Tag: Baloo

Our first night at the Terre d’Ocean campsite was great. Cool and fresh with a gentle breeze. We cooked outside and could hear the breaking waves in the distance. The next day it was a bit hotter but the following day it was already an alarming 36°C at 9am. The air was still and heavy. It was overcast and quite misty. We have a small air conditioning unit in the bedroom. Now seemed like a good time to start it up. Then a text message arrived from GNV, the ferry company, announcing our ferry was cancelled. It was not shaping up to be a good day.

The temperature crept over 40°C by lunchtime and maxed out at 47°C mid-afternoon. This is really, properly hot. Standing outside felt like standing too close to large furnace. Baloo was too hot to touch. The ground was too hot to walk on. Everything inside, the table, the door handles and the cutlery was all hot to touch. In the cab, the internet router shutdown spontaneously and the iPad was showing a warning message. The light from an overcast and dusty sky was diffuse and dull with an odd orange tinge. The air was still and shimmering with the heat. To me it felt quite intimidating and close to a vision of hell. We all hid in the bedroom for most of the day. Me, Diane and Cent. The temperature in the bedroom reached 38°C. Uncomfortably hot, but better than outside. Our other salvation was the small campsite swimming pool. We jumped straight in and lurked there in the water while flames passed overhead. At least, that is what it felt like. Unfortunately, Cent was not allowed to join us in the water.

By early evening, it began to cool down a little and small breeze started up. Here on the coast, the ocean is the big cooling influence. The first waft of air from the sea brought a blessed relief. We thought we were past the worst and crept out to make tea. It was still hot, in the high thirties, but was getting more bearable especially with the freshening air. Then suddenly, in the space of about ten minutes, it all changed. The wind swapped direction and the temperature shot up. At 11pm, it was 42°C. We crept back into the bedroom. It is noisy with the air conditioning running so we need earplugs to sleep. There is just enough space for the dog to curl up at the bottom of the bed.

Next day things started to get back to normal. I contacted the ferry company and they offered me a sailing two days after the cancelled one. We feel like fish out of water. This is the coolest part of Morocco but it is still too hot for us. So we took the ferry booking despite the additional €150. GNV really have us at their mercy. We cannot change our ticket and they will not give us a refund. If they decide to arbitrarily increase the price of the ticket there is little we can do. It is exploitation.

On our last day in the High Atlas, I forgot to lower the weather station mast on top of the cab. The predicable result was to smash the weather station into a tree. We collected the bits in a plastic bag. I messaged Gill Instruments in the UK, the manufacturer, to see if they could offer me any guidance in putting it back together. They came back, a few days later, with some brilliantly detailed instructions. I spent the afternoon successfully repairing the sensor head. Made me feel a lot better.

A few days later, we left on the start of our trip to catch the ferry. We hope. First stop, just a little way north, was at Imsouane, location of our long lock down. There are still a few of the people here that we spent so long with. It was nice to catch up with Jean Loup, Steve, Karen, Maggy and Len. They are all getting anxious and twitchy to leave now. Officially, the Moroccan border opens at midnight on the 14^th. Moroccans are free to come and go. Foreigners can leave. We have a ferry ticket for the 15^th to Genova. This morning we said our goodbyes and then drove to Essaouria. More particularly, we went to the big supermarket to stock up. Now we are camped in some quiet woods a way outside of town. Tomorrow we start the trek north.

Potentially we can now travel around much of Morocco. In practise, we are confining ourselves to the cooler areas. Summer in Morocco is just not a good time for pale Yorkshire people. To compound our overheating problems, there is a heatwave going on. So we are drifting west across the High Atlas towards the coast. We already know the road south from Demnate. It is a spectacular drive and while it can probably be done in a few hours, we managed to stretch it out over three days. Perched high on the hills there was usually a fresh breeze and at night clear skies helped keep us cool. Even so, the temperature was well over 30°C most days.

Eventually we had to drop down onto the high plains around Ouarzazate where the road took us past the world’s largest concentrated solar farm. Completed in 2018, the 3,000 ha site consists of hundreds of mirrors that focus the suns energy onto the top of a tower. The heat energy is stored using molten salt and released at night to generate electricity. The glow surrounding the tower is quite otherworldly.

Moving further west to get back to higher ground, we got lost and arrived at a dead end. Next day we turned back, found a better route and ended up on a delightful road just to the south of some big mountains. Eventually we got to the end of the High Atlas and started to descend towards the coast. The temperature began to creep up. A series of interlocked valleys took us down towards the Aoulouz dam. We squeezed through several small villages. One was having a market day and this made the streets a bit crowded. Then we were down and on the main road to Agadir. The outside temperature was just on 43°C. As we drove the last hundred miles to the coast, the air began to cool.

We picked a little campsite perched on some steep hills overlooking the sea. As we sat contemplating the sunset, over a gin and tonic, the cool gentle breeze was in the low twenties. It was bliss.

But we didn’t know what was coming.  

We were trying to find our way to a rock tower called La Cathérdrale. In the morning, we descended from our lofty overnight perch over a thousand metres down to the village of Anergui. There was a sign in the centre of the village directing us towards La Cathérdrale. It even had a picture of the rock tower on it. We set off confidently but were stopped a couple of hundred metres later by a police officer. There are roadworks he asserted. We attempted to discuss the situation but were stonewalled. No option other than to back track. Later we discovered that in fact the road is still under construction and, so far, nowhere near completion. The large tourist orientated signpost in Anergui is a future truth.

Back up the hill and then a big loop round to the north to join the R302 at Ouaouizaght. Fortunately, we did not have to ask directions because I have no idea how to even begin pronouncing Ouaouizaght. We crossed one end of a large reservoir and then started climbing. Just as we passed the base of the immense rock tower that is La Cathérdrale, the tarmac gave out. Delicately we nudged out way through overhanging trees and then resumed climbing on a rough track up a densely forested steep slope. The sun was getting low and the view spectacular. However, if you ever want to take good photographs of La Cathérdrale from here then come in the morning. We mostly had the sun in our eyes, which was very moody but hopeless for the camera. An hour or so later, at an altitude of 1,500m we regained the tarmac and stopped for the night. Despite being reasonably high, it was still a hot and not very comfortable night.

Next day we climbed even higher through some small villages and then took a left up a dirt track to arrive at a col at 1,700m. Morocco is having a bit of a heatwave at the moment. So, given that Morocco in the summer is already too hot for us, a heatwave is a bit of a problem. The best we can do is try to stay high in the mountains or on the coast. There were some petroglyphs by the road and a nice parking area so we stayed a couple of nights. In the evening a gentle breeze was a fresh and cool. Next day we walked up a track onto the shoulder some 300m higher up and discovered some old mine workings. Iron ore was my best guess. Did not look to have been very successful though and there were only a few shallow diggings. I found a nice looking lump of very heavy rock that I think may be iron ore and brought it back.

While we were hiding from the heat, Coronavirus politics have been unfolding. In particular, the EU is about to open its borders and has voted a list of safe countries which includes Morocco. This means, I think, that we can travel from Morocco into Europe without quarantine or other restrictions. At the same time, Morocco is talking about opening its borders on the 10^th July. Do not forget that both sides of a border need to agree that it is open for it genuinely to be passable. We have a ferry to Genova booked for the 13^th of July so it is possible, just possible, that this time it may actually run.

Filled with renewed optimism we descended through the beautifully named Aït Bouguemez or Valley of the Happy People. Apparently the name was given by foreign visitors impressed by the hospitality of the locals. It is a very pretty area although some of the smaller villages took a bit of care to squeeze Baloo though. Eventually we arrived at the large town of Demnate and the chance for fuel, food and water. In the evening we headed south, back towards the mountains, and found a nice spot just high enough to cool off in the evening.

In Midelt everyone seemed pleased to see us. Especially the shopkeepers. We restocked on food, fuel and phone cards before setting off for the Cirque de Jaffa. The Cirque is a rocky amphitheatre in the mountains with a thin track passing below it. We were not sure if we could get through this in Baloo but the approach seemed promising. The track wound along some precipitous mountainsides but it was wide and had been recently graded. Quite safe with a bit of care. Then it stopped. Just as if the gang improving the road had got so far and then, in the middle of nowhere, got bored and gone home. Onwards the track was thin and rough. This in itself was not enough to stop us but it was also off-camber and on the side of a long slope. The wider axles of a truck means that sometimes we have to straddle the track. If the route is already on a side slope then putting one wheel off the side of the track exaggerates the lean of the vehicle. At a certain point, this gets a bit scary. I am not sure how much sideways lean Baloo can safely maintain but I know where my terror limit is and this slope slightly exceeded it.

We parked at the end of the improved track and enjoyed a night in the mountains. In the evening, some local children came to ask us for sweets. We also chatted with a shepherd bringing his sheep and goats back down into the valley for the night. In the morning we back-tracked a little and then found our way round some tracks to the north. Then it was west following the line of the Atlas range along wide rich and fertile valleys. We also drove around a reservoir that did not exist, well, not according to any of my maps. Eventually we arrived at the town of Imilchil. Just north of there is a delightful lake and camping area. At 2,300m it is beautifully cool at night. 

We met Mark, again. His ferry arrangements had gone completely awry. After several days of running around and pulling in a few favours, he had eventually managed to book a ship but in a few days’ time. So he had come back to the mountains to hang out. This being much more pleasant than the stinky hot and fraught atmosphere around Tangier. We also met Chris and Melisa. They had spent the lock down in Merzouga in just the sort of conditions that we had worked so hard to avoid. Merzouga is on the edge of the desert. Temperatures were regularly over 40°C and at night, it was still above 30°C. To compound their misery there was nowhere to buy alcohol. Fortunately, they are very resourceful and started brewing their own ‘desert wine’ using sugar, yeast and tomato paste. We tried some with lemon, ice and tonic water. It was really quite acceptable. Diane and I were incredibly impressed. Proper survival skills.

A couple of days drifted by while we enjoyed the lake views, watched the locals taking running dives off a makeshift pier and had some pleasant walks. On the second afternoon, the sky turned black and there was thunder. A storm seemed imminent. The first drops of rain fell. Then a magnificent rainbow appeared and shortly after the sky cleared. At night, the stars were terrific. Altitude, a new moon and an almost complete absence of light pollution made for some great stargazing.

Mark left, again, to get his ferry. This time he actually made it and several days later got back to the UK where he promptly started to regret leaving Morocco. Chris and Melisa left to go and see a waterfall. We left to search out a rock tower called La Cathédrale. Our route wound up some skinny mountain roads and we squeezed through a couple of small villages. Eventually we pulled off the road on the high shoulder of hill. A shepherd taking his flock down came to ask politely for cigarettes. We could not help him. Sometimes I think we should maybe buy a few for just such occasions. I am sure it would really cheer up some of the nomads and shepherds we meet. Later, just as it was getting dark, a solitary pickup truck drove past. The guys sat in the back gave us a friendly wave. After that, we had the place to ourselves until morning.

Next day we left the sanctuary of the Carrefour carpark and headed for the hills. Literally. We drove up into the rolling, cedar-covered hills of the mid-Atlas. The air was cool and fresh. Flowers were in bloom. The fields were lush and many of them ready for harvesting. Mark had a few places he wanted to visit. We followed him to a lake where we fed the donkeys. Then to a deep fold in a steep valley where a multitude of cold, clear fresh water springs erupted from the ground. A series of little shelters were built next to them so that you could sip mint tea while dangling your feet in the icy torrent. More lakes. More rivers. Then a tight squeeze up a track through immense cedar trees and we emerged by an enormous lake in the centre of a nature reserve.

In the morning, Mark left to head north for his ferry and we wandered a short way down the road. A little track took us into a clearing between towering cedars. It was so nice there that we stayed until the next day. The smell of the trees was intoxicating and a myriad of small birds fluttered in the branches. We used the shadow of one of the trees to estimate how high it was. A little trigonometry revealed it to be 34m. A properly tall tree. Most of the trees were a similar height.

We were killing time. Our ferry was cancelled. We had nowhere in particular to go. Lock down restrictions in Morocco were being eased but how much this meant we could travel was unknown. I have booked another ferry on the 13^th of July but experience proves that we have no certainty whether this will actually happen. The best plan we have now is to head roughly southwest staying up in the cool mountains. Morocco can be fiercely hot in the summer and just now, there is a little heatwave going on. The High Atlas and the thin coastal strip are pretty much the limit of where we want to be.

A series of delightful winding tracks led us south through the hills and onto the main road to Midelt. We found another lake and stayed there for a couple of nights. During the day, flocks of sheep were brought down from the surrounding hills to drink. We also saw ponies heavily laden with firewood. Further down the road we came across the Hotel Meteorites. The very friendly owner was happy for us to camp there and refill our water tanks. I spent the afternoon doing a bit of maintenance on Baloo. Later, after I had walked the dog, we went into the hotel bar and had a beer. First beer in a bar for months. It was delightful.

Time was dragging on in Imsouane. I had started making scones. And the marmalade to go with them. We ran out of poppadums so I fabricated some from gram flour. Then we ran out of gram flour so I spent an hour or more grinding chickpeas. Eventually I took to arranging fruit in a bowl and photographing it. Time to go.

We had a ferry booked. Many had been cancelled but this one looked promising. Enough post-corona virus normality, the new world order, was arising to make us optimistic about getting out of Morocco. Quite a few special ferries had already sailed. These were mostly arranged with the embassies of Italy, Spain or France. They focused on their nationals and were charging quite outrageous rates. They also assumed that you could be on standby to get to the port in a day. For us, Tanger Med is more like four days. We did not want to move up closer because that would take us into the areas most badly affected by Covid-19. So our strategy was to bide our time until things had settled down enough that we could make a steady, planned drive to the port. This appeared to becoming around.

First job was to get a permit. We already have one travel permit but for this job, we needed a different, more powerful permit. It is over an hours drive down the coast to the government offices. We did this trip four times. Each time involved at least an hour standing around in crowded waiting rooms full of strangers. How this helps the corona virus campaign is beyond me. Eventually, on the day we had to leave, we got our permit. Lockdown restrictions were being lifted. Agadir was coming back to life. “No virus in Agadir”, the petrol pump attendant assured me. It was getting late by the time preparations were complete so we did a few hours up the motorway and stopped at a service station near Marrakech.

Morocco is now divided into two types of zone. Zone 1 areas have very few cases of Covid-19 and an Ro less than one. In these places, which is most of Morocco, life is slowly returning to normal. Zone 2 areas are still in lockdown. These are primarily the coastal areas from El-Jadida north to Tanger. Obviously, the authorities want to prevent traffic between the two types of zone.

Next day we took a wide detour around Marrakech, which I think is Zone 2. We also wanted to avoid the coastal route so we intended to go inland then north through Meknes. Mark caught us up near Kasba-Tadla and we found a great place by a lake to camp. His ferry had just been cancelled but he was going to the port anyhow, hoping to get another one. We had heard stories of people just turning up at the port and managing to get a ticket. The lake had turtles swimming around in it. They were very shy and usually all you could see were their heads.

Next morning notification arrived that our ferry was cancelled. Just two days before we were due to board. I talked to GNV, the ferry company, and booked the next available vessel on July 13^th. Now what? The plan had been to head to Chefchaouen where there is a reasonable campsite a couple of hours from the port. On our new schedule, we did not want to be stuck there for a month. Mark had a couple of days before he wanted to move north so we thought we would explore the locality a little. Enough to get our heads straight again. We like Morocco but we have been here nearly eight months now and a long list of European luxuries is calling. Baloo needs some maintenance and servicing. So do we. The postponement was a disappointment but the counter point is that Europe will be a few weeks closer to normality. What to do for another month?  

We are at the western end of the Atlas Mountains. The terrain is up to 2,000m altitude and this helps keep it cooler. The mountains also attract rain, giving rise to a rich and fertile area. This is very different from the arid desert areas we have spent so much time exploring. Just now, early summer, there is a cacophony of wild flowers and fields full of ripe wheat. There are streams, Aloe Vera plants and forests of towering Cedar trees. We pottered for the day, then drove up a quiet dead end lane and parked up for the night. A man on a moped appeared, scowled at us and spent the next hour sitting across the road from us messing with his phone. Eventually the police arrived and they were not in a good mood. After quite a lot of unintelligible mixed language shouting, we were escorted some 25 km to the town of Khenifra. We arrived just after sunset and a different type of police officer took our details.

Twenty minutes later, he returned, welcomed us in a very warm and friendly fashion to Khenifra and said we could camp anywhere we wanted. In retrospect, we think that we had wandered into the private hunting area of someone wealthy and well connected. Whatever the cause, we found ourselves in the Carrefour supermarket car park. The night guard said we could not stay there so we explained that the police said we could. This was nearly true. We paid him a few Dirhams and he went away happy. Between the ferry and near arrest, this had turned out to be a bad day but there was an unexpected benefit. In the morning, we could shop at the supermarket and round the back was a small but adequate wine shop.  

There are many ways to measure time. For me, this lock down is now three haircuts long. Diane is my hair stylist. Number four all over. Very straightforward, cost effective, practical and more than smart enough given my natural absence of sartorial elegance. I hope that by the next haircut we will be back in Germany. We have booked on a ferry to Genova. This is not the obvious place to head during the pandemic especially since our route from there is due north, straight through Lombardy. The worst affected part of Italy. We will keep the windows closed and not slow down. With luck, we can pass straight through Switzerland and arrive at the Unicat workshop near Karlsruhe within a couple of days. Once there we can camp on the big field. Might have to do a couple of weeks isolation but then we can start working on Baloo for the next trip. In addition, we can enjoy the trapping of European live such as Amazon and shopping in proper supermarkets.

The ferry to Genova takes 50 hours. That is the easy bit. We have booked a pet friendly cabin so Cent can stay with us. Not sure if the ship will be open for eating and drinking so we may need to take two days’ worth of picnic with us. To board the ship we need to drive to Tanger Med. This might be the tricky part. For us it will be a three-day drive. The difficulty is that Morocco is still in lock down. The lock down just got extended to June 10^th but our ferry leaves on June 1^st.  We already have an ‘exceptional travel permit’. This is needed to travel to the nearest supermarket. To drive north we will need a more specialised type of transit permit. At the moment, I am not too sure how to get hold of one of these but, with the help of Mark, I am working on it. We have tried engaging with the British Embassy using assorted social media but the messages coming from there are irregular and mostly confusing.

Meanwhile the quest to find useful and interesting things to do continues. Quite high on the list is cooking. I have always enjoyed cooking and just now, it seems like an excellent way of investing a few hours. Managed to fix the oven a couple of days ago. It stopped working a month back because it was stuck in a cleaning cycle. Fortunately, the manufacturer eventually came up with the magic key code to access a service menu where I could reset the cleaning process. There was great celebrating when the oven burst back into life and we promptly made pizza and several types of bread. I was relieved to discover that my sourdough culture had survived four weeks of suspended animation in the fridge.

We try to have a walk each day although this is becoming more difficult. Days are getting even warmer and we have long since run out of new places to walk. Occasionally a new bird or animal will add interest. The other day I saw a hare. Thoroughly surprised me. I never even knew they were in Morocco. Cent is usually game for chasing hares but this one he just looked at. Far too hot for running up hills. The waves are sometimes a bit stronger and it can be fun watching water spraying over the rocks.

Between the campsite and the village is a sort of rubbish dump area. As I have mentioned before, pretty much anywhere around a village tends to be a rubbish dump area. This particular area is commonly used for waste food and peelings so it is a major source of flys. In the evening, the local shepherd brings his goats and sheep down. They clear up just about everything. A herd of woolly hoovers.

Today’s big event was to move Baloo. Temperatures continue to sneak up so we are more actively seeking out shade. To this end, we have moved next to a wall with a few small trees. We have also angled Baloo round to shade the table better in the morning. Having decided on the new position, I then spent a good hour getting the truck absolutely and perfectly level. Normally, we are happy enough if the truck is roughly level. Since we are going to be here for at least a couple more weeks, it seemed worth the extra effort. And it is not as if we had anything much better to do.

Paneer is a soft, fresh cheese common in India. I like to use it in curries and often make my own. Milk is curdled using lemon juice and the curd is pressed to make the cheese.

First step is to boil some milk. Three litres typically makes enough cheese for four portions of curry. The exact yield can be quite variable depending on the milk. Best is fresh, full fat milk. Here in Imsouane, there is just one type of fresh milk, which comes in half litre plastic bags.  

Use a big pan. Just as the milk comes to the boil, add some lemon juice. I used the juice from two small lemons. You need to add enough acid to curdle the milk. This takes less than a minute. Keep on the heat for a couple of minutes and then filter off the whey. I use a colander lined with cheesecloth (muslin). This is probably the key piece of equipment for making paneer.

Once drained, knot the corners of the cloth and press for a couple of hours. I used to have a lovely wooden cheese press for doing this but unfortunately it was to too bulky to take travelling. Two cutting boards can do the job. Arrange the bottom board so that the liquid can drain. I position the board so that it slopes into the sink. Saucepan on the top applies the pressure. Five litres of water (5kg) is about right.   

That’s it. Carefully unwrap and refrigerate. This cheese does not keep well. A couple of days at most. Best to make it when you actually need it.

When using it in a curry, I prefer to fry it first. Needs quiet a hot frying pan and plenty of oil. Adding a little turmeric gives a nice splash of yellow.

Blessed are the cheese makers.

The weather is mostly nice. Occasionally the wind gets strong enough to pick up the dust. This can sandblast unprotected legs and gets in your eyes. In the motorhome, we get a deposit of dust throughout the vehicle. If we shut the windows, the interior gets intolerably hot and stuffy. On very windy evenings, we need to vacuum out the bed before we turn in. So far, it has not been too hot. The cool sea moderates the temperature. There is usually a pleasant sea breeze. At night, it cools off to 17°C or so. Meanwhile some of the other places we have been are getting hot. Zagora is 37°C today and Atar, in Mauritania, is 43°C.  

I have been trying to photograph some of the animals around the campsite. As well as dogs and birds, there are snakes, lizards, scorpions and many beetles. Not seen any snakes here yet but found a lovely scorpion this morning.

There are many dogs on the campsite. A few belong to campers but most of them are strays that run around scrounging food. Most of the people here are quite tolerant of the vagrant canines. The dogs are petted, fed and allowed to sleep by the campervans. Cent is less keen and will warn them off when they wander too close. I am happy for him to do this because, much as I like dogs, these particular dogs are a bit of a problem. Some of them have ear tags indicating they have been vaccinated. This helps prevent the spread of rabies but the disease continues to be endemic in Morocco. Rabies is a virus transmitted in the saliva of dogs. It is viscous. Symptoms may take months or even years to develop at which stage you are assured an extraordinarily painful and unpleasant death. The stray dogs defecate all over the campsite. Dog poos may a wide range of zoonoses, pathogens and parasites that transmit diseases to humans. The list of nasties is long and disturbing. It includes gastroenteritis, MRSA, salmonella, toxocariasis and scabies. Children, of which there are several on the campsite, are especially susceptible to being nipped by dogs and ingesting faecal material.

The local stray dogs howl at night. Not sure why they do this. Usually starts with one of the packs barking at another. The dogs in the village like to be part of this nocturnal woofing. Then an individual dog will start howling and they all join in like many little wolves. This is somewhat amusing but when they kick off at 2am, it is also annoying. I have discovered that if I shine my torch on them they stop. Almost like an off switch. I flash the light out of our bedroom window and suddenly there is complete eerie silence. If I look out the window, I can see many pairs of little doggy eyes catching the torchlight.

We have just arrived at week five of our lock down in Morocco. Baloo is parked in the corner of a small, rather basic campsite at Imsouane, a surfing village to the North of Agadir. Without the usual holidaymakers, the village has a small population of just a few hundred. There are a handful of shops mostly selling groceries. We can buy basics without much problem. Fresh fruit and vegetables, rice, pasta and toilet rolls.

Life here is quiet. We can walk down onto the beach when the tide is out. There are some hills behind the campsite where we can take the dog. I have been fixing a few problems with the truck and amusing myself taking photographs. Diane has been working on her tan.

There is a lot of cooking going on. We have made salt and chilli flakes. I had an attempt at Branston Pickle but used beetroot so it came out purple. Tastes great though. So does the homemade mayonnaise. Baked beans are a significant improvement on the tinned variety. We have also been making hummus, guacamole and many curries. I find cooking a great way to pass the time and Diane likes the results. For the last couple of weeks I have needed to apply my imagination to food a bit more than usual because the oven is unusable. It has developed a fault whereby it is locked into a cleaning cycle that it will not break out off. I cannot work out any way to reset it. This is frustrating – my oven has suffered a software crash. In the meantime, I am making bread in the frying pan with some quite reasonable results.

Ironically, we are meeting and talking to far more people than we ever did out in the desert. We try to keep our distance from others and to keep to the Moroccan guidelines. This includes wearing a facemask whenever we go out. I have heard a lot of discussion about facemasks on the radio lately, mostly concerned with how effective they are. The fact appears to be, that as a physical barrier to infection they are very limited. However, if everyone in town is wearing them, then it gives a serious visual clue that these are unusual times and we should all be behaving a little differently. It kind of shows that you are taking the situation seriously even if, as I have seen several times, people pull down the mask to talk to someone else.

We are locked down. We are at a small campsite in Imsouane, a tiny village on the Moroccan coast north of Agadir. Life here is very quiet and isolated. There are some other Brits on the campsite and indeed the campsite owner is British. This means we have a few people to talk to, albeit loudly and at a distance. The campsite is basic but sufficient. Water comes from a well and is saline. We can use it for washing but it leaves your hair feeling a bit icky. I worry that it will leave deposits inside the water heater. The campsite has WiFi that works as well as any Moroccan campsite WiFi and is fine so long as you don’t try and live stream anything. Power comes from our solar panels. The roof of Baloo is covered in them. In the blazing Moroccan sun, they have really come into their own and easily provide all the energy we need for heating, lighting and cooking. On the whole, life is quiet, safe and comfortable.

We can walk down onto the beach and the other day, at low tide, an irresistible opportunity presented itself. We were just about out of table salt so I thought I would have a go at making some myself. The process I recalled from the very first chemistry lesson I had at secondary school. This was a while ago but it clearly left an impression on me.

First, we collected salty slurry from rock pools. These hollows in the rock had filled with seawater at high tide but now, some eight hours later, they had mostly dried out in the hot sun leaving a mix of sea salt, water, mud and generally unsavoury things from the sea.

Next step was to purify the slurry. We dissolved it in a little water heated to boiling point and then filtered the solution through kitchen paper. Boiling will have killed off any germs and filtration removed anything insoluble. This left a saturated salt solution. Pure salt in water.

Final step is to evaporate off all the water. Gentle heating in a pan for an hour or so. Eventually I was left with was a pan filled with white, soft, pure salt. Once this has cooled, I packed it into a sealed bag leaving just a little out to refill the saltshaker for the table. My work as a Salter was done.