ESSAOUIRA & CHEFCAOUEN

Essaouira is a really chilled out port town to the south of Morocco. It's famous because Jimmy Hendrix lived their for a year in 1968 making amazing music and sampling the fine Moroccan hashish. It kind of reminded me of Freo a bit. Nice beach, very relaxed people, port, music and markets everywhere. We basically did nothing for 3 days and soaked up the sun.

Chefchaouen is my favourite place in Morocco!! Set in the mountains the town is covered in one shade of indigo after another. The old city is just completely covered in the colour blue. Surrounded by amazing mountain scenery, with rivers and waterfalls in abundance. We walked up to a mosque on the top of a hill that looked out over the whole city. We were awe struck and sat taking it all in for over an hour. The next day we trekked for 2 hours in the mountains to find another natural beauty The Cascade D' Akchung. A towering waterfall set in its own epic rocky arena. The walk was hard and hilly but we made a Moroccan friend who helped us along the way setting a very quick walking pace. I decided to go for a swim because the water was perfectly clear and amazing shades of blue. But it was icy cold and I almost froze when I emerged.

We spent a lot of time relaxing and wandering the small streets checking out all of the local artesian delights and sampling more of the delicious Moroccan cuisine.

Ahh Morocco why did it have to end.

SAHARA

Swapping the chilling cold for the blistering hot we made our way, with a tour group, to the Sahara desert. It took 2 days to drive there in an agonising mini bus trip. But every second of pain was worth the amazingness that followed. We arrived in Merzougha on the edge of the desert at about 6pm. We mounted our camels and were off roaming the smooth curving dunes of the Sahara. Elise was ecstatic to ride a camel for the first time even though we had been warned that it hurts your inner thighs. We decided to ride side saddle and delightfully floated through the sand bumpily jumping up and down with each step of the camel.

An hour and a half later we arrived at our camp for the night. It was a circle of tents set underneath the biggest sand dune of the whole desert. The sun was starting to set and we all eagerly ran up the side of the dune, underestimating how hard it would actually be. After about 20 m we all stopped and sat in the sand exhausted, calves throbbing with pain. Half an hour later we were sitting at the tops looking over the masses of sand dunes, watching the amazing pinks and purples settle in the sky as the sun dropped behind the distant mountains. We could see Algeria from where we were sitting and we sat an appreciated the beauty of the natural wonders that the world has to offer.

Our Berber (native Moroccan mountain people) hosts treated us to some traditional food followed by some music and singing on the drums. We slept outside the tent under the stars and gazed up cuddling as we drifted off to sleep. At around 5am we were woken by large drops of rain. Only a few drops at first but then it started to get harder and we had to resume our place in the tent. Rain in the desert, snow in Africa, I was mystified at every step by how diverse and unpredictable Morocco was. Just an hour later we woke again and set off back to civilisation on another amazing camel ride.

TOUBKAL

The craziness of Marrakech was swapped for the serenity and peace of the Atlas mountains. Having just completed the Camino we thought that the 26km trek to the top of Toubkal, the second highest peak in Africa, would be a breeze. The first day, a 10km walk to base camp, was no worries. We decided not to get a guide to save money but the path was full of mules and other tourists and we literally followed the mule poo. The second day was a 3km climb, at an incline of 900m, to the top which rose above the rest of the mountains to a daunting 4126m.

The clothes we had were not exactly what you would call mountain gear but we made do feeling the cold a bit more than others. Of course I was sporting my Converse and Elise powered on in runners and 2 layers of thin hippy pants. Elise did have a little freak out close to the top when we suddenly realised that we would be walking through SNOW. We reached a part of the climb that was covered completely in ice. Using our hands to pull ourselves up, so that we didn't slip, her hands became freezing cold and she started to lose it in a bit of a panic attack. She stopped in the middle of the climb, sat down on an icy slope, and began to cry telling me that she wanted to go back down. I couldn't convince her to move. Out of nowhere, a lovely Moroccan guide came back down to literally give her a hand and pulled her up through the icy path.

Once we were close to the top we looked down over the other mountains and we were really really scared. We had not thought about just how high 4126m was. Let me tell you it's really really high. None the less we composed ourselves and continued on to the peak. When we arrived at the top the sun was out and it was a beautiful day. We revelled in our victory for a while and had a lovely little lunch at the top. A feeling if immense pride ran through our veins and we felt invincible. We laughed like maniacs every few minutes, realising how crazy we were to make it with no preparation or guide. It could have just been the lack of oxygen being up so high but it was still amazing.

On the way down we accidentally got stuck in a tour group taking a different route to the way we came up. They adopted us for a while and were cool with us following them as we surfed through the rocks literally running down the side of the mountain. Elise was happy that we were avoiding the ice.

I saw snow for the first time, in Africa of all places, and only on the way down was I able to enjoy it. I threw snowballs at Elise and yelled at her to hurry up with her short legs, teasing her about freaking out. When we reached the bottom we met a young English guy who had fallen 20m from close to the top. He hit his head and had a whole bunch of gashes on his arms. Elise and I were very happy that we had each other and that we somehow luckily managed not to slip and fall at some point.  

MARRAKECH

To tell you the truth I didn't know much about Morocco. I didn't even realise that it was in Africa until we looked it up on a map. My idea of Morocco was filled with fantasies from the movie Aladdin. Busy, sand-coloured streets and buildings, with small stalls selling amazing wonders and delights.

Arriving in Marrakech I wasn't far off. I heard an American lady say that the markets in Marrakech are like a bad acid trip. I'd say the exact opposite. Walking around the souks is like the most amazing acid trip that you had ever had in your life. Your met with tantalising colours, delicious smells, so many different fabrics and spices to touch. It's like your senses coming alive for the first time. Don't get me wrong it's intensely crazy and hectic with thousands and thousands of people bustling around you. Everyone is trying to sell you something or show you something but thats the delight of being in a real market place.

My brain was almost exploding with a combination of Arabic and African cultures coming together. Snake charmers, magicians, henna, fortune tellers, street games, random performers, everything you can think of made of leather, carpets, clothes, knick knacks, snails, tagines, cous cous, kebabs.. anything your heart desired. Unknowingly, we spent 6 hours wondering aimlessly around the markets not bored for one moment. We only stopped because we were too hungry to keep walking.

We tried snails as a little snack. Not as bad as you think. We sat down to try the local delights of cous cous and chicken tagine. Competition is fierce to get you into food stalls and we ended up choosing the guy that gave us a 2 year diarrhoea-free guarantee with the line, “Number 25 – stay alive!”.