Into Mauritania

The Mauritanian border now seems like a breeze but under the sun, with time passing and with them asking endless questions, it was a drag. They gave the cars only 7 days to be in Mauritania when they already had a month tourist visas to go about the county. So, all very upset, they drove off to Nouadibou after some customs officers did a cursory check of the cars.

They were hounded by moneychangers and sim card sellers. Lots of haggling went on and the money was changed and phone cards purchased before the cars proceeded on their way.

This country is markedly different, a bit as if they lived in yet another century from Morocco. They desert people live in wooden huts or squarish tents covered with plastic. And Nouadibou is a far cry from Dakala even. The town roads are bordered with sand, the houses all look as if they are falling apart, dust/sand seem to be just about everywhere. There is no avoiding this because there are barely any trees in this place and there is this constant wind blowing.

The place we headed for is a camping in town called the Baie de Levrier, chez Ali. Well, Ali was not there but Mukhtar was, billowing in his big robes, often called ‘boubou’ in these parts. And Hamida also appeared after a while. We settled in the one corner of the place and pitched the big tent. There was already a camper van on the plot – German number plates.

 The other two cars set up in another corner. The place had potential: living area, toilets, showers in working order and a ‘cyber’ just outside. After setting up, Ali pitched up and invited them for tea where they discussed the 7-day car importation issue at length. By then the German camper Hans-Peter also joined the conversation.

It was agreed that the car owners would go off to the customs/police the next day and sort this out.

Another windy evening, and that night sleep was not great either. It was hot the next day. After making Ali understand the importance of the matter, they finally left to meet with the authorities to discuss the car story. It was just too hot to go walkabout in town. To crown it all, some translation work had come in a few days before. She delivered the one job in Dakhla already and was working on the other one.

In the afternoon the girls went to visit the local market, which is quite typical of black Africa: an area with small streets that have been covered over, with shops on each side selling just about everything. She talked to a few shopkeepers, some of whom claiming they had grown up or lived in Brazzaville. She bought some fabric in one of these little shops, some sandals for Coen and some potatoes and tomatoes for the evening dinner.

After that expedition, Ali took them to a jeweler. His products were nice without being spectacular or in the ‘must-have’ category. Then they headed to the port for fresh fish. Ali took them right into the cold rooms of the port. This port was lined with fishing trawlers of all sizes and of indeterminate ages. The sale going on inside these cold rooms was active but not fierce. She finally opted for grouper and had them to weigh 4 fish, one of which was still alive. Then it was a short route to a Malian fishmonger who cleaned the fish.

The whole place did not reek of fish, it smelled of the sea just simply because everything was just so fresh. There was not much choice as to how to prepare them for dinner, in tinfoil, on the coals.

Out of the woodwork, when the food was under preparation, up pops a guy from the Tourist Office coming to discuss the issue of the cars again. Another round table with all the men. Finally he left and dinner could be served, the first lot of fish was just ready, the potatoes done thanks to Elismé’s pressure cooker, salad and mixed fruits for desert.

Buying bread, packing and some last minute discussions about the road and they headed east into the desert not without passing other check points where the ‘gendarmes’ still ask for the ‘fiches’. After some 125km of good road they turned onto the ‘piste, which is pretty much tracks into the desert made by other vehicles that have passed that way. It was rough, sometimes very rough.

 And then they hit a bump and something clanged from under the car. They jumped out to check – the one bolt broke and the air suspension was hanging. Then started the major works, there, in the desert, on these rough tracks. Coen managed but not without some grief: the car fell off the jacks twice, the high lift jack had to be used and even that was rather precarious. Hans and Stephanus were both helping and the sun was hitting hard.

As they noticed right from their visit to the Middle Atlas, the people were great ones for asking. In Morocco it started by Dhm1, then a pen, then a sweet, especially from kids but in Mauritania, they do not even greet you; they just have this one word in mouth: ‘Kado’ (gift). And it was the same in the desert.

Refuellling in the desert 

After this one small village called Inal, they got chased by a Land Cruiser from the gendarmerie with the one guy in the back brandishing a machine gun. They stopped as per the indications of the driver and the one guy hopped out to ask for the fiches. They seemed satisfied with this and drove off. 

Setting up the desert camp

Sunset at the bushcamp

By then the desert was showing signs of some black rock formations, rather basalt-like rock sand, stones, rocks and then complete hills or ridges of them. They chose one of these formations in the desert to set their bush camp. This was the first time they opted to spend the night in the car – Coen was just too tired to set up camp. I also got taken out of the box, it was safer to walk with me than with moccasins in these parts.

Dinner was a quick affair of a few sandwiches with this and that and olives.

The next day was another hard day of soft sand, car getting stuck, deflating tyres and inflating them again and road checks before they reached Atar, a date palm oasis just the other side of this great basalt ridge. First they passed this great basalt formation in the desert, called Ben Amira. It was a bit strange and rounded in shape compared to the others that were around it. Looked just like a piece of rock to me!

Atar now. And we find the Bab Sahara camping site. Pretty much your basic sandy place, in town: a few trees, a few cabins and ablutions. The neighbor let us in, a very nice old man who even went to buy bread and water for us. The owner was not in the country and his assistant arrived a bit later to see us settled. Then arrived the caretaker/night watchman who did a bit of watering, filled the tanks and cleaned up the yard.

It was hot and again they opted to sleep in the car. A shower with some clothes-washing and they settled to sort out the car as the sun was setting. With the rough driving the fridge was in a state, everything had moved and opened or spilled. The car got a slight rinse too. They also started asking about the papers for the car and what could be done. It was all very convoluted about who will talk to whom and when and for what but the conclusion was one had to wait for the next morning for things to happen because the owner will be phoning from overseas to sort things out.

That evening Elismé managed some mutton with dumplings and Mariana had grated some water melon for after dinner.

It was hot inside the car but after a while Coen opened the windows a bit more and there was a cool breeze blowing through later in the night. They managed some sleep.

The next morning Coen went to see some gendarme who was not to be found, then when they found him, he could not do much without talking to the customs and so it went on. The Dutch owner of the camping phoned to find out what was going on, more phone calls were made and more waiting. Finally the one gendarme phoned and said things were sorted out and they were coming with the papers. They gave and extension of 15 days and claim Ouy10,000 per car for this. When asked for a receipt, they said that when customs do something in this country there is no receipt to be given. Coen told them that it seemed like ‘arnaque’ and they sure were not happy to be called that and they refused to take the rest of the money.

On the road to Chinguitti

 After long tribulations, they packed up and left. Filling the cars on the way, more fiches to be handed out  and they took the road to Chinguetti. It was a fairly good dirt road just out of Atar, then a tarred pass through the basalt ridge, through a different desert land and dirt road again. They saw some spiny tailed urumustic lizard in that desert along with some camels, goats and the odd camel skeleton.

Tourist Office - Chinguitty

How does one describe Chinguitti? The houses are mostly built with brick shaped stones with flat roofs. Part of it is old, the oldest being already covered by sand. It is of these old towns found on the ancient pilgrims’ route. All pilgrims passing through these such towns (on their way to Mecca, around the 12th century B.C) were asked to bring some religious documents from the holy city back here. Hence, there are many of these ancient religious documents in these towns, all perishing with desert advance, age and handling.

So, they visited a few camping places and concluded that they will settle in ‘La Caravanne’ Camping. Their first option being the Maure Bleu was closed as the French aunty running it was away for her summer holidays and the other one was even more bland that this one. La Caravanne has the basics, not very well made up and such but hey, in this desert, where they still live in the past, one would be hard pressed to find guest houses as they make them in SA, no?

Pass across the ridge

You will ask, perhaps, what was the point of hammering the car, going through such difficult roads to see the desert. Ah, I was out of the box for sure but this place….. gives a type of thirst that cannot be quenched. In this season, it is constantly windy and hence dusty too. 

They chose to sleep in one of the rooms for the time they are here. The others parked in the sun and settled camp. The camp is not far from the town’s power station so apart from the braying of donkeys, there is a constant hum from there. Otherwise, the place is pretty peaceful. It was Friday around midday  when they got to Chinguetti, businesses were closed and most people were at prayers.

Working 

Old town seen from a dune top

 The next day the other two cars left of Ouadane but they chose to stay, visit the old town and work on the translation document. In the morning they went walking into the old town and met with people, took pictures and visted the ‘library’.

Trying an old fashioned key

This is not a library in the common understanding of it but rather the dwelling of one of the oldest families in the area who have managed to unite and keep the documents   handed down from generations. And the person who was there is the one male descendent whose responsibility it is to keep an eye on them and pass them on.

Reading through old poetry

These are incredible documents if only by the sheer age of them but also because of their content. Many deal with Islam, the religion, the Hadith and commentaries but he also had quite a collection of poems, writings on law, health and all aspects of life. The one document he showed us was written in Abyssinia on Italian paper by a learned man from ?????

There were, of course, quite a few of these ladies claiming to be of the local cooperative who wanted to sell all manner of crafts. They all had the same things, much of which they did not really know what they were made of, or where they came from.

Some youngsters were visiting the town that day and wanted to have their photograph taken so that it appears on the internet!

Young men in Chinguitti

The rest of the day was spent working in the upper dining room of La Caravanne. Mr Yaiah, the general factotum of the place helped them get dinner started – a lamb risotto cum potjie which was simple but quite tasty.

That evening they settled to sleep in the upper open sitting room of the place, it was well ventilated, there were no mosquitoes and they fell asleep to the sound of the local Marabout chanting his praise to the Prophet.

And they were off on the road again. By the time they filled the car in Atar, they decided to head for Nouakchott. It was getting very hot but the road was good, it was Sunday and there were loads of container trucks going in the same direction as them. The roadblocks were numerous. They stopped for fuel in the one town where they got told that ‘essence’ is only sold on the black market there. So, they had to go hunting in the direction of the market. The one guy actually found them because someone phoned him to tell him that there was this Land Cruiser looking for fuel.

Desert advance - 60C

When they did a stop to refill their cold water, it was about 60C outside. I could feel this hot air just cooking me, it felt like getting boiled but without the water.

Heading South

After he was satisfied with his handiwork, he went to shower and wash his clothes. They had a bite on the camping grounds and then left to look for parts and other materials. Of Agadir, they saw the radiator place, the place where they sought a water pump, the other that was down the road and sold them a water bottle for the radiator and the Metro Cash and Carry where they did some shopping for the road.

Then, they left Agadir, passing through small towns, lots of traffic, on the way to Sidi Ifni, a small coastal town further south. The others were also on their way there. They stopped at a patisserie in Tiznit for some biscuits and then proceeded into and out of Midleft and carried on. These small coastal towns were busy with people on their beaches – grey sandy coast fronts with waves from the Atlantic crashing on them.

We reached Sidi Ifni after the others. They had found the one camp site, El Barco which is said to be full of caravans in the high season. Well, each his/her own, because it was not much of a place, below the upper promenade of the town and next to another promenade running alongside the site, public lights blazing all night and a view of a rather rough sea is what it is all about. The ablutions exist but are in this state of disrepair and are smelly, the toilets are nothing to go by either. They spent a fairly rough night in quite a wind there and packing up the next morning was a job.

camels on the road

 Further down the coast, it was not full desert, we already met with the police asking questions. Most of them are pretty happy to get one of the ‘fiches’ that had been prepared in advance. The road was quite free and pretty boring – the odd camels and donkeys, dunes from time to time but otherwise just sand, rocks and small bushes. They both drove that day and were both sleepy by 13h30.

Finally they found the sign to the camp - le Bédouin, 4.2km into the desert but towards the sea. There was a near gale force wind blowing when they got there, hence they opted to use the Bedouin tented rooms that were free. The place was fairly well appointed taking into account that it IS in the middle of the desert. Showers and toilets work and the youngsters who are manning the camp seem to know what they are about.

 She took the cooking duty and decided to make a tajine-like mince-meat mixture which she served with elbow macaroni. For a fee, they sat under the big tent that served as restaurant and had this dinner. 

The running water is salty and only meant to wash with. The shower is solar and was fairly warm. The mattresses offered were adequate. They used their own bedding and got some sleep in the midst of the strong wind and the glare of the moon in the night. 

The next morning, there was not much packing to be done. They managed to leave Le Bédouin before 8h00. It was again a long road ahead to Dakhla. They were stopped by numerous police and army ‘barrages’. It was this long list of questions or just asking for one of these ‘fiches’. And again they were both sleepy by 12. The drive was pretty much like the one of the previous day with some lonely and empty beaches to be seen from far and some rather dramatic cliffs with sea birds on them.

There were a number of small towns on the way, very small, in the time when Coen was in these parts but now they are growing fast, with the usual ENTRANCE  as they have seen quite a few along the roads that they have taken: two ‘tower’ type constructions on each side, an attempt at growing rows of palm trees and benches (sometimes marble clad too) along with lines of street lamps – they noted that the more south they went the less nice these street lights were.

At last they reached Dakhla, at the very beginning of this big bay kite surfers seem to be having a good time. The place is well known for this activity. The camping they were looking for was not very satisfactory but after some roaming around they were given directions to another one at the other end of the peninsula. There they dealt with Samir who suggested they set up camp at the very end of his site where the wind would not affect them too much.

The wind was still up and it was a mission to set the tent up. Pegs had to be put in to hold the tent down but they managed in the end.

Dinner was a mish-mash affair of cheese and tomato sandwiches with broiled chicken and rosemary tea afterwards. Elismé inaugurated her Dhm15 tajine with a vegetable creation.

After a quick wash, they went to bed.

We stayed another night there. During the day, they went hunting for a tyre repair place. This allowed them to see the town a bit: the notorious talent of these people to give directions, they practically had to grid the town in order to find the place. Finally, one outboard motor shopkeeper gave them the accurate directions and they found it. 

The repair done, they went shopping for fruits, vegetables and meat. The others had tall orders of t-bones, packets of mince and such when in fact the butchers only have mutton and dromadarian meat available. She bought some mutton finally. Back at camp, she worked at translating the one document that was sent to her and finished it by the evening.

The rest of the time at the camp was spent with some washing, cleaning, blogging and sorting out the photos taken the previous days. Since they wanted to leave early, they decided to ask the guys of the camp to put some freshly caught fish on the grill. That evening they had a nice dinner of ‘courbine’ fish grilled with herbs and served on a bed of potatoes and carrots. It was excellent fish. 

 The next day they were on their way to the border. The road was good, pretty much the same scenery of beaches, cliffs and desert, up to the border but also had lots of roadblocks where they had to hand out ‘fiches’ mostly. And eventually the border post…. 

That was a procedure, passports to be stamped, then the police, then the customs and then through the boom, another check point. Then the cars went through the no-man’s land, a piece of desert where there are no roads, vehicles just find their own way in and out of there. 

Moving out of Marrakesh

They opted to stay one more night in Marrakesh, to catch up on the internet, to get the cars in order and to plan further. The others wanted to get onto the hop-on hop-off bus but Coen did not feel keen on it. In the end they all did not go on the bus but stayed around the camp talking to people and sorting things out.

As usual, the wind lifted in the afternoon and that was not so nice. It has been happening for quite a few days since they left Fez.

Sorting out the payment for the camping, saying goodbyes to the fellow campers, and we were off on the road. Hans had decided to opt out of Agadir because of the holiday season and the overcrowded camping sites, so they all headed towards Taroudant. It was yet another valley with a river running through. This one had a dam on it too, hence a wide expanse of water. 

The scenery was very much the same as the other valleys, the road was more winding, less touristy and hence in a worse state than some country roads they had been through already. The building style was different to the Kasbah style of the desert. There was castle looking structures from place to place but  dwellings tended to be this flat roofed structure made of straw and mud.

However, one should admit that, apart from Casablanca and Fez where the city roads are not in a very good state, the roads they had travelled in Morocco, even the small country roads, are in a rather better state than those in South Africa.

Just outside Marrakesh they passed a small town with nice street lighting again. Marrakesh itself seems to have a better-run local government than many of the other cities here. The place is cleaner, better roads,  better road signs (though not so very clear) and nice town layout. There seems to be a general agreement about the colour of buildings here: beige variations into desert pink or earthy pink. It is very nice to look at and it blends into the environment quite nicely too.

When they stopped for elevenses, by the river, they saw a guy coming down with a loaded donkey. Hmmm, soon he stopped, not far from them and started unloading his sacks over the little wall – it was garbage. What’s new, in Brazzaville also, they claim that they pick up your garbage and dispose of it adequately but they only get to the next bridge and empty the whole lot into the river.

Climb and climb and climb, up to an altitude of 6980ft and then down again to Taroudant, where they were told there was a campsite. They spent some time in this town, looking for the famous campsite and finally concluded that it was just a plot of land next to the town courts. So, they set off to Agadir where they had coordinates for campsites.  The main road was good, small towns on the way and also quite well indicated.

On this road there were the visible signs of big farms, plantations and estates called ‘Domaine’ here. It looked mainly like citrus trees but also
banana plantations under cover. All the signs indicated that this is not a recent activity in the area but rather something that has been going on since quite a few years.

The approach into Agadir was a bit confusing but with the few road signs, common sense and a rather capricious GPS, they made it to the one camp site which is 11 km from the Metro (shop): Paradis Nomade. The place is certainly a finding in the middle of nowhere, on the ‘other’ side of Agadir. It is well kept and nicely laid out too. They seem to specialize in 4x4, motorcycle and quad outings. They have a nice swimming pool and restaurant area. The ablutions are adequate and they even provide loo paper!

The cars were parked under argan trees and they set up camp with argan fruits falling on them. We were the only ones camping there that day, so there was peace and quiet.

In the morning, Coen decided to work on his rear brake system while the others go off into yet another valley. The idea was to meet later that day at some campsite or other. 

By then, she had found a place for me in one of the boxes – where the hats and other shoes were. She was wearing the moccasins and the savates were floating about in the car in case she needed them. But I got to ‘feel’ and ‘see’ pretty much all the same!

We passed a few places we had seen with the tour guide. We stopped for fuel in Ifrane and then 

Into the nothing

proceeded further to Michliffen; the road there was closed due to rock fall. The road towards the south was pretty much similar to what we saw from our 

train trips: acres and acres of olive trees, citrus from place to place, a bit of maize here and there.

Berber tent

Passing from the Middle Atlas into the desert was another matter. The heat was different. Let us not talk of the scenery which then became miles and miles of practically nothing except for small shrubs, goats and camels (dromadarian) and some berber tents in the background. The plan was to set up camp in an oasis with a water source just outside of El-Rachidia, in the valley Meski.

Hmm, the approach was an oasis all right, complete with date palms and an old Kasbah in the background. They had to drive downwards for a bit, into a sort of valley. However, the camp site was another matter. It is a ‘public’ one: municipal or provincial but certainly not private. And it was crowded de chez crowded. It is summer and also school summer holidays here and the place was crawling with families with children.

We were assured that come 18h00 most of them will move off. So, we set up under a cluster of olive and palm trees, not far from the ablution block. It was 50C in the car when we arrived and 54C outside – so said the on-board thermometer.

Moroccan Sahara

The heat was abating a bit. Elismé was on kitchen duty, so Shahnaz opted to go do the registration formalities and take a look at the place. In the meantime, one of the young men who look after the place invited them for tea. Coen said that this was a ‘hospitality’ gesture and they should not refuse.

After a brief stroll around the swimming pool and a view of the source, they went to fetch the others and proceeded to the young men’s ‘cave’. Only 4 of them went. It was indeed a ‘cave’. The front looked like the average tourist-cum-curio shop and as you proceed inside, there was some wonderful bric-a-brac that filled the cave behind. They had actually dug into the side of the valley.

Old abandoned Kasbah

In the back there, they had green tea (no mint), while the guy’s uncle talked about life, the universe and everything else. He had a smattering of quite a few languages but not Afrikaans. He could not fathom out where she came from but figured that there was some Indian there. The stories he told are interesting: he was born in the old Kasbah s his father before him. He does agree that his ancestors before that must have been of Africa origin. The old Kasbah has been abandoned quite a few years ago because when the rains do come, the access to and from the place is cut off.

We asked him about his trade, he says he barters and he sells but he prefers to barter and then add cash. Mariana and Stephanus found a carpet in his lot that interest them and they started negotiating. It was a written negotiation for some odd reason.

With a promise that they would think about it, they went off to have dinner. At dinner, another of these young men popped out with an offer of honey. It was dark honey – date palm honey so he said. It certainly tasted different. There was some negotiation there too and the honey was delivered but the carpet transaction was still not concluded.

The night was hot. Many of the locals had left but there were a few who were camping there and had upped the volume of their music. By the time they were preparing for bed, there was a dog barking and owls hooting and people talking. It got dark after 9h30 and they actually got to bed at about 11. But no sleep was to be had as it was still hot, the noise levels had not abated either.

The music finally died down but then there were a few people walking around our part of the camp, giggling, making comments, scraping their feet and enjoying themselves. We do not know what time it was when the camp was more or less quiet enough to get some sleep: they got very little sleep.

How to meditate on an inflatable mattress

54C did get reduced with sundown. So she decided, since she was not sleepy either, she’d try meditating on the inflatable mattress.

For this, you must make sure you have a rather heavy person lying on the other side, this keeps the mattress fairly hard and plump. However, as you sit cross legged on there and settle on the mattress, you will find that with every inhalation and exhalation the body rocks forward and backwards a bit. If you do manage to get into the meditation mode, breathing will get shallower and the rocking will abate.

Be careful, however, if you are of those meditators who levitate, you could do yourself some serious damage in such environments, ‘falling’ back onto the mattress, you might bounce off it and if your surroundings are not padded: pillows, sleeping bags etc, you could get seriously hurt!

Again, next morning, after a brief coffee and biscotti, they hit the road. They were heading for the gorge of Todra. Before that, they stopped in the town of El-Rachicia to see if they can fill the gas bottles and get Moroccan ‘rusks’: a biscotti-shaped hard biscuit with almonds in it. This done, they were on the way, through quite a bit of nothing, a few villes ‘paumées’ in the desert, goats and camels.

Desert

Desert life

Plantation in the gorge

They found the right turn off and they went up into the Gorge of Todra through suburbs of 

Gorge de Todra

Tinerhir and then onto the road along the river that flows through the gorge. It was very scenic. The whole gorge set-up is fascinating: as soon as there is water, civilization settles. Then there is cultivation, farming and life goes on but only in this strip, along that waterway. Imagine, in the middle of this rock, sand and nothing, this strip of green, fields, orchards…

Small settlements in the distance

We had stopped by a camp site before doing the rest of the gorge and this is where we settled for the night when they had seen enough of the gorge. The place was neat, well organized and had most camping amenities. It is called ‘Le Soleil’. When they finished setting camp, they went for a swim in the very clean and very cool swimming pool. That did wonders for aches and pains and the general grime that tends to settle on the skin in these parts.

After dinner that evening, they went to bed – this was done in peace and quiet except for the odd donkey braying in the distance.

The following day, pack up again, drive down towards the main town and out. She was on cooking duty that evening so she started shopping for stuff as soon as she could. First stop was a small ‘épicerie’ where she got only water for the road, then another bigger where she got other drinks. They passed numerous small towns/villages, all built in the desert ‘kasbah’ style, even individual houses had adopted that style, making them look like little castles. It was a nice change from these cement town houses or sterile blocks of flats that were seen in cities but it was also desolate, in the middle of nothing. Then there was this big Kasbah with a massive date plantation in its background and then more nothing.

Kasbah

Settlement in the gorge

They went up the gorge de Dades, another of those but less dramatic than the Todra. The main road goes up into the gorge but not along it. The view from the one café they stopped at was very scenic.

Inside the gorge

Gorge de Dades as seen from the top

Finally the cars drove into Ouazazate, the famous film city. As in most big Moroccan towns/cities, the lamp posts were something to look at. They were not just lamp posts like in most countries: just this metal pillar with a powerful lamp at the top; these had a style to them, especially the top parts, the arm that holds the actual lamp. And in Ouazazate there was a real charm in them.

What is also wonderful is that the street kids (there seems to be much less in this place than in many parts of Africa, South Africa included) have not used these wonderful lamps for target practice!

We passed by these famous studios where quite a few famous films were shot – Laurence of Arabia being one of them. On the outside they were rather garish, with rather pharaonic décor – they are owned and run by Egyptians, it seems.

In this town she bought fruits and meat. The butchery was clean and bien achalandé, they had quite a lot in the manner of meats and prepared meats too, even dinde confie!

Dinner at Kasbah 

From there, they proceeded up to Marrakesh but via a small mountain road. There they stopped at the last camp site they found. It was about 16h00 by then, very hot and rather windy too. Under rather extreme circumstances, Coen managed to start a fire and the food was cooking. They went for a dip in the pool and carried on with the meal preparations.

This camp site was less equipped than the Soleil and there were no big trees for shelter. They parked against the back of the other building on that stretch of road. The people did not complain and this was fine with the manager of the guest house cum camping.

Camping life

It is very much the first time that they saw a pet dog being played with in this country. It looked in good health, pure bred Rotweiller and the child playing with it was most definitely used to dogs.

That evening, the dinner was simple: tomato salad with maize, mutton curry with rice and grapes followed by tea. Then sleep. It was very hot in the tent but since it was quiet and there was a breeze, they did manage to sleep.

View around Telouet

Tedious packing up exercise, everything was covered in dust after the wind of the previous day. And we were off, over a wooden bridge and onto the mountain roads toward Telouet. Again, the cars passed many small mountain settlements, some berber tents, goat herders and winding roads.

Water course

Women going about their life around Telouet

Argan oil products

Young girl working the Argan nuts

It might have been a road less taken by your average tourist but there were enough tourists for there to be the very obvious signs of catering for tourists – in such a dry place, they have shops after shops selling rose products! Then there were these women’s cooperatives doing all the nice and wonderful things with Argan oil. While Coen stopped to enquire about brake fluid, she stopped at one of those and did some purchases.

The stuff is quite expensive even though it is available all over the country. While she does not mind assisting the women, the girls working ‘on show’ there were rather young! It would not do to support child labour or is it now? Could also be that berber girls have rather baby faces?!

The cars stopped and they had a picnic in the mountains. Then we wound our way further and joined the main road to Marrakesh. It was getting quite warm by then but there was a breeze in those mountains. Further on the type of heat ‘changed’, we were approaching town. Hans was following a GPS and we passed along the old Medina wall, by some golf estates and finally on the Casablanca road where we stopped for fuel. Coen asked the petrol attendant about the camping site.

He gave us fairly good indications because we reached there after one more stop to ask the cops if we were in the right direction. The place is called Camping Le Relais de Marrakesh – it seems to be owned by a rather grumpy Frenchman and his son. It is a well appointed place: swimming pool, restaurant, electricity, showers, sinks, drains for RV’s and more.

Christophe, who runs the place is your average cool/casual Frenchman. He offered us a welcome drink at the restaurant and went about his work. He said we could settle wherever we want in the ‘park’. It was not hyper busy, there were already a few other 4 x 4’s and camping cars/RV’s parked there.

Next to our car was this other burgundy Land Cruiser with a roof top tent. Judging by the set up and only having a partial view of the number plate they concluded that these must be Brits. They unloaded, set up the tent and then went off for a swim. The pool was warm and there were a few people there already. It was quite pleasant to have this welcome juice after the swim.

Walking back to the tent she saw the full number plate and uttered rather loudly to herself 'ah! oirish' and then realised that the people were back and sitting by their car. There was nothing else to do but a friendly greeting as if nothing was heard.

Dinner was composed of leftovers which did not want to warm up efficiently because of the rather strong wind that had started blowing. It was late when they got into their warm tent but it soon cooled down, there was even a slight chill in the early hours of the morning.

The plan for the next day was to sort out the issues with the cars. Hans was off to look for a replacement battery and Coen went with her to the Toyota people to see what could be done about some leaking brake fluid they detected when they were in the mountains. It was a Monday and they were already quite busy but sympathetic and helpful too.

When Coen found out that they did not have there spare parts and opted not to have the whole thing dismantled they recommended that he goes and see another garage. They phoned the guy who gave them surprisingly accurate indications how to find him; except that the entrance to his garage was not indicated! (there were not names written there).

Bref! He promptly lifted the car and had the tyre removed. He diagnosed that the seals were ‘tired’ and had to be replaced. He was not sure he had these parts and since he found out that we were going south, he recommended that they try to find these parts there instead because this model of car was never sold in Morocco.

So, off they went to have elevenses at the McDonald and to do some shopping to complete the stores they were putting in for the continuation of the trip. It was still early when they got back to camp. Hence they had concluded that 5 people would take a taxi into town, do the craft centre and the market, see the famous Place El Fnaa and the rest.

At the Centre Artisanal

The people at the camp have an agreement with taxis to come fetch and drop people there at a good price. And a taxi was booked for 14h30. Finally only Coen accompanied the ladies into town. They got there with no hassles and got dropped at the craft centre. This is an interesting place where all manner of Moroccan crafts can be found and purchased, even commissioned. Cheap, they are not but the place is quiet and no one hassles you.

Walking by some nice lamp posts, they found their way past the Club Med to the Place El Fnaa. The first thing that strikes you is the orange juice vendors. For 4 dhirams you get a good glass of orange juice which you drink while standing at the stall. Then there are these dried fruit and date sellers – fascinating.

Minaret Koutoubya

As they proceed into the souk, they realise that this market is still different to the other ones they visited. The vendors are not too pushy, there are no so-called guides to harass you and there is place to circulate, the passageways are wider and there is not donkey traffic in this place. Prices seem quite reasonable, the sellers are keen to strike a good bargain but would not get rude or cross as in some other markets in Morocco.

Sellers of dried fruit

They made some purchases, mixed some spices, tried some shoes and haggled over this and that and finally Coen said he was ‘shopped-out’ and had to find a place to sit. They reached the market again and Coen chose to patronise the Alhambra restaurant for mint tea. There they did the Moroccan thing, they ordered tea for two and stayed two hours over it, watching life go by on the ‘place’.

Life on the Fnaa

It was interesting to see how things proceed as the sun goes down: there are more vendors that settle on the square itself, then come conjurors, snake charmers, healers with their herbs, dancing men with drums, pigeon tamers etc etc. As they were watching there was a crowd around the one lady healer and her herbs and another increasing crowd by an old man doing ‘magic tricks’.

Dinner overlooking the square

Hans and Stephanus joined them there. It was still quite warm but bearable. After an expensive orange juice at the restaurant they decided to eat there but on the upper level where they could see the square better. The food was tasty, of course they chose to sample the b’stilla, of Marrakesh this time.

By the time they left the famous square, the ambiance was evolving full swing, more people were walking in. They had to negotiate for a taxi to get back. As per the recommendation of Christophe, they got a taxi on their terms, taking all of them. It was a bit crammed but they did get there in one piece.