Internet again :)

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Apologizes, this could be a long one as our internet decided to block us out till we could get to a shop, and a lot has happened in the mean time.

Day started off fine with a slow easy morning and then a walk into Chefchauoen. The walk took us in to the top of the medina and not a single person batted an eyelid, as in not one “hello my friend, welcome to Morocco” which, a bit like the port, threw me. Last time we barely made it out of the campsite before we had a local who became our unwanted guide and every shop owner giving us the default tourist script as above (read 2012’s blog). Once we had walked around the main part of the medina, we went down into the newer part of town, which looked like any other, so we walked round till we found the main square for a drink.

As the taxi’s were to small for all five of us, I decided to hike back. I only got stuck twice, both times finding myself in someone’s back yard. When I came out of the outer wall of the medina, I could see the hotel that’s just outside the campsite, so instead of heading to the main road and up, I took a short cut direct to the front of the hotel. Half way across I decided to take a dirt track as the main path started going the long way, when I looked ahead, I saw a small group of people standing together. Something was telling me not to go go any closer and rejoin the path, and I’m glad I did as just over the hill was another 30 or 40 people at a funeral! Even as a tourist I don’t think I could get away with gate crashing one of those.

When I reached the campsite I only found my uncle and aunt. Turns out the little taxis can only take 3 people at a time so Mum and Dad went back into town to buy stamps then get the next taxi. After a coffee, Uncle Ray suggested we hike up the hill to a view point which is on a road out the back of the campsite. Once again we took a shortcut through the trees which ended up as a scramble up rocks to get back to the road above, but no funeral this time. The road was steep in places and had an unrelenting climb until we reached the view point, but once there the view was amazing. Now I consider myself to be reasonable fit thanks to the cycling, but the guys that passed us on the way down we’re jogging up the hill to the next village, just to make us all feel bad.

The next day we decided to drive the same road but this time all the way up until the end, if it ended, which none of us knew. The road itself was a gravel track that wound its way up to the top of the mountain we had camped next to, and I do mean the top of a mountain, because we hit snow! Now at first this was great fun, the thought of us being in Morocco and finding snow, until we headed down the other side. The little bits of snow on the south side had now become a foot thick covering for the next kilometre down the north side.

To say this put us all on edge is an understatement, as there were no barriers, just shear drops on one side. Luckily the route had been driven by someone recently, so there were tracks to guide us, but at half way, there was a hairpin bend. Dad had been in front and had just about made it by doing a three point turn, I was next, and even though I didn’t need to do a three pointer on that corner, my tyres didn’t have the tread depth to grip very well, so a couple of times they started making their own route. At this point we realised our CB’s were crap as we kept losing contact with each other. At the end of the snow we all meet up again, at which point I found out Uncle Ray had hit the hair pin with too much speed and nearly gone over! Luckily at that point the snow had thinned enough that when he hit the brakes it just about stopped.

The next problem was that three land rovers had driven up the other way and we were blocking their route on a track just about big enough for a single vehicle, oh and a shear drop one side. Once they had heard about the conditions ahead they decided to chuck the passengers out and send them off on foot, while they reversed back to a wider part of the track and turn around. 100 metres later and all the snow had gone, leaving us with our next problems. This side of the Riff mountain are basically where the drug dealers grow their hash plants, and we had now driven into the one place all the books tell you not to. That and the fact this was not a recognised road on any sat nav, so each junction was a bit of careful guess, using the direction point of the sat nav. Many many hours later we did arrive at the Town of Bab Taza, but only after 30 miles of dirt track that had to cross back of the top of another part of the Riff mountains. This time the route had been cleared sometime before so all the snow was on the edges and no hair pin bends.

After finally hitting tarmac we stopped at a small café for lunch, before plumbing in Fes on the Sat navs. This told us it was only 127 miles away, but we forgot to take in to account in Morocco, the ETA on the tom tom must be tripled at least. But we ignored this and started heading to Fes at 2:30pm. We didn’t arrive till 9pm, resulting in a 12 hour day of driving dirt tracks. I Also forgot to mention that the usual defensive driving you need for Morocco, Has to become offensive to get through Fes, or you will sit at the first roundabout forever. Now to do this after that amount of driving, at night and being that tired is an interest experience. Though I have to admit I loved driving through Fes the first time, so got a bit excited when I hit it again this time round, which woke me up a fair bit, making it a little easier, as all I really need to worry about was keeping everyone together.

Our Day in Fes was full on but worth every moment, as a guide had been organised for us. He was essential as he took us to so many places that were touristy aswell as places you would never have seen without him, such as the public bakery and the bolier house for the public bath house.

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