West to the Coast

We cycled up the Todra Gorge in perfect conditions, soon escaping the colourful stalls that line the narrowest lower part of the Gorge. A group of live-in buses occupied a dusty gravel pull in - the occupants largely climbers keen to test their skills on the sun drenched rocks but within minutes we had the impressive canyon to ourselves.

A sinuous road on a largely gentle incline took us up in to the High Atlas range with at one point a family living high up on a cliff edge that looked to be a precarious living by many definitions. Several miles further on we looked across to a small hotel and decided to stop on our return so carried on a few miles more to the construction site for the dam we had passed on our way in the day before The security guy in his tent was very friendly and said the 4 year project would result in a 60m high dam that would regulate floodwater and provide irrigation water. He seemed delighted to have stable employment ahead and said he lived a few miles further on in Tamattoucht where I intend to stay in a couple of weeks.
The small hotel was immaculately kept and we enjoyed tea on the sunny terrace taking in the impressive gorge as the rocks changed colour in the setting sun.
An easy downhill soon had us back at the Hotel Atlas where our laundry had dried and we made preparations to move on the following day.

On departure we picked up a cylinder of gas for £5 which would have been £60 back home - they are rather dilapidated Camping Gaz cylinders so I hoped they would fit my regulator as our 2 European cylinders were almost empty and then headed across the Moyen Atlas towards Alnif and then west to Tazzarine passing through stunning but barren mountain scenery with the odd goatherd, several groups of wild camels and some very simple dwellings.

Camp Serdar a few miles south of Tazzarine was reached by a rough track that wound across the desert for several miles - situated behind high walls against the desert winds the large camping area had been extended since my last visit. The works included a new toilet/shower block only opened the previous week - they were of a standard and quality that would put many European sites to shame and the friendly gardien seemed to genuinely remember me from my previous visit. We tucked away in a corner as we had no need for a hook up - with such cheap gas and really only the fridge to run there seemed little point and we enjoyed the hot solar showers before taking a walk across the flat, dusty landscape as the sun set. The local gas cylinder was fitted and worked a treat which is great as it means longer stays off grid are now entirely feasible. Better still by laying the empty GB cylinders on their side I was able to fit all three in to the gas locker which avoids the need to strap one on the bike rack.
Next day we set off on the bikes following the tracks shown on the Satmap 1:25,000 Moroccan mapping and enjoyed the emptiness and far reaching views to sun baked mountains away to the south. Beyond these lie the Algerian border, long since closed which seems such a shame as it denies us the chance to explore another country and those locals a chance to benefit from visitors. Tourism is clearly an important part of Morocco's economy and the people seem to genuinely appreciate our presence and interaction and are always keen to help or advise.
We reached a small marble quarry where the couple of machines lay idle amongst huge blocks of the coloured marble that contained hundreds of fossils best seen when the surface was wetted.

A hot few miles north and a dusty track through a dried up palmery brought us in to Tazzarine where in a cafe at the quieter end of town we enjoyed a superb meal on a shady terrace, good bread, a salad and a meat tagine for two was followed by fruit and coffees for around a tenner.
This fuelled us for the 12 miles back home where more hot showers and an evening walk finished off an excellent day.

We took a road that my old Tom Tom didn't show but which took us across to Zagora through even more remote surroundings where on one occasion we gave a guy a lift in the middle of nowhere to the middle of nowhere and donated a couple of bottles of water to shepherds, also in the middle of nowhere.
On the edge of Zagora we stopped to visit the enormous market spilling across a large area of waste ground, with Mandy buying some earrings from a lady from Mali and the usual huge bag of fruit and veg bought for rock bottom prices. These markets are colourful,absorbing, noisy and stimulating and it is very easy to spend hours at one but we had a fair way to go and headed west towards Tata, stopping briefly at Foum Zguid.

Tata is a popular place for overwintering Europeans in their huge white vans and most of the sites in town looked crowded so we decided to stay in the yard of a hotel that also offered camping and walked in to town to explore the maze of alleys and the various markets. We decided to eat out in a small cafe on a large square and were soon talking to a Moroccan man on a short break away from the snows of the High Atlas. He was very interested in our journey and good company.

Of even greater interest to all of us was the sudden arrival of a tough, wiry and dusty touring cyclist who turned out to be a German lass (Heike) four months in to a four year overland ride to Cape Town. She had last year finished a multi year ride across Asia to Japan and was currently concerned as to how to extend her 90 day Moroccan visa to give her time to get south to Mauritania. Over a good meal we all discussed the various options and enjoyed a good conversation as her English was excellent - however with very little French she had made no progress on the visa extension and was having to consider a brief flight out to Europe  to reboot the visa period.

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The road through the Anti Atlas to Igherm was a cracker climbing through tiny villages, passing flowering almond trees and finally reaching the col via a series of tortuous S bends. Igherm is at the junction of a couple of trans Atlas roads so was busy but not crowded - we parked up and walked through the town which seemed to have quite a strong military presence. Down a side street we came across a shoe shop with the most remarkable display of traditional footwear and scarves and had soon bought a few items at the rate the locals pay. A small cafe incongruously playing UK Christmas hits did us a delicious scrambled egg before we dropped towards Tafraoute our next destination.

Mindful that up in the main town sites would be busy we pulled in to an empty courtyard where the toothless smile and warm welcome of the owner was enough to convince us to stay despite everything looking rather run down. Again we tucked away in a shady corner before walking across to explore a couple of the Amelm valley villages on foot passing crumbling ksours and shady palms.The following day we offloaded the bikes and followed the Amelm valley taking side tracks in to the various villages before reaching the road back to Tafraoute. Just before the town we turned right to pick up a dusty track round to the Painted Rocks that provided endless photo opportunities. A few vans were staying up there but we were content just to cycle round (and occasionally climb) the dramatic formations before having tea at a former cafe that looked closed but whose owner seemed very happy to produce a brew for us and two French couples on his simple wood fire.
An easy downhill back to the campsite had us back before dusk - we were pleased to see three other arrivals, one of which was a German couple in a tent who we guessed were getting about by public transport. We got bread, sardines and biscuits from the small shop before watching the sun set on the famous Lion's Face formation visible across the valley on the impressive cliffs. In a touching link with one of my favourite parts of mid Wales a fellow bothy enthusiast is currently writing a climbing guide to this amazing area but unfortunately this year our visits did not coincide.

With Mandy's month here coming to a close we headed west again and then south to reach Amtoudi where the main attractions are two huge fortified grain stores (agadirs) set high above the village on rocky outcrops. The campground was as before supervised by the ever attentive deaf mute gardien who through hand gestures can of course 'converse' in any language. We parked up with a perfect view of the main agadir (grain store) and then walked along the gorge floor to the village to explore the streets and passages that by now were in the welcome shade. 
During the day we have been experiencing temperatures in the mid twenties and single figures at night with almost zero humidity which has been very comfortable.
After breakfast outside we walked up to the main agadir following a group of French tourists who had hired mules - somewhat unnecessary as it is less than an hour's walk and later we noticed that they were too afraid to ride back down so walked whilst their amused guides took to the saddle.
The old gardien took six of us round the impressive structure with dozens of tiny rooms leading off dark passages, numerous stone beehives and pigeon coops. Water was collected from all the flat surfaces in to a cistern and touchingly several small round pools were incorporated to provide water for the bees. It was a fascinating experience enhanced by the cordiality of the two French couples and we took full advantage of the panoramic viewpoint looking back to the camp area and dusty plains beyond.
Returning by an alternative path we reached the gorge and decided to follow the concrete irrigation channel until its source at the river and then follow the intermittent river through the superb gorge. Occasional pools contained various fish and dozens of small frogs leapt in ahead of us. The guide books mention waterfalls and we now realise that these are the first cascades reached along the route that involve a steep climb up one side rather than a huge single drop waterfall that we expected. We walked another couple of miles before turning round as the valley penetrates many miles in to the mountains and we were rather hot and thirsty.
A German couple we had passed were now swimming in a pool - clearly oblivious to the risk of bilharzia that is endemic in the area. Back at the village we collected bread and a refreshing soft drink before arriving quite gratefully at the van for a relaxing evening.
I decided to give my old pair of binoculars to the gardien as sight was his only usable sense - he was very grateful and waved us off as we took the road south and then west to Guelmin which the sat nav bypassed to put us on what it thought was the way in to Fort Bou Jerif. However it didn't look familiar to me and after a few miles the road descended in to a valley that had been badly affected by flooding 5 years ago leaving the road impassable. Thus we turned round and on our way out found the tiniest of shops to get bread and water in an area where huge amounts of fruit and veg are grown under cover for export to Europe.
Using the Maps.me app on my phone I worked out the right track we should take and soon we were off on the rough 14km track to Fort Bou Jerif.
This remarkable complex is miles from anywhere and springs out of the harsh rocky terrain like a mirage. A diesel generator provides the power with water from a borehole and a large courtyard accommodating rooms, a small restaurant, elegant function room and set to one side a small but very beautiful hotel.
It was clean and well kept with good toilets and showers and as we were the only guests we chose a spot away to one side where we could enjoy the next three days. We walked down to see the old French Foreign Legion fort that was built in 1935 and only occupied for 30 years. It is huge with three distinct areas, one a large parade ground, then a collection of rooms and stores and finally a central garrison with motor inspection pit, officers quarters and the munitions store. With the setting sun and isolation it was a very moving and thought provoking experience. Down at the river a couple off road trucks were parked up, somewhere to consider for a future visit although mozzies might be a problem and the surprisingly loud croaking of frogs might eventually prove tiresome.........
Back at the camp we settled down outside to enjoy the sunset and then amazing starscape, particularly impressive after 11pm when the genny stopped running and all light was extinguished.
The next day after an early morning sea mist had burnt off we were away on the bikes heading for the coast at Foum Assakka which was at the end of the flood damaged road from yesterday. The Satmap took us along a mixture of tracks and trails - some with deep sandy sections, some very rocky but all generally rideable. It was gloriously sunny - again - but with more humidity due to the coastal influence.

A steep drop down to a bridge that meets the new road in to Foum Assaka from Sidi Ifni 20 miles north then put us on the last half mile of track to the tiny beach side hamlet. Numerous half finished buildings and a few occupied ones gave the place a very low key affair and the owner of the simplest cafe imaginable produced an excellent squid tagine for me and grilled fish with rice for Mandy. The bill was beyond reasonable and he explained his plans to enlarge the cafe to include a panoramic roof terrace and possibly one day rooms to rent. As access from Sidi Ifni is good now I hope his plans will succeed as he had four young children to support and the location was stunning. We pushed the bikes back up to the cliff top, diverting briefly to a look out point with amazing views before retracing our route back to FBJ for another starry night. Two other vans had arrived including a German family with 2 young children in a Land Rover based camper, it looked very cramped and both parents were particularly loud in the desert stillness.
Our final day was one of rest and recovery with the tempting pool proving a little too cool yet but we sorted through photos, dealt with the loo, gave the shower a good clean, changed the gas (one cylinder having provided showers, hot water, cooking and the fridge for a week at a cost of £5) and did a couple of loads of hand washing which quickly dried in the hot sun and gentle breeze.
We also lazed in the shade of a stone semicircular structure with comfy cushions on stone benches and bright rugs forming the roof where sweet mint tea was thoroughly appreciated.
We had arranged to eat in the small restaurant and although delicious it was priced at more European levels - I had a camel tagine whilst Mandy settled for more conventional grilled chicken.
A 4WD T5 high top camper had turned up with another Land Rover based camper and I was glad that trade continued for this amazing place - the Paris-Dakar Rally used to pass through but the politics of North Africa means that this event is now I think based in South America. After dark we walked down to the old fort again with the ruins looking dramatic against the moonlit sky with nothing to disturb the silence.
We decided to leave via a different route as part of our bike ride had brought us out on a piste that the Satmap indicated would take us out to tarmac and this in fact proved to be a much easier route out than the bone jarring way we had come in. Bulldozers and graders were improving the sandy track and we kicked up a lot of dust - reminiscent for me of the Outback almost a decade ago and we needed to power though the odd section of deep sand but the sealed road was reached and we were soon on the way to Guelmime.
Here we went to a branch of the only Moroccan supermarket chain - Marjane - and were amazed at the variety of goods and produce available. 90% of the clientele were European vanners but we only bought some essentials that are hard to find in the small villages as we much prefer to shop daily for the freshest fruit, veg and bread. The town seemed very hectic as we passed through - traffic weaves and wobbles without apparent incident but any notion of driving in a polite western style has to be abandoned as the locals just don't expect it.
I nipped in to a satellite TV store to get my data allowance topped up - £16 for 20Gb as the same allowance had lasted almost a month. Having internet access, Whatsapp, email, mapping, Spotify and the BBC Sounds service available almost everywhere has been an absolute bargain for around 50p per day. Morocco's 3G service is remarkably comprehensive as most of the population have skipped the old copper wire technology and masts are near almost every town.

We took the road out to Sidi Ifni where the crowded overwinter campsites start in earnest and only stopped briefly for lunch above the port before heading north and taking a rough side track down to a cliff top for a night wild camping. Out to sea almost a hundred small sardine boats were bobbing on the gentle swell and we enjoyed the view as the sun set with just one interruption from an old guy walking south with all his belongings in a simple shoulder sack. He was very grateful for a bottle of water and the four pain au chocolat we offered and hobbled off as the sky darkened.

So today has been our last full day together and after a lazy breakfast outside we drove to Tiznit, parked under the watchful eye of an old gardien and explored the large walled town with its maze of alleys and numerous small shops. There is a jewellery quarter with dozens of tiny shacks displaying tray after tray of intricate rings, brooches, necklaces and bangles and a clothing and garments section with every colour imaginable on display. It all felt very relaxed and we spent a fair time ambling round before settling in a cool side street for a lunch that cost £4 for salad, paninis and chips, soft drinks and water.
A final hour north to Agadir has put us on a small campsite within half an hour of the airport ready for Mandy's departure to Manchester tomorrow. We called in briefly to get our bearings and were pleased to find it is small, compact and well signposted which should make the logistics of tomorrow quite straightforward.
My onward plans are fluid as I have 5 weeks until I fly back from Malaga in late March so I expect to spend another month over here and then return to Spain as the van will need an oil change and I would like to catch up with the friends recovering from a pre Christmas accident.

Thus pictures from the above can be seen here and I will try to report my locations over the next few weeks here.

Saharan Sunset

After leaving Boudnib we were soon on the road south passing high above the palmeries of the Ziz Valley before reaching Erfoud where we bought food during a walk around the town which until the road was improved was the starting point for adventure trips to the edge of the Sahara. The new road however enables people to reach Merzouga and Erg Chebi independently and thus these two villages have extended acrosss the hammada and provide a range of accommodation options. We returned to the familiar (for me) Camping Les Pyramides which is right on the edge of the village with the desert sands frequently drifting across the camping area.

We walked out to the main dunes as the sun set and enjoyed the remarkable transformation as the light changed before later sitting out under the stars. The simple but clean facilities provided hot showers and we slept well in a very peaceful location.



The day dawned bright and clear and a couple of camel trains passed taking tourists on their Saharan experience whilst we unloaded the spoked camels and set off to ride through the villages paralleling the long range of the dunes. We passed other camping options, hotels and numerous camel riding outlets and at one stage enjoyed a route through the luxuriant palmery following one of the irrigation channels.
By lunchtime we turned back to avoid the heat of the day, took a track across to the tarmac and were soon back at base after passing the construction site for a new school.
Later we set off to climb the main dune ready for sunset and slogged up the steep slope making slow progress in the soft sand. It was a stunning experience to reach the ridge and see the dunes extend eastwards towards the Algerian border which follows the line of a steep distant escarpment.
Below us 'traditional Berber camps' were scattered amongst the lower dunes waiting to provide the Saharan experience and we walked along the various crests as the sun set. At one stage a couple of paragliders took off for what seemed a very short flight for the effort involved in getting to the top.
Four Spanish lads turned up on noisy dirt bikes - it seems a shame that some people cannot just enjoy the stark simplicity of these amazing places as quads and four wheel drives were also tearing up the normally pristine sands.
Walking back in the dark we enjoyed the stars before another cosy night as outside the temperature dropped away sharply.

After filling up with water we headed back to Erfoud and took the road west towards Goulmima stopping en route to visit the remarkable underground irrigation channels that for thousands of years enabled the locals to survive in this harsh environment. Hundreds of wells have been sunk in to the dry riverbed but even these are now above the water table so modern agriculture now relies on solar powered pumps to penetrate even deeper in search of the run off from the High Atlas. 
Our guide made us tea in his tented home and was refreshingly reticent in pushing us to buy anything or even pay for our tour.
We stopped for lunch on the edge of the Goulmima palmery although as I was feeling a little rough I was content with plenty of water before we meandered through the shady palms. We began the climb up through the Gheris Gorge in to the High Atlas passing astounding geology either side of the steep canyon. In places the road was damaged by flood waters but we carried on reaching Amellago on a high plateau where early almonds were flowering and the small fields were showing signs of the spring crops emerging. 
We had decided to stay out in the wilds and found a large gravelled area above the river that would be ideal for the night. On stretching our legs later further along the road we spotted a German van also parked up and as dusk fell a wizzened farmer passed by and seemed keen to invite us back for tea and bread. Being unsure as to how far his house was, having seen no sign of habitation, we politely declined.

Next day we carried on over to Assoul passing through the dramatic mountain scenery and receiving friendly waves from the small children accompanying their mothers on foraging expeditions for animal fodder. The shepherds were largely men moving their flocks of brown sheep and small black goats in search of good grazing, some of the flocks were surprisingly large and spilled across the steep rocky slopes with incredible agility.

Dropping down the Todra Gorge we came across a huge quarrying operation - a new dam high up in the gorge is planned which will reduce the risk of flash flooding lower down, improve the reliability of water supply for the higher villages and I guess provide some hydro electric potential.
As we dropped to Tineghir we passed through the narrowest part of the gorge with its numerous souvenir stalls and crowd of day tourists before reaching the Hotel Atlas that I have used before. We were soon installed in a sunny corner of the gravel yard and after lunch took off across the river to spend an enthralling couple of hours exploring the old ksir (pise constructed town) that is now slowly disppearing back in to the land. It was touching to see the odd fancy embelishment above doors and windows, peer in to once tended gardens, climb to the upper floors on crumbling stairways to terraces for views across the palms to the new town and then follow the irrigation channels through the palms.

Back at the site the hoped for hot showers were in fact cold so I took the soft option and used the  van facilities before another quiet night. A flight home for Mandy was booked (£50) which will help with the planning for the remaining fortnight of her stay.
Today we intend to ride back up the Gorge although at present the sun is tucked behind the clouds so we are biding our time until it emerges - hence this update and these pictures here.

Early Days in Morocco - from one extreme to ......

 The flight from Manchester arrived on time at Gibraltar Airport whose single runway effectively acts as the border line between Spain and this corner of the United Kingdom. Traffic and pedestrians are halted to allow flights to land and then taxi back to the modern terminal with the vast bulk of the Rock a dramatic background.
We walked back to the aire on the coast that was to be our base tucked amongst a large number of vans of many nationalities - a huge German van with an equally substantial trailer discharged a powerful trike resplendent in chrome and sporting many flags which roared off across the gravel.
I had explored La Linea earlier and got a large bag of laundry done so had an idea of where to head to for an evening meal - we enjoyed excellent pizzas and a good stroll round.

Thursday saw us walking in to Gibraltar, crossing the runway and then following the shore with its many luxury marinas, executive apartments and a remarkable amount of new construction. The noise, traffic and busy atmosphere was quite a contrast to my recent quiet few weeks but we soon escaped the chaos by taking the cable car up to the top of the Rock for panoramic views and our first encounters with the beguiling Barbary Apes who whilst inquisitive were content to leave you alone unless you were daft enough to be carrying food. They really were absorbing and up at the impressive O'Hara's battery a younger crew were demonstrating their skills and agility on the vast obsolete armaments.

Walking back through the town centre was of course very similar to any UK high street although with many less vacant outlets or charity shops - Gibraltar has an affluent population who benefit from tax and duty concessions.


Later that evening we drove round the bay passing Algeciras and reaching Tarifa in time to walk on the beach at sunset and then stock up at Aldi before calling in to get tickets for a crossing to Tangier Med on the Friday at noon - £200 for an open ended return for two and the van. Back at the campsite we enjoyed hot showers, topped up the water tanks and had a night on hook up to top up the batteries.






Friday dawned bright and sunny and we walked briefly out of Tarifa to the small island fort used to detain any captured illegal immigrants before joining a small queue for the crossing. We were directed to reverse on which was unnerving but the crew were very attentive and we were shortly off passing the large Maersk container port. After completing the on board immigration formalities we ordered some light snacks - unfortunately the card reader was out of action and as we had left any euros in the van we had to do without, contenting ourselves instead with the stunning view of Gib as we headed towards the North African coast.
Once offloaded we pulled up in the Customs Shed and had a short wait during which we were amused by the Belgian owner of a top of the range Mercedes objecting to a more detailed scrutiny than most. Returning Moroccans had cars piled high inside and out with toys, bikes, kitchen appliances, window frames, a shower unit and the like - presumably for onward sale at local markets.
Previously you were required to print off and fill in in triplicate a D16 TER customs form for the vehicle but this is no longer the case and they now merely ask for your V5 (or carte grise) which I think they must scan in.
Anyway in less than half an hour we were on our way and picking up the rural road over to Chefchaouen via Tetouan. The familiar sights of mosques, donkeys, carts, scruffy villages, street stalls selling almost everything from fruit and veg to hardware, phone top ups, animal feed and so on were reassuring to me and fascinating to Mandy.

My old Tom Tom guided us to Chef and my even older memory took us high above the town to the Municipal campsite which seemed little changed although in fact they had renovated their office and upgraded the electrical sockets from lethal to dodgy. We parked above the main terrace and then walked the steep path down to town where we were soon absorbed in to the maze of blue hued streets and alleys with all manner of goods for sale. The second ATM we tried seemed to recognise my card and we took out 2000 dirham - about £160 - to top up the local currency I had carried over from my 2017 trip. We were content to just follow our noses and eventually after dusk popped through one of the old walled gates to return to the site just as rain began to fall. Knowing that the showers were usually cold made us appreciate our comforts even more and we slept soundly as the heavens opened. 

By late morning the following day things had eased up but the path down and the streets in town were very slippery. After buying a Moroccan SIM with 20G of data valid for a month which the shop keeper was happy to set up on my phone - total cost about £16 - we made a few test calls and then  stopped for tea in a very brightly decorated cafe on the main square. Whilst the town is unashamedly aimed at tourism it is also very easy to discover the real Morocco away from the blue centre - our efforts to get a few carrots resulted in a large carrier bag full for 40p, far more than we needed so at some stage a donkey will get lucky - stop sniggering at the back Greg.
Back at the campsite we went online to catch up with friends and family and were grateful for the cosy warmth of the heater on a cool, wet night.

Sunday saw us heading south through the Rif Mountains via Ketama a noted hash dealing area and when we stopped for lunch we were soon approached by various individuals who to be fair were not that persistent and took our firm decline graciously. From Tazza we climbed in to the mountains of the Tazzeka National Park and as dusk fell followed a rough track for 5km to a recreation spot with a few tables and benches that would do for the night. It was a bit spooky especially as a lad seemed to be living in a roof, door and window less shack in this cold and windswept spot. We were very warm and cosy but did not linger long the following morning as again the weather was letting the side down. Following the road across the Chiker plateau there were some light snow drifts and the scenery had a wintry flavour which improved as we descended to the Fes road. A few of the local children were holding single eggs out for sale or asking for dirhams and looked frozen , their simple homes - often Berber tents looking unlikely to provide much warmth at this time of year.
We stopped for lunch above a reservoir shortly after being let off a speeding ticket by a courteous gendarme and then tried the Sefrou Municipal campsite which had been almost a complete wreck two years ago and was indeed now completely abandoned and closed up. Down in the town there was some confusion with le gardien as to where we should park but soon enough we were ducking through one of the walled town's gates to enter a mass of lanes and alleys with substantial amounts of fruit and veg for sale. Other areas were doing clothing, hardware and electricals and a few stalls were selling the last of their boxes of fish - the ice long since melted and the produce perhaps past its best.

We headed south to Ifrane with its curious developments of Swiss or Alpine style houses and drew up in front of the closed gates of Camping Amazigh as sleet fell. Fortunately a young girl appeared and welcomed us in to the site located amongst cherry trees - I encouraged her to jump in to complete paperwork as it was now hailing and afterwards I got quite chilled filling the water tanks from one of the slowest of taps that required the hose holding on by hand as it lacked a thread. However we were soon on a pitch with hook up and had the heaters roaring away - both diesel and electric - with an elderly French couple tucked away on the far side.

Our plan to head south to better weather was thwarted by the closure due to snow of the Col Du Zad at 2178 m - long lines of trucks were pulled in at the roadside so we turned west instead.
The large town of Azrou has a weekly souk which we walked out to and spent several hours absorbed by the sights and sounds  - the livestock area was fascinating with small flocks all tied at the neck with cords, the odd escapee being pursued by small children and the bartered stock being loaded high on to the roofs of old Merc vans, pick ups and memorably on at least one occasion a bullock being loaded in to the back of a Transit.

The overnight sleet and rain had turned the paths in to several inches of mud through which hand carts and barrows, the odd powered trike and scooters were struggling to replenish stores at the hundreds of stalls. We had lunch in a 'cafe' that comprised a shelter made from stitched up rice sacks, a motley selection of old chairs and tables and a simple gas powered cooking surface from where the woman who ran the place produced a simple but delicious  flatbread/pancake combo and sweet mint tea. The language barrier was slightly overcome by gestures and laughter with the odd customer chipping in in French to make for a memorable experience.
Back in the main part of town we were talked in to visiting a womens' cooperative that was producing carpets, rugs and shawls and decided to buy two nice scarves having explained that we had little use for floor coverings. We then enjoyed grilled lamb in a simple cafe on the main road mainly because it smelled too good to refuse.
We drove through very wintry scenes to the Sources de L'Oum er Rbia which I had mixed up with the Cascades D'Ouzoud, again passing some very barren looking villages with frozen fields, sheep grazing on sparse vegetation and shepherds despite this waving amicably. At the Source we arranged with the parking gardien to stay the night but were then caught out by a rogue who offered to walk us up to the springs and then took us for tea by the waterside. He then demanded 150 dirham as payment and turned slightly menacing when we declined - not wishing to create a fuss over what to us is a relatively paltry sum we sent him off with his cash and a strong indication that he was a disgrace. Back at the parking the gardien agreed but we decided not to stay in case he returned after dark and set off in search of a wild camp for the night. Luck was on our side though as a few miles further on a large complex offered camping in its olive groves overlooking the river.

The following day we returned to Azrou where the pass was open and started the long climb through snow drifts in thick fog following a slow and precariously loaded straw wagon. Passing through snow laden cedar trees we saw a few monkeys scampering off and on the elevated plateau many drivers had stopped to experience what for most would be the rare winter conditions.
Sidi Ali a mile off the main road was a lake located in a volcanic crater that provided a lunch stop but a strong cold wind was blowing. Despite this two stray dogs appeared and were grateful for the last of our bread.
Almost magically as we descended towards Midelt the weather cleared and at Zeida we stopped for a walk around the town which sits at the junction of a number of routes before pulling in to Timnay campground with its tree shelter belts, large pitches and clean facilities. We went over to the comfortable restaurant for tea before cooking up steaks and enjoying an early night.

The day dawned bright and sunny on this plateau between the Moyen and High Atlas, the former still fog bound the latter shimmering with hard white snow away to the west.
A side road took us across to El Ahouli, an abandoned township that had once housed 3000 people mining the local lead and silver deposits, where a few people still live in the crumbling remains working smaller veins for these and other metals plus minerals for sale such as quartz and fluorspar. We had crossed a rather rickety bridge to get there and then walked across even more flimsy ones to enter the main drift level using my high powered torch to walk some way inside. Bicycle tyre tracks led away in to the distance with graffiti indicating that the worked areas were another 1500m in - not for us today. We stopped for lunch in the hot sun before on our return picking up an old guy with a large rucksack who was delighted to be dropped off several miles further on and rather humblingly insisted on kissing my hand.

Camping in the dramatic Ziz Gorge at Hotel Jurassic confirmed that we were now in much warmer climes and we walked through newly planted olive and apricot orchards stopping to talk to the owner before returning to the camp ground where the simple, clean facility blocks had hot showers.
The roof terrace of the small hotel had dramatic views of the gorge whose red rocks towered above us whilst the shady central courtyard sported palms and lemon trees.

Yesterday we passed through Er Rachidia - a well laid out modern town with some form of demonstration being closely supervised by large numbers of police and soldiers. After passing numerous new plantings of olives and dates either side of the road, and a solitary camel we arrived at Rekkam Camping in Boudnib. This pleasant place is owned by a French man and his Moroccan wife and provides large flat pitches surrounded by palms with clean and stylish facilities, shady seating areas and a relaxed vibe. After settling in we walked in to town to buy some meat, fruit and veg stopping also to admire the work of a carpenter fabricating kitchen cupboards on the pavement and a well stocked autoparts shack whose proud young owner insisted on a selfie. There was a contented hum around the cafes and small shops as people enjoyed the cool of the evening and we enjoyed the remarkable light cast on the old French Foreign Legion fort that is now in ruins.
Today after a leisurely morning we cycled off to explore the old Boudnib - the Ksir - reached via an almost dried up river bed and pedalled gently through the palmerie meeting children collecting olives, following guys heading out on donkeys to till the land and collecting a substantial number of thorns from the same spiny ground cover that had caught us out in Spain last year. Whilst my tubeless set up coped well Mandy soon had a flat tyre that we pumped up a few times to get us home. We passed through the streets of very basic mud walled houses with kids waving shyly, had a look at the new mosque finished three years ago whose excess and grandeur seemed at odds with the actual living conditions of the locals and eventually walked the last half mile back to Rekkam as the afternoon sun beat down.
Three Danish lads who had been travelling for 3 months in a very basic LWB high top T4 were very friendly and seemed to be enjoying their rather spartan existence - for them today was spring cleaning and a large mound of sleeping bags, clothing, kit and stuff soon appeared. I attended to the bikes and will probably regret not bringing more tyre sealant before we went over to the simple dining area for an evening meal. A good chicken soup, two tajines (one chicken and one meat) and a dessert filled us up and tomorrow we head south to Merzouga for a real flavour of the Sahara on whose edge we currently sit.

The pics are here and locations now and again here - I hope you enjoy them.

EUROPE'S MOST SW POINT, SW PORTUGAL AND W ANDALUCIA

I took off to the aire at the Barragem de Povoa e Meadas for a couple of days to carry on exploring the numerous tracks and trails that criss cross the area before returning to the campsite for a morning burning all the winter debris of gardening and tree pruning. There were a few campers staying and the final olive picking made for a busy scene. However after an excellent lunch for eight or so of us I headed away as my destination lay two or three hours to the south.

The sat nav took me along rural tracks as the sun set  to bring me out at the largest body of water in Portugal - the Barragem D'Alqueva - where I spent a quiet night in what seemed a very remote place with no light pollution giving a vast starry sky. Passing through huge areas of newly planted olive trees I called in at Moura, Serpa and Beja - all provided castles and historic town centres with the last remnants of Christmas displays being taken down and after a couple of hours I was on the coast above Vila Nova de Milfontes above a stunning beach which started beneath a headland from whose lofty heights a number of locals were fishing in the pounding surf.

I walked down to Vila Nova along the coast path the following day, returning via an inland track through the dunes - the coastal scenery was superb and a small bar in town provided a good lunch in the warm sun.
Following the coast south I stopped for the night at a viewpoint west of Odeceixe with more amazing views - the two bays had a number of surfer vans parked up so I much preferred the quieter cliff top - an old T25 van stopped which looked like it had done some miles and a German lad also stayed the night.

Moving south again via the coastal tracks W of Carapteira that I had last followed a decade ago I revisited Cabo de Soa Vicente - the most SW point in Europe but decided not to linger and took the motorway east to bypass the busy, largely developed and certainly spoilt Algarve. Whilst toll cameras topped numerous gantries there was no toll booth so I presume ANPR is used and thus a bill at home some time might be expected. However I made very good time, crossed in to Spain by lunchtime and by mid afternoon was parked up in Gibraleon at an aire that provided fresh and waste water facilities and was close to the start of two cycle routes. 
I stayed three nights with the first trail reached by following rural tracks courtesy of the GPS before picking up the railway line north to Valverde del Camino for a lunch break and then back along quiet side roads to mix it up a bit. The second route deteriorated after only ten miles or so but again my 1;25000 mapping enabled me to take quiet roads down towards Huelva, cross the wide estuary and return to Gibraleon where I met a French family of four spending two years exploring Europe in a caravan. There was a lot of new development on the outskirts of Huelva - many looking like a Disney resort and of course many being unfinished or abandoned as the economy has faltered in recent years.

After passing through Seville without incident I pulled up at the old railway station in Puerto Serrano at the start of a 25 mile vias verde. After a comfortable night clear skies dawned with quite a frost on the ground so I wrapped up well and set off along the track heading towards Olvera. The Via Verde de La Sierra was a real cracker with tunnels, viaducts, gentle gradients and stunning views - the tunnels were illuminated where necessary apart from one - the longest of course - and my phone torch provided just enough of a glow to safely pass through the 500m curve. Memories of a head on with a cyclist in northern Spain were stirred but today there were very few people on the route and all was well. The old station at Olverra was in full sun - some sections of the route had been icy in the shade of the mountains that lie on the northern edge of the Grazalema National Park - so I stopped for lunch - mixed salad, chicken kebabs and a cold beer or two as the return journey lay largely down hill. A side trip to see one of the largest oak trees in Portugal also gave me an idea of somewhere to stay in future as it lay in a beautiful valley with a small chapel near Coripe.

Heading south again in to the Grazalema NP I stopped in Algonodales and then Zahara with its superb castle offering a splendid panorama over the reservoir. The back road over to  Ubrique was sinuous and from the top of the pass I took a walk to another great vantage point over Zahara and watched a dozen or so vultures cruise lazily on the warm updraft.
Ubrique's aire was a large mostly empty car park and after chatting to a guy from Grantham who sold up in September and is having a year away walked in to the town which is a centre for leather craftsmen. Unfortunately the next morning was market day and at 07.00 the local police were hammering on the doors asking us to move on - thus before dawn I was up in the hills of the Alcornocales National Park enjoying breakfast as the sun rose.
Another back road took me through cork oaks, olive trees, quiet farms and limestone scenery before dropping in to El Colmenar and eventually out to Casares where above the village another aire provided a base for the night. I walked in to the village and up to the castle for superb views down to the coast and the Rock of Gibraltar - eagles soared overhead as they nest locally and two via ferrata dispappeared over one of the viewpoint walls.

So today I am on the border at Linea de Concepcion with two weeks laundry drying in the sun and Mandy expected down from Manchester in a couple of hours. It has been a thoroughly enjoyable couple of weeks with plenty of variety, cloudless skies (only just changing today) so a flavour is captured in the following photos here and the occasional locations here.
The photos have been a combination of phone and Go Pro stills but I shall be glad to have a proper camera back having foolishly dropped mine a couple of weeks ago.

We cross to Morocco on Friday at which point I will endeavour to send the Spot location daily

Life in the Alentejo

The last train from Sheffield took me over the Peninnes arriving back at Manchester Airport around 1am when in our super sophisticated 21st century first world nation I slept on the floor for a few hours until security opened at 5am allowing me to pass through to the duty free area where I could have had a manicure....

The flight was on time and the courtesy bus to the parking arrived just as I stepped outside so by 11am I was crosssing the ever stunning Vasco Da Gama bridge and passed through familiar territory to arrive back in Santo Antonio by late afternoon.

A few days later Joao and his Mum took me out for a meal locally before I dropped them off in Portalegre for the bus to Lisbon and a flight to Germany to visit family for the Christmas break.

Thus I had Zarco and Maya (two dogs) and Squeak the cat for company and two weeks passed very pleasantly with a gentle routine of a two hour morning walk after breakfast, usually a bike ride for me until late afternoon, an hour's walk and then a cosy evening indoors with Netflix for entertainment.

I explored the local lanes, crossed to Spain on one occasion via the old smuggler's tracks and puffed up to Marvao as part of a concerted effort to lose some weight.

The Monday market in Valencia provided excellent fruit and veg but I resisted the local hams,chorizo and cheeses and on a ride through the town a few days later explored the castle with its extensive views in to the heart of Spain and across the border to Marvao.

Sunday saw me cycle the 10 miles plus a substantial ascent to Carreras for lunch with an old friend who despite being in her 80's is full of life and heading to Sri Lanka early in the New Year. Her cosy little cottage was charming and after local sausages and a cauliflower cheese we enjoyed beers in her sun drenched yard looking west across Portalegre.

I was glad to leave the campsite for the day as the local hunt was out in full force - farmers on foot with numerous dogs after wild boar - which was a noisy intrusion. Gary's neighbours had also arrived to pick the olives so it was unusually busy.

Anyway Gary is now safely back and the site opens for another season freeing me to head south to spend time on the western coast before crossing to Spain and then Gibraltar before we meet up again prior to our proposed visit to Morocco. I hope to be there for two months before returning to the UK from Malaga in late March. Anyone planning to stay in this area would find Camping Asseiceira an idyllic base - check it out at with this link here

Thus I will post again in the next fortnight or so but will end by wishing all a Happy New Year but especially Pete and Nina, fellow travellers who were involved in a nasty scooter accident just before Christmas. Nina faces a long period of recovery but will get there and I hope to catch up with them in March.

Piccies here and I will resume the Spot locations here soon.

Full English Break --- fast.

A temporary change in the weather put the dampers on Marvao's annual Chestnut Fair with the hill top town shrouded in a thick mist with heavy rain - thus I decided to give it a miss and tucked away in the van with Mia, Gary's dog, dozing contentedly at my feet.

Predictably the very next day it dawned dry and bright and I spent a useful day giving the van a thorough clean and tidy up.

A trip to Portalegre for shopping saw me neatly customise the bike rack round a handy lamp post but with no real damage done it served as an ideal work platform to thoroughly clean and service both bikes before they are stored for three weeks. 

Various old friends from the area dropped by and I made arrangements to catch up properly when I return for the festive period.

My journey to Lisbon was uneventful passing through oak dotted grazing land and as I neared the coast large waterlogged paddy fields were evidence of the local rice cultivation.

The dockside aire in central Lisbon was busier than last time but still uncrowded and on impulse I decided to hop on one of the regular fast boats that link Lisbon with largely residential towns across the Tagus and was soon alighting at Cacilhas. I walked west along the old wharfe passing endless derelict warehousing that will no doubt one day see much needed development heading towards the spectacular Pont de 5 Abril bridge. An external glass lift took me up to Arialva from where I walked to view the dominant feature of the area's skyline the impressive Cristo Rei statue completed in 2013 and at almost 400' high mirroring the perhaps more famous one overlooking Rio de Janeiro.

Back at the van I checked my rucksack for the following day's flight and slept well on a mild night.

Aeroporto Parque's efficient check in soon saw me on the shuttle to Terminal 2 from where an Easy Jet flight left on time - the transit over Spain and the Bay of Biscay and clipping the Brittany coast was under blue skies but as we passed over Cardiff the clouds thickened for our descent to Manchester where the tempertaure of 4 degrees contrasted sharply with the 22 of Lisbon.

A slow train over the Peninnes to Sheffield saw me queuing in the rain for a taxi and then crawling through the rush hour traffic with a friendly taxi driver from Srinagar in Kashmir for company - he was astounded that I had ridden a bike round his home some 30 years ago.

It was lovely to be home and catch up with friends and family before I nipped to the local hospital for a blood test as one before I left had showed a slight anomaly (all fine), obtained a repeat scrip for pills and showed outstanding bravery for a flu jab.

Thus on the Saturday we were packed and ready for off to the Lake District via Skipton where after a walk along the scenic canal we improved the balance sheet of the local Tesco's by a substantial margin.
Lodge 21 was as ever presented in immaculate condition  and we fondly remembered the many years that Mum and Dad had enjoyed here.

A decent day took us over Lingmell and back along the Great Langdale Valley where Penny had arrived for a few days during which we enjoyed spectacular views from Latterbarrow near Wray Castle overlooking Windermere, a good meal in the on site restaurant, expensive drinks and a quiz in the nearby Wainwright's pub and some relaxed swimming in the luxurious pool.
A walk across to the Drunken Duck pub for an excellent lunch took in my grandfather's old home where 50 years ago my brother and I were lucky enough to spend our summer holidays in a 'Blytonesque' idyll.

We called at Ambleside to see the excellent Queen film ' Bohemian Rhapsody' and nose about the shops where everywhere seemed surprisingly quiet.

On the Thursday we enjoyed a prolonged session in the spa including an hour or so in the heated out door pool made all the more enjoyable by occasional heavy showers.

My annual cold had started to clear by the time friends from Bristol arrived on Thursday and Friday saw a memorable walk over to Grasmere and up Easedale Beck , past the tarn and then a stiff climb in very gusty winds and the odd hail shower before dropping to Stickle Tarn and the descent of Dungeon Ghyll.

Saturday's low cloud and rain persuaded us to stick to lower ground so we walked to Chester's at Skelwith Bridge, followed paths and tracks to Tilberthwaite and sought shelter for lunch in the deep quarry at Hodge Close.
The water was cascading down Tilberthwaite Ghyll but as it was a very grey day and dusk was arriving early we decided not to climb higher on the flanks of Wetherlam and returned down the other side to pick up the path back to Little Langdale.

Our evening in the Brittania was initially overshadowed by a large noisy lass who brayed constantly at an adjacdent table before we eventually had a word and back at the lodge an impromptu quiz gently stirred the grey matter.

Sunday saw the Bristol crew  depart before we walked up to view the nearby Burlington slate quarry where in recent years they have been crushing the huge piles of waste slate for use on footpaths and as a weed suppressing layer.

Glorious weather on the Monday gave us the opportunity to enjoy good views as we walked via the Loughrigg caves to Ambleside, along to Waterhead dropping in to Hayes Garden Centre to see their Christmas display and after a coffee in the late afternoon sun returning over Loughrigg to view a property that has been built on the site of a now demolished traditional house. The stylish modern design with a mix of local stone, timber and glass occupies an elevated position with panoramic views but the steep access track on a north facing slope would be a seasonal issue.

Yesterday we returned to Tilberthwaite Ghyll via different paths to more fully appreciate its grandeur but by mid afternoon the fog had descended and we were glad to get back to the cosy lodge before a swim.

So we have a final few days here before returning via York to vist family after which I return to Lisbon a week today until New Year. Then its down to the wilder west coast of Portugal south of Sines before meeting Mandy in Gibraltar in mid January for a return to Morocco.

Piccies of the foregoing appear here.

Lisbon and farewell. Welcome back to the Alentejo.

A new minimarket and cafe in San Antonio was worth dropping in to and then we spent the day cycling over to the ever fascinating railway station at Beira before returning via Castelo de Vide along a range of tracks before stashing the bikes and other clobber away as we decided they would be unnecessary in Lisbon. 

We headed off on the Sunday stopping en route to appreciate an old Roman bridge before arriving at the aire in Central Lisbon around dusk. It was conveniently situated on the old wharves just along from the impressive 25th April Bridge and very handy for reaching the main highlights. A few other vans were obviously almost in residence and joggers and cyclists occupied the adjacent track that followed the foreshore for miles. We walked up to the Presidential Palace with its numerous bored looking guards and then went in to the ferry terminal and underground station just to orientate ourselves before walking back along the seafront passing a promising looking restaurant.

After a quiet night we then spent a pleasant day walking the streets of Lisbon to visit its many attractions ranging from the castle through to the myriad of alleyways and steep narrow streets, various chapels and churches and the main squares of this compact and lively capital. We covered over 9 miles on a sunny day and saw most of the main attractions. The colourful trams squealed their way around and we noted that a number of the tuk tuks were now silently gliding around after an upgrade to electric power.

Back at the van we showered and changed before walking the short distance (fortunately as it had started to rain) to the Portugaria where we enjoyed an excellent meal in contemporary surroundings. There was a large internet conference taking place in the city and a number of fellow diners were tech savvy twenty somethings from a range of nations no doubt defining the world of tomorrow at a level I figure I would struggle with.

On the Tuesday we set the sat nav for Aeroporto Lisboa and were soon dropping Mandy off for the shuttle bus to Terminal 2 for her flight home. A slight delay had been texted from Easy Jet but good time was made on the flight and by tea time she was safely home.
I lingered until the flight had actually departed and then crossed the long Vasco de Gama bridge with flamingoes paddling in the extensive shallows at the far side and called in to a large campsite for a Campingaz exchange - the 907 cylinders had proved elusive but 13 euros seemed a good price - less than half the UK cost.
Thus I set off for the headland at Cabo Espichel where a large sandy and mostly empty car park was to be my base for the night.
It was blowing like mad making the walk out to the chapel and church of Nossa Senhora de Cabo quite exhilerating and causing some challenging flying conditions for a large military helicopter hovering over a nearby bay - it wasn't clear whether it was a training mission or an actual rescue, either way the pilot was obviously highly skilled.
The roof of the chapel was quite probably the finest I have ever seen but photos were discouraged unfortunately.
The lighthouse began to wink as the sun set and I returned for a wild and windy night grateful once more for the cosy warmth of the Eberspacher.

Wednesday looked set to be a wet day so I decided to hunker down and read until it started to clear up at which point I dropped in to Sesimba to walk its castle walls and view the busy fishing port before doing a supermarket sweep at Setubal and heading inland where the weather seemed calmer. Whilst a planned stop north of Evora provided an opportunity to drain tanks and fill up with water I decided its location alongside a restaurant popular with HGVs might not be so peaceful so decided to stay in the city itself on the marketplace parking - another large sandy expanse with plenty of room.


Evora's main sight is the remarkably well preserved Roman temple with the aqueduct also largely intact. 
The Chapel of Bones was a macabre sight whilst a collection of nativity scenes from around the world and across the generations made for interesting viewing.
Heading east I spent the night just beneath the castle walls at Marvao with spectacular views across to Spain with the sparsely scattered villages lit by sodium lights looking like a fallen galaxy.

On the Friday I called in briefly to collect my bike before taking up residence at the Barragem de Povoa which was much emptier than a fortnight previously - of people not water.
Saturday's 40 mile ride under a strong sun was a cracker - using the GPS I followed numerous tracks and trails to Montelvao and then dropped down to the hydroelectric scheme on the Tejo to cross in to Spain. Cedillo had a small shop so I stopped for refreshments before returning across the dam and making my way back via yet more tracks. Some striking cattle were grazing alongside the beautiful blue and white Capela de Nossa Senhora dos Remedios and I arrived back in time for an hour in the sun watching a large flock of storks wading in the shallower water.

On Sunday I woke after 12 solid hours sleep and spent the day reading with the odd walk to ease my limbs before today I nipped across to Valencia for large amounts of fruit and veg, some goats cheese and a good helping of serrano ham as I am now in residence at Gary's site whilst he heads south for a few days.

I intend to give the van a good spring clean, service both bikes and enjoy what is to me the best of both worlds - an immaculate, well maintained and picturesque campsite - with no campers!!



Latest pics HERE