Janet's diary. Travelling in Africa with Ollie.
MOROCCO 17Th November 1997
We had driven through Europe then crossed to Africa by boat and now we had made it to the border with Morocco and here at our first African border crossing we found absolute chaos but, remarkably it only took Steve about 40 minutes to complete the formalities and we were through.
At about 15.30, on our way into Tetouan a motorbike tout pulled alongside us shouting at us and trying to interest us in the local Berber market. We managed to shake him off, only to be stopped by a car a few minutes later, the driver who leapt out clutching a wad of notes and wanting to know if we wanted to change money. We were going to have to get used to this sort of thing!
At last we found the road to Tetouan and the beach "resort" at Martil. The camp site that we found was in a pretty run down state, a very bare site and no trees with just a low stone wall separating it from the beach but then at only 18 Dirhams for the night! After parking up we had a good look around and encountered the ablutions, awful, broken and dirty, too late to look elsewhere, we stayed. Within minutes wed acquired another "friend" who, while we were trying to put up the tent in a rising wind with black clouds building up, kept telling us that we should visit the Berber market with him. In the end he gave up as he could see that we were intent on getting our camp set up and our meal organised. This was a major feat in itself for now the wind was really strong and cooking was becoming a real challenge. Then up popped our friend again, to see if we were ready to go with him to the Berber market. These touts take some dissuading but we eventually managed to convince him that it would not be possible this evening, but maybe tomorrow?
By now it had become quite dark and chilly but tucked up inside Ollie (our Land Rover) we at last, sat down to dinner and despite the difficulties I had produced a feast of pork fillets with onions and garlic, mashed potatoes and green beans followed by fruit salad, this cheered us up considerably. At half past eight we fell into bed totally exhausted. Before sleep we spent half an hour with the Maps planning the morrow's journey. With howling wind and dogs barking I had a very fitful nights sleep. Morocco day 1. The days run 40 miles.
Friday 21st November.
Woke at 5am, decided to get up early and get to Fez. At 5.30 the muezzin started calling the faithful to prayer, it sounded as if he was right next to our tent. A few minutes later another one started, then another, then up came the wind and down came the rain. Sitting inside Ollie we managed to have a quick breakfast of bread and jam and a cup of tea. By the time we had folded and packed the roof tent and loaded up, everything was soaked, including us.
We left camping Midelt at 9.00 and set off into the middle of the Atlas Mountains. The weather was appalling, lowering skies and pouring rain. This was the start of our first full day in Morocco. The road was very steep and winding, the amazing views of the scenery spoiled by the weather.
About sixty five kilometres from Fez the engine started to overheat, we had been driving through very hilly countryside all morning and Steve thought that this was the reason. Steve tried driving slower to try and cool the engine down but in the end he had to pull over and take a look under the bonnet. It turned out that the viscous fan unit had failed and the cooling fan was just free-wheeling. Steve managed, using some bolts and bits of metal, to lock the fan. To make matters difficult it was blowing an almighty gale, this was an inauspicious start to our journey in Africa.
Under-way again at 1.30pm we got to Fez at around three o'clock. Situated just on the edge of the city the Green Diamond camp site had at first looked quite decent but now it was pouring with rain again and the camp ground was four inches deep with water, we decided that we had to find a hotel for the night and dry ourselves out. The guard at the site gave us the name of what he said was a reasonable hotel and off we went to find it, easier said than done. Around in ever decreasing circles we went, Fez is the most confusing city. Eventually after stopping to ask the way many times we located the hotel Moura, more by luck that judgement. Parking Ollie in a side street next the hotel we managed to get a room that overlooked him, which made us feel better. Now with the rain pouring down we had to store everything from the roof rack inside the truck and then sneak all our wet bedding past reception and up to our room. While we were busy getting this done a young man who introduced himself as Hassan came and offered his services as a guide to the Medina so we arranged to meet him the following morning.
After draping our wet bedding all around the bedroom to dry we had a lukewarm shower and put on some clean clothes, what a treat, then down to the bar for a well earned drink. The hotel bar was a throw-back to 1930's, Arab style, decorated in deep reds and gold, slightly faded and worn.
Now, fortified, we were getting hungry, time to find an eatery in the town but when we put our noses out of the door the rain was still pouring down. We stood in the doorway hoping it would ease and there we made another "friend" who told us that he knew of a good restaurant just around the corner. By now with the knowledge that it would be almost impossible to dissuade from helping us we followed him a short distance to a nicely decorated but totally empty restaurant. I saw the Patron give our "friend" a tip who then disappeared. We were so hungry that despite the lack of atmosphere, we stayed. The staff were very attentive and brought us delicious black olives and bread while we scanned the Menu. After a delicious, but very spicy Harira soup, Steve had pepper steak and I, Lamb chop served with veg. Being a Muslim establishment they did not serve wine, so we drank water and finished up with coffee and Mint tea. When we left the restaurant the rain had eased and feeling much better we walked back to the hotel collecting a bottle of Armagnac from Ollie on the way, we retired to our room for a night-cap. Will we always be this exhausted at the end of each day. Morocco day 2. The days mileage 420.
Saturday 22nd November.
After waking a couple of times in the night to check on Ollie, I got up at 7.00 and had a nice hot shower. The hotel was a bit seedy, and the bathroom left much to be desired, the shower throwing water all over the floor. Everything looked a bit worn but the beds were clean and the staff pleasant and helpful. We had a very good breakfast, real orange juice, lovely bread with cheese and a pan-chocolate.
After breakfast we had to re-organise Ollie's contents in order to accommodate our guide, Hassan. He arrived on time looking very dapper dressed in spotless white djellaba, sporting his official guide badge and carrying a large black umbrella.
Hassan first took us to the Kings Palace, this was a wonderful mosaic fronted building with huge hand worked brass doors. Our next visit was to a ceramics factory, where they were still producing pots in the same way as their forefathers, in old mud kilns fired using Olive stones but it was sad to see so many young children working there, some painting intricate designs in very poor light. We chose a small pot from the shop as it seemed bad manners not to make a purchase. From the roof of the factory we looked out over the Medina. The Medina, where Hassan, informed us a million people live and work in little more than a square mile is the largest in Africa.
When we went through the Medina wall via one of the many gates it was like stepping back into Biblical times, just a maze of narrow alleyways and secret little courtyards with carved wooden doors and mosaic fountains. We visited a Madrassa, a Muslim school, but no longer in use, it was very richly decorated, with ornate mosaics and cedar wood carving all dating back to the fourteenth century. The Kairaouine Mosque, situated within the Medina walls is the second largest in Morocco, there are sixteen isles and on a Friday it holds twenty two thousand worshippers at one time but being non Muslims we were not allowed to enter. Next Hassan took us to the Palace de Fes, a fantastic building and again, entirely decorated in mosaic. It was occupied by a wealthy Moroccan family till the 1960's, now the lower floor housed a unique collection of new and antique woollen rugs and carpets. They are all hand made, a vast collection of many sizes, patterns and colours. I fell in love with two, one large carpet costing 750 pounds and a smaller Berber rug costing 200 pounds. Steve took photographs of them both and I took a card and perhaps after our travels we will be able to send for them. The upper floors of the building house a very famous Moroccan restaurant that only serves Moroccan food. It is furnished with low tables with sumptuous drapes and cushions in gold threaded fabrics. Above all this there is a roof garden giving views over the great Mosque and the Medina.
Our next stop was at the shop of a Berber jeweller, I think Hassan was very keen on supporting the local traders (probably getting commission) where a very persistent young man finally sold Steve an "antique" lapis- lazuli and silver heart, which was going to be my Christmas present.
We strolled through alleyways lined with small carpentry shops, the smell of cedar wood scenting the air, shafts of sunlight pierced the rush matting roof and the air was filled with the sounds of shopkeepers bartering their wares. Men were shouting at their heavily laden donkeys, the unfortunate beasts hooves slipping and clattering on the stone steps, the alleyways so narrow that we had to stand with our backs pressed against the wall as they passed by.
Our next port of call was the Brass merchant, beautiful plates, hand engraved, superb craftsmanship, were paraded before us but alas to bulky for us to buy.
Next the tannery, which was something akin to scene from hell painted by Hieronymus Bosch. The stench made us gag and it is challenging to consider that people still work in such appalling conditions. The lime pits and the dyeing vats where semi naked men trod the skins, waist deep in evil smelling liquid. In the middle of this awful place sad little donkeys stood shivering with fear. We couldn't get out fast enough, and onto something more pleasant. The spice Medina where, I brought at great expense, 5 grams of saffron, special Moroccan mixed spice and Jasmine oil. By then we had been in the Medina for four and a half hours, it was time to move on.
Leaving the Medina behind us we said goodbye to our guide Hassan and took to the road again, this time to the town of Azrou. A straight run but a long climb back into the middle Atlas, through forests of pine and cedar and the hills capped with snow. We reached the town of Ifrane, a strange squeaky clean almost Alpine looking village, very unlike Morocco. This is where the King has his summer palace. Here we did the our usual trick and took the wrong road so had to back track and arrived in Azrou at 4.30 in the afternoon and then had much trouble finding the Hotel recommended in the rough guide as a small friendly one star, which when we did eventually find it, turned out to be a huge unfriendly five star. So we about turned, went back into town and found the three star Panorama Hotel, set in pine forest on a hillside, very pretty but basic and a bit more expensive than the previous night. But as there was no camp site and it was very cold here in the hills, we took the soft option: when will we become true over-landers? When it gets warmer!
Once settled in at the hotel, we sat in front of a log fire drinking steaming hot mint tea before having dinner at 7pm in the hotel restaurant. Dinner started with a large tureen of very good soup followed by very tasty trout which had, only a short time before, been swimming around in a large fish tank in the corner of the dining room. Then for desert, cream caramel after which we retired to our room for a night-cap. We climbed into bed at 22.00 with good intentions of rising early for our next destination, the town of Midelt. Morocco day 3. The days mileage 80.
Sunday 23rd November.
After the best nights sleep in two weeks, I woke at 7.00. The shower was lukewarm and very invigorating. We went out to pack up Ollie, to find a very bracing morning (bloody freezing) and a thin layer of ice on the roof rack. After breakfast we settled our bill which we had to pay in American Dollars, 80 Dollars, not cheap!
We left at 9.30 in beautiful sunshine and drove up into the middle Atlas through stunning scenery with the snow on the trees glistening in the sunlight. About fifty two kilometres beyond Azrou we stopped at Aguelmane Sidi Ali a mountain lake formed in an extinct Volcano crater. > The surface of the lake was a mirror only disturbed by the rippling wake left by ducks and was surrounded by black Pumice rock and snow. Other than the cry of birds there was complete silence.
By noon we had descended onto the plains and the temperature had risen by at least 10 degrees. Arriving in Midelt, a town full of hustlers, we refuelled Ollie and I shopped for provisions, veg, bread and cheese etcetera in a local open market while Steve stayed in the truck fending off persistent touts.
We drove through the High Atlas, over mountain passes and through deep gorges and arrived at Errachidia, quite a large town on the edge of the desert. Morocco has many faces from snow in the morning to Desert in the afternoon.
Just beyond the Errachidia, we found Meskie Oasis and the Source Bleue set beside a river under huge Date palms, a very pleasant camp site, but once again the showers and the loo's left a lot to be desired, better than Midelt, but not a lot. While we were settling ourselves in, who should pitch up but Klaas, Willi and their dog Fonda in "Poo" the Unimog. We had last seen them in Spain and did not think that we would ever see them again, what a pleasant surprise.
While I made curried mince for dinner, Steve put up the Tent then the guy who ran the site came and collected our money, 35 Dirams which included half a kilo of fresh dates, a very special price he informed us. After dinner Klaas and Willi came over with a bottle of wine and a couple of hours were spent catching up on each others news. By nine o'clock it was really freezing and we turned in but I didn't sleep much as it wasn't any warmer in the tent, a new blanket is urgently needed! Morocco day 4. The days run 190 miles.
Monday 24th November.
I awoke, after a very sleepless night, still cold. Got up at 9.00, had breakfast and set about doing some chores. I managed to do quite a bit of washing and afterwards walked to the village, Klaas and Willi were coming to dinner so I needed to buy some food. After wandering around the village for quite some time I located a shop, well, it was really just a hole in the wall of a house where all I was able to buy were a few veg, Carrots, Onions, Tomatoes and Turnips, plus bread and a tin of Olives. The locals in the shop were quite fascinated with my attempt at speaking the local French patois.
After a lunch of bread and cheese I worked on the tent and managed to fix some Velcro along the bottom edge of the door flap, hopefully this will stop some of the drafts. So far we have not been very impressed with our tent, when it rains it leaks and when the wind blows it's draughty. Next I made a spicy sausage casserole for dinner. A woman's work is never done!
Because the water in the ablutions was bitterly cold we thought we would try out our Solar shower bags but after the two of them had been in the sun all day the water in the bags was merely lukewarm and one bag gave a very short shower, hardly enough to wash the soap off!
Willi and Klaas came over at half past seven and a very pleasant evening ensued, eating, drinking and chatting that is until about nine o'clock when the camp was invaded by about ten 4x4's roaring in at high speed and making a devil of noise. Klaas reckoned that they were East Europeans on a Dune raiding trip.
We turned in at 10 o'clock, half dressed to try and keep warm. Day 5.
Tuesday 25th November.
Because we were much warmer I had a better night's sleep, but we still need to get another blanket. Breakfast was extra nice this morning when Klaas brought us some home baked bread, it was made by the mother of a Moroccan friend of his who lived nearby. After breakfast Steve did some maintenance on the truck and I managed to get some more washing done, including our Jeans, hard work scrubbing them by hand. Alas, it was an overcast day so the washing didn't dry very quickly.
After our lunch Steve went to try and negotiate with Benny, one of the Moroccan shopkeepers. Benny had been leaping up and down behind the imaginary line that divides the site in two for the past couple of days, we are on one side of the imaginary line and the Shopkeepers on the other. It is a rule of the camp site that the shopkeepers are not permitted to cross this line and pester the campers. Benny had a rather nice Berber blanket but he was asking eight hundred Dirams, Steve said "you're joking" and offered him three hundred. He said Steve was joking and so it went on. Steve threw in a tee shirt a measuring tape and some Airline slippers. He said he would accept these but still wanted more money than we were prepared to pay, he then called his brother over to help him to wear us down. By now we were feeling decidedly hassled so said we would think about it and return in the morning. He wasn't very pleased with us for walking out on him.
In the afternoon we walked up to the village of Meskie situated on a hill overlooking the camp-site typically a small modern Moroccan village with low buildings and narrow dusty streets. We walked on through a grove of palm trees until we came to a river but to get to the other side we had to walk across some logs laid from bank to bank, it was a bit unnerving to say the least as the logs were very narrow and the water was rushing underneath. On the opposite bank, we came upon neatly laid out vegetable patches set beneath shady palms. The little plots were each growing different varieties of vegetables, Carrots, beans, Chilli peppers, etc. A little further on and we came to the ruin of the old town with its crumbling outer wall. We could not see a way in so we walked a little way around the outer wall, clambering over rocks and fallen masonry. We continued for about half an hour without success, so we retraced our steps and on reaching the spot where we had started, found the entrance. God knows how we will find our way through Africa with this kind of navigation. By now the Sun was beginning to dip, casting long shadows through the piles of stones that were once dwellings. We could only manage a few photos and a quick look round before starting back. Reaching camp just before dark I set about cooking dinner, Mashed potatoes bacon and egg. It was starting to turn cold and so we washed up and turned in by 9.30, we had an early start for the Gorges of Todra the next day. Day 6.
Wednesday 26th November.
It was a lovely sunny morning, great for packing up Ollie and getting back on the road again. We had Breakfast at 8.00 and made ready to get under-way, all the while trying to dodge Benny, who was still hanging around and hoping to make a sale, boy these guys can be persistent. A German couple that we had met on the boat coming across from Spain had arrived at the camp last night and they came over this morning for a chat. Klaas brought us another freshly baked loaf and when we had finally finished packing the truck we went over and said goodbye to him and Willi. After taking some photographs of them both and wondering if we would ever meet again it was time to set off for Errachidia.
Arriving in the town of Errachidia at 12.45 we were too late for the Bank but they would re-open in the afternoon. Searching for a shop where we could buy provisions we came upon a small covered market and there, while Steve waited with Ollie, I set off to purchase some food. The vegetables on sale were very fresh and with my sketchy French and some hand signals I managed with difficulty to make myself understood and brought 1 kilo of potatoes, a kilo of green beans, half a kilo of bananas, a kilo of oranges, Half a kilo green peppers and one kilo of carrots, all for 33 Dirams. Next I made my way to the butcher and brought two pieces of steak for 20 Dirams finally I found a small general store where I brought six eggs, two tins of tuna, two tins of sardines a packet of laughing cow cheese and a carton of orange juice. Little did I realise at the time that these last items were to become my basic shopping list as being the most available items for the rest of the trip. I returned to the truck and we decided to find somewhere to have a drink. In a small side street we discovered a little cafe with tables outside and shade where we sat and had coffee and mint tea.
It wasn't worth waiting for the bank to re-open as there would be another one in Tinghir, our next town, so at 1pm we set off. At first the road was quite good but once past the village of Goulmima it deteriorated. It was also a very busy road with lots of huge lorries coming towards us at great speed, Steve had to keep going off the tar onto the rough edge of the road to avoid them. We saw women walking alongside the road, bent double carrying huge bundles of scrub bush on their backs, the loads so big you could only just see their legs. The terrain was very flat, stony scrub with hills and a glimpse of the High Atlas far off in the distance.
We arrived at Tinghir at a quarter to four and located a branch of the Banque Populaire where Steve managed to change a 100 Dollar travellers cheque before continuing on the road out of town to Todra Gorge. This winding road took us through ancient villages, built of Clay and pink stone set into the sides of a sheer gorge of the same hue. We drove alongside a river edged with Palmeries until we eventually found two camp sites side by side, Camping du Lac and the one that we decided to stay at, Camping Atlas, small but very pleasant and set beside the river and the cleanest since arriving in Morocco.
We set camp and while I cooked steak and veg for diner Steve went for a shower. He came back with a grin from ear to ear, the reason, the water in the shower was actually boiling hot. After we had eaten I also went and indulged in the luxury of my first hot shower since Fez, later we sat under the Date palms drinking coffee and Armagnac and eating bananas and juicy fresh Dates.
Whilst entering the shower block I had met with a rather diminutive Moroccan Guy who told me that he was travelling with a German couple and that they had seen us earlier in the day when we were leaving Source Bleu, so, later after coffee we went over to have a chat with them. They too were travelling to South Africa but in a huge truck with a box to live in. We mentioned that we were on our way to meet a couple called Nick and Sarah and they said that they had encountered them the previous week at the top of the Todra gorge at an auberge owned by their Moroccan companion's brother. They said that Nick and Sarah had mentioned us and told them that they were on their way to Plage Blanche down on the western coast where they had hoped to meet us on the twenty fifth, as it was now the 26th we were going to be late. We turned in at 21.00 and it was a much warmer night. Day 7. Days mileage 115.
Thursday 27th November.
Warmer temperatures gave us the best nights sleep for a few days, I climbed down from our roof-top Eyrie at 7.00 and after a nice hot shower and washing my hair I made breakfast. While eating breakfast the German couple from the big truck came over for a chat, they were leaving. They recommended that we drive up the gorge and stay at their friend's brothers Auberge at Tamatouche.
We left camping Atlas at 11.15 and drove to the mouth of the Todra George, we paid 5 Dirams to enter. The gorge entrance was quite spectacular, a narrow pass with towering red cliffs on both sides. Then we had to Ford a small river and drive over some large stones that were strewn across the track. The rocky track ran alongside the river, flanked by Date Palms. We saw young boys with camels and herds of goats, one youngster insisted that I take his photograph. While he was posing he had one eye on my torch that was sitting on the dashboard, but all he got was a cigarette. Around about this point we managed to lose the Piste (track) and found ourselves heading up the stony riverbed, (not unusual) but to be fair there was little difference between the two. We retraced our steps and found the Piste again. By 1pm we had climbed up out of the gorge and after traversing some spectacular scenery we reached Tamatouche. Tamatouche was a very small town, just a few stone houses, some stone walled goat pens and a Mosque and we soon found the Auberge Baddou where we were to spend the night. The patron rushed out to meet us with open arms and insisted that we join him for a glass of mint tea after which he took us up onto the roof to look at the view of the village and the mountains beyond.
After setting up our camp and having a bite to eat, we donned our walking boots and armed with binoculars set off down the valley for a bit of birdwatching, following the river bank through very dramatic, but oh so peaceful, terrain. On the way we saw a Berber tribesman riding his horse along the track while his two wives followed behind on foot, all three dressed in traditional Berber costume. On our three hour walk we spotted Black Wheatear, Black Redstart, Crested Lark and Mountain Chat, among others. Later, back at the Auberge Baddou I enquired of our Patron if we could eat in his restaurant that evening and though we were the only guests he said he would cook Couscous for us. After a hot shower Steve got out the laptop and we spent an hour entering the diary into the computer. At 7pm we were called into dinner. The restaurant was a large room with several long low tables and couches covered with Berber blankets and strewn with ornate cushions, lots of rugs were scattered about the floor; it had a genuine Eastern flavour. Firstly we were served with pepper, onion and tomato salad, followed by Lamb Tagine and vegetable couscous accompanied by two sauces. After this we ate fresh Apples. While we drank our after dinner coffee the Patron came and chatted with us, with his small English and our even smaller French we somehow managed to understand that he had just got married. He then went off to fetch his wedding photo album. It had been quite a bash, 400 guests and lasting 5 days, fascinating stuff. We returned to Ollie at 8.30 and by now it was getting pretty cold, we boiled the Kelly, filled the flask for morning coffee, locked up Ollie and retired to the roof tent with the computer and worked for about another hour. All the time the temperature was dropping but, as we were at over five thousand feet this was hardly surprising and so, at about 10pm, two very chilly mortals snuggled down into their sleeping bags. Day 8. Days mileage 46.
Friday 28th November.
It had been an extremely cold night with the temperature below freezing, during which we spent most of the time sleeping only fitfully and stealing the blanket from one another. (Must invest in another blanket). We climbed out of our sleeping bags at about 6.40. I kept my leggings on under my Jeans as we set about packing up the tent, wishing that we had gloves with us because our hands were so cold. The Patron came to wave us goodbye and we set off down the Gorge at 7.50. A good run down and Ollie is behaving well off road. We had to stop a couple of times to allow large Lorries, lumbering their way up the gorge, to pass us. Todra Gorge was even more impressive in the early morning sunlight than the previous day; we arrived at the mouth of the Gorge at 9.30.
Our next stop was at the town of Tinghir where I went in search of bread. As I wandered along the street (wondering where the bread shop was) a gent decked up in his Djellaba asked if he could help me, I explained that I was looking for "Du Pan" and he said that he would take me to a Berber baker. He then set off, with me in hot pursuit, across a market place and through narrow side streets. All the time, trying to remember land marks so that I could find my way back. We finally came to a doorway in a small alleyway where a Berber woman took me up some narrow stone steps and into a house. I entered a small room, the walls hung with lots of rugs. She asked me to sit while she went to get tea. It was now that I realised that she was obviously hoping to sell me more than bread and looking at the walls I suspected Carpets. At this moment her husband joined us so I insisted to him that I only wanted to buy Bread. Now, realising that this was all that I was interested in, she left the room and soon returned with two loaves, still hot from the oven. I paid her four Dirams for the loves, beat a hasty retreat and somehow found my way back to the truck.
The road between Todra and Boumaine Dades was a good fast one and we arrived there at 11.00. We had to be very careful driving through here because the town was very busy with people and donkeys all over the road. About twenty kilometres beyond the town, we pulled off the road and had lunch, sitting on Ollie's bonnet; we ate fresh bread and sardines with olives and bananas. The terrain was a flat stony plain littered with scrubby bushes with a distant view of the snow topped Atlas Mountains to the North.
Lunch over, at half past twelve we headed for Ouarzazate, arriving there at one thirty. Ouarzazate is a big modern town with a lot of classy hotels. It was developed in the 1960’s when the film producer David Lean came to shoot Lawrence of Arabia here. We then continued on the road alongside the Dades River, for good reason this is called the valley of a thousand Kasbah's,(a walled town or fortress) there were so many of them some in ruins and some still inhabited
At one point we stopped by the road side and brought a basket of beautiful fresh dates from an elderly man. At this point I took the wheel and drove for the next 70 k’s, not too bad but still very unsure of myself. Steve took over at about half past three, just as well as we had a very steep ascent into the High atlas in front of us. At one point we were 7,387 feet above sea level, wonderful vistas but a tortuous road of hairpin bends winding up and up and then down again. All along the way rock sellers were leaping out into the road in front of us at every turn waving lumps of quartz crystal at us and now Steve was beginning to worry about the brakes, as they were pulling to one side.
We arrived at the outskirts of Marrakesh around 6pm just as it was getting dark and faced driving into a big city after dark, something we had always tried to avoid. The traffic was absolutely chaotic and we had to wind our way through donkey carts, people, bicycles, cars and Lorries all travelling in different directions, the air full of dust and smoke. While we had little idea of which roads to take, I knew that we had to find the main road out of the city going to Casablanca and that the camp site that we were looking for was five kilometres out of town on that road. Twice we had to turn back after missing the sign posts in the dark, but finally through all the mayhem, we located the right road but when after five kilometres we still couldn't find the site we stopped at a garage to ask directions where I was told that it was just 200 metres back down the road that we had just driven along, we finally checked into the camp at 6.30.
After I had completed the registration form the Patron whispered in my ear "would you like to buy some wine" I said OK and he said that he would bring some over to our tent. The camp site, as far as I could see in the dark, appeared to be quite large and driving around we found a pitch near the ablutions block where after setting up the tent I got on with cooking dinner, mixed vegetable and omelette, peppered with a few large flying ants that were attracted by the light and kept landing in the pan. While I was cooking the patron sidled up. He had the bottle of wine rapped in newspaper secreted under his robes. He looked around to ensure that there was no body except us about and quickly passed me the bottle, took the money and disappeared into the night. Turned in at 21.30, shattered. Day 9. Days mileage 280.
Saturday 29th November.
A good nights sleep, woke about 5.30, it's much warmer here, we allowed ourselves the luxury of a lay in and got up at 6.30. After checking out the ablutions block, which was still in the process of construction and finding only cold water in the shower, we boiled the Kelly kettle (the Kelly or volcano kettle is a wonderful device, with a few sticks and a drop of diesel we can boil a litre of water in a couple of minutes) and filled the shower bags. After a brief and tepid shower we put on clean clothes and felt much better.
Now, in the light of day we discovered that we had parked Ollie only about 100 feet from a swimming pool, also still under construction, empty and with no guard rails around it. It was more than a miracle that neither of us hadn't fallen into it while exploring the site in the dark. After breakfast the Patron reappeared to tell us that he was opening his shop and would we care to visit it. I brought 10 postcards and stamps. I noticed that he was selling Berber blankets and called Steve over for a look. The shopkeeper was asking the reasonable price of 280 Dirams so we made the purchase without the usual haggling. Steve also brought a rather nice leather belt for an altogether price of 400 Dirams, A very special price according to our shopkeeper. We finished packing up and took to the road at 10.45.
The traffic was appalling, cars, buses, mopeds, horse drawn carts and donkeys carrying enormous loads, it was even worse than the previous evening but at least now it was daylight but even so trying negotiate our way through the chaos was quite an experience. Arriving at the Jemaa el-Fna which is a huge open square in the centre of the Medina quarter and discovering that the only parking we could find was a covered garage where the attendant demanded that we leave our keys with him, this we were not prepared to do,and so left to try and find another place. The whole square was heaving with people selling every conceivable commodity. As usual we were being trailed by someone wanting to be our guide, he said he could find us a place to park and led us down a narrow street packed with people and vehicles.
We were seriously worried about leaving Ollie in the street, his security is paramount. Because of this and the mechanical problems Steve was having with Ollie we decided to head out of the city towards Agadir.
Getting out was also problem and we found ourselves going down narrow ally-ways, crowded with people and barely wide enough to get Ollie through but the gods must have smiled on us for after a while we arrived at one of the main avenues through the city and soon found a sign pointing to Agadir.
Marrakesh behind us. I certainly wouldn't wish to be a traffic cop in that city, not a soul takes any notice of them, or so it appeared to us.
At the town of Chichaoua we stopped in a small market square and enjoyed coffee and croissants at a pavement cafe. Here I left Steve and went in search of provisions. I found a butcher's shop and was able to purchase a kilo of nice looking mince then crossed the square to buy fruit, veg, bread and half a dozen bottles of water. At 2pm we were on the road again and had been going for about an hour when the engine stated to overheat again. Steve pulled over to take a look under the bonnet. He discovered that the bolts that he had fitted to the fan had come loose so once these were re-tightened the temperature of the engine went back to normal. This took about half an hour and then we were able to continue on our way to Agadir. The route was a very challenging one for the Steve, lots of very steep climbs and steep descents. We saw a couple of Lorries that had suffered brake failure and gone off the road. One of them had been loaded with live chickens and these were now scattered over the road. Eventually we crested a final hill to see Agadir in the distance.
Reaching the city at five pm the great navigators again took a wrong turn thus leading ourselves once more into traffic chaos. Fortunately it was still daylight and it only took us ten minutes or so to find the camp site down on the sea-front, not before time because now the clutch was starting to play up and Steve was having trouble engaging the gears.
The camp d'Agadir site which was quite close to the beach was large and busy, full of over-wintering Germans and French in huge camper van. There were huge satellite dishes everywhere and some of the vans and dishes were decorated with garish murals (they all looked remarkably similar so we guessed some local artist was doing all right). Some of the plots had picket fences and gardens with a mixture of natural and plastic flowers we even saw ponds and plastic gnomes! We being scruffy over-landers were directed to camp down near the perimeter wall alongside the main road where we found another four overland vehicles. We got busy setting up camp before it got dark and I quickly rustled up some spaghetti bolognese, Steve in the meantime went off to explore the site. Later, after dinner we spent an hour or so writing a fax to send home before turning in at about 22.45. Day 10. Days mileage 180 approx.
Sunday 30th November
Night time temperatures here on the coast were very much higher than inland and with the addition of our new Berber blanket to cover us we spent a cosy night for a change. On the downside being parked so close to the main road made it a rather noisy night. We awoke at 7.30 to a lovely sunny morning.
While sitting at our little table eating breakfast, a large German gentleman with a plaited beard and as it transpired the owner of the large Hanomag truck parked along side us, came over and introduced himself. Henri and his girlfriend Uta, were also on their way South. Henri we learned had travelled extensively in Australia, the Far East and South America but this was his first time in Africa. He was an eccentric and hugely entertaining guy.
Breakfast over Steve decided to check out the brakes as they have been giving trouble. The problem turned out to be a failed front wheel hub oil seal which had soaked the front brake pads on the passenger side with oil. This was quite a big job to fix and took most of the rest of the day to fix. I, meanwhile set about catching up with the laundry and then cooked up the rest of the mice I had brought, half as curry and the rest as savoury mince. As with most camp sites we soon got to know the other over-landers parked with us. Philip and Nele were a young Belgian couple travelling in a twenty year old Toyota Land cruiser. They seemed to have more junk in their truck than we, if that was possible. Their vehicle was a short wheelbase which gave them very little room inside for sleeping. At night they had to fit wooden slats over the two front seats to form a bed. They too are also heading South and little did we know at that first meeting that they would soon become our travelling companions for a while.
Later in the afternoon as Steve was working on the front wheel of Ollie a rather large Swedish gentleman stopped by on his bicycle and introduced himself as John Starr. John asked Steve if he needed any help as he had been an engineer before he'd retired. He was a really nice chap, very jolly; I was really surprised when he said he was nearly seventy because he certainly didn't look his age.
At the end of our days work we had a good hot shower, the first hot one since Camping Atlas and later after our curry we took a walk up the road to find a phone kiosk and enquire about making phone calls home. I was told that we would need to purchase a phone card but as I was not carrying any local money on me we would have to return in the morning. Home and in bed by 21.15. Day 11.
Monday 1st December.
The traffic noise gave me a very disturbed night, I got up at 7.30 and after breakfast Steve Steve and Fillip spent some time discussing engines and later our new Swedish friend John Star came over and invited us to join him for an afternoon tour of the city in his Saab, he also invited to us share dinner with him and so arranged to meet at 3pm.
At 11.00 we strolled into the town to see if we could find a bank and change some traveller's cheques. At the first Bank we came to we stood in a queue for twenty minutes before being told that they did not change traveller's cheques. We were directed to another bank a little further down the road, where we soon managed to change 100 dollars for 930 Dirams. We continued into the Town and found the Uniprix supermarket. We had read in our rough guide that "Uniprix" was a State controlled Supermarket with very reasonable prices. We brought some provisions for 220 Dirams and thought that we should return next morning in the truck to stock up for our trip south. Having located a Fax office we enquired the price, they wanted 50 Dirams per sheet, far too much, so if we can't find anyone cheaper we will have send by letter. We returned to the camp at 13.00 for lunch.
John arrived sharp at three and we set of in his car firstly visiting the fruit market where I stocked up with fresh fruit and Veg. We also found a butcher's shop that looked nice and clean so brought another Kilo of mince, we seem to live on the stuff. John next took us to the beach and while he sat and read his book we took a pleasant stroll along the Prom. Our next place to visit was the harbour, on the way we went through a boatyard where they were still building wooden fishing boats in traditional manner, there must have been a dozen or more huge fishing boats in varying stages of construction. Down at the harbour the fishing quay was a hub of activity. We walked along the dock and watched the fishermen preparing for the coming nights fishing. There was so much hustle, bustle, noise and smell, the boats loaded down with people and piles of nets. The Sun was beginning to sink by now so we drove up to the old Kasbah on the top of a hill overlooking the new city of Agadir. A number of years before, this old Kasbah, where we were now standing had been totally destroyed by a huge Earthquake and instead of trying to rebuild the old town a new one was created alongside, the old town being retained as a memorial to the thousands of people who died in the catastrophe. As the Sun sank to the horizon, we could see the fishing fleet leaving the harbour below us. We returned to camp at about 18.00, John dropped us at our truck and then reappeared half an hour later with dinner. He treated us to Whisky and beer and a very tasty stew followed by fresh Strawberries and cream, a pleasant evening was spent chatting about nothing in particular. John Invited us to stay with him if ever we visited Sweden, he was such a nice person that I think that one day, if we find ourselves in Sweden, we may take him up on his offer. He also presented me with a small pottery Owl, saying that in Sweden owls brought good luck and this one would keep us safe on our travels. He made us promise that we would send a Postcard to him when we arrived in South Africa, just to let him know that we had arrived safely. Day 12.
Tuesday 2nd December
I enjoyed a good nights sleep so I must be getting used to the traffic noise, it was still dark at 6.30 when we got up. After breakfast we packed Ollie, had a shower and finished off our post. We said our goodbyes to Fillip, Nele and John and left the camp site. On the way out we stopped at the camp shop where we had been told we could get our gas bottle changed but as ours was not their usual type of bottle the shop owner directed us to a gas filling station about two kilometres away. We settled our camp bill of 109 Dirams for the three nights and then went over to the gas plant and got our bottle filled. Once again the Clutch is giving trouble; Steve pulled over to the side of the road to check he thinks it's the slave cylinder. We could have gone back to the camp site but Steve decided to push on.
We left Agadir at noon and got into our usual muddle getting out of the city but did eventually find the road to Tiznit. It was a very warm day and we reached Tiznit at 2pm but as the clutch problem was getting worse we drove straight through.
We were getting hungry so we stopped about ten k's from Guelmim at the side of the road, bread and cheese and a drink of orange and then pushed on again. Guelmim was the usual small bustling Moroccan town and quite confusing, finding our route (what's new), but we soon found the signs for Beu-Jerif. The first twenty k's was on Tar but then the last eighteen was rough stony Piste, quite hard to follow at times with a lot of washouts, but wonderful desert scenery. We arrived at our destination at 5pm to find a replica of a Foreign Legion fort and a wonderful camp site. As we drove up to the gates we were welcomed by the Patron Guy, and his wife Evy, both French. As we were the latest arrivals Guy hoisted the Union jack up the flagpole. We enquired as to the whereabouts of Nick and Sarah. They told us that we had just missed them; they had been there for four days but had left at 11.00 that morning. As it was now getting dark we found a pitch and set up camp, it was next to one of several traditional Berber tents that were on the site. Guy told us we could use one as a dining room as they were not in use at the moment.
While Steve was completing the registration forms he told Guy about the clutch problem and the need for repairs. Guy told him about an old inspection pit situated in the ruins of the old Legion fort, about 800 metres away from the camp, where he could do the work. Parked next us there was a VW camper belonging to a couple, a Dutch guy and his English wife who were touring Morocco. While we were chatting to them the local Eccentric pitched up and introduced himself as Omar, a half Moroccan half German snake charmer and the owner of a four month old puppy named Satan, who had already made our acquaintance and had been helping us to eat our dinner. Satan was an adorable little black mongrel with one ear flopped forward. I asked Omar why he had named him Satan and he explained it was because he had killed his pet Falcon, he may look pretty he said, but.........!
Later in the evening there was a lot of commotion as six Spanish Dune raiders charged into the camp, they always have to make a grand entrance with as much noise as possible. We turned in at 10pm Day 13
Wednesday 3rd December.
A peaceful nights sleep, got up at 7.30 and as we were eating breakfast the Spanish dunes raiders roared out of the gate in a cloud of dust, Guy lowered the Spanish flag and hoisted the union Jack again.
We drove the short distance to the old ruined Fort at 9.00 this turned out to be an amazing old ruin right on the top of a hill with, from the ramparts, wonderful views across the desert Below the fort there was a river and a grove of palm trees. The entire setting was reminiscent of something out of Beau Gueste.
After exploring the ruins we located the inspection pit and Steve set to work changing the Clutch slave cylinder. Across the courtyard from Ollie I set up my table and pots and pans where I set about cooking my Kilo of mince feeling a bit like Keith Floyd on location.
A couple of hours later Henri and Utah arrived in their Hanomag with Omar in tow. Henri had come up to the old fort to do an oil change. I should explain that a Hanomag is a large East German truck, almost a lorry. Theirs has a large box back that they lived in and was painted blue. Henri had an old fashioned Hip bath lashed to the cab roof. By this time Steve had come to the conclusion that it wasn't just the slave cylinder causing the problem and that he might also have to change the Master cylinder. Henri and Steve discussed the problem and Henri said that he would come back later to do his oil change.
I had finished cooking and had all my washing up piled on the table, when trotting through the entrance there came a camel and a donkey. The camel wandered up to my table and took a liking to the washing up bowl he picked it up with his mouth and threw it on to the ground; he had a mad gleam in his eye and looked around to see if he could cause more mischief. His pal the Donkey just stood by watching. I ran behind the truck and Steve rushed out shouting and throwing stones at the two of them, trying to shoo them off, the pair took absolutely no notice of him. They finally wandered off of there own accord. Poor Steve worked away under the truck for most of the afternoon trying to bleed the clutch. He was having problems because a push rod kept slipping out of place and it was almost 5pm.before he got it all working again.
Finally we packed everything back into the truck jumped in and Steve started the motor, black smoke filled the cab, it didn't him long to discover that a wire from the alarm unit had shorted out. Once this was fixed we returned to the camp just as it was getting dark, it was fortunate that we had planned to eat in the restaurant this evening.
While we had been away an English registration, ex Post office, Sherpa van had arrived and parked near to our pitch. The owners were an English couple of about our age who were touring Morocco for two months and had aspirations of doing an overland themselves one day; I think they were quite envious of us. They were very English; she was a School teacher and looked it. He explained to me that he was reliving a trip that he made back in his University days.
After a nice hot shower we wandered over to the restaurant and enjoyed some real French cuisine in classy surroundings, Guy and Evy had, with typical French style, created a beautiful place here in the desert. Even though we were the only diners they rolled out the red carpet for us. To start with we had goats cheese baked in pastry with Walnut Salad, followed by a delicious Lamb Tagine and finished off with Orange sorbet doused in Cointreau liquor, all washed down with a "cheeky" Moroccan red wine. What a treat, but thank god for Plastic. Two tired but contented people turned in at nine thirty. Day 14.
Thursday 4th December
Came to at 7.00 to the sound of rain on the tent, only the night before Guy had said that they had not had rain for five years, we arrive, so does the rain. I got up at about 8.00 had breakfast and decided to some washing. We said goodbye to the English couple from the post office van, as they were continuing their tour. Henry and Utah came over and we sat in the Berber tent and chatted. Henry is quite large, he has a bit of a beer belly and always wears heavy metal tee shirts, in contrast Utah is small and slim an oddly matched couple indeed. They told us that they came from East Germany. Henri was having some trouble with his camera and Steve and he had a go at fixing it without success. They were camping down by the river and left to find Omar who was going into the nearby village to get them a chicken. The rest of the morning we spent doing chores, Steve adjusting the clutch and mending the burnt out wiring. Had a bit of a panic after lunch, I couldn't find my keys, searched for ages and finally found them in the camera bag. We decided to take a bird walk to the river down by the old fort. On our walk we saw Crested Lark and Male and female Stonechat also a common Sandpiper, down in the river we found lots of little frogs. The sky started to turn very black so we decided to return to the truck. Back at camp while we were enjoying a drink at the bar two Land Rovers arrived with a French tour party. By now the big black clouds were really building up so we quickly returned to the tent and cooked dinner, thank heavens for the Berber tent, where we sat and ate our food while the rain poured down. The rain continued through the evening and most of the night, I don't know what's gone wrong; this is supposed to be the desert. Day 15.
Friday 5th December.
We awoke to a dismal grey morning a wet tent and very soggy bedding. We are not at all impressed with our Brownchurch roof-tent. Luckily by the time we got up the Sun was beginning to break through with a keen breeze so we set about drying things out. The wind blew very hard during the morning with the occasional heavy shower.
By lunch time we had managed to dry the tent and so, decided to pack it away, and that night, sleep inside the truck. While I tinted my hair Steve went over to talk to some German guys who had arrived on BMW motor bikes, they were travelling down to Mauritania and were looking for someone to take some of their luggage for them.
Henri and Utah pitched up to say goodbye. Yesterday they had been over at the old Fort doing an oil Change and then they had camped down by the river. Omar had brought them a live chicken in Guelmim and Henri had killed and cooked it. One of the unfortunate chicken's legs now hung from the jack on the front of their truck and joins the Skull, Horns and thorn bushes that adorns their vehicle. There were no prizes for guessing that our friends are heavy metal fans. Wishing each other well they headed for Tan-Tan to visit friends. We were not able to have a walk today as the wind was not very pleasant and instead spent the afternoon preparing Ollie for tomorrow's push south.
Omar and Satan came over for dinner at about 5.30pm and while I cooked curry Steve gave Omar some help with some English translation for a brochure he was preparing that would advertise a snake centre project that he was trying to get off the ground. He seems a very articulate, clever and ambitious young man and has great plans for the future. After dinner, which Satan also enjoyed Omar told us about himself and his snakes. Omar is the son of a Moroccan father and a German mother and was very interesting to listen to as he told us all about Cobras and Vipers and how he had studied snake charming in India. His broken English was liberally peppered with the F word, but with Omar's style it wasn't offensive. We said goodbye to Omar at about 9.30 and set about clearing up and preparing for the morning. We slept in the truck for the first time tonight and found it very cosy. Day 16.
Saturday 6th December.
A lovely sunny calm morning, would you believe, just as we are leaving the weather picks up.
After breakfast and a shower we paid our bill, 640 Dirams, and then said goodbye to Guy, Evy and Omar, we drove out of this lovely little oasis at twenty past nine. A good drive on the dirt track to the main road plus a bit of added bird watching on the way, we spotted, Barbary Partridge, Desert Wheatear, Kestrel and a beautiful Booted Eagle. Joined the tar road at 10.20 and arrived Guelmim 10.50. Stopped at the local market to buy provisions, Bananas, apples, Oranges and Mandarins, Potatoes, tomatoes, green peppers, red chillies, onions, cauliflower, courgettes, turnips, pumpkin and parsley that little lot cost 70 Dirams. Then I brought half a kilo of dubious looking meat, I think it was Camel.
We set out on the road for Tan-Tan at 11.15. Then about 20 k's before Tan-Tan at the start of the Western Sahara, we were stopped at a Police check point. The police asked us a few questions but there were no problems. We drove down to Tan-Tan Plage and parked on the beach where we watched the pounding Atlantic surf while eating our Sardine Sandwiches. On our way out of town we filled up with 35 litres of Diesel and then at 14.45 we continued on to Tarfaya. The road followed steep cliffs along the coast and all along the cliff top there were small fisherman's shacks and settlements, the fishermen it seems fish with rods from off the cliff top. Every now and then we crossed Estuaries closed off by Sand-bars and sand-dunes. We had been told about a wetland where we could camp, but although we could see it in the distance we couldn't find a way in, so continued driving while trying to find somewhere to camp.
On reaching Tarfaya we were in need of fuel, but had run out of Dirams. We stopped at a gas station and the guy let us have 56 litres for 20 Dollars US. By now the time was 5.30 and the Sun was sinking fast. We continued on the road to Laayoune, looking all the time for somewhere safe to camp, but no luck, Poor Steve had been driving all day and this was a very bad road to drive in the dark, there were lots of big lorries coming towards that were not dipping their lights and blinding us, but we had no option but to push on. We reached the outskirts of Laayoune at 7.15 and were stopped in a Police check point, they took our Passports and papers into a small building and a short while after, a sinister looking guy in dark glasses came over and asked for our Mothers and Fathers names. Once we had given these to him our papers were returned and we were told we could go.
We drove through the town and down to the beach; we had read in the rough guide that there was a camp site there. It was very difficult to see anything in the dark, but finally found the Ocean and following our "rough guides" instructions we turned North along the coast road. After a couple of k's we came across two or three small tents pitched on the beach and just beyond them a smart building, with a soldier on guard outside. I asked him where the camp site was and he pointed to where the tents were pitched. We did not think it was the one described in the book as we could find no facilities at all, so drove back along the coast to try and find it. Still nothing, by now it was 8.30 and we were getting desperate, tired and hungry, so returned back to where the other tents were pitched on the beach. It was too late to get the gear out for cooking, so we sat in the cab and ate a tin of Luncheon meat with tomato and bread and drank a bottle of wine to drown our sorrows. Pudding was a Banana, a Muesli bar and a cup of tea. While we were eating a young Moroccan lad tapped on the window and asked us if we would like to join him and his friends for tea at their tent. We thanked him but declined his offer as by now it was late and we were dog tired. At 22.00 we struggled to get the bed rolls set up in the back of the truck and by 22.30 had fallen into an exhausted sleep. DAY 17. Mileage 360 approx.
Sunday 7th December.
Even though this was not the ideal camping spot we were so tired we slept like logs, I woke at 7.00 dying for a pee. I tried the beach, but there were Soldiers around, I was also being closely followed by two dogs, so I returned to the truck. While I was trying to get breakfast ready Steve went to check out a stone building about two hundred metres away. A few minutes later he returned and said it was the ablutions block, but was in an awful state. By now I was so desperate that I went dashing off there with the two dogs in hot pursuit. I gritted my teeth, held my breath and went in, thinking, oh well, I suppose I will have to get used to this sort of thing, oh the wonders of Morocco's broken and definitely unhygienic ablutions.
When I returned to the truck Steve had boiled a couple of Kelly's so that we could wash our hands and faces, and have a hot cup of tea with our breakfast, this made us feel a lot better. The young man who had invited us over for tea last night turned out to be Student from Laayoune, he and his two friends were down at the beach for the weekend. They seemed to spend most of their time sitting in front of their very small tent, trying to make tea over about three lumps of charcoal. This morning he offered us bread and fruit, I think he thought that we had no food. We thanked him for his kind offer but said we had plenty. We set about packing up to continue our journey. As we were doing this, a Swiss guy travelling in an old Ambulance with his girlfriend, came over for a chat. We talked for some time as he had driven the beach route through Mauritania on a previous visit to Togo.
We drove back into Laayoune at twenty minutes past ten. The clock is now reading 995 miles since home so nearly completed our first thousand miles. Because it was the weekend there were no banks open but we managed to find a small hotel where they changed 70 dollars into 560 Dirams, this only gave us 8 Dirams to the Dollar but then beggars can't be choosers. We then went to a garage and filled up with 155 litres of Diesel which cost 450 Dirams. Steve was worried about filling up here, because the garage forecourt was swimming in spilt fuel, one spark would have sent the place sky high. While Steve was filling up, I went in search of some Bread and after wandering around for ten minutes I came across a small bakery, one thing about Morocco they do have very good bread. Now that we had money, fuel and bread we hit the road for Boujdour. We stopped for lunch at 1.30 overlooking an inlet from the sea, after which I drove for a while.
On the outskirts of Boujdour we were stopped by the Military, we had to get out and answer a lot of questions, where, when, how and once again, what our parents names were. That done, and we were no sooner back on the road than when were stopped at another check point, police this time. I had to screech to a stop as I wasn't expecting it. Out we got again and went into a little hut where the Policeman sat at wooden table with an ancient typewriter. Once again we had to supply him with all our details, including our mothers and fathers names, as he bashed away on his ancient Typewriter and then scrutinised our documents, I wonder what they do with all these bits of paper. We reached Boujdour at 3pm, quite a modern town with a big military presence. Boujdour also has a huge lighthouse and we thought that we might take a photograph of it. As we drove towards it we saw that it was surrounded by soldiers and knowing the sensitivity here about photographing these sorts of places, we carried on driving.
Beyond the town we started looking for somewhere to camp the night. We were still at this point driving along the coast with cliffs on our right and dunes on our left. At 4.30 we found a track leading off to what looked like a quarry, we drove in and parked in amongst the excavations out of sight. We were parked on the top of a high cliff overlooking the Atlantic surf, a wild place.
I had a bit of trouble cooking as it was quite windy but managed to cook up some veg to go with the savoury mince that I had cooked up at Fort Beau Jerif. By this time it was starting to get dark, so we washed up and packed everything up on the roof rack and made the beds in the back of the truck. Feeling nervous, as this was the first "free camp" of the trip, we could hear voices and dogs barking carried on the wind from a nearby village and we didn't know how far it was away. We sat in the front of the truck to have our coffee then at 8.30 we decided to turn and read in bed for a while. It's amazing how cosy and comfortable it is inside the truck. I drifted off into a fitful sleep wondering if we would be attacked and murdered in the night. Day 18. Mileage 204.
Monday 8th December.
We were both awake well before dawn; neither of us had slept very well. I remember that at each and every noise I was awake; I expect that in time we will get used to free camping. As soon as it was light we were up and were on the road by 6.30.
As we drove along watching the Sun rise we could see the landscape was changing from flat scrub desert to stony dunes. The road deteriorated for a few kilometres but there was little traffic so it wasn't too bad. It appeared that some attempt was being made at widening the road and then a little later the road improved some more.
We hadn't eaten breakfast and by 9.45 our tummies were rumbling so we pulled over at the roadside, boiled our Kelly kettle, and made breakfast. Then standing out of sight behind the truck we washed our faces and armpits, which made us smell and feel a little sweeter. We took the road to Dakhla at 11.00.
After about half an hour we came to our first Police check of the day, very up market, a small office and a typewriter. The young policeman on duty spoke very good English and after completing the usual formalities he sent us on our way. Just before Dakhla the road goes across vast sand flats where at one time the sea came in but we could only see it sparkling far off in the distance. Just outside the town we called into a small camp-site on the beach to see if there were any over-landers there, but we only found French and German tourists in Camper vans. We carried on until we came to another Police check point here they scrutinised our papers again. We enquired as to what the procedure was to join the military convoy to Mauritania. We were told to visit the Royal Gendarmerie, then to report to the Military police and lastly pay a visit it to customs.
It was now past midday and we knew everything would be closed for lunch until 3pm so we drove around the town locating each of the buildings that we would need to visit later on. Having sorted that out went and had a drink at a small pavement cafe. We parked next to another Landy a French registered Discovery. We decided that three guys sitting at another table were the occupants of the Disco, so we went over and asked them if they to were joining the convoy. They turned out to be a young student from Paris, driving an old Renault 9 which he intended selling in Mauritania, Andy a young Scottish hitch-hiker, and the owner of the Disco, a guy of about Steve's age, also Parisian and on his way to the Paris Dakar rally in Gao in Mali.
First of all we made our way to the Gendarmerie royal. This was a large impressive building at the top a long flight of stone steps. There we completed Passport formalities quite quickly and then crossed the town to the Military Headquarters. We parked outside and a soldier came over and checked the truck over, he had a look at Ollie's paperwork and then escorted us into the building and into a small room. We were directed to sit at an old fashioned wooden school desk where we sat side by side like a pair of superannuated school kids then we were given more forms to fill out. Also in the room with us were another six soldiers, sitting at various tables and desks. The soldier that had given me my form stood behind me and watched as I wrote out my details. When I had finished writing he looked over my form and told me that I had done very well, obviously I had passed the test. As we made our way back through the town to Customs what should we see but a yellow Toyota sounding its horn with Fillip and Nele waving out of the windows? We stopped for a quick chat and learned that they were also going on the next morning's convoy. They gave us directions to the camp site where they were staying. We said we'd see them there later and continued on our way to Customs. More forms to be filled in, and then an officer asked for our green card Steve handed it over and the guy looked at it for awhile and then told us it had expired that day. Panic, we thought this is the end of the road for us, but Allah was with us and after pondering it for a while he sent us on our way.
We made our way to the camp site and checked in. Fillip and Nele were there, also the two German boys, from Beu Jerif, riding the BMW motorbikes plus an assortment of cars, trucks and some old French Fire-engines. There was a small kitchen at one end of the site so I went there and cooked my Camel meat with veg and made a curry while Steve had a shower. Fillip told us that we would have to get photocopies of our documents to give to the police in the morning, so at six thirty, after a quick shower, we raced back into town. We drove around for some time looking for a shop that might do copying with out success then in desperation we stopped at a small shop selling electrical goods and in my broken French, managed to make them understand what I was looking for. The manager kindly offered to copy our papers for me and then refused to accept payment for it, the first Moroccan we have encountered who has done something for nothing.
We decided to have a meal at the cafe where we had our drink at lunchtime. This time we sat inside but felt rather out of place as we were the only Europeans there. We asked for chicken and rice, yes the waiter said, they had this, we also ordered a Fanta each as no alcohol is sold here. Some time later our waiter brought bread and two small dishes containing cooked and shredded beetroot, potato and carrot, this we assumed was the entree. Some time later a plate with a whole roast Chicken on it was placed in the centre of the table along with one knife and two very small dishes of chips. With difficulty we began to hack at the chicken and then ate the pieces with our fingers and then another small bowl of chips arrived, a very strange way to serve a meal indeed, but then, when in Rome!
We got back to camp at around nine and started to make up the bed for the night inside the truck. Fillip came over to show us some Photographs that had been developed that day. Among them we spotted a picture of Nick and Sarah beside their yellow, Camel Landy, It transpired that they had met them at the Green Diamond camp site at Fez. I then took this Photo over to the Campsite owner and asked him if he had seen them, he remembered them and said they had gone out on the previous Friday's convoy. We chatted with Fillip and Nele till nearly Midnight. The camp gossip was all about a young, pregnant, German woman, who also had six other children with her. The family were travelling in a Citroen saloon car, towing a trailer. She and her husband had tried to enter Mauritania the previous week and had been turned back. He had then left her at the campsite with only 80 Dirams and had returned to Rabat to obtain Visas. Apparently people on the camp site were providing the children with food. The general speculation was that he was a criminal on the run, overlanders do love to hypothesize. Day 19. 237 Miles
Tuesday 9th December.
The worry of our green card being out of date had made for a rather restless night and we woke at seven had a quick breakfast and had packed up and left the camp site by twenty past eight. Arriving at the assembly point we were directed to park with all the other vehicles around the side of the check point. Soon the officials arrived and started checking everyone's paperwork. We were then joined by the German bikers and the young French lad in the red Renault 9. Looking along the queue that was forming it was certainly a motley collection of vehicles and people. There were about 35 vehicles in total quite a few saloon cars (I wondered how they would get on when the going got tough) a couple of camper vans, several 4x4's and the Fire-Engines. Next they moved everyone out onto the main road and formed us into two long lines, great excitement as we thought we were at last, getting underway alas no such luck. Now the Police went through all our paperwork again but this time in more detail. While this was being done we started chatting to a Swiss guy parked next to us, he was driving a superbly kitted out Landy 110 and by the look of him, obviously an experienced overlander he was able to give us lots of tips and places to visit. He said he was meeting people in Dakar and had to be there by Saturday, he was going to have to go at rare old pace to make it on time. At half past ten the military arrived and we had a bit of a panic as we couldn't find our car papers, but sighed with relief when at last we found them, it's amazing how we can loose things in such a small space. So far we hadn't been asked for our Green card, thank goodness. To pass the time we sat and chatted to other overlanders. Andy the young Scottish hitch hiker told us how he had been duped by con men in Casablanca, they had assured him that they could get him on a ship to Dakar, in Senegal so he gave them one hundred pounds but never saw them again, poor lad.
Finally at eleven thirty we were formed into a long line leading down the main road and then a little later we were off. The column was led by the army in a land Rover going at a fair old pace, out over the peninsula from Dakhla, across the white sand flats and past the blue sea inlet, out into the desert. To me this was where the adventure really began, I really couldn't believe we were here and doing this. The day was hotting up as we headed out into the flat rocky, barren landscape. Here and there were huge white sand dunes and at times we had to detour off the road as some of these large dunes had drifted across the road? By 1 pm it was very hot and the convoy was moving very fast, it was going to be a very hard days driving for Steve. At a quarter past two the convoy stopped for a few minutes to let us stretch our legs and then we were off again. By then we had covered just over a hundred miles.
We had certainly witnessed some amazing terrain this day, huge rocky hills off in the distance, miles and miles of flat stony desert. We were driving close to the sea and there were miles and miles of white sandy beaches and blue, blue sea. At about 4.15 we stopped for another short toilet break and people wandering off in all directions, disappearing behind little hillocks and scrubby bushes. Someone said they thought that we might cross the border before dark but I didn't think so. The military didn't give us much time to rest and we were back on the road again ten minutes later. Around five we reached a small military out post. There was a fort up on a hill and just below this we pulled off the road into a rough camp site. All we could see was a large Marquee tent and a couple of half completed stone buildings, but no toilets or ablution facilities. The camp we were told was situated about five miles from the Minefields.
For about half an hour or so we just sat around recovering from the hard days driving, then we both set about organising camp for the night. I cooked up the camel curry and then spent the evening sitting around chatting with Andy and Fillip and Nele, finishing up our booze, which we were not allowed to take into Mauritania.
There was a big party going on at the camp of a bunch of French Car sellers, these were the guys with the Fire-Engines and there was much drinking and smoking pot. All around the camp people were sitting in small groups chatting, but we were so tired that we turned in at about nine o'clock, then around one thirty I was rudely awakened when Steve rushed outside to be sick, and then a little later in the night I also started feeling a bit off colour. I decided that it must have been the Camel curry and decided that I would dump the rest in the morning. Day 20.
Wednesday 10th December.
this morning we were both feeling decidedly rough. We decided not to have breakfast and quickly packed up the bedding. We transferred contents one of the twenty litre fuel cans into Ollie fuel tank. We tried to freshen ourselves up, but in the situation it was almost impossible, people were wandering off into the desert with shovels and toilet rolls. It wasn't the most pleasant of experiences.
By twenty past eight everyone was lining their vehicles up along the road, awaiting the arrival of the military. When the soldiers arrived, one of them was carrying a plastic carrier bag containing all our Passports so we then had to queue up and have them returned to us
The convoy finally rolled at nine thirty. It was a very bad road, lots of thick soft sand and rock. As usual the car dealers were driving really crazily, driving off the piste and racing down side of the column, considering that we were now going through the minefield and passing blown up and burnt out wrecks, you had to wonder at their mentality. We reached the last customs post which was a small stone hut just before the Moroccan border sand wall fortifications at ten thirty. The next two and a half hours were spent queuing up again to fill more forms and to give the soldiers back our Passports once again. The little stone hut had a small square window and everyone crowded around it trying to push their papers through. Inside there were two soldiers, one a Major, both of them very smart in full desert uniform, they were trying to cope with the deluge of paperwork, and it took ages.
Once everyone's paperwork had been processed it was time to cross the sand wall. The sand wall was exactly that, a wall made out of sand that has been bulldozed into position.
At the point were we were to drive through the sand has been flattened out but it was still very deep. One at a time, starting with the lead cars, drivers revved their engines and drove full pelt at the gap in the sand wall. With wheels spinning and sand flying, some got through and some got stuck and had to be pulled through but most of the 4x4's got through without any problem. We were about sixth in the line and good old Ollie, with a bit of urging, powered through. Once across we parked Ollie along the road then we walked back and sat on the sand wall to watch the fun. Cars that got stuck were pulled through by one of the French fire-Engines. The driver of which was completely out of his mind on pot and drove standing on the running board with one foot on the accelerator; he hadn't clue what he was doing. This wild man pulled the cars through one by one, each time getting a cheer from the onlookers but in his happy state, he pulled the bumper clean off one car. The sun was now high in the sky and it was very hot, but a stiff breeze kept us reasonably cool. We had heard stories of people having there cameras smashed for taking photographs so we kept our camera out of sight and just took a few surreptitious shots, but others were openly taking shots and the soldiers didn't seem to mind, I expect you just had to get the wrong guy and then, problems. Just after 2pm the last car was pulled through and now the Moroccan Army left us to our own devises, we got under way again heading through no-mans land toward the Mauritania border. Mileage for the previous two days 436