An eventful day.

We woke with the sunrise, fixed the leaking water tank, and set off for Marrakech. Not been travelling long when two rather handsome young men in uniform flagged us down. As there have been frequent police checks throughout our trip, we thought nothing of it, smiled and waved. This time we were not allowed to proceed. This time a speed camera appeared, with a picture of Delfin on the screen. Ooops, I had been caught!!
We had to hand over all the paperwork.The senior one said "300 dirhams now " "60 not 70 here "
I bowed and scraped, mea culpad and pardonez moid so much, that eventually he gave me back my passport with a 200 dirham note inside and he kept the other 100 note. Glad I didn't ask for a receipt. The pistol in its white holster, made him look like Wyatt Earp!
Today we were attempting one of the highest mountain passes in the High Atlas, the Tizi-n-Tichka.
Getting into a tizi has taken on a whole new meaning!

These are the mountains that have to be crossed if we are to reach Marrakech tonight. The colours of the rocks ranged from shades of red and brown to green and yellow.

The road is the N9, a major routeway but not with the safety barriers or passing places that you are familiar with . There are seriously deep chasms and evidence of landslides too.

That's our road ,,twisting its way ever upwards

There are always those who choose to take the easy option.These smiling lasses ran their own version of The Body Shop. They were selling argan oil, musk and amber at the summit. Needless to say, we succumbed to their charms and made a purchase.



On the way down we drove through mist and a little rain, which cured us of another problem. Ever since the sandstorm, Delfin has had the airbag light lit on the dashboard. A French guy had told us not to worry about it unless of course we had an accident!!

Bad hair day for this lady trudging down the hill.

Finally, after several arduous hours of sharp bends, crazy overtaking by lorries and coaches, avoiding the odd stone hurled by children and seeing a corpse being taken from its home in an open box, wrapped in a green and gold blanket, we reached the lowland and Marrakech.


Our first views of the city were these slums next to the rich man's golf course.

Then all along the outside of the city walls, there was a seething mass of humanity buying and selling just about anything that could raise a few dirhams.



We are undecided about whether to spend money on another guided city tour. We feel overwhelmed by the haggling and bartering required before a purchase can be made. The street vendors descend on tourists like bees round a tourist honey pot. The sea beckons.

Only the tumbleweed is missing.

As one enters or departs a Moroccan province, you pass through a set of gates which appear to be in the middle of nowhere. The middle of nowhere just about sums up our day. The temperature was high, the land was flat and the road very straight, so incredibly monotonous after all our previous exciting experiences.

Every now and again the steering wheel was turned slightly to avoid a rocky mound or suicidal goat, but the endless plain continued.

There are always people walking by the roadside, carrying animal feed ,going to the mosque or greeting friends. There is virtually no mechanisation. Donkey or man power.

 The map shows the Valley of the Kasbahs and we thought it sounded quite romantic.However when we got to it, there was a line of mainly modern properties interspersed with ruins!

The Royal Golf Club of Ouazazate is found along the shores of Lake Mansour Eddahbi but further down the road are migrant Berbers living in squalor.

Finally the film capital of Morocco. It was here in Ouazazate that Russell Crowe made "Gladiator"

Before we left the city to find our stop for the night, we had a minor encounter with this chap at the traffic lights. He was struggling to carry all the planks and one almost shot through the windscreen

He was most apologetic and we left him to battle on.

A walk in a Moroccan garden ..... not what you might expect.

Yesterday we took time out to relax and chill after the drama on the mountain. Aziz took us to see what takes place within a palmerie. Needless to say the existence of any cultivation depends on the presence of water, supplied by a river , which flows in winter, or from an underground water table. Here at Sidi Albelali, they have both.

Seguias are the channels that criss- cross the oasis bringing water to the various crops. Each garden is separated from another by sun- baked, mud banks, along which one walks to move around the

palmerie. They were first built several generations ago and still exist today. There is wheat, couscous, maize, cabbage and apricots

. These " gardens " belong to the village and everyone does their share of the work, then in October all the dates are stripped from the palms and the community get together to, hopefully, celebrate a good harvest.
The air is full of bird song and egrets wade on the flooded land. It was incredibly peaceful.

We crossed the river, which at this time of year is a mere trickle, by walking along a fallen palm trunk...shades of "Swallows and Amazons" and then climbed a bank to be confronted by a deserted village.

 Apparently as the community grew in size and became more prosperous, a new village was built on the other side of the valley.
So today has been really interesting and enjoyable, especially as we collected all our information and asked our questions in French.

Fatima, Aziz's aunty, with the bag of maize seeds that she is about to plant. Aziz is up the tree finding us some ripe apricots

The puncture saga!

Sorry but this will be the abridged version as I have somehow managed to delete the whole post for today. A gendarme directed us up a very narrow lane because of road works, trouble was that the road had a steep incline, not much tarmac and a lot of loose gravel. Delfin ,because of her weight, does not cope well on such surfaces and I don't do steep or high, especially when all that exists between me and free-falling hundreds of metres is a foot high barrier. There was nowhere to turn around, so up and up we drove, with Sue making helpful comments like" keep staring at the tarmac " and " we'll be on the inside coming down", whilst she lurched about the van being snap happy with the camera. Suddenly, around a blind bend, there appeared a white van man, yes they have them in Morocco too, steaming down the mountain, causing me to swing out onto the gravel, towards the edge . Before the expletives had cleared the air, he was gone.

No barrier here. Panic, hand gripping the wheel.

At the campsite, Sue noticed that the rear offside tyre was going down. A French man came to assist, pouring scorn on our pathetic excuse for a jack, then a guy called Aziz said his brother had a tyre repair shop a hundred metres away so before we knew what was happening, the tyre was off and on its way to Ahmed. He struggled to remove the tyre because he had never come across Tyron bands before. I could have cried when I saw it lying in a tangled spaghetti type pile on the floor. He had patched our new tyre but it still leaked air so he had another plan. I shuddered. Off he went in a taxi  to the nearest large town, and found a very good heavy duty, truck tyre, in a scrap yard, which was our size. Back he came, sat it in a tub of water. " No bubbles "

Ahmed finds a suitable tyre!

This was to be our new spare wheel, the original spare was lowered from its cradle and became the punctured one's replacement. Job done!! Somewhat costly, not just the repair, but the extra damage caused by his lack of experience with motorhome tyres. But he and his brother were very thorough in ensuring that we would be safe on Morocco's roads. Final comment, I blame the white van man for the whole affair!

Well done Ahmed and Aziz, Shukran to you both.

After the sandstorm but before the puncture.

No sign of the giant sand dunes. A total whiteout. This was the view from our window at 3pm yesterday afternoon. The beautiful blue swimming pool turned brown as the swirling sand dropped to the bottom and eucalyptus leaves gathered on the surface. By the time we got back to Delfin, we could write you a message in the sand on the cooker lid and Sue had collected sufficient sand to fill a bucket.!

Once we had spent a couple of hours shaking bedding and sweeping through, we set off north and left

our Saharan experience behind but not before we found a baby camel by the roadside. Ahh!

Back to Erfoud and left onto the R702, a somewhat bumpy ride to Tinedad. Once again there were wilderness stretches and startling lunar landscapes.In one small  town it was market day and in another there was no sign of life at all.  

 Sue's highlight can be seen below. She has reached this great age and for the first time ever she bought a whole water melon. I watched as she made her choice then struggled to carry it across the road.

  Tonight we are at a site close to the Todra Gorge but the steep climb up a mountain side, on a narrow strip of tarmac and its effect on the driver will have to wait for another day.

News flash !!

We are confined to the van by a sand storm. 42* C and we daren't venture outside until it passes.
It really is a whiteout. We can see no further than the kasbah 's outer wall. Gone are the dunes and palm trees. A layer of orange dust covers all our surfaces and has got into places we never knew existed!!
We truly understand why small communities build walls, why desert tribesmen wear turbans that can be unraveled to cover their faces and why camels have long eye lashes. It's for days like this.
Kindle and cake until everything calms down.

Kasbah Capers!

We are treating ourselves to some real downtime, here at the Kasbah, at the end of the world. Yesterday afternoon we used the hotel pool and splashed about to cool off, then sat in the shade of the tea room for refreshments.

 Note no alcohol! We sup that in the privacy of Delfin! Then in the evening we tarted ourselves up and went for diner ...Moroccan salad, chicken on a skewer and fries. So much better than cooking in what had become an oven of a motorhome.
The service was excellent, the atmosphere relaxed. We were spoilt. The lighting around the pool added to the magic of our location Dining al fresco was a delight.

Hand embroidered cushion covers and tablecloths and a couple of souvenirs all with traditional patterns

The night was very humid in the van and we slipped and slithered in our own perspiration waiting for the occasional  breeze to filter through the fly screens. Eventually, around three pm there was a very recognisable drop in the temperature. Bliss, then sleep.
Today we have done pretty much the same, lounging and endeavouring to keep cool. This morning was cloudy and looked like rain, but it actually fell in the Atlas we were told. Sue was up early trying for a desert sunrise but to no avail so hopefully she will get a sunset tonight.

Just like the Pony Express of old, the post must get through.
Tomorrow we head north to Erfoud , then turn left on to the R703, which on the map is a yellow road, so there could be more excitement ahead." As long as it's not one of those  b....y high passes" says Sue.

It's really quite biblical !!

Decided that the high pressure sales tactics weren't for us so we beat a hasty retreat from Meski, up a very steep hillside, doing a certain amount of slipping and sliding, as the road surface was difficult for Delfin at 3.850 tonnes, complete with a 60 litre tank of fresh water pulling her backwards.
A lady standing in a tin tub  stamping her washing, reminded Sue that she was keen to strip the beds and make the van smell wholesome again.

Almost as soon as we were on our way, the harshness of the scenery was apparent. There were black rocks and boulders, with no sign of cultivation . Without warning, there appeared a cavernous gorge visible from our high driving seats.It was many metres deep and within it was a trickle of water.

You know those dates that we buy at Christmas with the camel picture on the box.....well they come from here! 

Oasis du Ziz



Even in temperatures of 38*C, firewood is required for the bread ovens.

The last town of any size along the N13 is Merzuga.



The city gate into Merzuga





After this point there are no shops, garages, supermarkets or watering holes until you reach Erg Chebbi and the end of civilisation as we know it!



And there through the heat haze is our first glimpse of the Sahara desert!! Yes all vehicles have to give way to camels even in the middle of nowhere.

Erg Chebbi

Bedouin  in the orange sand

We are just metres from the dunes and I can't believe that all those years spent teaching youngsters about this hostile environment from text books and videos and finally I am able to experience it for myself. At one point today it was 40*C both inside and outside the van!

So to bring our amazing day to an end, here is Sue washing our bedding and getting it ironed dry in half an hour .When the wind blows it is like a tumble drier.