Ten green bottles .......

Before we take you for a morning walk into Tafraout town, here is a little glimpse of a corner of the campsite,that says so much about Morocco, where broken glass is everywhere under foot. Ten green bottles and then some, but an empty recycling bin. Ok before you inundate us with emails, yes we put
one there too!!
Suitably attired with longish clothing, so as not to offend the local populace, we scrounged a lift into the town with the site guardian. He drove a 38 year old Renault,held together with wire and duct tape, which, even with 21st century technology, a superb mechanic and a lenient MOT garage, would never, ever have passed the test., I had to hang on to the handbrake, which almost came through the floor, while Sue got in, because he nipped off for an animated chat with a friend, leaving us on a slope, sliding inexorably towards the main road!!
Back to Tafraout with open fronted shops, mostly catering for the Moroccans. Here you have a cascade of shoes. In this region, the Amelan tribe is dominant and they wear these round toed slippers and the women dress from head to foot in black.


Plenty of fruit and veg to choose from. You are given a bowl and then load it up with all that you want and it is sold by the kilogram, irrespective of the contents.Here we have Tafraout's answer to Halfords. Anything to keep an ageing car on the road can be bought from this guy.A river flows through the centre of the town in winter but as you can see from Sue's progress along the river bed, it has totally dried up now.

 Ornate metal working can be found on windows and fences of many houses and it's in small workshops like this that the intricate designs are constructed.

Finally we have an opportunity to rest our weary legs and enjoy a huge, freshly squeezed orange drink.

Not wishing to trust to another scary ride, we demolished the juice and set off in the heat of the day, to walk the two kilometres back home. Mad dogs etc. etc.

In trepidation!!

We had only been there three nights, but the send off we received, from both staff and fellow campers, was as if we were everybody's best friend , and cats too. There must have been five of them waiting for Sue's milk and yoghurt pobs before we departed
Today, we left the security of the coastal towns and villages, and drove eastwards into the Ante Atlas, to our destination for tonight, Tafraout. But as you can see, a large hole in the road was our first hurdle.


The journey along the R104 was amazing, if not a little hair- raising, at times. We used words like awesome, spectacular, breath-taking over and over again. At times, we were even speechless, by the enormity of the sculpted landscape that engulfed us and at other times, when it rolled, fold upon fold into the distance, we wondered where the highland would end.

JWe climbed a steep mountain pass, although the signs were clear, the steep drops were totally devoid of safety barriers. Then we crossed an arid, barren plateau and bounced along a single- track strip of tarmac, with no sign of habitation for endless miles. It did however cross our minds as to what the escape plan might, be should we break down!!

 Suddenly a change in the landscape brought us into boulder country. Huge stones, smoothed by wind-blown sand, perched at dangerously, precarious angles all around us and threatening to topple with the slightest nudge from a passing goat!!

It was dull and 21*C when we left Tiznit and amazingly, forty kilometres later, it was 32* even though we had climbed over 2000metres and by lunch it had reached 36 at Camping Tazka.
We are parked in the middle of a huge granite cirque,and all around us there are jagged peaks, deep gulleys, knife edged ridges and the sillouettes of Palm trees. The dark skies of a storm are looming but the humidity remains high. Thunder begins to echo around this huge natural basin,bouncing off the sheer cliff faces and silencing the bird song.

Evening falls and campers are cooking, others share their days activities,and the ochre

 colours in the rock begin to turn a dark shade of pink with the dying rays of the sun.
Finally, the oppressive heat of the day becomes more acceptable and we stir into life.

Flowers and fenetres

An update on our window covers. Here they are! Arrived in a plastic bag, on the bicycle handlebars of the very pleasant young man, who had made them.

Talking of young men, as you do when you get to our age, one of the campsite "Guardians" brought us a posy of flowers to put on the dining table.

Transport avec le differance, on the road to Tiznet

Today has been an exploring day. We have explored the possibility of having window protectors, made by a local tradesman. The perspex of the living area windows can become friable in the intense heat and eventually shatter, so with these covers,

 for when we are parked up, we are truly Moroccan Intrepids caring for our diesel fuelled camel!
We have abandoned the camping table and chairs at the site and driven 16 kms. to explore  the beach at Agalou Plage. In that short distance, we have lost the searing heat of the morning in Tiznit and replaced it with the humidity of the coast, where once again, the mist has descended.

As ever, the obligatory camel and its owner, await a customer.

There is no scintillating news today, but we would like to share with you, some of the reasons why driving over here can be somewhat hair raising. The ensuing pictures are methods of transportation which we have had to swerve to avoid, cursed, sucked in our bum cheeks to squeeze past (ever mindful that Sue is in the suicide seat ) or just found extremely amusing. None more so than the ubiquitous Grand Taxi. An old Merc, into which seven people are crammed and delivered to their various destinations as if in a bus.

 It amazes us that nothing seems to topple off over loaded vans, as they scuttle around corners or the hand carts don't fall apart under the weight of produce that they carry. Similarly, how the cyclists survive riding into on-coming traffic, swerving to avoid the fists of angry passengers defies belief. Zebra crossings count for nothing other than a death wish and dogs, exhausted by the heat, just abandon all hope and sleep as a pack in the road.




As we said yesterday, the road to Tiznet was long and straight. Oh, no long and winding road for us!

.

The vegetation became more sparse and the depth of sand at the roadside became deeper.An oasis appeared and the small palmeries reminded us of our desert adventures from last year



As a postscript to today's blog, we would like to share our wine tasting experience with you. Out first bottle of Moroccan plonk has just been decorked. There is a bouquet of battery acid, combined with the exquisite fruitiness of meths. Adding a dash of chilled water makes it more palatable. A perfect accompaniment for an unrecognisable fillet of meat. Should our lips feel numb??

 



Tiznit

It is a warm, sultry evening, as we sit outside the van, glass of wine in hand. Beyond the enclosed walls of this municipal campsite, the sounds of traffic and people,mingle with wailing cats and the call to prayer from a nearby mosque. This is Tiznit, the most non-tourist and typically Moroccan town that we have visited. It is located inland from the coast but you can feel the proximity of both the sea and the desert. Freshly caught fish can be bought in the medina and the orange, Saharan sand  coats the ground. The disputed land of  The Western Sahara is a mere 200 miles further south.
We have spent  time wandering the streets and souks, where friendly Moroccans have greeted us warmly and said " Morocco welcomes you"

 

Onward and Upwards

Our protracted stay at Camping Calme was short lived because we get a bit twitchy to be on the road again. I hear a song there.
So, having stowed our gear in an orderly fashion, in the rear ( it's the only way to survive in our restricted living space), we were on our way further south, towards Agadir. Never having journeyed this far down the coast, we didn't  know what to expect.
Being Sunday, it was market day in the larger towns, and the streets and dusty pavements  were full of activity. People wandered in the road pushing hand carts and ignoring the traffic, smoke rose from the kebab stands, the smell of spices filled the air and a solitary woman could be seen buying fresh fruit and veg. Yes, in this male dominated landscape, Sue was out there boosting the Moroccan economy.
The argon trees were bare, but we saw donkeys with double panniers taking the nuts for oil extraction. Then the trees became thinner on the ground as the aridity increased and the landscape became steeper. We began to climb up our first mountain pass with its many twists and turns, and were thankful for a decent surface on the N1 which hugs the rugged coastline.
Once we were back on the lowland plain, running next to the sea, the colour of the water was a vivid turquoise, capped by the brilliance of the white - topped breakers.
We stopped for lunch at the roadside and paid a "Guardian" for the privilege.
Watching the families having their day on the beach, made you realise that the world over, kids make sandcastles and have donkey rides, mums look after the food and dads lie under the brollies!
Our campsite for tonight is half way up a hillside at Terre d' Ocean, near the village of Taghazout. The panorama is spectacular but at one point a sea fret washed over us, cooling the air and totally obliterating the view. Then a short while later, we were above this fog, looking down onto a grey cushion, tinged pink by the setting sun.