Sahara Rocks - Day 1

Day 1 - Not What I expected


Morrocco...

What do I know about Morrocco?

Not much...


It has The Sahara... a very big desert... with proper sand dunes... ... thats about it...

which was fine, as this time the trip was organised for me. It felt a bit strange... not having a detailed idea of how it was all going to go. Normally I have a detailed plan A with a sketchy plan b and c.


So I crawled out of my bed at the airport, having had very little sleep. My room sharer who shall remain nameless had set her alarm for 0200. yikes. I did manage a little bit more of a doze after that but given that we needed to be in the hotel lobby at 0430, it wasn't much.

Check in, security and getting to the gate, via a really awful breakfast at Weatherspoons, was seamless and straighforward and the 4 hour flight passed uneventfully.

Morrocco..! 1st time in mainland Africa for me and the heat hit us as soon as we got off the plane. Blazing sunshine, blue skies, palm trees... no torrential rain (sorry uk friends). It was bliss.

We met up with friends from across the pond, most of whom I hadn't seen in a few years and there was a cacophany of sound as those who knew each other caught up and those who didn't introduced themselves around.

We piled onto 3 minibuses and set off on the journey to the 'gateway to the Sahara'.. Ouazazate (might not be spelt like that)

Whilst some of the others were not so enamored with the thought of a 4 hour (at least that was how it was billed) journey in cramped minibuses, I was actually looking forward to it. I have done a few longer distance foreign bus rides, Madagasgar, Costa Rica, Ecuador and they give you a great overview of the country and staring out of the window provides hours of scenery and people watching entertainment.

This journey was no exception. As we left Marrakesh, the Atlas mountains shimmered in the distance, inviting thoughts of other possible adventures that could be had.

The roads were wide and seemingly deserted once we got past the outskirts. There was a generous cycle/motorbike lane on either side of the road and more than once I saw a donkey, laden with goods or pulling a cart along utilising it.

The scenery was reminicent of the american midwest and I had to remind myself that I was on the African continent. As we got further from Marakesh the landscape changed... the land rose higher, the riverbeds dried up leaving the palms withering and brown. The road itself was a masterpiece, grey tarmac winding its way up through the dry canyons carved out by a river that had once run powerful but had now all but disappeared. As we wound our way up and round I wished I had bought my road bike but filed that in the box in my head  marked 'for another time'.

Away from the city, the houses stood largely unfinished or so it seemed. Habitated perhaps waiting for the occupiers to earn enough money to add a second floor. They were basic and functional for the conditions they withstood. Small windows to minimize the heat and the sun shining through.

The people here were clearly not well off. In some countries it is the rich that occupy the mountain slopes. Here the poorer scratched out an existance.

In some places there was evidence of small subsistence farming, a few greener spots in the oasis of brown and grey dust that made up the landscape. Yet the rocks rose up in imposing forms, carved and majestic. If they had stood in america it would have been the site of a parking lot and a visitor centre with a $20 entrance fee.

Many parts reminded me of the canyonlands, the colour of rock the same, just a different continent.

The journey was a long one and although punctuated by several stops, one which involved a lot of exchanging money by many members of the group... for alcohol that I think. we were all glad to reach our hotel. I had enjoyed the minibus journey more than some others for whom the constant bends had induced motion sickness... but I had prett. much hit a wall!  My head was pounding and I crawled into bed without a thought about food.

Tomorrow was another long day... a journey into the desert to begin our trek.










Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Day 1 - Buenas Dias España

Image
I know who I am... Sonia knows who she is... Neither of us need 'to find ourselves'.. And yet we are about to become pilgrims.  Today we find ourselves in Lugo... the start of our Camino Primitivo, one of the many routes to Santiago De Compostella. The plane ride, courtesy of Ryan 'we will charge you for anything extra' Air, was short and sweet... A row of seats to ourselves and more legroom than I remember. Sonia almost missed the entire flight having nearly nodded off in her row of seats before coming to join me in my row. Having landed and seeing something we remembered from the dim and distant past... blue sky and sunshine.. we strolled out of the airport, to the bus ticketing office, conveyed our need en español for 2 bus tickets to Lugo and then sat and waited.. Sonia said it reminded her of Barbados... I think we were looking at a different view. That said the forest that stretched out beyond the airport as far as the eye could see did look really pretty.  The bu...
Read more

Day 2 - Where the fcuk is Ponte Ferreira?

Image
  Lugo is a lovely walled town but I was appreciating it less this morning than last night. I had taken a while to get to sleep last night, in part because of the man taking a long shower in an apartment above us, so it sounded like it was pouring with rain outside, and partly because the wind was whipping through the shutters and making a terrible racket... Sonia had drifted off straight away but it seemed the pseudo rainfall had woken her up... so sleep for both of us was a little broken.  We got up pretty early, it was still dark, had a quick shower and then packed up our kit. There was just about room for all the food we had bought and I was pretty pleased with how neatly I had squared everything away. My pack though not light was a decent weight and felt balanced when on my back. Something had gone a little awry with Sonia's packing though and her rucksack sat at a jaunty angle on her back. Happy enough though, so we set out ready for our first few steps on the Camino. As...
Read more

Day 3... Hard hits

Image
  Day 3... My day started early, though possibly not as early as it should have. My bent brake disc had resisted all attempts to straighten it despite sweating over it for an hour. I gave up and then couldn’t sleep so when my alarm sounded this morning I hadn’t really had much kip. I did not spring out of bed for sure. In fact I might have turned the alarm off and dozed off again. Essentially it didn’t really matter because the bike shop I had identified on google maps didn’t open until 0730 and in my head, remembering the last time in Ecuador that I stood outside of a bike shop and they didn’t open till 10am. Still I got there by 0830, an hour after google said it was open... no dice. Shutters down and no soul about. It did have a phone number on the sign though so after a moments hesitation called it. A chap answered and told me it would open at 9. He sounded a bit sleepy, I think I woke him up! About 10 minutes later another call from the bike chap... where are you.? Outside the...
Read more