Morocco

Our first stop was Chefchaouen up in the Rif mountains. As we made our way there it was certainly obvious that we were in Africa and not the Costa del Sol anymore. We passed countless onion sellers by the side of the road as well as donkeys and mules tethered by their legs. The scenery was great and the temperature had dropped, which we were all pleased about. We fully recommend Camping Azilan which overlooks the valley, surrounding hills and marijuana plantations! (The toilets leave something to be desired! Welcome to sanitation, Morrocan style!)

Chefchaouen is a great introduction to Morocco. A short walk from the campsite via the cemetery leads to the pale blue painted alleys, the medina (old town) and Kasbah (market). The atmosphere is very relaxed (it might have something to do with those plantations up in the hills!) We were confused with the language which is a mixture of French, Spanish and Arabic, so we used all three! Here we were introduced to mint tea, more mint than tea in one glass and loads of sugar, surprisingly good. In the evenings we were serenaded by howling dogs and love struck donkeys, a great nights sleep was had by all!

Here we met our first other overland group, Nomadic from the UK. A mad Aussie called Brendan, mechanic and driver and his girlfriend Rachel the tour guide entertained us with tales of their current cargo of 20 somethings that had never camped before. We offered them beer and counseling!

The road to Fez was longer than expected due to taking a wrong turn up a one way street and ending up in the middle of the market. (Again nothing to do with Tubbs or having the map the wrong way round AJ!)There was no room for man or beast to move let alone a 3 tonne landrover. It was special experience, shall we say intimate!

W e got to Fez and we got lost again, arrrrrgggggghhh!Brendan the Aussie recommended the campsite Diamont Vert which he said was next to the expensive and unhelpful Camping International site. An Aussies idea of next door is different to ours, it was 2.5 km away! We eventually got found by the campsite owner on a street somewhere in Fez. He must have been tipped off that there was some lost tourists in the area due to us driving past the same houses so many times!

Diamont Vert Camping was about 80 dirhams (£5) a night for 3 people, the landy and electricity. They have a massive pool and flumes but we were unable to use the pool due to the hundreds of people that were using it during their holidays. They had also put on dancing competitions, karaoke and breakdancing! It was quite a shock to see the ladies in bikinis and the guys spinning on their heads as we thought it was quite a traditional area.

Slade saw a landcruiser with zebra stripes and figured it was in distress so went over to offer some assistance! The owners of the landcrusier were a lovely German couple called Bettina and Clement who had just finished touring Morocco. We invited them back that evening for a few beers (Clement shared his non chemical Becks and we shared our chemical San Miguel - these Germans are fussy!)

In order to see Fez you need a guide. The next morning Bettina and Clement had organized a german speaking guide and they allowed us to gate crash, as he also spoke English. We all bundled into the back of the Zebra, Slade covered his face with shame!

The town of Fez is divided into three parts. The Medina, the middle and new city. We strolled around the Medina for several hours. There is a maze of alleyways here so we were very glad we had the guide as you will definitely get lost even with GPS, map and compass. They have everything here from hedgehogs to mobile phones. Animal rights are pretty low on the agenda. We saw an array of handicrafts from weavers to potters all practicing their trade in the traditional style. No machines in sight. Tubbs and Kriss were sold on two head scarves and were shown how to wrap them on their heads in preparation for the sahara. We were later told that only the men wear the turban and the women simply wear scarves! Oops, but we look cool!

The dye pots in the tannery are worth a mention. They have been around since 400 ad and the leather staining process remains the same. It involves using pigeon poo and urine to create ammonia and yes it did smell! A must see!

Drama struck later on as we browsed in a jewelry stall. A fight started outside which involved a knife and an axe. One guy was injured but we could not tell how badly as they sped off as quickly as it had begun. The streets quickly refilled and life returned to normal. Our guide reappeared, he had deserted us during the fight!

When we returned to the campsite another land rover had arrived. It was up on Jacks and we lost Slade and Clement immediately. The land rover was owned by Pat, a Frenchman, who was tightening a wheel bearing. After all giving advice on the proper tightness we invited Pat and his wife Tina and their friend Ann over for a drink later. They had covered the Sahara extensively as had Clement in Libya and Algeria so we picked up some good advice. Ended up with a bit of a party that night as Brendan and Rachel had joined us all, desperately seeking another beer . What a great bunch of overlanders!

We exchanged email addresses and numbers and set off to Casablanca, where disaster struck. Again, we got lost in the centre of Casablanca. First we followed the signs to the wrong airport (but in our defense there are three) a 60 km detour led us into the centre of Casablanca. We eventually found the campsite Camping Oasis which was anything but! The toilets were enough to scare the bogey man! Whilst on the subject of toilets, Tubbs decided to break one and Kriss to sit on one all night! The next morning the old campsite owner started raving at us about the broken toilet . He was shouting in French and Slade attempted to reason with him in broken French, English, Afrikans and eventually sign language but this did not really help matters, so we gave up. He wanted a thousand dirhams (£80), no chance. Especially as the toilet, in Tubbs defense was already slightly broken!

After the argument we went to the Mauritanian embassy which was luckily just around the corner. Unfortunately it was Mohammed VI, the Kings, birthday so it was closed, typical. Back to the campsite we decided we had better stay put until the morning, even with bad vibes from the owner. Poor Krissy was laid out in the tent with occasional fireman style descents of the ladder and sprints to the toilet (she was glad they were western style , little things in life are so important. Unfortunately there was only one now due to the toilet incident the night before!) Slade went out and found a Plomier, plumber, and ended up negotiating for a toilet lid to get a rough idea of a price! What a great day!

We met a British couple Sam and Jenny traveling with their two year old daughter Milly. They had got this far in a Ford Transit van and were having a great time on the road. Although Milly had taken serious offense to the call to pray from the mosque, which was next door to the campsite!

The next day we left the oasis, not and paid the owner an extra 200 dirhams for the toilet and left, good riddance! Not a recommended site! We applied for our visa for Mauritania which only took 4 hours in which time we saw some of Casablanca and the Hassan II mosque, most impressive.

Preceeded to drive to Marrakesh, a hair raising introduction to Moroccan style driving! Krissy says the Burn Out team should do their research out here! Currently in a great campsite, with huge pool and shop. Unfortunately, no water in the pool and only bread and coke in the shop! Oh well, can not complain.

Updated 29/08/03 

Next morning we caught a taxi into Marrekesh in order to go to the post office. No post for us so we headed into the Djemma el-Fna market place in the middle of the Medina. Countless orange juice sellers were there as well as snake charmers and unfortunately monkeys on chains as well as other animals in cages. Be warned take a photo and you will pay. There is a great bustling atmosphere here and we really needed more time to see it properly but we wanted to head onto Jebel Toubkal.

Jebel Toubkal is the highest mountain in West Africa. The drive to Imlil is pretty easy going but once you are through the village a tiny gravel mountain pass with sheer drop offs leads to the next village of Aremd. It was certainly a white knuckle ride and Krissys finger prints can still be seen on the dashboard! You cannot drive further up the mountain than Aremd as the road turns into a mountain path. We stayed at a lovely campsite and got treated to a fantastic Tagine for the three of us, full of veggies, olives and meat. We spent the rest of the evening playing snakes and ladders and cards.

Fuelled by the Tagine we headed off up Toubkal on Sunday morning. The summit takes 2 days but we decided to see how far we could get in one. We were offered a mule each for 200 dirhams but we could not bring ourselves to burden these animals any more than they already are. Its hard life being a mule around here, let alone carrying a South African up a mountain! We reached base camp after about 5 hours. Great views but we could not see the top. Apparantly you can only see it about 2 hours from the summit. That evening we found it hard to ascent the ladders into our tents.

Next morning it was back to Marrakesh to check the post. Disaster strikes again. Krissy and Tubbs had successfully completed the process of sending a parcel to England and trying desperately to collect a parcel from the Pickfords (the whole process taking about an hour). Tubbs decided to give a beggar lady a couple of dirhams and then headed off with Krissy to Mcdonalds to use the facilities. As we entered the smell of chips was too enticing so we headed for the counter. Tubbs went to pay and realized she did not have a wallet anymore. It was gone, never to be seen again along with the money recently put in there. The old lady is ruled out as the pickpocket so the thief remains a mystery. A panic was on to find a phone card to phone Tubbs mum to cancel the card. Luckily managed to do this quickly and hopefully got away lightly. Pickpockets are rife here and you really need to keep an eye on your stuff.

Tried to source some bits for the land rover from a parts dealer, they did not have it but they knew of a man who knew a man, who knew a man who might have it. We followed a bloke through the back streets of Marrakesh, as he had insisted that he could get us a new part. We ended up in a breakers yard (suspect). He finally turned up with a greasy, second hand part, not better than the one we already had. Only after Slade had pointed out that the part was left hand not right hand did we manage to get back on our way! We went back to the campsite where we stayed a few days ago.

That evening we met a French family (2 adults and 2 children) traveling Morocco on a motorbike and side car! It was no ordinary machine but precision made. It had rear wheel steering, complete independent drive to the side car and was very flash! We headed back to Marrakesh with them for the evening and a Spanish group also staying at the campsite. The Spanish guys had just come from Mauritania and Senegal and informed us that for the first time ever there had been flooding in parts of Mauritania and Mali! (Now that is climate change, rain in the desert). Apparently some roads are blocked so we need to keep an eye on the situation. Can we have anymore bad luck today?

Marrakesh is a different place at night. The market place was transformed into countless food stalls, orange men, story tellers, kids boxing, Berber ladies decorating hands and feet, snake charmers, drummers, dancers and hundreds of people everywhere (we kept a close eye on the remaining wallets!)

The post still had not arrived the next day and the wallet had not reappeared at the post office or Macdonalds so we preceded via the Tizi n Ticha Pass to the Gorge du Dades. A long, winding very scenic route lined with guys selling amethysts and other rocks which glittered red, green and yellow. Very tempting to stop. On refueling at Boumalne Dades we met a British lady living here running 4x4 expeditions in the gorges. She just happened to know Paul and Kevin from Footloose 4x4. What a small world.

The Dades Gorge is really worth a visit. The road climbs with spectacular rock cliffs on either side and lush green vegetation in the valley. Its very Indiana Jones country. We spent a night at a lovely hotel (campsite at the rear) which was owned by a very friendly man who gave us a thousand welcomes.

We decided to take the Piste (off road track) between the Dades and Todra gorge. However, on passing the same place three times and waving at the same people as we drove past we decided to ask for directions. We got three different sets of directions but finally managed to ascertain, from an English speaking guide, that the pass was actually closed due to the recent bad weather. The decision was made to cross over at Augodal, 60 km further on past Msemir. It was a very winding and bumpy track and went up to 2800m. The views were amazing. We saw no one except camel and goat herders and two Polish motorcyclists! Saying that as you pass through the villages the kids will come running out all wanting to say hello and wave. They also want stylos (pens)or cigarettes. We do not want to encourage the begging by offering them what they want but it is still hard to turn down such young, needy faces. On descending into the Todra Gorge Sid had an unfortunate meeting with a large all wheel drive lorry. As there was no room to pass Slade reversed back up the narrow track. In his impatience to get past the lorry scraped the awning on the side and slightly tore it.

We spent the night in the middle of the Todra Gorge, sheer rock faces on either side. We were entertained by three young blokes who ran the place. The drums came out and Krissy and Tubbs did some jamming!

In the morning we decided to take the Piste from Tinehir to Nekob. We have the route description and GPS co-ordinates laid out for us in Chris Scotts, Sahara Overland book. The route takes 5 or 6 hours to cover rutted tracks and steep mountain inclines. I know we keep saying the scenary is fantastic but it truly was on this route, especially the Tizi n Tazazert Pass. It reminded us of America as it was such a vast mountainous region. This is what true overlanding is about. Slade was happy to be finally on the piste!

We are back! Over three weeks has gone past since we have had the opportunity to stop and take the time to write the diary. We have driven practically everyday and when we have stopped there has either been too much sand, wind or lack of electricity or light to hook up and write up the days adventures.  In summary we have covered over seven thousand miles since we have left England, which has taken us through Morocco, the Western Sahara and Mauritania to reach our current location, Bamako in Mali. We have driven through a minefield, crossed the Sahara with a boat, had dinner in a sandstorm, discussed the merits of dire straits with Moroccan border control, met some crazy Europeans and experienced driving conditions which can be loosely compared with the Camel Trophy and the Paris - Dakar race!

We have also decided on a route to South Africa after changing our minds countless times due to border closures between Chad and Sudan and time, money and security worries regarding the European and Middle East option. We are going to head for Ghana via Mauritania, Mali and Burkina Faso.  We have heard that there is now a peace agreement in Western Sudan and the border has reopened so we intend to then drive to Chad, enter Sudan and drive down the east coast of Africa, as originally planned.......we'll see how long this plan last for!

So where were we......We reached Zagora in the south of Morocco and the temperatures had risen into the forties. Upon seeing a campsite with swimming pool we made a swift decision to stop for the night.  From Zagora we were contemplating taking the piste to Foum-Zguid (130km) rather than drive the 200 plus km via Agdz on the tarmac.  However, the campsite owner informed us that the piste was very bad and it was easy to get lost as there were many tracks crossing it. With our track record with directions and no GPS coordinates we decided to get a second opinion. Whilst waiting for the swimming pool to fill (possibly 3 days rather than 3 hours as promised by the owner) we met a German family.  We have to mention their car which was a very fancy four wheel drive Porsche, 400 brake horse power, on board GPS and all the overland luxuries you could need. He had only had it three weeks and had already taken into the desert and got it stuck on a sand dune. As he said, 'this is what I bought it for, no point not making use of it' Fair enough.  He also confirmed that the track was rocky, unclear and not worth the time that it would take.

We were yearning for a swim due to all the empty pools we were encountering, so the German family told us of some hidden water falls, just passed Foum-Zguid. We eagerly anticipated the pools, as again it was over 40 degrees and had been driving for about seven hours. The water falls were indeed hidden as we never found them.

We spent the night at the municipal camping in Tata, very nice and quiet, especially as we were the only ones there. Another thing, the ground was concreted entirely, so watch out if you have a ground tent. The toilets were very clean and new but nothing seemed to work, the taps did not turn off and the toilets did not flush. Tubbs especially is getting very paranoid about breaking toilets as we go along.

We pushed onto Guelmin and Fort Bou Jerif. This place is really in the middle of no where, miles of undulating hills and sandy shrubbery. It can only be reached by tracks but luckily someone had painted arrows on rocks, which reassured us we were going the right way. Just when we thought we were really lost the Fort appeared from no where, lovely looking buildings, which included a hotel, a motel, a restaurant, a shop and a place to camp, all the accommodation anyone could desire. We were determined to have our swim and as the fort was only fifteen kilometers from the sea, we obtain directions and headed off. One hour later we arrived and sprinted into the water, hurrah, it was only sixteen degrees but heh it was just like swimming at home.

The boss man of Fort Bou Jerif was away, so Peter the relief manager was in charge, an extremely charming French man. We also met Bruno who could take tourists sand buggy racing along the beach. They invited us to watch the rugby that evening as France was playing England. It was a great treat to watch television and sit on a couch. Unfortunately no beer or biltong but you can not have it all.

Tensions were high in the room; the French were on one side and the English on the other, with the South African in the middle, who was represented by the referee. Unfortunately the French won, we blame the ref but it was a good game!

We had been driving all week, so we had the weekend here before the next long push through the Western Sahara and into Mauritania.

The Western Sahara starts from Tan Tan. From there to Nouadhibou in Mauritania it is nearly twelve hundred kilometers, so a couple of days drive at least. The whole region has a military presence due to the on going ownership dispute in the area, Morocco wants it but so does the Polisario (Popular Front for the Liberation of Western Sahara). This area was our first experience of check points which seemed to be every five kilometers along the road, very frustrating. However, it was quite comical as they could not understand why Tubbs was not married and did Slade have two wives.

About thirty kilometers after Tan Tan, fuel is subsidized by the government, so we decided to fill up. It was 2.95 dirams (18 pence by litre) nice and cheap.

There is not much to see for miles as it was very flat, loads of dust, wind and a humid heat which felt as if you were being blow dried. The road luckily ran next to the coast which afforded a welcome cool breeze as well as views of many ship wrecks. A pretty interesting area, well Tubbs thought it was interesting.

First stop Laayoune, no camping was available but apparently there was camping thirty five kilometers further south. We were fortunate to find camping Nil, aptly named as it happened. The place was deserted, no tourists, is anyone out there? Unfortunately it was the best accommodation in town, so we decided to stay.

The wind blew off the sea at an incredible rate, so we made use of the empty Berber tents to prepare a meal. Food a la sand. Local people use the sight as well and Tubbs ended up playing pool with them, England versus Morocco, incredibly England managed to win.

Next stop Dakhla, another seven hour drive on the hot and dusty road. We had an amusing conversation at the Gendarmie (police) today, the officer engaged Slade in conversation. 'Where are you going', 'Senegal' Slade replied, 'oh, a long way from me, like the song from Dire Straits', Slade was now confused but agreed and showed him our Mark Knopler Cd. This went down a treat and we were waved on by a very happy guard, another surprising experience.   

In Dakhla we looked for turbo oil for the landy as we could not find any in Morocco, alas there is none here either. We treated ourselves to a fancy meal that evening, fish tagine, pizza del la mer and chips, lovely.

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Slade met a man that night call Aziz, who informed him of a dutch couple in a zebra painted Land Cruiser, who had passed through the day before. In exchange for their website address Slade gave him half a bottle of whisky which was quickly put under his robes.   

As usual there was no one at the campsite, which was meant to be a meeting place for overlanders going to Nouadhibou. In the past you had to join a convoy from Dakhla to the Moroccan border due to security risks. However, since this convoy has stopped, the popularity of this campsite seems to have decreased. The reason why we are searching for companions is not because we are sick of each other already but to get to Nouakchott the capital of Mauritania, you need to drive for two days down the beach and is best to do this with another four wheel drive, in case of any problems.

We reached Fort Guerguarat, Morocco's border control. Slade disappeared into a little hut and came out with exit stamps and two friends. The guards had a look at Sid and were not going to check him until we said we had been to Chefchaouen (the cannabis area of Morocco). 'Ahh Chefchaouen' they bellowed, 'no, no we do not smoke' says Slade, 'ahh Chefchaouen is good no' this went on for some time and we eventually left Morocco.

GPS SUMMARY

Mauritanian Embassy, Casablanca

N33º56.363'' W07º64.579''

Casa Oasis, Casablanca (Handy for the Mauritanian Embassy which is just around the corner but we don't recommend it for any other reason)

N33º56.621'' W07º64.579''

Marrakesh Camping

N31º71.897'' W07º98.210''

Jebel Toubkal Camping

N31º12.201'' W07º92.249''

Fort Bou Jerif, near Guelmin

N29º08.227'' W10º33.134''