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(>Pictures at the bottom!)
Agafay Desert – Middle Atlas – Meknès – Rabat – Tangier – Ceuta (ES)
We were amazed by the Agafay desert; long weekends in Morocco with a full experience in the desert, where you can recover from the exertions of the quad tour in the pool and see the snow-capped peaks of the High Atlas. Crazy world! No, we left this commercialism behind and continued our way towards the High and Middle Atlas.
We followed the High Atlas on the northern side towards the Middle Atlas. Every now and then we came across wide rivers that flow from the high mountains into the plains, before our path went steeply down into some valley. The valleys, as well as the narrow mountain valleys, are fertile thanks to the large amount of water and are therefore densely populated. At many of these valley outlets, there are large dams that hold back the water for dry periods. In various parts, large dams are being built to store even more water for the plantations in the plains, and as a side effect, these walls serve as flood protection. We don’t know what happens to the population in the reservoir area, but in a kingdom, the interests of the individual people are hardly taken into account.
So we climbed over countless hills and passes, roamed through narrow valleys and followed steep mountain slopes in a northeasterly direction. To our amazement, even far from the main tourist routes, the children are very familiar with the popular sport of begging. From far away we heard them repeatedly calling out that they wanted something from us. Of course, with; ‘donnez-moi un stylo..’, etc. and they know the European currency very well. It’s a shame, we would have liked to have stayed in some places, but as soon as you stop, it’s not ten minutes before you’re being scrutinised by 10 little eyes. The begging then follows in no time and they have more than enough patience.
But even adult men can be very intrusive and invent the most adventurous stories to beg for anything. At the Bin-El-Ouidane reservoir, an elderly gentleman turned up in the morning and pretended to be the groundskeeper of the ‘camp site’ and that he was from the forestry office. During the conversation, he contradicted himself several times, but his demand was clear: he needed 100 euros for his sick mother’s heart medication and, as an unemployed man, he had no money for it. The whole conversation became a bit too much for me (Tom) and I called him a liar because he was first employed by the forestry office and a few minutes later unemployed. No sooner had I uttered the accusations than he was already making a run for it. So much for collecting the camping fee!
To the east, or was it more to the southeast of Beni Mellal, we reached the Middle Atlas, where the road no longer went up as far and the landscape changed into mostly gentler hills. We again passed through large forests and high plateaus where the fields were diligently cultivated. Tractors are still very rare here, and donkeys and mules are used to loosen the soil. There is a large supply of human labour, and it is used accordingly. These were also the few moments when we saw men at work. Otherwise, they were always sitting in the many cafes or sitting in a group of men at the side of the road, engrossed in a conversation.
Further north and after many detours, we roamed the Khénifra and Ifrane National Park, where dense forests and large clearings dominated the landscape. Besides the herds of sheep and goats, which is common in Morocco, we discovered the wild Barbary macaques, who curiously inspected our car and looked for some kind of treat. We were a little surprised by the thick fur of the monkeys, but there was snow in shady areas and the temperature was in the lower single digits even during the day.
And to our amazement; east of Azrou is a small ski resort. However, when we passed through, the snow conditions were not exactly optimal for a day’s skiing. 🙁
Before we headed back to the Atlantic, we were interested in the wine region around Meknès, where, from our own experience, good juices ripen and are made into wine. Unfortunately, we did not find any of our desired wineries. So we had a short city tour of Meknès before continuing in a westerly direction to Rabat. There are still large areas of fertile land in front of the coastal mountains, and agriculture has already made a certain technical progress; tractors and large implements had largely replaced manual labour in this area.
Rabat is the complete opposite of the rest of Morocco; the city and the directly adjacent suburbs were sparkling clean and the houses were finished, plastered and painted. Men and women in colourful work clothes were everywhere, cleaning the streets, removing rubbish and keeping everything clean. We ignored the question of where all the rubbish and garbage was taken, but a new mountain is currently being created north of Salé, and the area around this rubbish tip looked accordingly; plastic bags and other rubbish were everywhere.
We couldn’t ignore the capital city, which sparkled with cleanliness, and we were already in the middle of the hustle and bustle of the many local tourists. Royal monuments are obviously not only on the compulsory programme for schools; buses unloaded neatly dressed men and women, who were busy taking selfies with their mobile phones. In our euphoria, we also chose the wrong path, which led to the royal palace, which immediately caused a minor commotion and we were promptly ordered back onto the public path.
We continued northwards towards Tangier along the Atlantic coast via Larache and Asilah, the city of artists. The great and wide beaches are increasingly being overbuilt with holiday resorts along the coastline, while in the hinterland, vegetables and fruit are grown for the local market and for export. Unfortunately, the landscape looked the part due to the intensive agricultural cultivation; rubbish and lots of plastic were lying around everywhere. The many holiday home developments by the sea were finished, but details were missing almost everywhere. Rubbish was often actively dumped near the half-finished houses, which looked more like ruins. It’s a shame about this wonderful landscape.
On the other hand, the landscape from Cap Spartel to Tangier is well-kept and maintained as if the king were about to show up. It is truly breathtakingly beautiful and tourists were standing in each other’s way when taking photos with the dromedaries. We also found the respective prices at the tourist attractions to be outrageously high and bordering on European conditions; but the respective places were still beautiful.
Since the ferry crossing from Tangier to Algeciras was a hundred euros more expensive than from Ceuta, we chose the second option and continued our journey from Tangier in an easterly direction; we were in no hurry. Chantal guided me east of Tangier Maritime once more along an exposed track by the sea. It was a shame that the military were very much in evidence here with their guard posts; it would have been a great place for a wild night’s camping above the surf of the Strait of Gibraltar.
So we headed for the border with Ceuta/Spain that same day, where our patience was put to the test. We waited patiently in line for over four hours to cross the border. Then, long faces when leaving the country: where is the white slip of paper that customs is supposed to have put in my passport when I entered the country last year? Without the small note, the car cannot leave the country! A certain amount of excitement spread and we were sure that we hadn’t received anything. But the officials accused us of having lost it and now we had a big problem. The further waiting was almost unbearable and we stood somewhat lost with the various customs and police officials. Ugh, what do we do now?
But suddenly the story sorted itself out or the officials took pity on us. Maybe it was a mixture of both; one of them held out our passports and vehicle documents and said dryly that we should go now. He said a little accusingly that we were in debt and should be more careful next time!
Relieved, we moved on to the Spanish entry. Here, only a brief examination of the vehicle took place; the customs officer wanted to be absolutely sure that we had not hidden any persons in our camper, followed by a quick glance at our passports and he welcomed us to Spain. The whole story about this piece of paper, as well as the long wait, had worn us down completely. But we were still very happy to be in the Spanish enclave in Africa.
It had been dark for a long time when we set up in the marina for the night and soon sank into the relieving dreams.
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