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| Marokko - oktober 3rd 2002 until december 10th 2002 |
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| The border -Ceuta- | |
| From the Spanish Enclave Ceuta we drive into Morocco and enter a totally different world. Groups of desperate refugees are stopped here from crossing the border illegally by Spanish and Moroccan officials. Amidst this chaos we have to take care of border formalities. A dozen of small wooden box offices confuse us: do we have to go there and if yes, to which ones? A very friendly looking official calls in a collegue because our difficulties speaking and understanding French. This man tells us to which box we have to go to get the required stamps in our passports and where to register the car and do the paperwork. |
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| Then we
notice a name badge on his chest: "Tourist guide". We're not
very eager to pay for his services, because we did not ask for them.
We can't use our brawn so we decide to use our brain and leave very
quickly and on the sly. We only need to change some money, which we
do in Tetouan. The formalities have cost us an hour. |
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The first impressions -Tetouan, Chefchaouen- |
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| Driving our first kilometers in Morocco we notice many checkpoints of army and police. Mostly they check taxis, probably to catch drugs and refugees. After Tetouan we drive to Chefchaouen through the Rif Mountains. Rusty's engine is overheating in the mountains, something we already discovered when driving through Spain. Driving up on mountain roads the engine becomes dangerously hot after some time. If we don’t stop then the cool water starts to boil. By fits and starts we manage to reach the campground in Chefchouen. | |
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On the campsite we meet Jonas and Nina from Sweden who travel through Africa in a Landrover. Like us they just started their journey. We explore the city together. During the day the town looks dirty and messy with garbage in the verges and paint flaking off the houses. In the evening it is wonderful especially in the Medina, the old town centre. It has many small stores on both sides of small and narrow alleys, pubs and restaurants. An unforgettable experience for us! |
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Want to buy a carpet? -Chefchaouen- |
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| In the Medina a Moroccan man invites us to see his house. When we arrive there his home turns out to be a carpetstore. There he gives us mint tea and hugs us all the time to emphasize our equality. Far from at ease but also fascinated we slowly sip our tea. In the meanwhile Abraham shows his carpets and asks us which ones we like most. We wonder how to get away without having to buy a carpet, because of the intrusive sales techniques which we were warned for. Prepared for a long conversation we tell Abraham that we aren’t going to buy a carpet. To our surprise he lets us go without any discussion! | |
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Rusty I-Chefchaouen- |
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| We are determined to solve Rusty's overheating problem. Therefore we decide to check the cooling system of the car thoroughly. We discover that the thermostat is malfunctioning. To find out if it's possible to drive without a thermostat we will drive without it to Fès. | |
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| To buy or to pick weed? -Rif Mountains- |
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| Driving to Fès we pass the Rifmountains which are notorious for the growing of cannabis and aggressive sales techniques. This is understandable as this plant is growing alongside the roads! After the Rif Mountains the landscape becomes dryer and dryer. A stone's throw before Fès we only see dry and dusty fields. To our surprise suddenly a lake sparkles between the sand. | |
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Cultural differences -Fès- |
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| Our first impression of Fès isn't very positive.
Everywhere people press themselves forward uncalled for to make you pay
for unwanted services like directions to a campsite you don't want to
go to! We become increasingly skilled in fending them off. Fortunately it becomes obvious that most Moroccans are not after wheedling money out of us. In the streets we're often approached by people who are curious and ask where we come from, what we think of Morocco and if we have been here before. During these short conversations we learn about each other's cultures. The dyed-in-the-wool sales tactics of many Moroccans make it difficult for us to estimate their intentions: do they just want a conversation or are they after making profit? |
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Education? -Fès- |
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| One evening, while walking through the streets
of Fès, we're approached by an old man. ‘Dutch?’ ‘Yes.’ He requests
if we would like to teach him some Dutch sentences. We give each other
a guick look, shrug our shoulders and nod. We look around wary when
the old man leads us into a hotel. Does he really want to learn some
Dutch or are we being deceived? To be sure to have a way out we tell
him that we have 20 minutes. This will make it easier to leave. Just
to leave a fanatical salesman has already proven to be difficult. |
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| ‘How are you?’, he asks us in Dutch. ‘We're fine, thank you’, we reply politely. The man claps his hands in enthousiasm. ‘Write down, write down’, he says while pushing pen and paper towards us. ‘You are a beautiful lady’, he says in English and we translate. The 20 minutes pass. ‘We must go now’, we say pointing at our watches. "Please one sentence more". We grin at each other; although we liked the strange scene we're now tired of it. But one sentence is OK. After this one the man continues to dictate imperturbable. We don't want to be childish so we add another few sentences to his vocabulary. Then it becomes clear that he will continue endlessly if we don't stop it, so we point at our watches and stand up to add some persuasiveness. The man whines like a child: "another minute please, one more sentence!" but we shake our heads and move towards the exit. At the moment he realizes that we're unstoppable he stops whining and thanks us elaborately. Shaking our heads and laughing we walk outside a moment later. | |
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Rusty II: To negotiate-Fès- |
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| The following days we have more serious business to attend to. We want to solve Rusty's problem definitive. At arrival in Fès we passed a large Toyota garage. There we will have Rusty thoroughly looked after. The technicians turn out to be very friendly and professional. They explain very well what needs to be replaced and why. They also tell us right away what it will cost. We try to negotiate the price to a lower level and ask us if they're willing to sponsor us. In exchange we will mention their company and adress on our website. They can't change the price but offer us a discount on a night in an expensive hotel or a free night in the house of Mohammed, the man who leads the technicians. We choose to stay the night at Mohammed's home. In addition they invite us out for dinner! Shukran (= thanks)! In the end we stay three nights with Mohammed. He on a mat on the floor, we in his bed! Such hospitality! By day we do nothing because Andres is ill, in the evening we discuss a lot about many topics, about which it was not allowed to speak in Morocco some years ago. When we leave we have a new friend. | |
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Insh’allah: if Allah approves-Rabat, Casablanca- |
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| From Fès we drive to Rabat to obtain the visa for Mauritania.
The consulate of Mauritania appears to have moved to Casablanca a few
weeks ago. Well, to Casablanca then! Casablanca is the economical capital of Morocco. With 5 million inhabitants it's very crowded and that marks the street scene. Worse than in other Moroccan cities we've seen a nasty odour of waste and penetrant exhaust gases fills the air. The waste is everywhere along the streets. |
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| A tooting muddle of cars, buses, mopeds and other "vehicles" squeezes itself through the narrow streets, regulated by desperate police officers who continuously whistling and making vehement gestures try to prevent the situation getting out of hand to much. On roundabouts and crossing cars are stand in seven rows, waiting to drive into one small street, like water flowing into a funnel. Mopeds trying to push their way through just escape being flattened. This is everyday practice in the big Moroccan cities. Rusty's size is no guarantee for a dentless ride, but it helps considerably if we toot along with the other drivers! |
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Mosque Hassan II -Casablanca- |
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| Absolutely
worth the effort is a visit to Mosque Hassan II, which is open to non-Muslims.This
third largest Mosque in the world (the two biggest are in Saudi Arabia),
on which was worked 24 hours a day from 1987 to 1993, is mostly built
from natural materials from Morocco. On one side of the enormous building
lies a huge square, at the other side the Atlantic Ocean smashes its
waves against the foundation. |
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After the entrance of the Mosque we walk with our bare feet over a shimmering marble floor, where during the Ramadan 25,000 man and women kneel to pray to Allah. Further on lies a long carpet towards a 35 tons heavy door that is exclusively opened for the King. On the opposite side lies a niche directed to the East, from where the Imam leads the prayer. The niche is between two identical white pillars with the family tree of the Royal house on them, written in golden Arabic. Several other grey and smaller white (stone from the Moroccan Anti Atlas mountains) colored pillars decorate the large praying hall. The sound comes from no less than 384 speakers, which are tastefully built in into the smaller pillars. Looking higher we see a beautifully hand-cut wooden roof that can be opened for ventilation. |
| The cedar wood comes from the Middle Atlas Mountains. Only
the very large (up to 1200kg) chandeliers are from outside Morocco, from
Italian origin. In another parts of the mosque the washing ritual takes place. Before every prayer a Muslim has to wash him- or herself thoroughly. Hand, feet, mouth, nose, face and forearm until the elbow are washed three times at fountains. The bathrooms for the men are decorated with green and blue tiles and those for the women with yellow and pink. |
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Rusty III -Casablanca, Fès- |
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In the meanwhile we've found out that Rusty's
overheating problem has not been solved, only reduced. While we puzzle
about a solution an american couple (Arnold and Alicia) arrives at the
campsite in a HJ60 Landcruiser similar to ours. From them we learn that
they have experienced the same overheating problem that we have! The
reparations that we carried out in Fès added to a replacement of the
radiator proved to be the solution for their problem. Our technicians
at home advise the same. |
| Finding a good radiator appears to be less easy than talking about it...We find a radiator specialist in a dingy ally that rouses our suspicion. In broken French we try to make clear what is the problem. Very soon Rusty is studied by 5 mechanics with little to no knowledge of our car. Picking and pulling on wires and the appearance of a wire-cutter makes us break into cold sweat. Despite our information that the thermometer is allright they insist on controlling it. Under our suspicious eyes the can't escape the conclusion that it's fine. However they try to make us believe that replacing a little plug will be the solution to our problem! It would "only" cost us a few euros. They can't persuade us and we leave quickly, straight to the official Toyota garage. Hopefully they can help us! At the Toyota garage they recommend a well-established radiator specialist. Unfortunately this one is much too expensive for us. We try to reach Mohammed of Toyota Fès on his mobile phone because we know he's in Casablanca now but his phone is offline. A phonecall to the Toyota garage in Fès makes us decide to return to Fès. Through them the radiator is repaired for a reasonable price and furthermore they disable the visco coupling of the ventilator, so that it blows continuously when the engine is running. While testing the car in the beautiful surroundings of Fès we discover additional minor problems. By good teamwork between our technicians at home and those in Fès the problems are solved within one week. | |
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The beauty of nature-Ifrane, Midelt, Er-Rachidia, Erfoud- |
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| Very happy to leave Fès finally we drive along
pine-tree and cork-oaks into the Middle Atlas mountains. After the small
city Ifrane the landscape becomes more inhospitable and beautiful. Before
Midelt, that lies on a high plateau between the Middle and High Atlas
mountains, the road twists through a sandy moonscape. Bare jagged rocks
and empty river beds dominate the scenery. No single tree can be seen.
Some low bushes try to defy the drought. The sun shows no mercy here and
makes us sweat all the time. In contrast the night on the campsite in
Midelt is very cold.
After Midelt we continue our route into the High Atlas. Here we drive from one surprise into another. In a bend of the road the landscape changes from green and fertile to dry and desolate. For example after one bend we drive from a dry plain onto a deep gorge. Steep slopes, cut out in centuries, tower high above us. On the bottom of the gorge a tiny river flows. We imagine that in former times the water whirled through ferociously. The vegetation shows that after abundant rainfall the river isn't that tiny. Twenty kilometer further we pass Er-Rachidia. Here the proximity of the Sahara desert reveals itself. We smell the dust in the air and the first small sand dunes appear in the landscape. Momets later the road dives into a deep rift that is grown over with palm trees. At the end of day the arrive in Erfoud, tired of all impressions |
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Mentality -Erfoud, Rissani, Merzouga- |
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| The economy of Erfoud and surroundings is funded mostly
by tourism. This makes the area less attractive to us. To walk in the
streets undisturbed is difficult, if not impossible. |
 Gorges du Ziz |
| Child: 'Bonjour' |
(Good day) |
| A+M: 'Bonjour' | (Good day) |
| Child: 'Donner moi un stylo | (Give me a pen) |
| A+M: 'Non, pas de stylo' | (No, no pen) |
| Child: 'Donner moi un bonbon' | (Give me a sweet) |
| A+M: 'Non' | (No) |
| Child: 'Donner moi un Dirham' | (Give me a Dirham) |
| A+M: 'Non' | (No) |
| Soon we manage to limit this to: | |
| Child: 'Bonjour' | (Good day) |
| A+M: 'Bonjour' | (Good day) |
| Child: 'Donner moi un stylo' | (Give me a pen) |
| A+M: 'Non, pas de stylo, pas de bonbon, pas de Dirham, au revoir' |
(No, no pen, no sweet, no Dirham, bye!) |
| One time we decide to battle them with their own weapons.
Two older boys come begging for a pen. Firmly we answer that this will
cost them ten dirhams. The boys look at us, bowled for a moment before
they understand what we are up to. Hesitant one of them says: ‘non, vous
êtes un tourist, c’est un cadeaux’ (no, you are a tourist, it is a present).
We shake our heads and repeat that they can have the pen if they pay ten
dirhams for it and that it's a good price (one of their sales tricks).
Finally the boys slink away without pens. All children in this area look well-fed, wear decent clothes and shoes and often ride on new all terrain bicycles of which some Dutch children can only dream. Adults also try to lure us to their shops to seduce us to buy trumpery, for example fossils of which we doubt the authenticity. Furthermore the population makes road signs unreadable to make themselves valuable as guides! We don't let the people drive us mad and will try to reach Merzouga on our own. |
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Bite the dust-Merzouga- |
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A little nervous we leave for Merzouga to drive on tracks for the first time. Driving over bumps and holes and through the sands seems more easy than we expected. On the opposite, finding the right track is more difficult. Everywhere vague tracks go in many different directions. By chance we choose a wide and clear track. After a few kilometers it leads us to a sandy hill. Ot the top we look down very surprised. The perfect looking track turns into an unclear track. What do we do now? |
| We take the chance. The trail becomes more and more difficult to recognize and after crossing a dry riverbed we lose it altogether. Some distance away we see Merzouga. Straightly aimed at our target we drive further. A little later we bounce and bump over the bottom of a dried up lake. What makes it even worse are the sand dunes that block our way and increase in numbers and height. Steering for the best route we can't escape the dunes. All goes surprisingly well until we make a steering error and Rusty comes to a standstill on a small dune. Both forwards and reverse driving are impossible. Switching to low gear (for extra power) is the worst idea. Within seconds Rusty digs himself in the sand to the bottom. Then it's our turn to dig....Two hours of plodding in the sand follow. Many attempts to drive away fail but in the end we manage to escape. Covered with sweat and sand we stand on firm ground. With Merzouga in sight at les than five kilometers distance we accept our defeat and return to Erfoud. We have to do this trip in the darkness but thanks to our GPS we find our way back. At our next endeavour to reach Merzouga it is difficult for us to find the right tracks. With the help of the GPS waypoint of the place where we got stuck in the sand we arrive in Merzouga at last. | |
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Ship of the desert-Merzouga- |
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| Merzouga is beautifully located next to Erg Chebbi, the highest sand dune in Morocco. It has lost much of its original atmosphere due to the great impact of tourism. The village is built-up with campings and hotels in Kasbah style and can be reached by tarred road nowadays. However, the sand dunes are very impressive and we decide to explore them by camel. At four o'clock in the moring we are roused by the guide. Soon we sit on our camels, stepping through the cold dunes under a star-studded sky. We wobble on their warm backs as they plough through the soft sand into the silence of the desert. |
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| From the top of a dune we watch the sunrise and see how the dune are lighted by the first sunbeams and the shadows shrinking until our dune bathes in the break of day too. When we ride back to the campsite our long shadows contrast with the bright yellow light of the sundrenched dunes. As we approach the first Kasbahs the magic of the desert slowly fades. | |
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From yellow sand to pink rocks-Tinerhir- |
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| From Merzouga we drive over a tedious road to Tinerhir. It is a small, quiet city where we can walk without being hassled. Past Tinerhir, in the direction of the Todra Gorge, the road climbs into the pink coloured massif and provides an excellent view on the palmeries in the valley. Under the date palms are numerous fields where vegetables and spices are grown. They receive water from irrigation channels. Against a rough mountain slope lies a decayed and abandoned village.We explore it by foot. The old houses, often only ruins, are built with stacked rocks cemented with mud sometimes supported by heavy wooden |
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Todra Gorge, a gift of Allah -Todra Gorge- |
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| The Todra Gorge is a deep rift with pink to orange colouring walls. Awe-inspiring roughness and restful beauty go hand in hand here. Everywhere its clear that rocks tumble down regularly but at the same time palm trees survive far into the gorge.When we arrive one morning a man stands on the road with his arms spread. `Five dirhams (fifty eurocents) to enter`, he says. Immediately we are suspicious, because we drove into the gorge for free two days ago. The man tries to mislead us by daying that this was a feast day but our knowledge of the Moroccan Islamic calendar isn´t to be trifled with. We make it very clear to him that he didn´t create the Todra Gorge himself and that he will get no money. In the mean time more Moroccan men gather around the car to convince us that we have to pay. A pass with his photo on it and a text `Kingdom of Morocco, Ministry of Internal Affairs` makes us doubt. Still we don´t pay immediately. First we walk into the gorge to make sure if we can pass the small river tat runs across the road. This seems to be allright. Walking back to the car we realize that we have no small change. Two tourists in the hotel along the road tell us that the Gorge Gatekeeper is a swindler who stands here now and then to `earn` some money. They give us five dirhams but advise us not to pay it. In the meanwhile the hotel owner has started a discussion with the cheater and tries to hand him over five dirhams so that we can continue our trip. In the chaos that springs up we start the negine and try to drive away. The Gorge Gatekeeper moves to the front of the car and put his hands on Rusty´s nose. He´s no match for the hundred horsepower that hide inside our car and slowly we push the man backwards! Soon he gives up and a moment later we drive through the water into the gorge. Instead of losing five dirhams we gained them.... |
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Following tracks-Gorge du Dadès- |
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| Another highlight in the High Atlas mountains is the Dades Gorge. The bizarre rock formations in the lower part of this deep canyon challenge imagination. Red stone is disintegrated so that it looks like if seamless sculptures are put alongside eachother. Brown colored mountains that look like the back of a camel emerge from a distance. The majority of the mountains are pyramid-shaped with different layers of rock and a plateau on top. Huge cliffs lean over the road. A river rustles in the depth beneath us. Eventually the Gorge leads into an elevated fertile valley. Various tracks traverse the area, providing us with many opportunities to see what Rusty and we are capable of. The good track from Msemrir to Imilchil leads us higher into the mountain range. Along endless depths we approach the pass. Suddenly we see an oncoming car. A few minutes later we listen to an excited Frechman. He has turned around after discovering that snow blocks the route! We follow his advice to do the same, but have to find a place to turn around first. In the deep tracks that the Frenchman made in the snow we drive further, sometimes close to the edge of the track. Snow-clouds gather around the mountain peaks behind us. At last we find a spot to turn. After taking some pictures and rolling some snowballs we descend into the valley again. |
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Poverty or deception? - Villages in the High Atlas- |
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Snow-covered mountains |
Travelling through the breathtaking High Atlas we pass numerous villages. Every time the same happens. When we approach the first houses children come running towards the road from all directions. Friendly waving changes into insistent gestures urging us to stop. With a look in the eyes between greedyness and pretended pitifulness they shout for sweets, ballpoints and dirhams. Soon we decide not to stop anymore for these children. The greedy searching of our car (what shall I ask for...), the refusal of delicious bread because they desire presents and the |
| screaming and the verbal abuse when we drive on horrify us! This is anything but poverty. Not only children show this kind of behaviour. Deep in a desolate area of the High Atlas we meet a family. The mother begs us to give her something. We give away half our bread. She accepts it but immediately asks for a sigaret. "No, we don't smoke". "A dirham sir". Astonished and angry about such shamelessness and ingratitude we decide to give nothing to anyone anymore. | |
| Later we discover something that looks like some kind of corruption when we ask children about the track from Msemrir to Tamtattoucht that we can't find. Despite directions of a police officer, a hotel manager and a truck driver we haven't found it yet. We decide to take a chance and ask two children if they know where the track begins. From the start the track that they direct us to is in terrible shape, but we continue because other travellers told us that it's possible to drive this track. With the cold sweat in our hands we | 
Searching for the right track |
| drive the first 200 metres that consists of large boulders of rock only. After a very steep section we stop and walk some distance to see if it's wise to continue. Angry we return to the car when we see that the route becomes dangerously narrow. The "sweet" children would let us takes the risk of driving off the road into a trench. They directed us knowingly and willingly onto the old worn out track! The new entrance to the track lies on the other side of a hill. We turn around and of course the children may whistle for their dirhams. When we arrive at the new track we see that it's blocked by large rocks. The children, 15 in number already, observe us from the top of a hill. We are very angry now! Being only two persons we can't roll the big rocks aside. We examine the terrain, throw the smaller stones away, manoeuvre the car around the big stones, step on the gas and there we go. |
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Halsbrekende toeren -Track between Msemrir and Tamtattoucht- |
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| Very soon we discover that the track has suffered a lot from the forces of nature. At first the track is clearly visible but soon it becomes blurred in piles of stone. Rusty finds his way easily but we find ourselves shaking all the time. After some time the path becomes sany and less stony, making driving a lot easier. Past the highest point we sway down through narrow hairpin curves. We assume to be beyond the worst part. The quietness is not for long though. Just as we think that we'll drive out of the mountains and into the valley the road bends |
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sharply upwards along a vertical cliff! To make it worse, the "road" changes into a kind of stairway consisting of hefty rocks. And then we are standing still...Rusty doesn't want to move forwards and Andres doesn't dare to drive backwards. The wheels are cought between the stones and our angle is around 30 degrees. Maybe switching to low gear will help. Growling loudly Rusty starts to move slowly. After climbing for hundreds of metres we can see the track in the vally deep beneath us . An hour later we drive there, en route to the campsite and a well-earned meal! |
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Oops -Todra Gorge- |
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| At the end of this heavy day with a difficult track
and yelling children we drive at dawn on a good track to the campsite
in the Todra Gorge. We arrive at a roadblock where the road is being
repaired. We steer to the left towards what we think is a bypass. A
man approaches us. Annoyed and tired we open a window. |
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Drumming with Touaregs -Vallee du Drâa- |
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| The changes in nature make one thing very clear: gusts of wind, dark clouds and snow-covered passes announce the arrival of winter. As this isn't the goal of our journey we go to the Draa valley, at the edge of the Sahara. First we have to cross an area of dark brown rocks with scarce vegetation, which gives the surroundings a desolate appearance. After crossing a mountain pass an enormous oasis with a wide river and palmeries appears out of nowhere. As we go deeper into the valley we see less palm trees and more stone and sand. During a brief stop in Tagounit we're invited by a young man to drink mint tea together. We accept his offer after some hesitation but soon we find out that Abdul is sincerely interested and that he's not after our money. He tells us that he's a Touareg (nomadic people who live in the Sahara) an shows us the camp in the desert where he lives outside the tourist season. The camp contains a dozen tents, built of a wooden frame covered with carpets. Inside are more carpets and pillows. The low sand dunes and the absolute silence (because there are no hotels or campings like in Merzouga) makes our experience of this part of the Sahara much better. | |
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We are having a good time with Abdul and his friends and go into town together to do some shopping for dinner. With four people and a 40 litre jerrycan for the water we wriggle ourselves inside Rusty. In an atmosphere of jolliness Abdul and Ibrahim provide us with music by drumming on the jerrycan and singing songs on our way to the market. On the menu we have a Tagine (Moroccan stew) of camel meat and fresh vegetables. When we buy the vegetables we learn the Arabic names and the prices. The camel head in front of the butchery guarantees the freshness of the meat. After a delicious meal the musical instruments are brought out. In a room of barely 6 square metres we sit with eight people, singing, clapping and drumming in the glow of candlelight. |
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Marokko at its best -Marrakech- |
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| After some rambling we arrive in Marrakech, the last great
city we will visit in Morocco. Our high expectations are surpassed easily:
the fabulous position of the city, with the snow-covered High Atlas mountains
in the background, beautiful Mosques, old city walls, wide boulevards,
many palm trees and the vast Medina that provides exporation for days
if desired. The famous big square Place Jamaa El Fnaa lies in the medina. The musicians, snake charmers, orange juice bars and groups of dancers make a cheerful cacophony of sound and lights. We eat numerous times at one of the very cheap eateries, of which there are many that all serve the same food. Despite the fierce competition the personell tries to catch eachother's customers in a friendly atmosphere. |
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Early tourism -Cascades d’Ouzoud- |
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| Because we're waiting for important mail that will arrive in Marrakech but we also want to escape the city bustle we drive to the Cascades d'Ouzoud (Waterfalls of Ouzoud). These are not entirely of natural origin, because humans have split the original river in smaller streams to drive water-mills. From pictures we know however that they're definitely worth a visit. Contrary to our custom we arrive there after dawn. Because we see a lot of signs from hotels and campsites along the road we think it's no problem this time. After arrival in Ouzoud we see no fewer than one hotel that is more or less completely built up. For way to much money we can camp in the garden between piles of old steel and concrete rubble. Let's look somwhere else....After a discussion with a German couple who are also unable to find a place to sleep we park in front of a hotel where the people are still constructing the first floor. For one and a half euro they will let us stay on the "campsite" and use the dirty toilets inside the hotel. The "campsite" appears to be the small parking place that we're already on! |
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| Finding a place to camp in the wild is no option when it's
dark. We accept the inevitable and agree that we will sleep in the streets
this night and that we're going to pay for it as well! The boss of the
hotel shows us the restaurant: an empty little hall with garden chairs
inside. On the table stand a Tagine dish of at least three days old...
To our luck there is an open air restaurant beside the hotel where they
prepare a fresh Tagine and Brochettes (spiced meat on skewers) right in
front of us. The Cascades appear to be astonishing the next day. Different waterfalls come via rocky plateaus together at some point from where the river continues its way. Happy about our visit of the Cascades d'Ouzoud we return to Marrakech where we receive the mail after the weekend. |
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Tafra route -Tafraoute- |
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From Marrakech we drive over a difficult road in beautiful surroundings through the mountains of the High Atlas to Tafraoute, that lies in the Anti Atlas mountains. Here Marokko shows us its last surprise. We imagine to be on an alien planet. Perfect spherical boulders as big a houses balance on pointed peaks. Along the road similar rocks lie piled upon eachother in a shoddy way, as if the road can be covered with this rocky rubbish any moment. Unfortunately our time is limited because we want to move southwards to Mauritania. |
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Endless emptyness-Westelijke Sahara- |
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| The journey to Mauritania
leads us through the vast and remote Western Sahara. An area three times
the size of the Netherlands and offers the same landscape all the time:
dry low bushes in the sand and between rock, sometimes with sand dunes.
To the right the invariable blue of the Atlantic Ocean. For 1300 kilometres
this dreary landscape unfolds itself in front of our eyes, leaving a
lasting impression. After Dakhla, the last city before Mauritania, we
see French overlanders standing along the road. We halt and ask if there's
a problem. Spontaneously they start their engine and together we drive
to the border. There we pass the Moroccan offices without any problems. |
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