Boumalne

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By Tineghir, the Moroccan diet finally had its wicked way with Heather's insides. We asked directions from someone, thinking we'd be safe as he had a stall to mind, but no, he came with us and spent about an hour trying to sell us jewellery, or better, swap some for Heather's blackberry!

In the next town, Boumalne, our taxi refused to brave the 'piste', or track, up to the hotel. We had a long hot walk and then were faced by a river and a bridge, which looked fun to Gavin but Heather could tell there were trolls underneath. Rather than walk many miles round, Gavin carried over the bags without any appearance from the trolls, and valiantly helped Heather across.

Called the Perle du Dades, our hotel was run by two lovely people, very hospitable, who'd done the place up really tastefully. Lots of plush hotels seem to be more concerned about making sure you know they've spent lots of money on them. This one was tasteful as well as expensively done up. Our hosts had worked with needy kids taking them to Mali for months at a time, and there was clear evidence of their love for Mali art around the kasbah: statues, pictures, lamps and the rest. They were also extremely hospitable, as you might expect from people who'd worked with those kids. Everything was included; swimming pool, gardens, clothes washing, internet, wine, chauffeur, good music, piano, big chess set, boules, cinema ... and soon they are opening a hammam!

The next day we set off up the Dades valley, just short of the gorge where there are some weird rock formations, pictured. The guidebook claims that they were formed when a river met a primordial sea, although how anyone knows we have no idea.

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