead end construction road. Having stayed at the site two years ago I was aware of the dodgy electrics and primitive sanitation but we received a friendly welcome from the gardien and were soon installed on a terrace under the trees.
The 'blue town' was as stunning as ever and we nosed around the old medina with its narrow streets before heading out to look for an old washing machine hose that I could salvage some connectors from to make it easier to use the Moroccan tap fittings. After various comical exchanges we found a stall that had what I wanted and we later sorted a few cards and stamps for folks back home who are not online and enjoyed a meal outside opposite the old kasbah.
Our final deed for the day was to visit a tiny shack of a shop where the friendly lad sold us a Maroc Telecom USB dongle and 3G SIM, took the trouble to ensure that it worked in my old netbook and charged us the princely sum of £14 which included a month's usage up to a 10 Gb limit - amazing.
Back at the site we chatted to an Oz couple in a UK van that they had bought secondhand (or more) in London to explore the UK, Europe and for the last 3 months Morocco - whilst in the desert it had rained and they had got stuck with bridges washed away and roads cut off! They were now heading to southern Europe before moving north to Scandinavia and took on board my recommendation to do the Kystriksvein and Lofoten Islands.
After a second morning in Chefchaouen we returned via the spectacular El Oued gorge to the Mediterranean coast and then turned east following numerous hairpins and long climbs. From a lofty vantage point we were able to Skype Mum back home using the dongle and then dropped in to El Jebha where again Sarah experienced a headlong introduction in to Moroccan life and culture. In the port fishermen were busy mending nets, scruffy cafes were teeming with men doing 'business' and the market was in full swing out in the streets. We had decided to camp on a stony beach on the edge of town as a French guy in a van seemed to think it was OK and indeed despite (as he had warned us) two soldiers knocking on the door two hours after dark to see our passports all was well and we slept soundly.

Visits to Kalah Iris, another small fishing port and nearby El Torre provided stops for lunch before we climbed up and over the Rif to Targuist and then a quiet backwater to Taounate - the contrast between the rural villages and chaotic towns was startling and we filled up with diesel at 60p a litre before heading across the Rif proper towards Tazza. Up in the hills a new barrage that was absent from maps and sat nav provided we hoped a place to stay the night but as we walked the narrow but high dam walls a gendarme advised us that staying was 'interdit'.
However a couple of miles further on high above the water we found a superb vantage point and settled down under a starry sky with a few remote villages dotted across the surrounding hills.
On our way down a rough and remote dirt road to Tazza (and much to Sarah's consternation) we picked up two lads waiting for the 'Berber bus' - ramshackle old Merc vans that ply these routes overloaded with goods and passengers. They sat silently for an hour as we dropped out of the mountains and crossed the plain to the busy town - they insisted on giving us a large bag of dried figs as thanks - before we found our way out in to the Jbel Tazzeka National Park where I had last time descended the Gouffre de Friatou. The bare Chiker plateau was dotted with herds of sheep and goats each carefully watched by a well wrapped up shepherd and we eventually chose to spend the night in a picnic area well off the road and sheltered from a very strong wind by cork oaks. The setting sun was followed by a starry sky and the wind easing off leaving an overnight temperature of 8 degrees but the van staying at a cosy 20 degrees thanks to the extra insulation provided by unfurling our two thermarests and side screens to cover the windows. Half a dozen tealights added to the homely atmosphere as we started to watch a film but soon dozed off after an amazing day.
The sun soon warmed things up the following day and we were away by 8.30 only to stop fairly shortly to do one of the signed walks in the area. Sadly even here in a national park the ubiquitous litter and rubbish problem that plagues Morooco was evident. Broken bottles (many surprisingly beer or lager), plastic bags, yoghurt pots, cardboard and food waste were strewn around and the crumbling toilet blocks were beyond belief. With no bin provision or recycling facilities anywhere even we have had to resort to just burying our rubbish which leaves us feeling very uncomfortable.
On our final descent back towards the main road near Tazza we came across a market in full swing and parked up on the football patch (not a misprint). Diving in to the throng all our senses were overwhelmed by the sights, sounds and smells of food cooking, animals dying, fish melting and voices calling. Every manner of fruit, veg., ironmomgery, clothing, pulses, spices and the like were on display and we gradually built up a bag of fruit, nuts, dates and herbs before returning to the van with what for under a tenner seemed like a huge haul of goodies.
Our route south took us via Sefrou with its large city walls and again we plunged through an arch in to a maze of alleys and covered passages where again all manner of produce was on sale. Sarah coped well despite initial misgivings and I enjoyed the experience immensely as we weaved in and out eventually emerging at a small bakery where the shy Moroccan owner was delighted to sell us a box of treats. The 27 degree heat was enjoyed as we returned to the van where the gardien accepted a couple of dirham as thanks for keeping an eye on the old girl.

The road south forked an hour later and we decided to take the slighly longer route through the hills where for some miles we were behind a perilously overloaded straw lorry whose load had shifted and seemed in imminent danger of overturning. Once safely past we passed through remote and humble Boulemaine where patches of snow lay on the ground, women fetched huge loads of brash on their backs for fuel and donkeys plodded back across stony fields to tiny shacks with the next day's water.
All the time we received friendly waves and even the odd salute which left us feeling very humble at the kindness and friendship shown by such impoverished people.
The long road down to Zeida was initially an arrow straight stretch of tarmac where we reached 60mph for the first time in days but as the setting sun lined up straight in our eyes it deteriorated and became rather demanding as we passed through small villages where it was almost impossible to see the straying donkeys, dogs, children and other roadside obstacles. Coupled with numerous diversions on to muddy tracks to avoid roadworks it was a trying time, slightly alleiviated by the sun finally setting and us reaching the main road.
Zeida was a small but busy junction of two main routes harbouring numerous roadside workshops and mechanics outlets, the usual food stalls, small shops and groups of people awaiting onward connections and ten minutes further south lay the Timnay campsite rather grandly marketing itself as the Inter Cultural Tourist Complex. The camping areas were empty as we parked under the trees and connected up after a warm welcome and I was pleased that the loos and showers were actually working this time round giving us both the chance of a good freshen up.
Today we decided on an easier day so set off to find a small fort marked on the map which involved turning off the main road north of Zeida down a rough track that led in to a vast featureless plateau with bare rock, minimal vegetation and impossibly basic shacks appearing as if from the bedrock itself. The sat nav had by now gone in to withdrawal as we looped vaguley north with no sign of the fort or anything remotely like it. As we cautiously climbed out of a dry river bed the alternator light came on suddenly, followed by the loss of power steering and a loud flapping from the engine bay.
We drew up immediately and soon enough confirmed my immediate suspicion that the fan belt had shredded and in doing so had flipped off the power steering belt.
Thus we pulled in alongside a small house, drove on to our levelling ramps for improved clearance and I began to assess the situation. No real damage had been done and content that I had the tools, spares and know how to resolve the situation I donned a a protective oversuit as the dry ground was rough and dusty. A few local children, some youths and the family from the house came out to see the excitement and Sarah managed to engage them in a mixture of French and English as I removed the engine tray. The new belt sourced in the UK turned out to be 5cm too long ( Lesson 1 : never just trust your local motor factors to give you the right part.) but fortunately I had an old spare tucked away which was soon fitted. The power steering pulley is a V shape and splits in to two with shims to act as adjusters and proved quite tricky to separate as I improvised with other tools to stop the pulley spinning freely. However with perseverance the job was done and we ready to leave. The family had brought out a bag of almonds and apples for us and wanted us to go back for tea but we thanked them profusely and gave all the kids pens and the father a spare pair of boots of mine as we felt that their gifts were a major part of their farm income before setting off to waves and smiles all round.
After lunch in the hills we dropped back to Zeida where I asked in a small 'Pieces D'Autos' shack if they had another belt. He hadn't but seemed to think we would get one elsewhere in town. After stopping outside a small mecanique's shopfront the owner took the shredded belt and disappeared in to the back streets emerging 5 minutes later with a new belt of the correct size for the princely sum of £7. No doubt I could have haggled over the price but it is not something I feel comfortable with out in the sticks for something essential so we shook hands and were on our way.
Timnay's restaurant produced a delicious chicken couscous for Sarah and kebabs for me for £14 all in after which we retired to the cosy confines of the van after what if you remember had been intended to be an easier day!!


Lethargic wifi has finally uploaded some pictures here and our occasionally somewhat isolated locations can be viewed here - we head south again tomorrow with rain forecast for Tuesday but who knows.

Christmas and New Year 2014 in the Alentejo

After the return from Lisbon's sights a rather debilitating cold took over for Christmas with sleepless nights and stuffy days but the excellent weather encouraged me to get outdoors during daylight and enjoy the local walks and a couple of bike rides. The clear blue skies and warm sunshine lifting the spirits whilst wifi at Campimg Asseiceira enabled me to keep in touch with friends and family. Yolande and Colleen invited me over for a Christmas meal with all the trimmings of crackers and decorations accompanying a prawn starter and locally shot venison main course. I had gone over in the van so could enjoy the wine and stayed the night.
A pleasant trip across to Lisbon saw Sarah safely collected from her Bristol flight and after a shop in Portalegre we were set up on the site, carefully placed to catch the early morning sun as overnight temperatures were dropping to -3 or so.
New Year's Eve saw us lunching at the Barragem de Povo before repeating the excellent walk from Cedillo along the Tejo with the ferry to Morocco and the Customs paperwork booked and completed online that evening and the necessary documents printed off - we sail on Monday morning so have plenty of time to meander down to Tarifa in southern Spain.

New Year's saw the return of Gary who also had a bad cold so we let him retire to bed and took Mya on a 3 hour walk through local tracks and lanes and acrosss the Roman steps.
That afternoon we popped up to the small chapel overlooking Castello de Vide before heading to Marvao for a memorable sunset followed by wine and beer in the cosy O Castello bar where the resident parrot was squawking away merrily.
The Pau de Canella restaurant in San Antonio served four of us a delicious meal giving me a chance to thank Yolande and Colleen for such happy memories since early October and we set off today for southern Spain leaving you to enjoy some piccies here.
We will send our location daily so have a look here and hope to get a SIM for an old dongle in Morocco to give us internet access so in the meantime 

  A VERY HAPPY NEW YEAR TO YOU ALL

Back in the Alentejo

After many enjoyable weeks in the sun at the quinta near Marvao it was time to return home to catch up with family and friends so I headed across to Lisbon breaking the journey with a quiet night alongside the lake at Montargil.
Easy Parking at Lisbon airport provided a secure place to leave the van at around £4 a day and I was soon whisked over to Departures and by mid afternoon we were banking towards Bristol airport high above Weston Super Mare's pier.
The journey to Shropshire was broken by a very comfortable night and excellent meal at The Bear near Crickhowell and we arrived to find Mum looking fit and well and her new home as cosy and welcoming as ever.

After catching up on paperwork and news over a few days I then headed north for two weeks in the Lake District where amongst various groups of friends I enjoyed some memorable walks, good food and stunning scenery with predominantly fine weather. The Langdale Pikes, Coniston Old Man and Wetherlam were all tackled as well as the shore walk on Ullswater, a circuit including Tarn Hows and the undulations of Lingmell. The Britannia Inn was as unspoilt as ever and for this year only we were in the rather sumptuous Beckside West Lodge with high tech entertainment systems, a stylish fire and showers of unnerving strength and complexity. Our usual abode was having a major refurbishment and looked very smart but we have decided to put both weeks on the market as the opportunity for family to stay in the future is dwindling - however there is no rush to sell and I may well be fortunate enough to stay again next year.
A smooth journey down to Pembrokeshire passed through some of Wales's finest scenery and whilst down there we took the major decision to book flights to Melbourne in the Spring. Thus we are committing ourselves to a 6 week outback tour that will cover around 6000 miles of unforgiving territory but should give us a tremendous insight in to a part of the world that we touched on briefly four years ago.
During my final week in Shropshire Mum and I visited family friends in Cheshire and I arranged van insurance for Morocco and met friends from my smallholding days for meals before heading to Bristol where Bill and Sue kindly put me up and then delivered me to the airport for my return flight. Somewhat illogically Easy Parking only pick you up from Departures which caused a slight delay but the van was in good order and, after reconnecting the battery kill switch, started first time.
Soon after I was a little further along the coast at a free aire in Belem tucked amongst a few other vans alongside the river. Two roads, a tram and a rail line created a bit of noise but it was quiet enough overnight and by mid morning on the Monday I was on the tram in to Lisbon proper after posting my old insurance certificate back to the UK. The centre part of the city was totally refashionned after the destructive 18th century earthquake and has a major square near the river linked to others by wide streets with high class shops, numerous cafes and a host of classical buildings. Street artists were at work in the warm sunshine and the colourful old trams rattled alongside the more sophisticated new carriages that move both locals and tourists alike. A maze of alleys led me up to the castle for extensive views including back down to the cruise ship terminal where the Oriana which had glided past me overnight sat overpowering a smaller liner. Back at Belem on a mild evening I took some photos of the old Lisbon power station and the April 25 Bridge which mimics the Golden Gate one in San Francisco before passing another quiet night.

Tuesday morning began with a walk up to the iconic Belem tower followed by a visit to the Maritime Museum and the Manueline monastery alongside before a visit to the old power station - now a remarkable museum with plant and machinery on an impressive scale all beautifully preserved. After lunch I set the sat nav for Marvao and enjoyed the 3 hour drive on empty roads through familiar scenery. A spectacular sunset as I arrived at Marvao finished off a good day and I was soon tucked away alongside the convent beneath the hill top town - almost deserted in comparison to the throngs that were enjoying the Chestnut Festival on my last visit.
Unfortunately the Sisters of Mercy provided too much shelter as their church blocked out the rising sun but by mid morning I was back to Yolande's to be greeted by the enthusiastic dogs, raucous geese and saintly Colleen. Much progress had been made on the roof, a wood shed, fencing and the domestic electrics and it all seemed comfortingly familiar as I spent the day checking the contents of the van and loading up with the items I had left in storage.
Yesterday I spent a warm and sunny day in Castelo de Vide enjoying the views from up on the castle roof and receiving email confirmation that my letter posted on Monday had arrived and been dealt with regarding insurance for Morocco - remarkable service from all concerned.
My base for the next fortnight is once more Camping Asseiceira where I have the cosy round room - a former wine store - with ensuite shower and kitchen. The closed site looked in excellent order as a mild autumn has allowed the grass to grow and Gary reported another busy and successful year. The sad loss of a local expat and the imminent demise of another who is seriously ill had upset the rest of what is a close and supportive community so I hope his holiday across in Spain is a chance to recuperate and enoy a break before the season begins again on the 2nd of January.
A group of us enjoyed a good meal in Portagem where the wood stove kept the chill night at bay before I spent a slightly restless night as a rare cold has developed over the last few days.
However I expect to be as right as rain soon enough and will get the bike out if only to ride over to Yolande's on Christmas Day as they have invited me to join them.

A look back at some of the highlights of the last month will be found at this link and my locations will be reported here.

Apologies for the long interval since my last update but I took the bare minimum of luggage back and trying to post via a small phone screen would have been rather tedious.

Wishing everyone a very Happy Christmas wherever you are spending it and looking forward to a rewarding New Year.