7th June - Agadir

Our stay in Tiznit was short this time. This morning we used the campsite’s water to fill up our tanks and wash out the rear locker, which was inch-deep in sand, slightly to the annoyance of the campsite people, but there you are. Then we drove through the Anti-Atlas Mountains to a little town called Tafraoute at about 1400m. Legend has it that if the Anti-Atlas Mountains and the Atlas Mountains ever collide, they’ll annihilate each other in a puff of energy, but I can’t vouch for that.

The drive was quite a good one, if a little taxing to the truck’s engine. On the plus side, despite working hard in the heat for hours on end, it’s never overheated yet. The scenery was endlessly interesting, from barren rock mountains to oases with palm trees, to forests of evergreens and huge boulder hills. I was surprised to find Nicki taking her top off as we drove up the mountain. I wondered if she had decided to go naturist for the rest of the trip, but in fact she was looking for a thorn in the back of her t-shirt. Luckily the road was quiet otherwise oncoming lorries would have probably disappeared off the cliff. Tafraoute itself was pleasant enough, but it only took fifteen minutes or so to walk around the souk, which to our surprise was full of European tourists: we’re on the tourist trail now!

We decided to have lunch in a little café which served good Moroccan food. As I was about to tuck into my tagine, a European woman walked right up to me, stared at me, smiled, and jiggled up and down a bit. I was totally taken aback, and didn’t know what to do. Was she trying to get money? Was she mad? I sort of half ignored her, but this was hard, as she was right in my face. Then she said: “Surely? It can’t be?” The penny dropped! It was Susannah, the wife of Harry, who had the big Mercedes truck I liked so much in Zebrabar! Isn’t it funny, to drive half way across a continent, and then to bump into people you know. But it wasn’t the last time it happened today.

We caught up on their news and agreed to go for a coffee at their truck at a nearby campsite, which we did. This was a great opportunity for Nicki to get to know the truck I’ve been banging on about ever since I saw it. Interestingly, Harry knows of another one just like it in Germany which may be for sale, even though it’s a really rare model… hmmmmmmm. Their coffee included frothy milk, and was truly excellent. We passed on news to them of Tony, in Gambia, who they also knew from travelling (he was in Zebrabar shortly after us), and I was interested to hear that they had met Raphael, the Spanish guy I stupidly gave our return Spain-Morocco ferry ticket to at the Pink Lake. They didn’t have his contact details, but have promised if they bump into him again, they’ll give him my number and ask him to call me to return our ticket!

Just as we left Tafraoute I noticed one of our rubber shock absorber bushes has disintegrated, which gives us another banging noise I could do without. Of course, it’s a 101-specific part, so I have no chance of getting another one out here. Memo to self: next time, bring a couple of spare shock absorber mounts! It’s not the end of the world, but it would be nice to have a spare set. Hindsight is a wonderful thing.

The drive down the mountains was quite lengthy, and wasn’t helped by conflicting road signs which didn’t actually signpost anything useful anyway. We saw a big fortress at the top of a hill, and I was delighted to see some tree-climbing goats! I stopped to photograph them, and the goat herder walked up in due course and gestured that he wanted money. I refused; why should I pay him for a photo of his damn goats? Do I have “mug” written across my face? Again, it’s part of the tourist trail… We made it through the mountains in the end, and hit the outer rim of Agadir, which is quite a big town. Against all odds, we found the campsite near the centre of town, and when we pulled in, we saw the kitesurfing people we’d passed in Dakhla. Second coincidence of the day! One of them lives in Tarifa, where Karen lives, so I’ll have to see if she knows him. We chatted to them for a while, watching the various dogs on the campsite chasing the numerous cats up trees, and who should walk over, but the French guy with the Range Rover we met in El Jadida. It sure is a small world. He’s had problems with his caravan tow-hitch snapping off (twice) so never did make it to Guinea Bissau.

I’d say, based on our experience, it’s pretty likely that on a trip like this you would get to know every other overland traveller on the route, with no more than one degree of separation: that is to say, either you’ve met them, or you’ve met somebody else who has met them. This adds up to an odd virtual community of travellers scattered across the continent at any one time, and is a great bush telegraph to get information about what’s going on in different regions, where’s good, where’s dangerous, which pistes are hard going, and so on. You can even pass on news to people about other people they know, as we did of Tony to Harry and Susannah.

Nicki wants her mum and Georgia to know that there is a dog on the campsite with funny teeth like the dog in the airport. Whatever that means.

And finally; things we forgot to put in the blog from earlier in the week. 1) I found a thorn about 2cm long in my shoe, which has been there at least a fortnight, and has been irritating me but I couldn’t work out where it was. 2) Yesterday we saw a whirlwind, the largest one we’ve seen yet, which crossed the road in front of us; today a little one came through my window, but it was too small to do anything but blow a bit of dust over me.