There were ten units in all, five British and five Dutch (plus three non ICA members who unexpectedly joined via the tour company).
Ray was our hired tour guide and assisting him was Hammed, who is Moroccan born and was the essential and effective link between the group and our host country. We were all very sad to see Hammed go at the end of the tour.
The Moroccan side of the border crossing reminded me of the words efficiency, courtesy and politeness. These are just a few words their officials have never heard of. Nearly three hours later and after a master class in tortuous bureaucracy we finally made it through (read carefully David’s guidance notes). This was the first time I’d ever fully appreciated UK passport and customs control.
Most of the camp sites (when we were not free -camping in the woods) would not score very well by European campsite standards or even farmyard standards come to that. Most of us relied on our own loos and showers for much of the time so we were grateful that David and Pauline our ICA tour leaders had warned us that our units needed to be entirely self sufficient.
For those more used to European driving, public roads are another fascinating feature of Morocco. There isn’t a single part of the Highway Code that isn’t comprehensively and energetically ignored and additional sets of eyes in various parts of the body are an advantage. Frantic lorry and cab drivers, ancient rickety donkey carts, madcap motorbikes and suicidal cyclists made the Whacky Races seem like a Sunday afternoon leisure drive through Norfolk .
Fortunately the roads were never as bad as we’d feared and the short drive through the desert was quite exciting and enough to shake the fillings out of our teeth! Many parts of rural Morocco are very poor by western standards and it was helpful to have pens and unwanted clothing to hand out. This we found was best done when we were about to move on as otherwise we were quickly inundated with children.
The town of Source Bleu, Meski sits on the banks of a river and it was here that we visited a very impressive local school. Later we were invited into the local guide’s home to sample the local brew (nothing stronger than tea of course) and to understand the wide difference in the quality of dates you can buy.
During the weeks we visited various souks (markets) and all were quite an assault on the senses particularly the huge labyrinthine one in Fes (Fez). The ancient leather tanneries, hand crafted potteries and the fish and food stalls sent our senses into a frenzy of sights, smells and sounds.
We’d all seen images of Marrakesh and its famous medina (square) and actually being there for the first time it certainly didn’t disappoint! Wandering through the medina during the day you could be forgiven for thinking you were on the film-set of an Indiana Jones movie. Later that evening we returned to see it at its frenetic best. We found the best vantage point was in from upper storey restaurant where we sat and witnessed the theatre that is the people, snake charmers and food stalls under the innumerable bright lights of the teeming wide open square.
On one of the days we had a tour coach, we pulled in at Casablanca but couldn’t find our guide until out of nowhere a smartly-dressed diminutive elderly Moroccan gentleman appeared and whisked us off to guide around an enormous Mosque (the third largest in the world) which is a fabulous concoction of marble, glass and fine carvings. It wasn’t till we were leaving (all very impressed) that the guide that had actually been booked found us and quite understandably railed angrily against our entrepreneurial substitute who shrugged off his protests and carried on regardless entirely unabashed – it’s just another day in Morocco!
The culture in Morocco is Islamist-Arab and sensitivity for dress especially for western women is helpful. You won’t need to pop on a burkha but when out in public, any revealing tops and skimpy shorts are best left at home. However, when you’re clearly in a tourist resort or on a beach then there are no issues, although any naturists would be well advised to resist the urge to strip off completely (for any weight watchers, I’ve heard that a spell in a Moroccan prison works wonders).
So what were the highlights? The two hour camel ride to the over-night Berber encampment sleeping under canvas in the northern Saharan desert , rising early to watch the sun rise whilst sitting atop a 500 feet high sand dune are experiences we will never forget. Another was the jaw dropping majesty of the Todra Gorge not to mention the experience that is the sheer drive up, over and through the magnificent Tizi-n-tichka pass.
It is impossible to sum up a month touring Morocco in a few lines. The people, the towns and countryside, the culture - the everyday life of a continent which is so geographically close but so dramatically distant in so many ways to our own is hard to comprehend. You had to be there to even start to appreciate it and you’d be right to think that Morocco isn’t so much a holiday but far more an adventure.
Of course there were some hitches along the way but the reassurance of having David and Pauline as team leaders made it all seem under control. When we started we knew nobody on the tour but by the end we had met many people who helped to make this an adventure holiday we will always remember.
Importantly, I must finish this report with a heartfelt “Thank you” to David and Pauline Hirst for all their hard work in planning, organising and running this incredible tour and for keeping their cool even under the blistering 45 degree heat of the Sahara. Thanks again.
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