Morocco issued us a 90-day visa on arrival and as we are now more than two-thirds through our stay it is surely time for at least one of us to climb on board a camel.  Of course, there have been many opportunities in the past to mount one of these hairy mammals, particularly in Australia which is home to many of these hump-backed creatures, but how would such an experience have compared to riding through the Saharan dunes in the company of a brown-eyed, tagelmust wearing, desert Amazigh?  Our limited experience of the Sahara so far has been sadly lacking in sand, just endless barren plains of rock, rock and more rock, but Morocco does have two notable dune areas, Erg Chigaga and Erg Chebbi.  Each of these ergs contains more than 125 km² of wind-blown sand which would undoubtedly provide the desert landscape that we have been looking for.

Erg Chigaga is the largest and wildest erg of Morocco and as it is accessible only by 4x4 is a lot less visited than Erg Chebbi.  Despite being advised against attempting the off-road journey alone/without a guide we put all our faith in Bob and Chris Scott’s book Morocco Overland and left the tarmac at Foum Zguid where we joined Chris’s MS7/77 route towards Erg Chigaga.  The track was easy to follow but lived up to its reputation of being somewhat stony.  Bob’s suspension was well and truly tested as we rattled our way across the unforgiving hamada, completely alone except for one oncoming vehicle that was towing another, rather sorry looking vehicle, back out the way we had come.  The track continued to throw us around until we dropped down onto the MS8, a former Dakar Rally route, that we followed onto the smooth, quiet, mud flats of Lake Iriki.  Our camp that night, on the massive dry river bed, was magical and there were no holds barred as our Bose speaker shared Andrea Bocelli’s mellow tones with our only companions, the Scarab beetles. 

We woke the following morning feeling pretty pumped to be on course and looking forward to reaching our tented desert camp later in the day.  It was therefore a bit of a shock to fire Bob up and see his instrument panel lit up like a Christmas tree.  As we sat waiting for some divine intervention, each warning light slowly went out with the exception of one. A quick look in the manual showed this to be the ‘something wrong with engine’ indicator and with lack of a better idea we continued on our way doing our best to ignore the persistent amber lit icon.  Now that we were deep into the desert the stony tracks had disappeared, a relief that was short lived as route finding and sand driving offered its own set of challenges.  As we approached the dunes of Erg Chigaga it was reassuring to see a few vehicles dotted about, until we were flagged down by one extremely irate individual who alternated between shouting at us in a foreign language and holding his head in his hands.  After much confusion on our side we eventually understood him to be telling us that one of our bikes had bounced out of the rack and was being dragged along behind Bob by the cable lock.  The bike didn’t seem to be too much the worse for wear and much to everyone’s relief was returned and secured to the rack.  Keen to put some distance between us and the shouty man we started up Bob and were delighted to see that the faulty engine indicator light had gone out – result!

We didn’t have to meander through the dunes too long before we located Camp Al Koutban, a small collection of just 12 tents nestled beneath Erg Chigaga’s tallest dune.  The camp was run by Sahrawi “blue men” so called because of their indigo-coloured clothing.  Traditionally nomads who controlled the caravan trade between Morocco and Niger, many of them are now settled at the edge of the desert offering experiences that, for us, included dinner by candlelight, traditional drum playing round the campfire and a much anticipated camel ride. 

Leaving the following morning, two hours of sand driving took us to the small oasis town of M’hamid.  As one of a few gateways to the Sahara, the town is the last oasis in the Draa Valley and with the desert slowly increasing and arable land decreasing, recent years has seen the economic activity of the population transformed towards tourism.   With just one long dusty high street it would have been impossible to enter the town without being noticed and with trade still not back to pre-covid levels, the locals were extremely keen to guide us through the area.  It took us a couple of hours to get out of town as one particular local took some time to convince that we could manage without his services and already missing the isolation of the desert we opted to take the MS6 two-day off-road track rather than the tarmac alternative all the way through to Erg Chebbi.  The desert landscape varied between the rough and rocky hairpin traverse of the Tafenna basin, hard sand, soft sand, small dunes, the Maider chott and many kilometres of hamada.  Our research had shown this to be a relatively popular route but once again other vehicles were scarce until we set up camp inside a military zone and were escorted out of the demarcated area by a couple of soldiers in an open top camo Landy.  They were keen to point out that the area was under observation for illegal movement of weapons, drugs and human trafficking but we were guessing that there was not too much going on in this particular stretch next to the Algerian border as they spent some time with us, even asking us to blow up their tyres which were already over 60 psi (perhaps every 4x4 with a compressor was getting similar requests). 

The Algerian-Morocco border is 1,427 km long extending from the Mediterranean Sea to the Western Sahara, a border that has been a source of tension for both countries since independence in 1963.  Disputes over Morocco’s claim to territory in Algeria, Algeria’s support of the Polisario Front’s campaign for Western Sahara’s independence from Morocco, terrorist activity and drug running have all played their part in the current state of affairs which has seen the border closed since 1994. 

Military intervention aside, the most memorable part of this route was the challenging 5km crossing of the Oued Rheris, a series of sandy hummocks and fine powdery sand where it would have been all too easy to run aground.  Fortunately, learning from past experience, Bob refused to lose momentum and get stuck on top of a sand hill and we progressed steadily, eventually arriving at Erg Chebbi.  We were amazed by just how busy this place was, a mix of 4x4 convoys and quad bikes testing their skill sets in the high dunes which were surrounded by large, commercial looking desert camps lined up next to one another.  Yes, the dunes were bigger than Chigaga and no doubt did look beautiful under a setting sun (we weren’t there long enough to see for ourselves) but with the Sahara one side and a tarmac road on the other side of the dunes the experience was lacking in authenticity and seemed to be more of a desert playground than anything else.

Six days of off-road desert driving had satisfied our Saharan wanderlust and it was time for us to start making our way back north via the Atlas Mountains.  Our route through Zagora and Ouzarzate followed part of the “Salt Road”, one of the world’s greatest and most dangerous trade routes in history.  Caravans ranging in size from 1,000 to 12,000 camels, guided by desert berbers, transported gold, salt and slaves from the legendary sub-saharan trading city of Timbuktu in Mali all the way to Marrakesh.  An impressive distance of 3,000 km that typically took around 70 days.. 

Ouazarzate, a city 200 km south of Marrakesh, sits in the middle of a bare plateau and despite its rather unappealing demeaner was one of the few places we visited in the south that was thriving.  With an ever increasing population boosted by relocating desert communities, Ouazarzate is able to offer much needed employment due to its flourishing Atlas film studio and nearby solar station, the world’s largest concentrated solar power plant.  Atlas studios, when measured by acreage is also the largest in the world with most of the sets permanently residing in the nearby desert and mountains.  We poked around sets previously used in the Jewel of the Nile, Living Daylights, The Mummy, Gladiator, Cleopatra and Tutankhamen and were pretty impressed to learn how Hermes turned a basic set into https://youtu.be/UvMZrJDHBYM. 

All along the caravan route are ancient fortified villages known as ksars, built to protect the precious commodities that were being traded at the time.  Perhaps the most iconic of these is the Ksar of Ait-Ben-Haddou, a site that has undergone significant restoration in recent times and is one you might recognise from the third series of Game of Thrones.

Away from the main roads, travel through Morocco is notoriously slow.  Getting stuck behind an hgv struggling up narrow mountain roads or waiting for one man and his tractor to clear a recent rockfall is par for the course, throw in the occasional horse tied to one side of the road whilst grazing on the other and you soon resign yourselves to concentrating instead on the ever-present, raw and spectacular scenery.  Lush valleys, lakes, forests, snow-capped mountains and deep canyons cut into the ochre rock accompanied us all the way to the small mountain settlement of Imlil, the main base for ascending Mount Toubkal, the tallest mountain in North Africa (4,167m) and also the starting point of the multi day hike of the Toubkal Circuit.

Following the grisly murder of two Scandinavian female backpackers, whose decapitated bodies were found in the Atlas Mountains in December 2018, the Moroccan government issued a mandatory guide rule for anyone hiking in the area.  On arrival into Imlil we were informed that there was still some snow up on the mountains that are part of the Circuit which meant that official guiding had not yet started for the season.  This was good news for us as we didn’t really want a guide, preferring instead to purchase a map and compass, hire some crampons and head off.  Imlil is at an altitude of 1,800 metres and over the course of the next few days we knew we would be making a climb to over 3,000 on more than one occasion.  Not having been at altitude for more than 10 years we were possibly over-reaching, but worse-case scenario we could always turn around and go back the way we had come.  The first climb out of Imlil was a good indicator that we were in for a testing time and, as if bending over clutching at our knees whilst catching our breath wasn’t enough for us to be dealing with, we also had to contend with the local wannaby guides who, savvy to recent policies, were keen to get in on any unofficial guiding action and incredibly difficult to get away from.  After a night spent in the mountain auberge at Tachdirt, we set off the following morning in the company of a couple of locals and their herd of goats.  We were now far enough away from Imlil and its enterprising locals to enjoy the solitude and majesty of the area and clearly able to see our path zig-zagging its way up to the Tizi n’Likemt pass.  We had barely started our ascent when a quick count showed that our numbers had swelled and we were now being accompanied by a little old man on his donkey.  With a big smile on his wizened face and one good eye focussed on us while the other took in a more panoramic view of our surroundings, he introduced himself as Ibrahim and despite our protestations insisted on leading us up the mountain.  Powerless to do anything other than follow in his wake, we plodded uphill for most of the day, eventually summiting in a light flurry of snow.  This was as far as Ibrahim wanted to go and where he proved himself to be a master negotiator using every trick in the book to extract as much money as possible for unwanted services rendered.  How could we possibly refuse a cross-eyed octogenarian who had persuaded his donkey to a height of over 3,500 m and was now faced with going all the way back down again??? 

Despite parting with enough money to keep Ibrihim's donkey fed for the rest of his life, we were a bit sad to see him set off down the mountain, even more so when we couldn’t locate the shepherd huts that we were hoping to sleep in, instead bedding down for the night in a three-sided mule shelter.  Up until this point we had been discussing whether or not to replace our stolen tent but as we lay in the dark on at least six months of mule manure with the rain blowing in through the open front, a new tent did seem like a really good idea. 

We returned to Imlil five days later just in time to celebrate the end of Ramadan, a period of fasting and, hopefully, spiritual growth.  It is based on the lunar calendar and takes place 10 days earlier every year, lasts for an entire month and ends when the new moon is sighted.  Unfortunately for Morocco, this year’s anticipated end of abstinence was delayed an additional 24 hours due to a cloudy night and therefore no moon, a decision which is made by the Ministry of Islamic Affairs.

With just a few days of our visa remaining, it was time for us to get back to Ceuta where we would catch the ferry back to Spain.  An uneventful trip but for a rather hectic last day in the bustling city of Tangier.  It was huge relief that Leroy's titre test had come back showing the correct levels of rabies anti-bodies to be allowed back into Europe but  we needed to re-visit the vet in order to get his EU passport updated accordingly.  We weren’t sure whether he also needed an animal health certificate and just to be on the safe side, we went through the tedious procedure of acquiring the 5 bureaucratic pages that all needed to be stamped by the Dept of Agriculture, a messy little office on the other side of Tangier.  Fortunately, this being Morocco, the fee was only €12 as opposed to the £200+ fee we had paid to get him from the UK into France but we needn’t have bothered as this wasn't even looked at by customs.  Ian, in the meantime, was trying to get his ipad back which the police had managed to recover following the break-in.  Despite spending 2 hours finding and then waiting in the appropriate government office, he came away empty handed as the tablet had been sent to the Court of Appeal where it was being fingerprinted prior to being used in court.  I don't suppose we will ever hear the outcome, but we did see a post on the Park4Night app just two days after we had posted our own unfortunate experience.  Apparently, a couple of masked men had tried to access another overland vehicle camped in the same spot but, perhaps forewarned, the occupants had been more vigilant and avoided a fate similar to ours.

Morocco has certainly provided us with some adventures and we have loved exploring this tolerant country with its blend of cultures and generous hospitality.  We are also better informed.

-          Traditionally, tagines rarely contain fruit.  They are a simple dish of meat, potatoes and whatever veg might be available; very occasionally you might find a date.

-          Couscous is only cooked on a Friday.  It is made from scratch, a process of steaming and seasoning the tiny grains of semolina in huge metal pans which can take up to 2 hours. 

-          Our concerns about travelling through a primarily Muslim country with a dog proved to be unfounded.

-          When we handed over our drone to customs we received a receipt so that we could retrieve it on our departure.  What we weren’t told was that we had to collect it within 45 days otherwise it becomes the property of the Moroccan government.  Our visa was for 90 days so how does this work?????

-          If your visa is running out, just nip across the land border into Ceuta, turn around and cross straight back into Morocco for another 90 days.

-          If you don’t have Arabic language skills then it’s worth practising your French.

- Dont stress if you have slightly over-packed!