Using The Atlas

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

 

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

 

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

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

 

 

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

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

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

 

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

 

 

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

Pics as always here....CLICK

Mounting Mountains

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

 

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

 

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

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

 

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

 

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

 Extra piccies here.

Old Favourites : New Adventures...

Dropping down the Dades we turned east towards Boumalne and decided that a driveable road over the Djebel Sarhro may not exist so headed on to Tinghir and the remote lonely road to Alnif. Then a turn west again brought us to Nekob with its many fine kasbahs. A few kilometres down a gravel track brought us to the calm of the camping at Auberge Assou run by a French woman and her Moroccan husband who brought us tea in the shady courtyard of their family home. There were a few others staying - two large French vans had large quads on trailers and there were a couple of off road trucks but it is a large compound with plenty of room.

We cycled north along the newly laid road that was being finished off and passed the large stone crushing plant creating a racket in a haze of dust before climbing for a superb view north to the Sarhro range and a valley I had cycled through a few years ago.

Next day we rode in to the village and enjoyed picking our way through the backstreets passing the many kasbahs and meeting friendly kids who waved and smiled before stopping in town for a well earned fresh orange juice and watching the world go by. This included a group of French bikers on GS1200s who looked somewhat hot and bothered in temperatures around the mid thirties.

Returning to Tazzarine we drove south for a few miles and then turned off for Camp Serdrar a few miles down another dusty track. This is again popular with the French quadding enthusiasts and we were made very welcome by Ibrahim who recognised me and the van from 4 years ago. We discussed the hardships they had faced during Covid lockdown, ordered bread for the following day and then sat in the shade of the raised tailgate on a scorching afternoon interrupted only by a French guy who's loud booming voice was annoying most others. His sour faced wife also monopolised the only working washing machine and used the two hour cycle each time so it was mid evening by the time we got our load in but in the heat the bedding was still dry by bedtime!

 

Next day we rode out past a few camels to the road and then took the dirt track out to the rock carvings at Ait Ouazik. It was in a far better condition than my first visit so the 12 miles soon passed with various locals on mopeds or trishaws waving as we dropped down a palm lined gorge. In the village I tried to mend a young lad's front brake but really he needed a new cable but despite this he and a few friends enthusiastically rode with us up to the carvings. They enjoyed a race and left us alone to walk up to the small shed where a friendly guy showed us round and chatted about the developing agriculture in the region. Then it was a steady ride back to the road and a juice break in the quiet filling station. The two attendants then invited us to share their lunch of fried meat and bread - yet another display of the genuine friendship and hospitality we have experienced across Morocco.

Back at Serdrar we had ordered a meal on the terrace and enjoyed a tagine and brochettes in the shade as a group of dusty bikers settled in to the large Berber style tents available.

We dropped down to Zagora in the Draa Valley and picked up some food before following the palm filled valley to Agdz and staying at another lovely site I had used before : Ferme Maison Tanssift, again run by a Moroccan/French couple. Although Corinne was away Said remembered me and we were soon parked up alongside the vegetables growing under the palm trees. It was again very hot so we knew the panel would provide for all our power needs and again used the propped up tailgate to provide shade. Our gas bottle needed changing - at less than a pound a refill we are quite blase about usage although its really mostly for the fridge and a shower as we are cooking far less preferring to enjoy salads, cheese, nuts and the delicious round breads at a couple of pence each.

 

We cycled the couple of miles in to town that evening to enjoy walking round the busy streets and were hailed by a guy who heard our English voices. He claimed to be going to the UK later this year and wanted me to draw him a map showing London, Manchester etc as he was going as part of an initiative to reduce eye conditions in the local population caused by the bright sun and dusty air. Now I am not new to this amazing country and sure enough we were ushered in to his shop for tea whilst I roughed out the basics of the UK geography. Then predictably a carpet appeared and the sales patter began but my usual line of living full time in a small van put paid to that. Then jewelery was produced and after some good natured haggling we left with an intricately engraved bracelet and a host of memories. We had been inside a long time and were surprised to see it almost dark which made the return ride through the bustling main street quite an experience.

Next day we rode back in and then climbed for a view over the palmeries before dropping in to them and randomly exploring the shady sandy tracks with women washing clothes and rugs in the clear water channels, working in the tiny fields or loading donkeys with cut vegetation to feed livestock back home. It is a unique experience to explore like this and the bikes are the perfect form of transport giving us a chance to meet people and cover a fair distance. We climbed the steep track up to the huge abandonned ksar at Tamnougalt and explored its extensive remains - all slowly collpasing as unless pise is regularly repaired heavy rains will destroy it all. Said had told us that many houses had collapsed after recent unusually heavy rains and showed us pictures of damaging flooding out on the coast. From the ksar we dropped down to another which has been maintained but felt the two 'guides' were a bit pushy so left it for another time and sought a much needed and heavily sweetened tea at a small restaurant further along the road.

Back at the site we got talking to a French couple camping out of their Fiat Pand 4x4 who had shipped their motorhome to South America from Cyprus with Grimaldi Lines, travelling with the cargo vessel as passengers for the full five weeks which they said was amazing. It certainly gave me food for thought as I really enjoyed my brief visit there in 2015.

Leaving Agdz we climbed the remarkable Tizi n'Tinififft pass with stunning mountain geology and then dropped to Ouarzazate and then headed east again to Skoura for the road north to Toundoute where we stayed at Chez Amoudou, a small family run park up with room for perhaps 6/8 vans on their yard. The son Mahfoud spoke very good English and was great to talk to and we decided a couple of nights would be well worth it. We had tea in their guest rest area and then set off on an evening ride following a dirt track being upgraded in to the hills - we could ride some of the new sections so eventually arrived at a view point over a beautiful valley with ksars, green fields and neat terracing. An older woman struggled up a narrow path in worn out shoes with a toddler on her back leaving us feeling very humbled as we returned mostly downhill at speed for a remarkable sunset.

 

The following day was market day in the village so we rode up, left the bikes unlocked near a small cafe and threw ourselves in to the bustle of the vibrant scene. The quality and quantity of fruit and veg at rock bottom prices never ceases to amaze and the dozens of stalls sold everything you could wish for. Two blacksmiths had set up their tools alongside two charcoal pits that were roaring away and were repairing or producing hand tools under a shady canopy. Impossibly overladen straw lorries were in one corner, a livestock auction in the other and poultry in cages were being dispatched on demand in another section. We enjoyed it all immensely and after a couple of hours sat for tea watching the vans and cars slowly dispersing with all manner of goods and passengers strapped to the roofs.

Back at the camping we met a Dutch couple who had been in Morocco just before Covid, they had flown home for a few days leaving their van at Casablanca airport and then were unable to return for 8 months. Apart from a green and smelly fridge all was well though and the airport had cut them a fair deal. They had shipped their van to Canada a few years back and toured North America extensively and had a MAN truck based camper on order back in the Netherlands for future trips.

Remarkably the French Panda driving couple turned up which made for entertaining conversation, it's great to meet similar minded people and share experiences. Mahfoud's sister produced fresh bread each morning and as we were about to leave after two nights invited us to have a meal later that day so we decided to stay and rode back in to the village and out through a lonely valley towards a distant village. I stopped at a small shop offering photo copying and other services and got my phone topped up for the next two months before we took a side track to another remote village. Here we were amused by the sight of a packed sheep lorry with the sheep dog also jammed in by the door grille looking slightly bemused.

Our couscous and chicken meal, shared with the Dutch couple was excellent but far too much for us all to finish and Mahfoud enjoyed improving his English by answering our many questions - he was a lovely guy and I hope his plans to expand the business work out. 

To work off our meal we rode in to another village, explored the kasbahs again to the delight of the local kids and then rode back against a stiff headwind after watching a lumbering straw lorry negotiate the narrow twisting streets.

Goodbyes were said the following day as we returned to the N9 and soon took the side road to Telouet, observing, but not stopping at, the popular kasbah of Ait Benhaddou. The road climbed steadily through numerous villages in the green valley before emerging on a high plateau where we pulled off next to a phone mast to have lunch. Before long a woman appeared as if from nowhere and wanted us to look at a few simple wares she was selling - a beautiful amethyst geode really caught my eye and at only 100 dirhams (£8) was an absolute bargain. I had no intention of bartering and on seeing her worn out shoes we gave her two pairs of flip flops we had brought from the Langdale Spa in December - the sheer contrast in our fortunes can be very hard to square but we give what we can and hope that as Morocco emerges in to a new economy and social structure life will improve for all.

 

At Telouet we turned off the main road to visit the 3 old kasbahs and were directed to a parking spot by a guy who then, as is often the case, wanted to be our guide 'at no cost'. He was nice enough and led us around the best preserved kasbah with some amazing decorations to equal Granada's Alhambra and great views across the valley. He took us round the outside and then to a small shed where three or four women were mixing and flattening out dough and then baking it quickly in a wood fired oven that was keeping the shack very cosy. They were very friendly and offered us some to try but as I had no small change we couldn't really buy any which was a shame. Back at the van where we had considered staying for the night our 'guide' invited in to his adjacent carpet shop, as expected but we declined and also decided not to stay as it was a dusty and steeply sloping spot so we gave him a few quid for his time and left to check out a sign to camping we had seen earlier.

The track was being improved and a huge bulldozer was levelling out the earth but I doubted we would get through so we returned to Telouet and continued on towards the famous Tizi n'Tichka pass. A small hotel provided overnight parking on a level gravel yard above the river so we stopped for the night with a Dutch couple arriving later. We didn't use the facilities but certainly the rooms looked well decorated and comfortable even if the owner seemed a bit taciturn which is unusual here.

We left in glorious sunshine and turned right on the N9 for a couple of miles to reach the pass at 7,200' before turning back south and at Agouim after a lot of descent and many sections undergoing improvements turned west on a minor road to Sour and eventually the village of Toubkal which sat on the southern aspects of the eponymous summit. We had met a young man pushing his moped that had run out of fuel so were able to give him some and a dash of 2 stroke to get him on his way - he would have had a job telling that tale to his mates.

We stopped for lunch above a beekeepers travelling encampment before heading along to the N10 during which I realised this was a road I had tried to use in the other direction a few years ago but had been thwarted by an enormous rockfall and landslide.

Passing through Aoulouz a diversion took us through the crazy back streets before we reached Taliouine, the centre for saffron production in Morocco. I had stayed at a campground there previously but fancied trying another which turned out to be down narrow dirt tracks and closed giving us some excitement trying to get out of the place.

Back nearer Talioiune we spotted the Camping De L'Etoile and turned in to a large level area behind a sturdy wall where the gardien, Ali, greeted us. He was a lovely guy of advanced years and assisted us with filling up the water and then showed us round some basic loos and a decrepit gas powered shower - not for the first time were we grateful for the van's facilities. We decided to park on the lower level to be further from the road and then walked in to town for a good look round and a mint tea. Later we decided to eat in a snack bar and enjoyed a good pizza and meat skewers as we watched the world go by. A young lad rushed up and hugged us both but was clearly not all there as he then just stood looking at us - the owner later explained that he had had a head injury so we left enough cash to get him a meal next time round as yet again we felt so hugely humbled.

Back at site it was all change as 4 Toyota Landcruisers from the Czech Republic had arrived and more or less surrounded us - they were a friendly bunch and two guys were working on the engine of one whilst meals were prepared and roof tents erected. Ali kept asking us if we were OK with the disruption and we reassured him it was fine. Next morning the vehicle was still disabled and the decision had been made to tow it to Tangiers as once in Spain they would get recovery back to the CR. This reminded me of my travails in the old van heading over the Tizi n'Tichka and I wasn't able to determine if they too were going to attempt the same pass - suicidal with no PAS or servo assisted brakes. It would be a heavy demand on the towing vehicle and take at least a couple of days but they all seemed in good spirits as they left the two remaining vehicles to pack up - one of which I noted had a flat rear tyre. We were going to walk back in to town for some food shopping but Ali pointed out a large souk taking place across the dry riverbed so we headed there instead for a final experience of these remarkable occasions. Sheep and goats had been quickly dispatched prior to butchering, poultry awaited a similar fate, overloaded lorries were being parked up and the whole atmosphere amazed us as always but again we were left conflicted by an old disabled guy crawling through the crowds with two hand clogs and his legs protected by old car tyres. 

We took Ali some bananas as he'd not got a tooth in his head, bought some saffron and said goodbye a thousand times to this endearing character before returning through Aoulouz and then heading north up the amazing Tizi n' Test pass that climbs steadily for 20 miles through an ever impressive series of hairpin bends. We passed our intended stopping point for the night as I wanted us to see the Tin Mellal mosque which is located further down the valley and being effectively mothballed is open to non Muslims. Unfortunately it is undergoing a much needed restoration so was closed but that means a return in a year or two needs to be planned. Back near the top of the pass we saw the turning to the remote village of Aghbar I had gone down to previously and then stopped at Chez Mohammed's, the small cafe that allows overnighting alongside. Few people use it and there is perhaps room for 4/5 vehicles so we were the only ones there and had the company of a friendly donkey. We walked down the road to another cafe that has outstanding views and took tea on their terrace before returning to our place and another tea on their roof as the sun set.

 

The following morning we had a cunning plan that involved Mandy riding the full 20 miles of almost continuous downhill in the cool morning air. This was a huge success and a great end to her trip as she was flying back to Manchester the next day. Once the bikes were back on we moved on to Taroudant where a helpful gardien saw us in to a tight parking in the town centre from where we explored for the next few hours. We took a look at the aire just outside the walls which seemed basic but adequate and surprisingly full and then returned to enter the souk and jewellery quarter as I wanted a pair of specs mending. One guy took us over to his brother who then disappeared with my frame leaving the first guy to sell us something with the usual good natured bartering. Thus we ended up with a repaired frame and a pair of earrings and everyone seemed happy. As we walked back through the maze of stalls in a covered shady medina another guy tagged alongside us, asked if we wanted food and ducked us through a doorway that lead out in to a very pleasant cafe overlooking one of the main squares. We enjoyed a good meal as an old guy wearing the most ridiculous (and possibly traditional, somewhere) headgear came round asking for dirhams - he had another act which was to produce a wooden whistle and play the same tune repeatedly but I think he'd missed the opportunity to pair up with another guy playing a stringed instrument.

Back at the van we gave the gardien a few dirham - there is no fixed fee, he justs says 'whatever you want to pay' and it's well worth it for the eye kept on the van and bikes. Before long we were at Agadir airport and as a possible place to park up didn't materialise collected a ticket and parked in the long stay with a few other campers and the like. If you leave Morocco for a few days either by flying home or to the Canaries you then reset the clock and can have another 90 days here although I noted my Customs slip only admits the van for 6 months so one would have to be careful.

Anyway we had a quiet enough night but adopted stealth mode as a guy near the barrier said overnighting wasn't allowed but no one disturbed us. We had printed off a boarding pass twice as Easyjet had changed the flight schedule and there is no provision for mobile passes at Agadir and still couldn't understand why the flight times seemed at odds to each other  - however all became clear when we discovered that the clocks had changed by one hour for the month of Ramadam so for the next four weeks I will be the same as the UK. Anyway we said our goodbyes at Departures and I sat until the flight had left getting this post up to date.

Then I headed south on the RN1 to Guelmin for a top up at the Marjane supermarket, the road has a pass near Lakhsas where lorries drop to a crawling pace and other vehicles take stupid risks to get past. Being on the 'wrong' side for visibility when overtaking I was content to follow a line of trucks and then overtake on the downhill side when right hand bends allowed a view. Unfortunately I must have missed a speed trap as down at Bouizakarne I was directed to stop and a friendly enough gendarme took 300 dirham (£24) off me and issued the appropriate receipt with all the details. My first 'infraction' as he called it in 5 trips so not bad and to be fair the highly visible police presence is a great reassurrance.

The road out to the coast was quiet and I remembered that there is an alternative way in to the Fort Bou Jerif camping that reduces the rough piste track from 6 miles to 2 so used the SatMap to find and then follow the track as it is not on the Garmin. Even the last section of this is now being improved so future access will only get easier - huge drainage pipes are being installed as the area does get irregular flash floods. Passing the old fort was as impressive as I remembered and the FBJ campsite just as welcoming. It looks as if they have installed solar panels to supplement their generator but I also noticed new power lines coming in across the hill - another sign of this country's remarkable march of progress. There was only one other vehicle parked up - a Dutch Trooper - and there seemed to be two couples in the small 'hotel' across the way so I filled up with water (non drinkable apparently) and sat outside as the sun set after a long day.

Today I had a good clear out of the van and repacked things following Mandy's departure. A clean of the facilities, repositioning of some cupboard latches and a sweep out saw everything in good order - after four months away it was a useful task and I also did a load of washing by hand which soon dried in the sun. A group of wild camels passed by which added to the sense of remoteness down here - its a very long way down to the border with Mauritania which involves passing through the disputed Western Sahara - a possible destination for my return in December this year....This evening I walked down to the fort which is still hugely impressive but as with kasbahs in the villages is slowly deteriorating as the pise walls are not being repaired. A group of horse riders appeared and headed to FBJ which explained why earlier a pick up with trailer and straw had arrived and later I noticed the Moroccan support drivers sitting outside their tents whilst the tourist group were enjoying a meal in the restaurant. Both groups seemed equally happy and there was a good atmosphere when I wandered over to get a couple of bottles of water as the tap supply was pretty rough for drinking.

 

Anyway tomorrow I'm hoping to ride out to the coast at Foum Assaka for a bite to eat and to see if the road there is drivable as I fancy a night or two on the beach..... full report next time round.

Click Here For Photographs

 

BACK ATLAS (T)........

 We left Tarifa early planning to stock up in a Spanish supermarket only to find that it was Andalucia Day and everywhere was shut - hey ho we were hardly desperate so arrived at the eerily quiet port in plenty of time. In fact plenty of time as it turned out as although we weren't actually informed the ferry was running three hours late. Anyway as always the time soon passed and we watched the HGVs reversing on to the lower decks before we were directed on to a middle deck with perhaps another ten vehicles.

Departure past the cranes of Algeciras and then the Rock of Gibraltar was as exciting as ever and we were soon in the short queue to fill in the white immigration card and have our passports stamped by Moroccan Police.

After disembarking we were directed in to a line for the large HGV mounted scanner that passes over vehicles to scan their contents and look for stowaways. The officials also asked for the Carte Grise or V5 and this was duly returned with a small white card. Moving a few hundred metres on to the Customs Shed we were asked to wait perhaps ten or fifteen minutes but not actually searched, unlike a Moroccan car and trailer full of secondhand vehicle parts who were told to offload everything.

That was that then and we pulled up at a row of booths offering currency exchange, ATMs and the all important vehicle insurance. Passport and V5 were copied and a Certificate issued valid for 90 days and costing 200 euros - far less than I had expected. The guy's mate also fixed me up with a Moroccan SIM, set it up on the phone and even put our destination in to Google Maps for us. £20 covered the SIM and 20 Gig so as in Spain and Portugal we will use an old phone to create a hotspot thus saving roaming fees which here are an outrageous £5/day.

 

We set off over the hills passing the security fencing of Ceuta and arriving at dusk at Cabo Negre where a hotel offered camping on a series of grass terraces. It felt amazing to be back as had insurance not been available Brexit rules would have seen me home in a week...... We soon adapted to the Moroccan driving style and arrived the following day at the rather shabby campsite in Chefchaouen high above the town. The electrics were as dodgy as ever and the facilities as run down but we were as always warm and comfortable in the van so walked down to town for a few hours exploring the maze of streets in the blue quarter, taking tea above the market in the newer quarter and returning after dark through the old Jewish cemetery.

A drizzly morning saw us heading off for the few hours drive to a campsite I used a decade ago near the Roman ruins of Volubilis. We stopped at Ouazzane for a walk round and ended up in the old souk with its maze of streets and numerous shops and workshops, market day was starting to pack up and the donkeys were eating up the vegetable scraps. I was surprised to see a guy in a shack using an old typewriter to compose a letter for an elderly couple as generally Morocco seems to have adapted to the digital age and their 3G coverage puts the UK to shame.

The site near Moulay Idris had obviously seen some rain but we got on and off OK, filled with water and dealt with the loo before heading round to nearby Volubilis which is about 100 acres of the ruins of an important city of the Roman Empire. There were superb mosaics, graceful arches, latrines, fountains and swimming pools, olive oil presses with grooved floors and slaughterhouses with the same as well as two huge gateways at either end of the very obvious main street that would have had galleries either side full of shops and businesses. Entry was a fiver each and there was no pressure to have a guide - already I get the impression that people have been advised to ease off persistently harassing tourists which makes the whole experience much pleasanter. A late lunch on the cafe terrace was delicious  and a short drive later we were following the huge walls of the Royal Golf Course in Meknes to the guarded parking in the centre. Before taking a walk through the medina we visited the impressive mausoleum of Moulay Ismail where we were allowed in and were mesmerised by the chanting in an adjacent room. The huge Bab Mansour gateway was undergoing restoration but a large and very convincing banner had been put across the scaffolding to recreate the impressive sight. Similarly the large square opposite was being refurbished so was much reduced in size but still contained a melee of cafes, acts, monkey photo opportunities and locals just enjoying the sunny evening. We disappeared in to the souk once more to be enthralled by the level of activity in both workshops and on the street stalls with almost everything available from shoes to sugar and prams to potatoes. We emerged near Bab Mansour, declined a kebab but bought some fresh berries and dropped these back to the van before heading out once more to experience the whole scene again after dark.

 

Next day before leaving we bought two full gas cylinders, that match the Camping Gaz 907s in size, weight and regulator but only cost £4 each ( upwards of £65 in the UK). We will use these for the rest of this trip and will exchange where possible for about a pound or just buy a full cylinder and give the empty one to rural families who will genuinely appreciate a spare.We took a final walk over to the souk on a hot morning, sampled a glass of sugar cane juice and then set off to climb in to the Moyen Atlas soon reaching the high plateau with its giant Cedar trees.

Round at Aguelmame Azigza where I had wild camped a decade ago it was all change with a large Berber gathering very much settled in as efforts have been made to improve their lot in a changing world. There was a large car park beyond which a row of sturdy shacks had been erected to offer outlets for crafts and refreshments. After enjoying encounters with the Barbary monkeys during our walk round the lake we stopped at a small cafe whose owner was beside herself that we had called. Hot sweet tea and flat breads were enjoyed and her children shyly watched us from inside.

Overnighting in the car park was not allowed but I had stayed out amongst the trees a couple of miles away four years ago so we soon tucked discreetly away on the edge of the woods as dusk fell. We were just turning in when two German ladies arrived - they were part of a group of four in a large hired camper that had got stuck in a muddy section. We walked over to inspect and I then produced a shovel and four rescue mats and after a bit of digging we had them out safely. They insisted we took a bottle of wine which was kind and we all retired to spend a remarkable night in the peace and quiet.

 

 

A stunning drive took us down on to the plains for a while before the two hour climb through the High Atlas to Imilchil where we pulled in to the Auberge Tislit I had last visited four years ago. As they draw water from the lake and deter foreigners from drinking it we nipped the few miles in to Imilchil itself to get some diesel and fill up with water at the service station, as well as bread and a couple of cakes.

Back at the Auberge it appeared the lady was running it on her own and whilst very friendly and kind she seemed to worry constantly. We assured her that we were OK with the local kids and that we doubted our solar panel or bikes would be nicked and then set off to walk round the stunning lake with its backdrop of snow capped mountains. A couple of vans were parked on the shore but we feel that it is only fair to use sites where available and at about £6/ night it is worth it for the security alone.

The following day she brought fresh bread to the door after which we jumped on the bikes to cycle the 6/7 miles to the larger lake on a sunny fresh day crossing the bleak 7000' plus landscape. Surprisingly after Lake Islit the stony track became firm gravel as the road descended a gorge. Four years ago it had criss crossed the river but now followed one side of the gorge to a point where last time I had stopped on the edge of a tiny village. This time we continued to the end of the road passing a group loading perhaps 150 sheep by hauling them on to the upper deck of an open topped lorry. 

 

Just as were turning round a young woman called out to us in Berber which of course we didn't understand but she was both persistent and friendly and beckoned us to follow. She led the way to her home and pointed us inside. Here in a simple mud floored room with a stove and rugs at one end we were indicated to sit after removing our shoes and she proceeded to produce tea, bread and olive oil. She declined to join us (we later found out that strict Muslims fast on Mondays and Thursdays) but she was obviously delighted that we had stayed. With of course a huge language barrier I showed her some photos on my phone and pointed out the various things that interested us in her simple room. Eventually her parents turned up with Dad speaking some French and her Mum a beautifully dressed woman bent almost double clearly fascinated by us.

Eventually we said our goodbyes and offererd a gift to cover the food plus a small bracelet for Harima herself. We cycled away very much humbled and overawed by the whole experience and wondered what the future held for all of them. A side valley down in to Imilchil took us past men ploughing tiny fields with pairs of donkeys before we reached the town and took a table down a side street for a superb omelette and sweet mint tea. The owner's small boy was fascinated by us but very polite and I topped the bill with a few extra dirham for him and his brother. A short uphill ride brought us back to the auberge where the lady said that two German lads on bikes that had been staying as well claimed to be orphaned brothers and could not pay for anything - we immediately smelt a hamster as even getting to Morocco costs and what were their onward plans....

On leaving the following day we added a hefty tip and some good warm gloves as she was clearly suffering pains in her hands from the cold weather - below zero over night and perhaps 15 by day. We had had good solar during the day and been very warm at night although the Eber took two attepts to fire up - Google revealing that a high altitude kit is recommended above 1500m and we were at 2300m. We had noticed feeling more exerted on our ride but put that down to not having ridden many hills recently.

Heading south towards the Todra Gorge we turned off on a new road that would take us over to the Dades gorge and climbed steadily through the most incredible geology passing shepherds with flocks seemingly grazing on bare rock and eventually reaching patches of snow and meeting a lone German cyclist. He was sure he would get through as he'd met two Swiss cyclists previously but I had a feeling we would be thwarted and indeed a few miles further on after passing some snowy sections we met a larger drift. The Michelin Agilis Cross Climate tyres had done well but we lacked the ground clearance to continue and the road was due to climb another 1500'.

 

Thus we retraced our tracks, dropped for miles through the high mountains via a lofty viewpoint and eventually drove up a steep track to a large partially finished and unoccupied hotel that allowed parking on the gravel terrace overlooking Tametetoucht. I had stayed before and wondered at the grandiose plans of the French owner - the buildings were beautiful and there was much terracing and walling going on but no sign of any real business activity. We walked back down to the village,  took tea at another place offering van parking and decided we had the best position at our lofty perch above the small village.

 

 

After a quiet night we started on a road that we had been told was well surfaced all the way to the Dades gorge but turned round at a remote campsite as the surface was not as good as we had hoped for.  Dropping through the astounding Todra Gorge we passed the newly built dam that will, once full, and that may take a while, provide irrigation water and prevent flash floods. Down at the narrowest point where a clear spring emerges was the usual array of shawls, clothes and jewellery to entice the tourist throngs but again the high pressure pestering seemed muted as we walked through to gaze in awe at the towering cliffs.

 Turning right towards Boulmaine de Dades in Tineghir we were once more on the hot plains without a cloud in the sky - back home a cold snap was providing unusually heavy snow in the south and west so we counted our blessings as we turned up the Dades gorge. This road climbed steadily north before climbing through a series of tight hairpins to a viewpoint and cafe. Further on we pulled in to the Camping Berbere de La Montagne and parked in their sunny yard for the night : £6 including excellent hot showers, water and Elsan disposal. After a short rest we cycled back to the viewpoint to watch heavy lorries tackle the remarkable road and then in a fit of madness decided to descend at speed and enjoy the climb back up and reward ourselves with fresh orange juice - so worth it...

 

 

 

 

So it will be a quiet night here with a few other vans before dropping back to the plain and seeing if another possible new route over to N'Kob exists, if not we will have to go round one or other end of the remote Djebel Zahro range....

 

Piccies here.