North Across the Atlas

It was only a short hop along to Nkob and then a couple of km north on a good piste brought me to Camping Auberge Bassou which is well kept and pleasantly run by a French lady and her Moroccan husband. Perhaps understandably therefore all the guests were French, mostly in large vans with trailers on the back for a variety of quads and dune buggies. The facilities were good and on a hot afternoon I was content to stay cool and fresh in the van with all windows and vents open but the fly screens across to deter intruders.
Early next morning a group of the quaddies set off to explore the local area after which peace resumed once more and I prepared my bike for the day's ride. In such dusty conditions oil does more harm than good on the chain and with a rocky route ahead I dropped the tyre pressures slightly before setting off with oranges and 3 litres of water towards the Jbel Saharo whose tough terrain had thwarted my ambitions in 2015 and led to us limping home with suspension trouble.
The GPS showed the track accurately and after a steep climb I had a panoramic view in to the palm lined valley with its string of dusty villages. It was a pleasure to ride through and meet people, at one stage I raced a youngster whilst balancing his tiny brother on my crossbar much to their amusement and after a couple of hours reached a spot where I had camped 4 years ago. It was even at that time just a dusty patch of level ground with a couple of huts and a hole in the floor loo but now even this was gone but nearby a small brightly painted school was evidence of this nation's determination to improve the lot of rural communities, especially the largely illiterate girls and womenfolk.

I took a track heading west that climbed towards the two rocky outcrops known as Bab and Ali which then became a rough footpath at the top of the pass before improving as I descended ever faster towards a distant village. En route I passed a beekeepers tent with its many hives before picking up another piste that headed south, climbed steeply for a mile or two and then gave me a fast descent back to the campsite. 


A Merc bus full of people and goods with at least half a dozen guys on the roof was lumbering along the track and all gave a friendly wave as we passed in the dust. Later the quad brigade roared in but were soon all tucked away in their vans and peace reigned once more.
Another short hop took me back to Camp Serdrar south of Tazzarine, a place that is always good to return to but this time I wanted to make use of their new washing machine to deal with accumulated laundry. The site was fuller than last time but the modest dimensions of the van saw me tucked away beneath the palms in a quiet corner. Leaving the washing to dry I rode back out to the road and then headed west for about 15km on a piste that was rough to begin with but much improved as it followed a palm lined valley via sandy track. The isolated village of Ait Ouaazik is the site of 'prehistoric rock carvings' claimed to be some 5000 years old and whilst the simple images of antelope, giraffe, rhino, fishing baskets, a sundial and basic hunting weapons were fascinating I'm pretty sure that they had at the very least been 'enhanced' with a modern pointy thing. Anyway the young guy in his stone hut was very pleasant and explained the images very well - he also answered my question as to what was growing in the area that needed polythene cloches in such heat - namely watermelon whose early growth needs protection from the cool overnight temperatures. Further research later revealed that Morocco is the world's 12 largest producer of watermelons with most of the 50,000 tons exported to France and production increasing by 250% in recent years - amazing considering that it is presumably a water dependent crop.

The return journey was enhanced by a group of camels grazing in the valley and a friendly guy balancing a large bag of oranges on his moped who insisted on me having a few.
The following day I rode the few hot miles over the hammada to Tazzarine for a tagine at the excellent small cafe we used last time and returned mostly via the smooth tarmac until a point where using the GPS I cut across the desert to reach Serdrar having lopped 4 miles off the journey. 
Back on the road I had met an Australian architect from Melbourne, Jack, who was cycling from Marrakesh to Prague over the next few months - we had a good chat and I offered him a lift across to Spain if our dates coincide as I will have a spare return passenger ticket.
On leaving Tazzarine I wasted some time returning towards Nkob as I had been told there was a new road across the Djebel Saharo heading north but I found no trace of it so took the standard route over to Tineghir, stopping only to exchange a gas bottle - some outlets seem tied to a specific supplier but others will exchange any brand but it would seem Total is a fairly popular one and of course their filling stations would stock it. A diesel top up confirmed a steady mpg in the mid forties and I pulled in to the Hotel Atlas once more only to find it more or less full. Not wishing to be squeezed in I decided to head up the Todra gorge and seek an alternative at Tamtatouchte. After securing the Go Pro to the windscreen and hooking up via wifi and the app to my phone I set off up this impressive gorge noting en route that the cluster of live in vans from last time had moved on - perhaps the local gendarmes had decided that the precedent might harm the tourist trade.
Work on the new dam was progressing and in the village I took a steep rough track up to a partly finished hotel and camping area that had the most remarkable view back over the village but little else going for it. The friendly owner showed me round the hotel which may one day be stunning if it gets finished - certainly the ensuite rooms he showed me were of a good standard.
He brought  tea over and then pointed out the limit to which the dam waters were expected to reach, some agricultural land and a few homes would be lost but he felt the benefits to the area as a whole would outweigh this.
It was a superb vantage point and I scanned the village with binoculars watching the life on the flat roofs that is rarely seen, noting shepherds bringing their flocks down from the rocky slopes to the south and watching a young couple booking in to a basic looking auberge whose rooms were unlikely to be as cosy as the van would be that night. At around 5000' the nights were fresh and the heater kept me comfortable in the evening and first thing before the sun warmed things up after eight.
With far less snow on the tops than on previous visits I had no qualms about taking the Tizzi Tirherhouzzine that reaches almost 9000' and was pleased with the sturdy power of this van that took the ascent mostly in third - the previous van had also coped but needed frequent changes down to second or even first.

I stopped to offer assistance at a broken down car at the top of the pass - they had not checked their coolant, boiled over and by the lack of compression on turn over had clearly blown the engine. With little else to do other than leave them 5l of drinking water they were facing a lengthy wait for assistance which they were busy arranging by phone - again the network availability across Morocco is remarkable.
Soon after Agdoul I reached Imilchil and 5km north of there pulled in to the superbly located but somewhat careworn Auberge Tislite whose sole but major attraction was its location on the shore of the beautiful Lac Tislite. I parked up on the shoreline with a remarkable view across to distant peaks and the water a brilliant shade of blue. There was a fresh wind  but I parked to give me a perfect view with shelter, opened up the solar panel and  enjoyed a few hours in the sun after a spectacular drive.
Overnight temperatures dropped below freezing so I was glad to have secured the thermal screens around the cab windows and doubled up the down sleeping bag but a bright day dawned once more as I set off around this lake to head towards the larger Lac de Isa. Here I met group of Moroccan lads from Casablanca who were on a camping trip but had been very cold overnight camping by the first lake.
Again it was a very beautiful scene and I followed the track for a few more miles before it dropped down a valley crossing the stream several times before after a short gorge a small village appeared, miles from anywhere. I decided to explore further another time and returned to the van passing a few shepherds, women collecting brash for firewood with their donkeys and a large French 4x4 camper based on the Iveco Daily.
I woke after another comfortable night despite sub zero temperatures on my 59th birthday and enjoyed contact with friends and family before taking a series of tracks down and round to Imilchil where I celebrated with a hefty meat tagine and met the camping lads who were heading home. The busy village has on the outskirts a mobile medical unit and it was sobering to see the many people queueing patiently outside for medical care, we take our own access to top quality health care for granted and I was quietly grateful for the interventions that sorted me out 8 years ago and Mandy only last year.
Reluctantly on the Saturday I headed north and down on a sinuous road that after a couple of hours reached the main road linking Fes and Marrakesh. Turning right brought me in to Khenifra for a cash point and surprisingly a modest Carrefour supermarket where the range of goods came as a sharp contrast to the last few weeks buying fresh meat, fruit and veg plus bread, milk and yoghurt from the markets and village shacks. It struck me that much of what we buy at supermarkets is mass produced, usually highly processed junk food that is largely unnecessary so I was glad to throw in the biscuits, Pringles and some camembert as life's too short!
I had decided to head for the lake up in the cedar forests of the Middle Atlas mountains and climbed steadily away from Khenifra before turning left to Aguelmame Azigza where I had stayed on my first trip in 2013. It was as lovely as before but the nomadic Berber families were very much settled in around the lake with their livestock, tents and belongings so I felt it inappropriate to intrude and retraced my route for a couple of miles to a large level grassy clearing in the woods that was a popular picnic place for families from Khenifra. It was a great atmosphere as children played whilst parents cooked on open fires but as the sun set everyone left leaving just myself and a couple of live in trucks tucked away. One family had managed to flatten their battery playing music so I nipped across with the jump leads and they were soon on their way.
It was a memorable place to stay the night and with no urgency to my timetable I decided to stay another day and used the GPS to plan a route following the many forest tracks on a roughly 35 mile circuit. As I was re inflating my tyres as I expected to be on mostly hard surfaces two young boys came over very shyly and showed me their rather soft footballs - the look of sheer delight as they became far more footy friendly was worth a million dirham and their Dad called out gratefully as I headed off.
The ride was superb passing a couple of lakes where Berber families were in residence - behind each tent was an enclosure of thorn branches for the overnighting of livestock - and I noticed a well with windlass was alongside each camp. The ride followed a long fertile valley before climbing back in to the hills and after several rewarding hours I was back as the last of the families were departing. I noticed a German lorry head towards the Aguelmame and sure enough  he was back shortly and pulling in rather closer to me than absolutely necessary given the size of the area available. However they were very quiet and we had a good chat in the morning - they have been over for 8 weeks and were also heading slowly north.

I took the mountain roads towards Azrou that had been cold and snowy 6/7 weeks ago and stopped briefly at a point where a troupe of shy Barbary apes were skittering around in the tree tops before arriving at Camping Amazigh that had looked so bleak in the hail and sleet. It was now warm and sunny and I took the opportunity to give the van a good clean, especially the shower enclosure as I had opted for hook up and had plenty of hot water on tap. The loo was emptied and water tanks filled as I didn't anticipate using a site for a few days but I had a poor night's sleep thanks to a distant dog that yelped from dusk till dawn and then didn't make a sound.
I took a very indirect route from Azrou to Meknes by heading west and then north via Oulmes passing through a very different scenery strangely reminiscent of the Yorkshire Wolds with dry limestone valleys, rolling hills and almost no traffic. At one point we had to wait as two tractors struggled to recover an HGV from a ditch but before long I was on the outskirts of Meknes slightly concerned about dealing with city traffic after so many weeks out in the sticks. However the city is well laid out and I was soon following the huge walls of the Royal Golf course that form part of the Imperial Palace as directed by various soldiers to reach after a very tight right turn through an arch the area that serves as an aire for Meknes. The parking gardien asked me to wait a few minutes until a space was vacated after which he saw me in to a tight spot tucked between a large Iveco 4x4 camper and a German motorhome. At 50MAD a night (£4) with such good supervision from the many guards, soldiers and police it appeared to be an excellent spot for a couple of nights. The report on Meknes will appear next time, possibly from Spain as I leave this amazing country within the week.

Photos re the foregoing appear here.

Long term readers will be familiar with my involvement with the event below : last year was a no show for me but I aim to be back in time to attend this year. I will probably be lurking around the campsite ensuring everything runs smoothly and may even give a presentation or two.

It is a well run and hugely enjoyable event with good discounts for signing up early.

Have a look at the website and make a date in your diary.

Solo in the Anti Atlas

Of note for future trips Agadir Airport is very simple and has flights to the off shore non Moroccan Islands such as the Canaries which would enable you to exit Morocco before the 90 day visa expires and then after a few days in 'Europe' re enter for another 90 days. As airport parking is very secure and right next to the terminal building at £3/night this would seem an excellent solution and it appeared by the number of camper vans and 4x4 expedition vehicles parked up that plenty of people were doing just that. Overnighting in vans seemed to be tolerated as well which bodes well for future early departures as strangely vehicles can stay up to 12 months.

Anyway the flight was on time and in fact arrived almost an hour early in Manchester so Mandy was soon home whilst I negotiated the numerous busy roundabouts of the Agadir peripheral road. This eventually splits with the N8 heading inland to Marrakesh whilst I took the N1 coast road passing a large stretch of tourist development that will inevitably destroy the very reason for coming here. Endless apartments in various stages of completion looked across the beach and bay whilst above Taghazoute which caters for the western surfing brigade stands the Hyatt Place luxury hotel whose heavily irrigated golf course stands out surreally on Google Earth in what I personally regard as an obscenity in a country where water is scarce and many of the rural women spend many hours carting water of dubious quality significant distances just to survive.

After passing Cape Rhir I turned inland stopping to pick up an old guy hefting a huge sack of rice and depositing him at the top of the climb to a dramatic limestone escarpment. A stunning road followed this round for miles and I found a place with excellent views across to the coast to stay the night.

Heading east through stunning scenery I eventually crossed under the main Marrakesh road and parked up in Imi N Tanoute to pick up fruit, veg, milk, eggs, yoghurt, bread and meat for the few days ahead. Whilst returning through the back streets I was tempted by the smell of grilling fish so took a seat in a tiny cafe and enjoyed a plate of grilled small whole fish, a lentil dahl, olives, bread and water for the remarkable price of 30Dhm.

Beyond Amizmiz I took the twisting mountain road over to the salt mines at Azegour and then after collecting another local with a heavy sack took a stunning road over to Iberdaten. As we dropped in to his village the tarmac finished and the road narrowed to a rough sandy track between high walls that almost scraped the mirrors. It got worse as the gradient increased before I reached the dry river bed and took a sharp right after which there were houses on one side and a long drop in to the valley on the other. I was very grateful to have such a compact vehicle as there was nowhere to turn and after a few hundred cautious yards things opened out. From the look of the locals - adults and children alike - I was something of a novelty but still received friendly waves and greetings.

A couple of miles of track led to a pass beyond which lay Adassil but I decided the clearing to one side would do me for the night and as dusk fell was surprised to see four different shepherds and their charges returning from what looked like bare grazing higher in the mountains and a group of cheerful young women bent under heavy loads of fodder and firewood. As so many times before I find it hard to comprehend the joviality and friendliness of people living such harsh lives compared with the social media obsessed and apparently angst ridden youth of the Western world who really would have 'issues' if they had to live with even a fraction of the deprivation that these mountain people endure daily. I am well aware of my privileged status and hope that offering lifts, shopping locally, taking the time to meet people, have a chat and just share our lives may do some good in a divergent world.

The following morning I had decided to attempt a distant summit of some 10,600' that as the crow flies lay 3 miles away. Setting off up a new track carved in to the hillside I soon reached a small hamlet where a number of guys were awaiting the 'Berber bus' , those ancient overloaded Mercedes vans that link these remote villages carrying substantial numbers of people and all manner of goods and produce. They were very friendly and indicated a path that led off uphill and was even shown on my GPS, asking as to whether or not they thought I was mad initiated a variety of responses few of which I really understood but there were cheerful comments and smiles as I headed off soon passing a small school room where my presence distracted a group of small wide eyed infants repeating their numbers in unison.

The next four hours took me over rough ground (with a small diversion as a tethered donkey was threatening to bolt if I got too close and the young girl risked severe injury trying to placate him) before the path ended and I climbed up an increasing gradient towards the snow line. It became exhausting and my rate of progress dropped off a cliff, something I felt prone to as the rocky slopes disappeared to my right. By 2 o'clock with only half a mile and 500' to go I had to call it a day as although if I could have reached the ridge my descent would have (probably) been easier I knew that final stage would take at least an hour. Thus I descended carefully across steep screes and finally staggered back to the van after 8 hours, 6000' of ascent but only 5 miles. As I recovered from one of the hardest walks I've done recently the same shepherds returned from the same barren grazing and the same women came in from a different direction with their heavy loads leaving me truly humbled and reflective.

Returning the next day to Amizmiz via the same tortuous track I then began to climb through the ranges that led over to the Tizi n Test pass which I joined at Ourigaine. I had crossed the river by a bridge that when I was last here had stood bizarrely unfinished but was now freshly painted and incorporated in to the road - a sign that however slowly Morocco is upgrading its infrastructure across many sectors. 

Solar powered water pumps are transforming agriculture on many scales, drinking water quality and availability is improving, the cellular phone network is comprehensive and the road network is improving. Many towns are building water treatment works, a few even have rubbish collections but sadly this latter issue seems to me to be one of the biggest facing the rural population and the long term effects of the plastic being left everywhere are likely to be significant. This and broken glass are to me the main problem areas, metal and paper can be absorbed in to the environment with I assume relatively little harm.

The weather had turned overcast and dull with even a few flurries of sleet at the top of the pass so I descended to the plains and turned off at Aoulouz intending to see if the back road to Toubkal ws open after the enormous rockfall that had prevented me from passing this way last time. As it was evening by now I had intended to stay at a spot overlooking a new reservoir that had only been partially full last time. However not long after parking up a friendly guy knocked on the door and said he thought I was taking a risk as there had been the murder of two Scandinavian girls before Christmas up at Toubkal's main village Imlil, some 30 miles away. I considered his advice carefully, particularly as on leaving he had given me his cousin's adddress who happened to own a campsite in Taliouine.

I think the constant reporting of bad news around the world skews our sense of risk - when things go wrong it is a personal tragedy of course but most homicides are by a known assailant and the press soon forget for example the horror of the insane Anders Breivik who killed the 69 youngsters on a camping trip in Norway.

However I also felt it wise to respect local advice whatever the possible ulterior motive and decided to trundle round to Taliouine and pull in to a small campground - but not the one suggested.

A couple of enormous motorhomes and a Unimog off roader were in situ but otherwise there was plenty of room and I was soon set up, still somewhat fatigued by the rigours of yesterday.

I had read about a good road over to Agadir Melloul and after a false start by the Tom Tom which put me in a mosque courtyard miles from the actual road, much to the amusement of the local mullah, I was heading in to some seriously impressive but desolate mountain scenery. A lunch stop in a dried up river bed was remarkable for the sense of isolation and after crossing the Tizi N Ousour pass I descended passing dozens of beekeeping camps where a hundred or more hives stood adjacent to each beekeeper's tent. From Tisnassmine the road headed south passing a large group of wild camels to Tissinnt where I turned east to arrive at Foum Zguid for the night. Camping Sable D'Or was a bit run down but provided a hot shower and memorable tiled floor and its walls kept the strong winds that accompanied a grey sky at bay.

Next day the dull atmosphere and strong winds decided me against an 80 mile ride along a piste towards Mhamid as the mausoleum that lay that way may not have been adequate reward for what would be a tough ride. (I believe Heike the German cyclist had done the through route but she was an exceptional character and probably almost half my age). Thus I walked in to town for supplies passing a large military complex as the Algerian border is only a few miles to the south and enjoyed a rest.

Heading north to Tazenakht I took a turning east across to Agdz and came across a camping 'a la ferme' that has turned out to be the best of my many camping experiences in Morocco. Situated a mile west of the town on the R108 which had passed a potash and cobalt mine before descending through a superb valley Ferme Maison Tanssift became my base for the next four nights. Run by Corinne and Sayed with the charming Brigitte a fellow camper it had plenty of level space amongst the palms and the most stylish and well kept showers I have encountered. After settling in Corinne invited the two of us to join her and Sayed for a meal that evening - this was a thoroughly enjoyable experience with delicious food - a chick pea soup, grilled fish, olives and bread served with a bottle of Moroccan rose, and whilst the conversations were entirely in French I understood the gist of things with Corinne filling in the gaps with her excellent English. Brigitte was lovely and full of energy with a passion for travel since her retirement some years ago - she tours in a Fiat Ducato motorhome with a tiny dog and has ambitions to ship the van to Oz or South America at some stage. 

The following day I rode in to Agdz and spent a few hours exploring the palmery located in the Draa Valley meeting women washing clothing and carpets in the fast flowing irrigation channels, passing ancient kasbahs, some intact and providing housing or guest accommodation but many crumbling back in to the stones and mud they came from. 

Twenty absorbing miles put me back at the site ready for a couple of hours in the evening sun with the cat making good use of my solar panel - this seems to be maintaining my leisure battery very well as I don't think I've used a hook up for perhaps three weeks and regularly charge batteries, the lap top and other devices plus run the water pump for showering, lighting for perhaps four hours a night and so on. It is only a 40w panel but of course down here the sun is strong, high in the sky and reliable. Incidentally whilst on practical matters I have for the last five weeks been using two biological washing powder tablets in the loo's waste tank and despite the hot weather it seems to keep things fresh whilst also assisting with the decompostion of the contents - much cheaper and easy enough to find in any country. I use the tablets for extra convenience but no doubt loose powder would do.

Yesterday (Thursday) I passed through town as it held its weekly souk intent on exploring the palmeries to the south and had a thoroughly rewarding day. A good road linked the various palmeries which I explored on the intricate network of easily rideable sandy tracks. In the villages the children were delighted to wave and one lad accepted an offer of a tug and was beaming as we flashed past his mates. I crossed the by now dry river bed of the Draa which appears intermittently until way south of Zagora it is lost under the Sahara to appear 300 miles away on the coast just north of Tan Tan - remarkable. 

The newly improved N9 incorporated a decent cycle lane - the first I have seen in Morocco - so I sped along until spotting on my right a huge kasbar on a prominent hill. I turned off and was soon climbing a rocky track to what I thought would be a posh hotel or private dwelling.

To my amazement it was neither being completely empty and despite its robust exterior very much starting to collapse inside. I explored cautiously in case it was out of bounds and was absorbed by the intricate carved pise decorations, remnants of old wall colourings and the substantial internal gateways and towers. A young lad appeared from nowhere who claimed to be the gardien but he was happy to let me explore unaccompanied so I gave him 20DHm before jumping back on the bike and literally losing myself for an hour or two in the palms on my return. 48 rewarding miles put me on track for an 11 hour kip and although I had planned to leave it was tempting to stay another day and thus this rambling reportage has occupied much of it.

I head to Nekob tomorrow with a ride over to see Bab and Ali planned so until the next post enjoy these piccies by clicking here.

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.

If you ever need impressing or motivating check out www.pushbikegirl.com 

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.