Two Men in a Truck: 2012

Monday, 16 April 2012

Day-3.

see attached i hope.

Slept well, about to start
the haul up to Tiz-n-test in the high Atlas, plan to eat lunch with a view

Sunday, 15 April 2012

Welcome Back

We're glad you had a good time but we missed you!

Without going into detail (sparing you reader!) – I was pretty much out of action with food poisoning (it was the slow roasted lamb knuckle) for the trip through mid Spain – I tried driving but could only manage two hours before I had to do the toilet dash. Tony was a man mountain behind the wheel - a real star.

So here I sit in Bilbao ferry port, feeling a million times better than the last thirty-six hours. We have done the tidying up, packed away the smelly socks, had showers - and yes you’ve probable guessed it - shown a group of people around the truck. We are all ready to board the boat - both looking forward to seeing our families again.
A couple of things before I finish...
On Sunday the 25th of March, we went to Siddington point-to-point horse races, Tony mentioned he was itching to go and do a Morocco trip and test the truck, and did I want to go? We left five days later, my chief role being mate, photographer, blog writer and translator.
Thank you to Susie, Ben and Slim for allowing me the freedom to go. Slim - thanks for your understanding - and next trip you're coming.
Thank you to Tony for giving me the opportunity to visit Morocco again (despite my flippant remarks about the place and its people, it is a wonderful country) and thank you for the care when I was feeling like death warmed up.

The truck was great – 3437 miles at approximately 55/ 60 mph without a problem, working out at 14 mpg (The most 'Frequently Asked' of the Frequently Asked Questions - will take laminated hand-outs next time!)
That’s it…..
FIN

Day 15 –Wet –Tummy

Not a great day really – we left Essoiura at 8.30 am and began the haul up north, past Safi, towards Casablanca, Rabat etc.

The country is clearly more fertile the further you go north, more tractors, combine harvesters and larger fields. People are healthier; cows no longer have their ribs showing. Bananas grow under huge polythene greenhouses. I would have loved to have seen more of this, however twenty minutes into my driving stint, the dreaded Moroccan 'lergy' struck, having to pull off the road, to avoid serious accident, I spent the rest of the day rolling around in bed. I could hear the rain pelting down on the roof cab (I heard later that the rain had turned to six inches of snow on the mountain passes we had been through a few days before).

We stopped just past Tangier in a motorway truck stop – hardly the most atmospheric camping. It wasn't the best- trucks coming in and out all night, car alarms etc.

Fwd: last photos

Day 14 – Weather and watches

Once again the surf gods had deserted me, and my now 'well-travelled neoprene' was to remain dry, so I washed my socks and undies instead. Tony headed of into some small dunes and scrub on the quad.

On Tony's return we held the usual Q and A session about the truck and trip (tyre pressure, oil colour, fridge temperature, deodorant choice etc) to the assembled motor-home masses. The owners of 'Desert Explorateur' and 'Galaxy Adventurer' being interested in the suspension, 'Wild Nomad' the cooker and the 'Wilderness Adventurer' just seemed to be hanging about.

We refused to talk to the couple with the air brushed 'Lonesome Red Indians staring into middle distance with Wolf cub' picture on the side of their van.

After receiving the plaudits, we decided to take a trip into town - well worth it. Bought some stuff, woodwork mainly, and took some photos of the back streets of Essoiura.

Once in town we some saw evidence of homophobic graffiti on some of the walls of the Medina. Morocco being a mixture of Islamic and Catholic is not overly tolerant of homosexuality except within its clergy and activities such as use of pedestrian crossings, drinking decaffeinated coffee, and other overtly 'gay activities' are likely to be frowned upon.

It had been threatening to rain for some time (would the socks get dry?) and the temperature started to get a bit chilly. We headed back to the truck, fell asleep reading- showered and changed ready to go out for our last meal in Essoiura. We returned to town in the truck due to the rain being of biblical quality and the quad bike not being licensed for inland waterways.

We ate the same restaurant as the previous evening (inside this time), Islamic mosaic tiles covered the walls and floors, brick red paint work where the walls were exposed - very tasteful. The food was once again excellent. A magician was doing the rounds from table to table – he was a-ma-zing, demonstrating the ball- cup-hand-ball-change-to-mandarin trick. He managed to remove my watch without me having the slightest idea - the manager came over to me and presented me with a thank you box? – I opened it and thought he was being rather generous giving me a watch - until I realized it was mine! He then proceeded to do it again with another trick. A great evening, returned home fell asleep –we have a long drive up north tomorrow.

(p.s. my socks dried out OK)

Thursday, 12 April 2012

Day 13 – Fights, sweaty boys and horse riding

We started the day with domestic duties, wiping surfaces, cleaning floors - quite a bit of dirt and dust accumulate with it being dry and windy. There was no rush to hit the beach as the tide was in and both Tony's planned horse ride and my surf were better as low-tide activities. 'Tone' had arranged an 11 a.m. meet with the horse riding guys - but the timing was pretty flexible.

We met at the beach shack/restaurant/board hire place to do our thing. We decide to have a little bit of lunch before heading off (we both had a pork terrine) Whilst dining we watched the dynamics of the touts on the beach, all vying for business – horse hire, camel rides, quad bike hire – the surf/ windsurf/kite board outfit was pretty professional – good kit, well maintained staff. Then it all kicked off - much shouting in Arabic, one tout had pinched the clients from someone else – a fight followed, spilling over onto the terrace in front of the restaurant – one guy ended up with a cut eye. It's a serious business, mucking about with other peoples livelihoods, it was upsetting for the children in the restaurant who had to witness it.

Where as riding horses on flat beaches can be considered great fun, surfing on a millpond is something I have always struggled to find the enjoyment in. Tony went horse riding; I took the quad into town to look for 'action'. Surfing wasn't happening for me today.

I wandered through the streets of the town centre, the shop girls admiring my swarthy paunch, ankle socks and off-white tan. The men looking with envious eyes – not understanding the spell that men like Tony and I can weave over the innocent female. Feeling the eyes of an army of females on me, I ducked onto a male enclave to seek sanctuary – the barbershop. Sitting down, I chatted about football (Casablanca beat Tetouan in the final) men's health issues and the latest 'Morocco's Got Talent'. I emerged with a decent haircut and beard trim – the girls went wild.

Back at the beach, Tony had been given 'Silver' a fearsome stallion only recently broken. Frothing at the mouth, full of attitude, hairy and wild - Tony made the perfect rider. A bond of pure sinew, muscle and hair, merging together to form this hell fire relationship – riders at the gates of a brave new dawn, brought together to turn back the tide, to 'collide with the very air they breathe', to smite the devil and chase him to hell. But before that, there was a short health and safety briefing.

Tony's riding partner was a young lad 'Greggy' who was in charge of the route and general leader. It soon was apparent that he was quite inexperienced, flapping around on his steed like some rag doll, his horse out of control for most of the ride – Tony took charge.

After meeting up back at the beach shack, we spent time talking to 'Greggy' and his tout. It was interesting to get their perspective on life in Morocco – generally they were happy with their lot. He said the King of Morocco was great (but then we probed a little deeper, it seems people disappear for public dissent in Morocco). We asked for some advice around nightlife, places to see, and things to do etc. We fancied a traditional Hammam – bath/ scrub/ massage.

We went back to the truck, drank - read book - fell asleep - woke up – got sorted went into town for Hammam and food.

We didn't want a white tiled, white toweled, merchandise in the reception lobby kind of experience – we could get that in the U.K. We weren't disappointed.

Leading us down a narrow lane – the lady who does the 'bookings' led us into a dark dome shaped brick room, hot marble slabs on the floor. Two sweaty young men were there to greet us, buckets of water and running water. After putting the images of 'Midnight Express' behind us we took most of our kit off (I had previously nailed my swimming trunks on to prevent slippage). Without going into details it was very pleasurable – washed – scrubbed (layers of dead skin rolling off) – soaped – rinsed- massaged – then oiled with Argan oil (local tree oil).

We emerged into the dusty alley, clean, slightly wobbly and in search of food and some music. 'Taros' was the happening place – music – good food – fantastic location and cool décor. The guitarist singer was pretty good, singing a range of western stuff, he was followed by a young girl (singing the obligatory Adele stuff). Buoyed on by the polite applause from the diners, she brought her two giggly friends up (all X-factor wannabees). Forgotten words, giggling, off-key, it was beginning to turn into open-mic night. Thankfully the owner, had a polite word with the guitarist- basically 'get this * off and play your *-ing guitar' and all returned to normal.

Bedtime.

Tuesday, 10 April 2012

Fwd: Day 11 & 12 Photos

Day 12 - Driving and Fish

The drive to Essouira on the coast was easy: good roads made for faster progress. The countryside here starts to show a more commercial side to the agriculture, more tractors, larger fields with crops intended to be sold, rather than kept for home consumption. There were still some very long stretches of dry barren ground though.

We eventually spied the sea – hooray - Essouira is a resort town, people on the beaches on holiday, camel rides on the beach, surfing etc. Many of the women still wear the traditional burkahs on the beach - they come in three types, Factor 30, 25, and 15. Many of the Muslim ladies sport 'Camel eyes' like 'Panda eyes' for skiers - but in negative.

On riding along the beach road, many of Essouira's beach hotels offer massage treatments; we were warned that in some of the cheaper establishments the so-called 'essential oils' are in fact low-grade engine lubricants. So those with sensitive skin or an aversion to being covered in petrochemical by-products should exercise caution.

We had a look around the town for a few hours- the fishing port is well worth a visit, full of life (apart from the fish). It makes a change to see Moroccans working and engaged in activity with some degree of urgency. Lots of different fish seem to being caught, I recognized large eels, a tuna, small sharks and a whole range of smaller fish. As you would expect the restaurants around the port sell mainly seafood, however, one large restaurant 'La Fruit de la Mare' (as the name suggests) sells just horsemeat.

Over the last two hundred years pirates have ransacked the port garrison on no less than sixty occasions, until it was decided to point the cannons out to sea. The cannons are still there- a reminder of the violent past.

On returning to the campsite we dropped in on the part of the beach that offered a range of water sports- surfboards and windsurfers for hire, quad bikes, horses to rent. Camels were being led up and down the beach with tourists perched on top – a bit like Blackpool but slightly more exotic. We plan to return tomorrow.

In the evening we returned to town, looking for a restaurant. Tony was feeling a bit 'off color' so we avoided the seafood and had a wander through the market area that surrounds the main square- much more vibrant than Marrakesh, the street vendors were less aggressive, it had an almost French beach resort vibe – I liked it.

In search of food and live music we were directed to a little restaurant, the three players restored our belief in Moroccan music, churning out a hypnotic beat with a drum, 'three string guitar' and a 'tinny castanet'- sounding definitely 'Africany' they played away while we ate our meal. We emerged from the restaurant at about nine-thirty and the street vendors were shutting up shop- not a late night then.

We looked out for a nightclub to try and catch the local dance performed– the 'Cutasucre' or 'The Cane Cutters dance'. It is an exuberant men's dance performed blindfolded, intoxicated and with machetes, it's complex rhythms clapped out by the dance leader with his one remaining hand, is accompanied by the 'Tubron' a local woodwind instrument producing a sound likened to water going down a narrow drain-hole. Both the 'Cutasucre' and the Tubron have failed to capture the imagination of the youth, and unfortunately this part of the Essouirans cultural heritage will be soon gone forever, as will the 24-hour 'drop in' reconstructive surgery theatres.

Without finding the dance club, we walked back to the quad to return to the truck- I liked the atmosphere here, definitely a tourist feel, but with an edge. The quality of goods on sale was much better, as were the prices. Tomorrow we surf.

*Note – In the interests of continuity and sanity of the writer some of the information given above may have been embellished or may even be 'slightly' false. This account should by no be means seen as the definitive guide to the region.

Day 11 - Driving and Fish

The start to the day was slow and quite hot, we both needed a bit of a break from the road and the place we were staying was perfect.

Lots of large motor homes dominate the place, Tones being the biggest and by most account the most desirable - wave after wave of hairy men with dreams of Africa coming up and asking questions about the vehicle; some turning up with photos of their partially completed projects and what advice could Tony give them etc. We need a series of laminated sheets to stick on the truck giving the details of dimensions, Tony's tip for the day etc.

We zipped down the road on the quad (very handy) and checked out the 'Marjane' supermarket, I think they must be a French chain, very similar to 'Super U'; the fish section certainly had the same vomit-inducing stench.

We ate in the restaurant in the campsite, watched a film and fell asleep.

Sunday, 8 April 2012

Fwd: Day 10 photos

Day 10 - The High Atlas and Marrakesh

Into the cab after watching the sunrise we began our long (ish) trek to Marrakesh. As mentioned previously, we travelled through Ourzarzate. I visited the city last year when travelling on the motorbike. The city has really changed, much more of modern feel, cleaner streets and roads have kerbs and there are even public fountains and pieces of modern art dotted around. This is a city that clearly has a bit of money floating around, it is situated between the High Atlas and the desert country has fertile farmland, the livestock look healthier as do the people. Ourazarzate is also the place where several big films were made. Those shots of Luke Skywalker zipping around in the desert on his sand pod thingy and the landscapes of the sand people were all made here. Others credits include 'The Man who would be King' 'The Jewel in the Nile', 'Lawrence of Arabia' and the 70's epic 'Jesus of Nazareth'. We only drove through but it was impressive.

From the Southern side the ascent of the mountains is quite steep, lots of switch-backs and even more 'if we go off the cliff here we're stuffed' comments. We stopped at a small shelter/shop and bought some geods? (Rocks with a crystal centre) and further on some good bits of pottery. The 'pot shop' was dirt-cheap and sold the real stuff not just tourist tat. Locals and passing truck drivers seemed to favor it; all along the road people selling 'geods' that had been stained to make them more dramatic- unfortunately to the point of being ludicrous having been stained bright pink and orange. We had already been told by our man at the small shelter what to look for and he showed us some example of 'fake' geods, so we were in the know!

The cruise into Marrakesh seems to take forever, the road winds aimlessly along with less of the extreme drop-offs we encounter on the climb up. The soil changes back to a muddy red brick color, the erosion on the hills is quite spectacular, shaping and reshaping the gorges after every winter snow melt. The soil gets carried away, filling the puddles, drainage trenches and staining the rivers red.

The campsite we had found in 'Kesh was tricky to find, and after a mini tour of the various industrial estates and low spots of 'Kesh, we relented and asked for directions – no problem, after getting lost after the first set of instructions, we were successful after asking the local tyre selling bloke. We eventually found 'Le Relais de Marrakesh' this was a godsend - a top campsite. Swimming pool, bar, showers, bar, friendly staff, Jacuzzi, bar, trees for shade and a bar.

On arrival, we held a small media briefing to answer general questions about the truck. Tony then suggested that questions of a specific engineering nature would be best fielded in the bar. We got talking to a Dutch chap (mid twenties I guess), he was driving an old Land Rover through Africa – and not for the first time, he had been all over the place. Randolph was the genuine article, we went into the market in town 'Place Jemaa el Fna' for some food with him, we were warned about dubious looking rug salesmen. Six minutes after our taxi dropped us off - a rug sales man approached us, what can I say, I had predicted ten minutes.

The market place is a sensory whirlpool, the blur of smoke from the BBQ fires, the colors of the spice/date and orange sellers and the 'bloody racket' from the tone deaf drummers. I honestly think some of these 'musicians' are having a laugh; they seemed to be constantly 'warming up'. One group of drummers were OK, but the rest- sad to say - disappointed. It's easy to wax lyrical about the primitive beat and the natural rhythms of Africa – but these blokes couldn't beat an egg.

There was huge amount of food happening- brochette, cous cous, tagine plus the european pizza and chips thing. We opted for the tagine and very tasty too; a word of warning for those readers planning to visit with small children – don't order the kids menu if your children like baby goats, they may become upset.

We were knackered and returned about eleven o'clock, we are staying another night in 'Kesh, time to recharge the batteries, restock groceries and did I mention there was a bar in the campsite.

Day 9 – Driving

It was a glorious day, bright blue skies and warmth. We had a bit of housekeeping to do – put away the quad bike, fill up the water tanks, ironing, hoovering and spot clean the cushion covers etc. We have found that opening the side windows is a great way of airing the truck out, however this does have the effect of causing queues of people expecting hamburgers or kebabs, that's why camping away from the towns is easier, and less of a threat to the local food vendors.

We sent the previous days blog and paid the bill and left Erg Chebbi at about 10am, with a view to getting to Ouarzarzate by mid to late afternoon.

On reaching Rissani (the nearest town) we attempted to get fuel. Petrol stations that show credit card signs generally take credit cards, not so down here – this was the case at several stations, we were chewing through our cash as a result. One garage said we could pay in Euros, thankfully they were not up to speed with current exchange rates and we filled up for a bargain.

Onwards we pushed - through Erfoud and then across the desert to Tinehir, with no drama but spectacular scenery; monument valley stuff all over again. We passed the Stone pillar of Enid - this crumbling dormant volcano was first climbed in 1678 by French mountaineer – Pierre Poubelle; struck by the pillars immense size and constant emitting of foul gasses he named it after his wife, Enid.

After a long stint, Tone pulled of the road so we could make some lunch. Now in our travels we have come to note the Moroccans have about as much respect for the environment as a well-fed dog on a bowling green. They are not shy about fly tipping; plastic bags adorn most roadside trees and bottles are to be found strewn everywhere. What we didn't expect to find at our lunchtime picnic spot (in the desert) was half a ton of dead fish, in a neat pile about twenty metres from the roadside. Rather than go for the biblical plagues and pestilence explanation, we figured the tyre tracks leading away hinted at a truck dumping them.

One of the main causes of accidents in the desert regions are wayward livestock and potholes, we are constantly on the lookout for both. Compulsory road safety classes were trialled some years ago but the country's goats refused to attend.

We continued on towards Ouarzarzate along the Dades Valley, small villages merging into each other for most of the way, many with small stalls selling crafts. Hand-carved electronic goods are popular; the local pottery produces bowls and pots that have a tendency to leak, crack, split or crumble. This aside they are cheap and make a perfect gift for someone you are unlikely to see again.

It seemed there had been some recent rain as the rivers were flowing, at one point the truck went through a swollen river that was more than tyre tread depth! The locals looked on with a degree of envy yet wonderment as we negotiated our craft through the treacherous waters.

About fifteen km from Ouarzarzate we began to skirt the shores of a rather large lake, the result of a dam further down the valley, the sun was setting, we were tired, the views were great, so we decided to camp. What a treat – only the photos can do it justice – glorious sun set, magnificent full moon rise. We sat outside watching the show on chairs brought from the UK– unfortunately the midges weren't distracted by this astronomy lesson and my legs – standing out like white beacons - were an easy target.

We retired inside to cook our 'chicken with spices' from the produce (tomatoes, aubergine and sweet pepper) purchased in Merzouga - it turned out to be quite tasty.

Tomorrow we plan to be in Marrakesh in the afternoon and stay for a couple of nights, before heading to Essoira on the coast.

Day 9 and 10

DAY 9 – Driving

We sent the previous days blog and paid the bill and left Erg Chebbi at about 10am, with a view to getting to Ouarzarzate by mid to late afternoon.

On reaching Rissani (the nearest town) we attempted to get fuel. Petrol stations that show credit card signs generally take credit cards, not so down here – this was the case at several stations, we were chewing through our cash as a result. One garage said we could pay in Euro's, thankfully they were not up to speed with current exchange rates and we filled up for a bargain.

Onwards we pushed - through Erfoud and then across the desert to Tinehir, with no drama but spectacular scenery; monument valley stuff, all over again. We passed the Stone pillar of Enid - this crumbling dormant volcano was first climbed in 1678 by French mountaineer – Pierre Poubelle; struck by the pillars immense size and constant emitting of foul gasses he named it after his wife, Enid.

After a long stint, Tone pulled of the road so we could make some lunch.

Now in our travels we have come to note the Moroccans have about as much respect for the environment as a well - fed dog on a bowling green. They are not shy about fly tipping; plastic bags adorn most roadside trees and bottles are to be found strewn everywhere. What we didn't expect to find at our lunchtime picnic spot (in the desert) was half a ton of dead fish, in a neat pile about twenty meters from the roadside, rather than go for the biblical plagues and pestilence explanation. We figured the tyre tracks leading away, hinted at a truck dumping them.

About fifteen km from Ouarzarzate we began to skirt the shores of a rather large lake, the result of a dam further down the valley, the sun was setting, we were tired, the views were great, so we decided to camp. What a treat – only the photos can do it justice – glorious sun set, magnificent full moon rise. We sat outside watching the show on the chairs brought from the U.K– unfortunately the midges weren't distracted by this astronomy lesson and my legs – standing out like white beacons- were an easy target.

We retired inside to cook our 'chicken with spices' from the produce (tomatoes, aubergine and sweet pepper) purchased in Merzouga- it turned out to be quite tasty.

Tomorrow we plan to be in Marrakesh in the afternoon and stay for a couple of nights, before heading to Essoira on the coast.

Day 10 The High Atlas and Marrakesh

Into the cab after watching the sunrise, we began our long (ish) trek to Marrakesh. As mentioned previously, we travelled through Ourzarzate. I visited the city last year when travelling on the motorbike. The city has really changed, much more of modern feel, cleaner streets, and roads have kerbs and there are even public fountains and pieces of modern art dotted around. This is a city that clearly has a bit of money floating around, it is situated between the High Atlas and the desert country has fertile farmland, the livestock look healthier as do the people. Ourazarzate is also the place were several big films were made. Those shots of Luke Skywalker zipping around in the desert on his sand pod thingy and the landscapes of the sand people were all made here. Others credits include 'The man who would be king' 'The jewel in the Nile' 'Lawrence of Arabia' and the 70's epic 'Jesus of Nazareth'. We only drove through but it was impressive.

From the Southern side the ascent of the mountains is quite steep, lots of switch backs and even more ' if we go off the cliff here we're stuffed' comments. We stopped at a small shelter/ shop and bought some geods? (Rocks with a crystal centre) and further on some good bits of pottery. The 'pot shop' was dirt-cheap and sold the real stuff not just tourist tat. Locals and passing truck drivers seemed to favor it; all along the road people selling 'geods' that had been stained to make them more dramatic- unfortunately to the point of being ludicrous having been stained bright pink and orange. We had already been told by our man at the small shelter what to look for and he showed us some example of 'fake' geods, so we were in the know!

The cruise into Marrakesh seems to take forever, the road winds aimlessly along with less of the extreme drop offs we encounter on the climb up. The soil changes back to a muddy red brick color, the erosion on the hills is quite spectacular, shaping and reshaping the gorges after every winter snow melt. The soil gets carried away, filling the puddles, drainage trenches and staining the rivers red.

On arrival, we held a small media briefing to answer general questions about the truck, Tony then suggested that questions of a specific engineering nature would be best fielded in the bar. We got talking to a Dutch chap (mid twenties I guess), he was driving an old land rover through Africa – and not for the first time, he had been all over the place. Randolph was the genuine article, we went into the market in town 'Place Jemaa el Fna' for some food with him, we were warned about dubious looking rug salesmen. Six minutes after our taxi dropped us off- a rug sales man approached us, what can I say, I had predicted ten minutes.

The market place is a sensory whirlpool, the blur of smoke from the BBQ fires, the colors of the spice/ date and orange sellers and the 'bloody racket' from the tone deaf drummers.

I honestly think some of these 'musicians' are having a laugh; they seemed to be constantly 'warming up'. One group of drummers were OK, but the rest- sad to say disappointed. It's easy to wax lyrical about the primitive beat and the natural rhythms of Africa – these blokes couldn't beat an egg.

There was huge amount of food happening- brochette, Cous Cous, Tagine plus the European pizza and chips thing. We opted for the Tagine and very tasty too; a word of warning for those readers planning to visit with small children – don't order the kids menu if your children like baby goats, they may become upset.

We were knackered and returned about eleven o'clock, we are staying another night in 'Kesh, time to recharge the batteries restock groceries, and did I mention there was a bar in the campsite.

Day 9 and 10

DAY 9 – Driving

We sent the previous days blog and paid the bill and left Erg Chebbi at about 10am, with a view to getting to Ouarzarzate by mid to late afternoon.

On reaching Rissani (the nearest town) we attempted to get fuel. Petrol stations that show credit card signs generally take credit cards, not so down here – this was the case at several stations, we were chewing through our cash as a result. One garage said we could pay in Euro's, thankfully they were not up to speed with current exchange rates and we filled up for a bargain.

After a long stint, Tone pulled of the road so we could make some lunch.

About fifteen km from Ouarzarzate we began to skirt the shores of a rather large lake, the result of a dam further down the valley, the sun was setting, we were tired, the views were great, so we decided to camp. What a treat – only the photos can do it justice – glorious sun set, magnificent full moon rise. We sat outside watching the show on the chairs brought from the U.K– unfortunately the midges weren't distracted by this astronomy lesson and my legs – standing out like white beacons- were an easy target.

We retired inside to cook our 'chicken with spices' from the produce (tomatoes, aubergine and sweet pepper) purchased in Merzouga- it turned out to be quite tasty.

Tomorrow we plan to be in Marrakesh in the afternoon and stay for a couple of nights, before heading to Essoira on the coast.

Day 10 The High Atlas and Marrakesh

The market place is a sensory whirlpool, the blur of smoke from the BBQ fires, the colors of the spice/ date and orange sellers and the 'bloody racket' from the tone deaf drummers.

We were knackered and returned about eleven o'clock, we are staying another night in 'Kesh, time to recharge the batteries restock groceries, and did I mention there was a bar in the campsite.

Friday, 6 April 2012

Fwd: ERG - Photos

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Day 8 - Sand

We were both a bit lethargic on waking up, the travel taking its toll, but that was ok, the sun was shining, I did a bit of washing, reading and planning the days ahead- maps out, where can we go what do we want to do etc..

We drove into Merzouga to check out the quad hire prices, availability etc. Tony had already done a little research and the prices for hire were frankly steep for what was on offer, we had to have a guide, needed to hire two bikes (even though we already had one). We said we would think about it (but not for long) we put extra fuel on board Tone's bike, drinking water, maps, compass etc and headed off tandem. It worked quite well, I played the part of scout, when the dunes were a bit steep or we didn't know what was on the other side (drop off, camel herd or Land Rover).

It was spectacular, ploughing through the sea of sand, pitching and rolling with the dunes. Like off piste skiing, you need to pick your line with care, otherwise you end up in a bowl. The dunes like snow often lack definition and it can be tricky to judge the steepness of a dunes pitch, this is known as 'yellow out conditions'.

Driving in deep sand is a trick I am yet to master, Tony seemed to have it sorted- consequently he did most of the driving. I had a few goes, but I can say with honesty that I was not as confident as Tone, I hadn't ridden a quad before so I took charge of camel spotting.

We picked our way through medium to small dunes, using a large rocky outcrop in the distance as a marker beacon, this worked fine. On arriving at said point there was a small Berber restaurant, having taken little money with us, we went for the coke option. The owner asked if we wanted food, I explained we haven't brought much money (which was true) – 'no problem' he said. He was very proud of his little operation –tents, outside oven, BBQ and a little vegetable garden - he clearly had plans to have people stay overnight. He served up a wonderful salad and omelette, and with us seated on Berber chairs and carpets and chatting to him, it couldn't have been better - I gave him what we had (100dhm = £9). We exchanged thank you's and rode off in search of 'Ergs'.

Getting back to the campsite (after I managed to throw both Tone and myself off the bike) I was relieved to see no one had stolen my now dry undies and socks from the spiky bush they were hanging on. This had been playing on my mind for some time- as rates of underwear theft have skyrocketed in this region. We had been warned the previous day by a semi-naked german couple to 'watch our pants' - it got lost in the translation, we just thought they were weird or being overly friendly.

As you would expect with a diet rich in dates, figs and lentils, there is quite a market for second hand underwear in Merzouga, particularly in Men's XXL, you will often see the young local men flaunting the 'St Michaels' label when dining or perhaps a pair of white Y-fronts if wooing the girls. 'Clean' or nearly clean athletic supports have supplanted iphones as the must have accessory and command high prices at the weekly souk.

We dined out again in town, next to the plinth celebrating Captain Cameron Merzouga of the Royal Hussars - 'The Lonely Berber - A Friend to all, but particularly young men' it said, unfortunately the bronze statue of him mounting his camel was recently taken down, after a series of complaints about it being too obscene.

Dinner was beef brochette (skewers of beef) once again very tasty and inexpensive. We rode back to the camp cross country, sorted out 'stuff' watched the end of a film and fell asleep. Only three people asked about the dimensions, cost, abilities and attributes of the truck today - have we offended someone?

Tomorrow we leave the desert and head towards the High Atlas and Marrakesh.

Day 7 – Some rocks and lots of sand

My predictions for the morning were correct, a glorious day warm and blue skies. It turned out we were further away from Merzouga (Erg Chebbi) than we thought- this was clearly due to a fault line shifting since the map was published.

The road to Rissani is one punctuated by palm groves, the sides of the valley steep, rocky and very eroded. It clearly suffers when it rains hard- lots of washed out sections, we are now starting to have small dunes (albeit wet ones) creeping onto the road. Roads signs are warning us of camels on the road - never mind the camels - it's the goats and their prepubescent minders that are more of a hazard!

Rissani and Erfoud are towns that owe much of their economy to luck. Three hundred and fifty million years ago, a Paleozoic reef existed where the towns are situated (some locals still remember this time) and as a consequence this is fossil central. We are talking trilobites and coral rather than brontosaurus and T-Rex.

We stopped at a roadside 'museum' selling fossils – we preferred the out of town ones, Rissani and Erfoud are tourist traps and the prices are highly inflated. The old boy that ran the place was a mess. He showed us around all his stuff, tons of it, kept in boxes wrapped in newspaper- a treasure trove; I could have spent ages looking around. Alas, dear reader here is the rub - you can be fascinated, amazed, gob-smacked, find the missing link etc. but…. this directly affects the price; boredom, disinterest and apathy are the way forward when negotiating.

For the trip I have been doing the translation, this means I can really bullshit to Tony. I have developed a nod, a 'oui' and also a 'Biensure' that gives an impression that I understand what is being said to me. (This will get me into trouble, I know)

Unfortunately, we both wanted to get the message across to our ancient salesman that the punters don't want 'new fossils' that he had cleaned up, added a bit of varnish, the odd eye here and there, perhaps a some color or polished to a mirror finish. My French just wasn't up to the job of explaining this so we had to sit through several boxes of painted trilobites, that were too perfect, I think he eventually understood.

We found some great stuff, he started high, we went low, we said another time, he said wait my friend, we said 'no this all we can afford, he said 'no', we started the truck – he ran after us- we had the right price, he was happy, so were we.

The sand started to change into the dry wind blown stuff of Omar Sharif movies, the dunes becoming more evident and camels (feeling the need to justify the warning signs), loiter around corners waiting to pounce.

Tony is getting excited, he tells me facts about quad bikes, his quad bike, the history of quad bikes. Then it appears around a bend - the big one- Erg Chebbi. As Tone rightly points out, they're huge- a mountain range of sand.

The owner of the 'Rose en Sable'' campsite clearly saw us infidels coming and he speculated with an outrageous price (with or without electric?) After a micro-second of haggling we agreed that the forty dirham he wanted was ok - this was nearly four pounds (with an electric hook up), but we were tired and couldn't be bothered to find anywhere else, maybe tomorrow we'll look.

Proudly standing out against the blue sky, this pristine, fragile environment is a marvel of the natural world. The plants clinging on to the ever-shifting sands are almost totally reliant on the sweat of tourists for sustenance, Rhino beetles scurrying across the surface leaving delicate tracks only to disappear with a gust of wind. The increasingly rare desert ecosystems are home to a few of the most endangered species we have -the sand fish and the almost extinct Dune porpoise. A long-term education program has been set up to change the mind-sets of the locals, who still use porpoise phlegm as milk substitute and the skin for traditional elbow warmers.

The Tuareg people are beginning to forgo their ancient hunting traditions and are no longer harpooning these wonderful creatures from their camels, but it will be a long hard road if the Dune porpoise is to survive.

But hey- there's only one true way of exploring this fragile domain and that's 'flat chat' on a quad! In a flash she was out of her box and screaming over the dunes. The Tuareg tribesmen didn't know what had hit'em! That's progress though.

We decide to climb the Erg (dune), whilst it was still light, this was to be the most knackering experience have done since we left blighty. One step forward, two steps sinking back. By the time we got to the top, we were puffing like steam trains, but it was worth it; spectacular views of the dunes, photo opps galore.

On returning to the truck we went for a look around Mazouga (on the quad) to buy some provisions and check out the restaurant scene. Mazouga is not a big place - no asphalt, street lighting or footpaths. We bought some tagine spices from a bloke whose 'pitch' was on a carpet in the street, nice chap. Onwards for more provisions – tomatoes, coke and some strawberries! Tomorrow -we'll cook up a storm- a veritable symphony of spices, tomatoes, onions and defrosted Tesco's chicken pieces.

As you would expect, the vast majority of locals are Islamic, it was good to have some our preconceptions challenged- not all girls were burka clad and shut away, the men were happy to share a joke and take the micky out of their mates who were busy ranting in the street over the price of an orange. One little girl (daughter of shopkeeper number two) was clean, chatty and giggly in French, Arabic and Berber and her dad was clearly as proud and loving as any dad.

We found a suitable restaurant; the menu was written on the skin of a sheep and hanging up outside. We told the pretty young lady, that we would like 'the local special' to eat, and we would return later (8.30) to eat- job done.

The meal was very tasty, 'beef', lentils, peas, and peppers in a thick spicy stock. It arrived on a thick pottery plate- still boiling and bubbling, and served with fresh flat bread. We didn't stay long after the meal, the place was pretty empty, there was a group of women who did come in though (four, I think) they chatted away – no covered faces- all fashion conscious, mobile phone using types, laughing aloud, sitting at the table next to us- they could have been on a hen night; minus the L-plates, alcho-pops and lager.

Went to bed tired and full, slept well, today is the day we venture out into the sand proper- I plan to rent a quad bike, rather than double with Tony, we both expect to be knackered this evening

Thursday, 5 April 2012

Tweet : Thurs

We did the quad bike thing through the dunes today. You really have to pick the right path- like sking off piste. Get it wrong and you're off or digging the bike out, great fun. Hotter today, clouding over in the evening seems to be the pattern.Tony had a top day. Ate in a berber tent in the dunes, good salad,olives and an omelette - £10 for us both, a nice family, not out to rip anyone off. Camels all over. Blog tonight.