After only one week off in the last 2 years, I was really looking forward to this trip back home to Blighty, especially after the rather horrible winter we have had in NZ this year.
The plan was for Neena and I to spend a couple of weeks in England, then jet off to Morocco to check out the deserts and mountains, before returning to the UK for another week or so.
The trip over to the UK with Korean Air was uneventful enough. We had a 18hr stop over at a rather nice hotel in Incheon in Korea. This might not sound like a long stopover, but makes the two 12hr flights much more bearable. I can’t say that Incheon is up there with the great wonders of the world, or even Harlow for that matter, so 18hrs was about right.
As ever the main reason for coming over was to see family and friends, which obviously means a lot to me, but not much to anyone else, so I won’t bore you with any of that stuff. I will bore you with some other stuff instead.
To give Neena a break from the wonders of Harlow, we hired a car and headed off on a little road trip to Oxford and the Cotswold’s. I have been on a number of tramping trips in the Cotswold’s and have fond memories of the area, so was more than happy to show Neena around. We drove out to Oxford where we intended to spend the night, before heading off to the Cotswold’s. To be honest, we both found Oxford a little disappointing and after spending the afternoon there, decided to head straight off to Stow in the Wold and stay there instead. There is nothing particularly wrong with Oxford mind you, it just that if you fancy spending time in a rather nice university town, and fancy going to Oxford, then go to Cambridge instead.
Stow on the Wold on the other hand, was a really nice place to stay. We stayed at the YHA there and used the town as a base to explore the rest of the Cotswold’s. Bourton on the Water was especially nice.
Yours truly at Bourton on the Water.
After spending some more time in Harlow it was time to head off for two weeks in Morocco.
We went to Morocco two years ago and had a tremendous time. When Neena announced that she wanted to go back there again I was initially rather skeptical as I wasn’t that keen on visiting the same place twice, fearing that the it wouldn’t live up to expectations a second time around. In some ways I only had myself to blame, as our original plan had been to spend a month in Bolivia and Peru before heading off to the UK. Unfortunately, I got cold feet on going to South America, as I felt that it was going to stretch me a little to much financially, particularly as I would be taking unpaid leave.
The first time around we visited mostly the big cities, namely Marrakech, Fez and Meknes. This time around the plan was to again spend some time in Marrakech, before heading off to the Sahara desert and then on to the Atlas Mountains, before heading off back to Marrakech again.
As soon as we arrived in Marrakech, my negative fears melted away, as we were once again subjected to the shear assault on the senses that Marrakech’s medieval Medina provides. The sights, sounds, smells and the Islamic culture in general make for a wonderfully refreshing change from ones everyday life, which for me is what traveling is all about. There is to be fair, plenty of hassle from touts, though ultimately most Moroccans are friendly and hospitable.
We stayed at the Riad Ghallia. We have stayed here before and the place comes highly recommended. The hosts Thierry and Thierry were charming and very helpful and also provided a much-needed map, as the Riad is a fair way out from the Djemaa el Fna Square, where much of the action is. To give you an idea, the Medina has something like 9000 roads and alleyways crammed into just a few square miles, with few if any signs. Even with a map it was difficult to avoid getting lost, though this is where the touts and local kids came into there own, and who for a few Dirhams, will gladly point you in the right direction.
Our routine in Marrakech was very much to look through the Souks during the day, before retiring back to the Riad for the afternoon, and then heading to the square in the evening. The Djemaa el Fna Square covers a large area and really comes alive at night when hundreds of food vendors, along with all manner of entertainers set up shop.
A quick note on the Marrakech weather, which is supposed to be hot and dry in September, but was actually rather cool, wet and windy. This was to be a feature of the first half of the trip.
Traders in the Djemaa el Fna sqaure.
The Riad Ghallia.
After a couple of days chilling it out it was time to move on. We decided to visit the sand dunes at Merzouga in the Sahara desert for a spot of camel trekking. We would normally do our own thing and make our own way there, but in this instance we decided to book on a 3-day tour with one of the local operators. This does rather go against the grain for us, but turned out to be a good move.
We set off for the desert with about dozen other backpackers on a small, rather cramped bus. Comfort was definitely not high on the agenda, but that was OK as the tour was real cheap. The first part of the journey involves crossing the High Atlas mountain range, whose foothills start an hour or so’s drive from Marrakech. The scenery and views were superb.
After crossing the High Atlas we stopped off at the Ouarzazate Kasbah for a look around and a spot of Tiffin. After this the bus headed north, skirting the edges of the mountains. We had had rain on and off for the last couple of days with lots of lightning visible up in the mountains. The rain in the high Atlas must have been pretty torrential as after a couple of hours the bus came to an abrupt halt as one of the local rivers had burst its banks and flooded the road. After an hour or so the waters subsided enough for the bus to edge across, though it still felt pretty dicey to me. After numerous more flooded sections of road we eventually made it to the mountain town of Boumagne du Dades, where we stayed the night.
After a night of yet more rain and lightening it was back onto the bus for the long drive to Merzouga and camel trekking heaven.
Looking acroos the valley from the Ouarzazate Kasbah .
The Ouarzazate Kasbah.
One of the many sections of flooded road.
We arrived in Merzouga a couple of hours before dark, and without much ceremony were plonked on to some camels and set off into the desert. The sand dunes were pretty amazing and just what you would expect a desert to look like; real Lawrence of Arabia stuff. The fact that most of the of the Sahara Desert is rocky rather than sandy is neither here nor there. I enjoyed the trek, but camels are not the most comfortable beasts to ride, and my bum and I were quietly relieved when we arrived at our campsite.
The campsite consisted of a number of Berber tents pitched in the sand. After the ubiquitous and rather good mint tea, Neena and I decided to climb one of the sand dunes and watch the sun set. When we got back it was time for dinner, which consisted of the even more ubiquitous Tagine. Now I love Tagine’s, as much as the next guy, but boy we got real sick of them (quite literally as it turned out) by the end of the trip and were dreaming of some proper food, like McDonalds or KFC.
The next day we set off early on the camels, to see the sunrise, and then headed back to Merzouga. I really enjoyed the desert, but all things must come to an end, and it was time to head back to Marrakech.
Off we head into the desert.
Just like the deserts you see in the movies.
It doesn't look much, but it took us ages to climb this dune.
Nighttime in the desert.
We stayed in Marrakech for another day before traveling on to the village of Imlil, which is situated at an altitude of 1800m in the High Atlas. We had no firm plans beyond using the place as a base to explore the local mountains, though as tends to happen, things sort of worked themselves out. On the way up to Imlil in a Grand taxi it turned out the taxi’s drivers brother was a local mountain guide and his mother ran a local guesthouse. The guesthouse was pretty basic, but perfectly acceptable and above all cheap, which suited us nicely. It was a bit more of a luxury, but we decided to hire the guide for a couple of days and have a go at climbing up to the Mt Toubkal refuge at an altitude of 3500m. Hiring a guide was probably not strictly necessary, but very useful, if like me you have absolutely no sense of direction, and certainly useful if we got into any trouble. A quick note on Mt Toubkal, which at 4167m, is North Africa’s highest peak.
The trip to Toubkal refuge didn’t really go as planned. We had intended to spend the night there, but ended up turning back someway from our goal and eventually ended back in Imlil. Neena doesn’t do as much tramping as me, and got very tired on the long climb and would have struggled to make it the refuge, on top of this the weather which had been lovely and sunny, quickly deteriorated to heavy, cold rain. One advantage of having a guide was that he came with a free donkey, which was supposed to be used for transporting our bags, but which in this instance also ended transporting Neena back down again!
Turning back was entirely the correct thing to do, though I did find it frustrating, as I was still feeling pretty strong and would have certainly had a go at the summit if we had made it to the refuge. Unfinished business, me thinks.
On the plus side, and it is a big plus, the scenery and crisp mountain air was lovely.
On the way up to the Toubkal refuge.
This is as far as we got, and just before the weather turned to custard.
On the way back down again.
We decided to take it easy for the rest of our time in Imlil and do some lower level walks as well a drink copious amounts of mint tea at the guest house.
Looking over toward Imlil.
A small village near Imlil. These houses are pretty typical.
Not sure where I took this one, but somewhere in the mountains above Imlil.
A rather nice waterfull.
This one was taken at a restored Kasbah near Imlil. A room here costs something like $2000 a night. Needless to say, we didn't stay there.
Taken from the garden of our guesthouse in Imlil.
After Imlil we decided on a complete change of tack and headed off to the fortified town of Essaouira, which is situated on the Atlantic coast. This is a really chilled out place and the atmosphere was notably less frenetic than Marrakech, with nothing like as much hassle from touts. We stayed at a Riad in the towns Medina, though this particular Riad, unlike the one in Marrakech was pretty uninspiring, but I guess that is what you get if you are bit of a tight wad like me.
The whole town had a chilled out feel, with the Medina and port area being particularly nice. The weather in contrast to the mountains was sunny and warm and made the rather nice looking beach look very inviting for a spot of swimming. A quick dip of the toe established that the water wasn’t as warm as it looked, so I Neena and I contended ourselves with some good old-fashioned paddling. In my case, I am sure the locals were eternally grateful to be spared the sight of a “pasty pom” in his lime green Speedos.
On the subject of exposed flesh, Essaouira, though still Muslim, is much more tolerant in this respect than the other areas we visited, especially the very conservative Medina’s where showing excess flesh is unacceptable for either sex. It was a shame that a significant minority of western tourists showed little respect in this regard.
We had three pleasant days in Essaouira, before once again heading back to Marrakech.
Looking along the harbour wall with the Essaouira Medinad in the distance.
Essaouiras port.
We stayed at the Riad Ghallia for another 3 nights. The weather this time round was stinking hot with temperatures in the high 30’s.
Pretty well all the time we eat at cheap restaurants, food stalls or bought fruit and nuts at the local markets. Seeing as we only had a few nights to go, we decided to splash out a bit and have a meal at the Riad. Judging by the comments in the guest book their food was excellent, if jolly expensive, but what the heck you only live once.
To cut to the chase, we both ended up with a very unpleasant bout of food poisoning, which did rather spoil the last few days, as I suddenly became far more interested in Moroccan plumbing than Moroccan culture.
Overall we had a great time, though if you do end staying where we did, I would avoid the Honey and Almond Tagine like the plague!
Riad Ghallia. Whatever you do dont touch that Tagine!
It was cold, wet and miserable when we arrived back in the UK, which was just fine by me.
We had but one day to sample the joys of Harlow, before setting off to the Peak District for a 4-day tramping trip with three friends; Kevin, Eddie and Robin. I haven’t been to this area for years, but have fond memories of the place, so was more than happy to be going back there.
I have to say that my first impressions were no that great as the landscape, despite being pretty high by UK standards, seemed relatively flat and under-whelming, particularly after living in such a mountainous county as NZ. As so often in life, first impressions turn out to be completely wrong.
After a while the scenery, the pretty villages and general feel of the place gets under your skin. The Peak District turned out to be both Neena’s and my favourite destination, helped no end by the food, beer and above all the excellent company of Robin, Eddie, Kevin and Nick (who visited us for one day).
Somewhere in the Peak Distict
Eddie, Kevin, Me, Nick, Neena and Robin.
We had another few days back in the UK, before heading off back down under. I am already missing family, friends and the beer and hope to be back again in a couple of years.
On the positive side, at least I can now get a decent latte and date scone.
Bushy Park. This is as close we came to seeing a Kiwi. The one in this picture is not real.
