Ksar
Temnay, near Midelt. We decided to kiss off the planned visit to
Volubilis and Fes as the rain is really beginning to get a bit of a
bind. We reckon that the only way to escape the weather and get dry is
to head south, as fast as we can get there.Monday 23rd
I’m sitting as close as I can get to our little woodburning stove. It’s 1800, bloody cold and forecast to get colder. The locals are expecting 5 to 10 cms of snow tomorrow night. This was supposed to be an escape, among other things, from the Scottish winter….It’s warmer back home! We got here early this afternoon, stopping a bit before we'd normally do as we wanted to take advantage of a break in the weather to get the bedding dry and try to get an internet connection.
I’ve just opened the gratis bottle of red wine from Carlos’ “thank you” package and, well, let’s just say that as alcohol is hard to find in Morocco I’d better grin and bear it. A wedge of Camembert and this morning’s bread go well with it. Blunts the edge, in other words. I've also just had one of those "King Alfred and the cakes" moments. Sue put her purple fluffy socks (sorry Kristen, I know they're yours. Or rather, were...) on the stove pipe to dry and went for a pee. I was tasked with "keeping an eye on them" but the wine pouring and cheese eating distracted me. On her return, she found me trying to scrape the now melted socks off the pipe with a breadknife....
As we paid the bill at the campsite this morning, the young chap at reception had to disappear promptly out of sight to throw up. He reappeared looking decidedly ill, dripping sweat and barely able to stand. Having checked that there was a doctor available should things get worse, I paid the bill – less than £10 for two nights – and took several paces backwards quickly. We set sail for southern parts via Meknes, which allegedly contained a Marjane supermarket, and the Atlas foothills, at the time obscured in cloud.
I’ll let Sue note down the sights and sounds of the day as I was a bit busy with Defensive Driving. In other words, trying to predict what everyone else was going to do in an attempt to bring our trip to a premature and noisy end.....
The incident Mike has in mind, in particular, is an orange seller pushing his barrow, which is is as wide as we are, northwards up the southbound lane, and aiming for a head-to-head with our radiator grille. We left Meknes shrouded in mist and climbed rapidly into the clouds. The rain that we'd endured for so many days now disappeared, to be replaced with sleet. Passing snow gates just north of Azrou, the altimeter hit 1300 metres.
Azrou is the first real town of the Middle Atlas. It grew at the crossroads of two major routes. North to Meknes and Fes and south to Khenifra and Midelt. The road between Azrou and Midelt held several interesting sights - and smells. We drove through large cedar forests with a smell of Vick's Vapour Rub seeping through the Landrover's natural ventilation points. Coming round a sharp bend we had to brake hard to avoid a monkey sitting quietly in the middle of the road. These are similar to the notorious Gib apes, but seem quite a bit larger. The reason for this became clear (unlike the weather) a mile later. We passed the cloud-shrouded summit of the pass where there was a large carpark, several coachloads of Spanish tourists and possibly the rest of the monkey population, getting an early lunch.
The weather didn't improve on the downside of the mountain. In fact, it got a lot worse with visibility down to 30 metres or so for quite a while. We passed through our first police checkpoints, the officers seeming to have little interest in us. Not surprising given the conditions. We became aware of dogs sitting patiently at the side of the main road at the ends of forest tracks. They seemed quite happy to be waiting, but for what, we couldn't work out. There must've been several dozen sightings of them, but no accompanying humans or signs of other activity. Later, in the valley, we saw many individuals - humans, this time - standing at the side of the road, miles from any habitation. We knew from yesterday's bus ride that they were expecting scheduled transport to appear. Maybe the dogs are smarter than we thought.
Down in the valley - actually a vast plain at about 2000 metres altitude - the sun came out. Yippee. Wasn't very warm, though, but it lifted our spirits and the clouds, allowing us to get our first view of the High Atlas. Another noticeable feature in several towns we passed through were huge nests on the tops of chimneys, containing storks. The scenery is very reminiscent of what we'd seen in the USA in Death Valley and Nevada. Vast sandy brown plain with low scrub, flat-topped mesas and abandoned, roofless pueblos. At this point, although only just after 2 pm I found a campsite in our guidebook which we decided to head for. The lure of sunshine and a breeze was too tempting given the amount of damp bedding we needed to dry.
It wasn't until we climbed out of Daphne that we realised how cold it was....
I’m sitting as close as I can get to our little woodburning stove. It’s 1800, bloody cold and forecast to get colder. The locals are expecting 5 to 10 cms of snow tomorrow night. This was supposed to be an escape, among other things, from the Scottish winter….It’s warmer back home! We got here early this afternoon, stopping a bit before we'd normally do as we wanted to take advantage of a break in the weather to get the bedding dry and try to get an internet connection.
I’ve just opened the gratis bottle of red wine from Carlos’ “thank you” package and, well, let’s just say that as alcohol is hard to find in Morocco I’d better grin and bear it. A wedge of Camembert and this morning’s bread go well with it. Blunts the edge, in other words. I've also just had one of those "King Alfred and the cakes" moments. Sue put her purple fluffy socks (sorry Kristen, I know they're yours. Or rather, were...) on the stove pipe to dry and went for a pee. I was tasked with "keeping an eye on them" but the wine pouring and cheese eating distracted me. On her return, she found me trying to scrape the now melted socks off the pipe with a breadknife....
As we paid the bill at the campsite this morning, the young chap at reception had to disappear promptly out of sight to throw up. He reappeared looking decidedly ill, dripping sweat and barely able to stand. Having checked that there was a doctor available should things get worse, I paid the bill – less than £10 for two nights – and took several paces backwards quickly. We set sail for southern parts via Meknes, which allegedly contained a Marjane supermarket, and the Atlas foothills, at the time obscured in cloud.
I’ll let Sue note down the sights and sounds of the day as I was a bit busy with Defensive Driving. In other words, trying to predict what everyone else was going to do in an attempt to bring our trip to a premature and noisy end.....
The incident Mike has in mind, in particular, is an orange seller pushing his barrow, which is is as wide as we are, northwards up the southbound lane, and aiming for a head-to-head with our radiator grille. We left Meknes shrouded in mist and climbed rapidly into the clouds. The rain that we'd endured for so many days now disappeared, to be replaced with sleet. Passing snow gates just north of Azrou, the altimeter hit 1300 metres.
Azrou is the first real town of the Middle Atlas. It grew at the crossroads of two major routes. North to Meknes and Fes and south to Khenifra and Midelt. The road between Azrou and Midelt held several interesting sights - and smells. We drove through large cedar forests with a smell of Vick's Vapour Rub seeping through the Landrover's natural ventilation points. Coming round a sharp bend we had to brake hard to avoid a monkey sitting quietly in the middle of the road. These are similar to the notorious Gib apes, but seem quite a bit larger. The reason for this became clear (unlike the weather) a mile later. We passed the cloud-shrouded summit of the pass where there was a large carpark, several coachloads of Spanish tourists and possibly the rest of the monkey population, getting an early lunch.
The weather didn't improve on the downside of the mountain. In fact, it got a lot worse with visibility down to 30 metres or so for quite a while. We passed through our first police checkpoints, the officers seeming to have little interest in us. Not surprising given the conditions. We became aware of dogs sitting patiently at the side of the main road at the ends of forest tracks. They seemed quite happy to be waiting, but for what, we couldn't work out. There must've been several dozen sightings of them, but no accompanying humans or signs of other activity. Later, in the valley, we saw many individuals - humans, this time - standing at the side of the road, miles from any habitation. We knew from yesterday's bus ride that they were expecting scheduled transport to appear. Maybe the dogs are smarter than we thought.
Down in the valley - actually a vast plain at about 2000 metres altitude - the sun came out. Yippee. Wasn't very warm, though, but it lifted our spirits and the clouds, allowing us to get our first view of the High Atlas. Another noticeable feature in several towns we passed through were huge nests on the tops of chimneys, containing storks. The scenery is very reminiscent of what we'd seen in the USA in Death Valley and Nevada. Vast sandy brown plain with low scrub, flat-topped mesas and abandoned, roofless pueblos. At this point, although only just after 2 pm I found a campsite in our guidebook which we decided to head for. The lure of sunshine and a breeze was too tempting given the amount of damp bedding we needed to dry.
It wasn't until we climbed out of Daphne that we realised how cold it was....
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