Clean, refreshed and wearing my new underpants, I climbed into our white eight-ton Excocet, checked the 'Sat Nav' and speared towards Marrakesh or Casablanca. Quickly realizing the 'bloody machine' was busy finding satellites, I took the radical step of looking at a current map of Morocco, this proved a godsend- I don't know why people haven't thought of it earlier- they really are quite useful. Tony took over the driving just before arriving in 'Kesh' and decided to drive through the city– fool.
In willingly deciding to tackle Moroccan city driving, I began thinking insurance. Is there a weight limit that donkeys can carry? Is it legal seat five people on a motorbike? Can the weight of a vehicles' load, carried on a roof rack exceed to weight of the vehicle? Are camels considered mobile speed humps? (that was a joke). Regardless of this, we survived and ploughed on and up the Atlas, fantastic. From our lofty positions in the cab the views were spectacular.
At this time of year the area around Marrakesh between the mid and high Atlas are quite lush, farms benefitting from the snow run off which is colored brick red orange with all the silt. We knew the climb up one of the worlds' greatest mountain ranges would be slow, but due to the nature of the drivers and their faith in Allah, we didn't cause any queues. The cars just weaved past us on the narrow roads; risking the thousand feet drop off or head on collision time and time again.
You're forced to go at the trucks pace, and that's good, from our lofty perch you take it all in; the views from Tizi-n-Tischka (the top) being wonderful. At this altitude there is a lack of vegetation, in the winter it would be incredibly bleak and tough up here, snow depth indicators line the roadsides, as do crash barriers –most off which have no (or little) foundation, the soil and rock being washed away. So, in effect would possibly slow you down while careering off the road, but certainly wouldn't stop you.
The lack of plants doesn't mean a lack of color; the hills are made up of stripes of different rock types. It's a geologists dream, the folds and evidence of a more violent time in the earths past right in front of us. Like a make-up box, pastel shades of red, purple, brown and yellow are the color scheme. Sweeping down into the valleys in the rain shadow of the high Atlas, the lack of water was more evident, apart from a water truck we were following, it was spilling more water out of its rusty tank than the locals would see for months.
Looking over at Tony ('Pig in Poo Tone') he was clearly loving it, this was what he came here for, and as the roads became narrower and less civilized his grin became wider. Stopping at town (Tazenacht) we once again attempted to sent blogs, emails, texts etc – it wasn't happening. We will when we can.
We stopped for the evening next to a rocky oasis; we lit a fire, sat in the chairs and watched the last rays of the sun dip below the mountains. We are living the dream. Today we are to tackle the very off road piste between Foum Zroud and Zagora. Stay tuned for the next installment.
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