2020 - Salter's travels

Petroglyphs

The sign said “Rock carvings 11km” with an arrow pointing down a track. Seemed like a good idea. The track led to an oued (dried up riverbed). We turned left following the larger track, which became a smaller track and then disappeared altogether. An hour later, back at the junction, we set off the other way. The route looked more promising and just after a sign in Arabic (that we could not understand) we spotted a desultory youth hanging around in the middle of the valley watching us closely. We angled towards him and he drifted towards us. Such is tourism in Morocco. He was our guide to the petroglyphs. Earlier we had seen a nomad’s tent so we suspect he lived there with his family who would have kept a few goats and sheep. Certainly, he was not a full time tour guide. One visitor a week could not make a profession. He had no English and, in common with many youths, did not seem inclined to talk at all. He did however show me the engravings that, if I am honest, were rubbish. Possibly some historic context would have helped me understand what I was looking at. I asked the disaffected youth, in my terrible French, if he had made the petroglyphs himself but he claimed not.

The track continued down the valley for another 25km to a road. We thought we could give this a go but first needed to park up for the night. A little further along we found a lovely little side valley and a perfect place for a peaceful night. Next day we set off along the broad open valley and soon discovered that route finding was not altogether straightforward. From time to time, the river must flow here and it washes away parts of the track. After many years of this, the situation now is a mess of little bits of route marked with rocks. Most of these do not go anywhere useful and end at a steep, water cut gullies. The valley floor was mostly loose rocks and pebbles. Altogether, it made for very slow going with a lot of time staring into the distance trying to spot the way. Progress was steady but by evening, we were nowhere near the end so we spent xmas eve parked by the valley side.

Tazalaght Copper Mine

From Tata we headed north up a fantastic winding valley rich in palms and olive trees. The road was narrow in places. Particularly in some villages, we found ourselves squeezing past houses while palm fronds were bouncing off the roof. The final climb out of the valley was a rather sphincter tightening set off hairpins where we were doing shunts without the reassurance of safety barriers. It all worked out fine. Baloo is actually very good at climbing hills. I am getting better at managing the gears and braking systems so that we have the fine control needed for steady progress. I am also getting better at turning on just the right line to minimise a corner so that we can get round with the minimum of shunts and drama.

Back to Igherm and then a different road south which soon became a track and, a day later, brought us high in the hills to the Tazalaght Copper Mine. From the mine, running south, is a track built for the ore trucks. It takes a fantastic line with terrific views and the massive bonus for us is that it is truck sized. We could relax and enjoy the scenery on a fabulous mountain track that felt like it had been built for us. Eventually, after a brilliant afternoon of driving, we arrived at the southern edge of the mountains and some broad, open vistas of rolling desert beyond. We turned right and once more looped back up into the mountains.

Taliouine

We made a couple of loops around the Anti Atlas Mountains following a variety of roads and tracks. The first loop took us from Agadir south about to Igherm and then through Taliouine to Tata via a couple of tracks. In some ways, these mountains are much more accessible than the High Atlas. They are a bit lower and less extreme. This means there are many more roads and tracks criss-crossing them which is good news if you are driving a truck. The area is only sparsely populated and much of the desert hills are completely devoid of plant life. They have a special beauty. I think of them as painted mountains because of the way the coloured layers of rock are folded into immense brushed swirls.

Along the way, it was my birthday. We dug out some Tequila hidden away for the occasion and made Margaritas with fresh lime juice. Then we moved onto Raclette and a bottle of Bordeaux. One of my favourite dishes is Raclette – a special cheese from the Haut Savoie served melted over pickles and potatoes. To this end, one of my luxuries in Baloo is a Raclette grill, which we lovingly get out on special occasions. So with the cheese, the wine, being way out in the middle of a desert and the most fantastic display of stars I was very happy.

Essaouira

We spent a couple of days in Marrakech sorting stuff out and re-stocking then headed for the coast. First north of west to Safi, a commercial port. Then south along the coast towards Agadir. The first part of the route, along the northern fringe of the Atlas, followed some very interesting roads. Small, tight and twisty tracks along the foothills. After that, it all got flat and boring. In fact, the only excitement we found before Safi was a eucalyptus plantation.

The coast road from Safi gave us some nice sea views. The weather was not so great – windy and raining. We passed by Essaouira. Very popular with tourist groups but almost deserted now. There are some nice and accessible beaches south of Essaouira. At times, I imagine these would be pleasant places to hang out but we arrived in a howling gale. The heavy rain throughout the night was incessant and noisy. As were the waves that, driven by the strong winds, were pounding the shore. It was a night for earplugs.

A couple of days later we found a deserted and scenic spot above the cliffs north of Agedir. The weather had improved and although it was not actually hot, it was warm enough to sit out for a while. Next day we skipped past Agadir and headed for the Anti Atlas mountains.

Taroudant

Vikings have a thing about axes. They have no choice. It is genetically encoded through thousands of years of evolution. To a Viking an axe is how you settle disputes, gain land, gain wealth, get a wife, chop wood and shave in the morning. In a culture with a long history of pillaging, an axe is at the heart of it. So, when we met up with Lars and Inge again to visit the souk in Taroudant, first thing Lars needed to do was buy an axe. Plundering, or the modern equivalent, shopping, would be unthinkable without a good axe.

We spent a day and an evening in the souk. First job was to negotiate for a suitable axe. Health and safety considerations meant we wrapped the head up with a plastic bag. Just after a tagine lunch with couscous, Diane found a snake charmer and man with a pigeon on his head. Later we bought some essential things. First up was an extra shovel in case we managed to get Baloo stuck, again. Also some saffron. Much of the world’s saffron is grown not too far from here. Unfortunately, the cheap sample I found was not a good example. I did however get some excellent desert slippers with tough soles that would be proof against all the spikey things on the sandy floor. Lars and I both bough djellabas – traditional North African woollen garments. Very warm and ideal for the desert at night. Finally, to round off an enjoyable and successful shopping trip, Lars bought a second, smaller axe.

We headed to the hills. In the evening, we found a delightful spot by a reservoir with views of the snowy High Atlas Mountains. Next morning the goats arrived. We fed them with left overs and vegetable peelings. We crossed north along some smaller roads and encountered some of the first snow of the year. A score miles south of Marrakesh, we finally said goodbye to Lars and Inge for the last time. They needed to head back to Denmark and we want to go further south. We were quite sad to see them go and really hope we can travel with them again somewhere further down the road.