Africa campertruck – Second Time Around The World

Senegal and Gambia: Inland

We stopped in the tiny, poor fishing village of Tendaba, a place in need of some income, so we ordered dinner at “Bouy Wallo Resturant” and took a Mangrove boat tour in the morning. There were many snakebirds, cormorants, herons, egrets and kingfishers, as well as birds I don’t know the names of – some of the quite beautiful – but since I neglected to check if my “real” camera with tele focus was full… it wasn’t, it died at the first shot I tried to make. No bird pics…We still enjoyed the four hour tour.

*Before leaving the coast, I washed the car, and now it is so shiny that the kids use it as a mirror.*

*We had dinner at this local restaurant.*

*Weaverbird’s nests decorate a mangrove tree.*

For our next stop along the river Gambia, we went to see the chimpanzees. Again Google sent us through small cross-country sand-tracks, even though there was a good road. But because of that, we had the opportunity to stop between some giant termite hills. At the River Gambia National Park we found a camp between giant baobabs and hordes of monkeys. It could have been the start of a magical experience if only the one other boat would have given us some viewing space where the chimpanzees approached the waterfront. ☹️

*With no other traffic around, we had a chance to stop* *between some termite hills.*

*In a forest of giant baobab trees, with hordes of monkeys* *moving around, was a magical place to spend the night*

By accident we happened upon something deliciously wonderful!
On Thursday afternoon we arrived in Georgetown – or better called by its historic and restored name of Janjanbureh. We just wanted to spend a day visiting Gambia’s second-biggest city – which really is just a walkable dusty village. Only hours after we arrived as the only guests at a quiet, riverside camp, a Dutch tour group arrived, accidentally together with a friendly German overlander couple who we met before at the Zebrabar in Senegal. These Germans mentioned that when they crossed the Senegal/Gambia border that morning, one police officer shared the news with them that a unique cultural festival, “Kankurang,” would take place that weekend in Janjanbureh. Hearing about that, we decided to stay for the weekend. We did not regret it. The following day, people from all over Gambia and Senegal arrived to participate in, and witness the spectacle. Unfortunately for the Dutch tour group, their leader decided they should rush to the beach to stay on schedule.

*Kankurang dancers….I wish the videos would download, so you could hear the drums!*

*Kumpo*, *who I believe is a spirit that likes to maintain order, knows how to spin itself on a stick attached to its head. When it sees a fire, it will throw itself on it to douse it*.

*Asamai seems to always follow Kumpo. I don’t know what he represents, but he reminds me of a gorilla.*

With one day to spare on our Gambia visa, we crossed the border back to Senegal. We were the only ones there, so service was easy and casual. Then we drove on excellent roads that, according to both Google maps and Maps.me, did not exist – they pointed us to walking trails instead. We decided to see where the good road would lead us: through bush land and along pretty villages. We kept on seeing small groups of boys dressed in unusually grimy white boubous…and concluded that they are either newly circumcised boys, or belonging to a strange sect…(there are some Sufi sects in Senegal that require boys under their care to work or beg for them)

*Behind those horses, there’s this strange group of boys…*

*At the end of the day it is time to come together at the well, or the water faucet – time to fetch water, and socialize a bit.*

The days were getting warmer, but the nights were cooling down to the point that I pulled out my blanket again. As we drove more inland, the villages we see along the road became cleaner and more charming. I kept on photographing them, as I find the next compound even prettier than the previous ones.

Close to the entrance of Niokolo Koba National Park, we picked an attractive spot along the Gambia River, between some huge, gorgeous Kapok trees! (See feature photo) Near sunset and sunrise we had a visit of some monkeys: first a group of baboons, and in the morning some cute little colobus monkeys.

We were ambiguous about Niokolo Koba, Senegal’s largest national park near the Guinée border. Here one could take a safari to see African wildlife. Thijs found out this park is bigger than Yellowstone, or could be as big as our country of the Netherlands. There were however a few unfortunate facts that made us decide not to visit: 1. many areas are burnt, which is not only unattractive, but grazing animals will find nothing to eat there. 2. For an area this big, the amount of big game is small (like only 50 elephants) so the chance of spotting some interesting animals is slim. 3. To take a tour through the park, one has to hire a guide who drives along in your vehicle (we only have two seats in our truck) We could rent another 4x4WD which could accommodate this guide, but that makes a visit ridiculously expensive, especially considering we may not see any animals outside of monkeys and birds. 4. The main road cuts straight through the park. Any animal could just as well be close to that road.
Along the main road we saw monkeys, warthogs, a Gambian mongoose and some big Sudan hornbills…more than some guided visitors have seen.

*We saw a family of whart hogs along the way in Niakolo Koba park*

*And we saw Hippos in the river (those two round mounds on the left in the water are not* *boulders)*

At the southern edge of the park we found another beautiful lodge along the Gambia river. This one even had a swimming pool! Here we remained few days, awaiting my Guinee e-visa (just mine, Thijs already received his)
Still waiting for my Guinée Visa to arrive, we went to tour the area. First we stocked up on supplies in the nearest town of Kedougou, some 36 rough kilometers away. There was not much, but we managed to buy coffee, milk for our coffee, bread, little bits of cheese, jam, and onions – which beside carrots and potatoes is the main vegetable in these countries.

We searched and found the villages that we heard about to be special. To reach the isolated village of Iwol (and the biggest baobab of West Africa) we climbed a mountain, 600 meters up over 3 kilometers. We are so out of shape with all the driving without much exercise! We used to do this in South America at over 3000 meters. But there we walked at our own pace in cool temperatures; here we followed a guide and a younger french couple who set the pace at 39⁰C temps. But we made it. We enjoyed the interaction with the women and children – especially when we were interested in buying some of their trinkets. And the children did not beg! The village, because of its difficult accessibility has remained isolated and pretty much self reliant.

*View from halfway up to the Iwol village.*

*Kids here don’t have toys. They play with whatever is around. I saw one kid push a dried up paint roller* *ahead of him*.

This is the big old baobab we had to see. According to what I understood, the tree grew on top of the grave of one of the oldest settlers from the village. I have the feeling it is older than that, since the story goes that these are people that fled oppression from Mali,.so they are considered refugees, and they still don’t mix with the local population. Even their language is different.

Also at Ibel village, our start off point, the people were pleasant. After realizing we did not have balls or candy, the boys just sat with us and talked about their school, and their languages. When they appeared to be curious about the inside of our camper, we showed them the inside, one by one. Word went around, and all together about 25 kids lined up to take a look inside.

*Kids talked about school.. the boy in black and green is from one of the refugee villages up in the hills. He has to walk for hours to get to school and back.*

*One of the few kid’s toys we’ve seen so far….home made out of a blue plastic jug, some bottle caps, foam rubber, sticks, and a rope.*

Yesterday we saw two kids with (what we’d call) toys. Normally we see them roll a bicycle- or car-tire, or kick an empty bottle. This time, there was a boy that held in his hand a real toy car, and we saw a boy pull a home made dump truck made out of bottle caps, some pieces of plastic foam, and a cut off plastic container – stuff we’d consider trash. Girls don’t play here: we see them hauling buckets of water or laundry on their head, and washing in the river.

Every place where we stop, we get surrounded by kids, all asking for a “cadeau” (present) a “bonbon”(candy) or a “ballon”(soccer ball) sometimes they ask for food or a drink. Or they ask for anything: the clothes off my back…the ring off my finger… There are so many kids!

Yesterday we were invited to take a stroll along the river. The guy, it was clear, expected to get paid for that, and we could get some interesting information out of him. Like, he has two wives and is proud to have fifteen kids. His youngest is about a year old. He may be around fifty or sixty. He hangs around the camp, waiting for people like us, hoping to earn maybe $5 (all converted to US $ for you) every now and then- maybe once a week. The women do the real work: tend a garden (where cassava, onions and carrots are the main fresh food grown), wash loads of laundry by hand, pound their main staple of rice, or corn, and cook.They fetch bucketloads of water and clean the compound. In the late afternoon, at this riverside location, we see them pan for gold, always carrying their babies on their back. Although we see men working (driving and repairing vehicles and boats, fishing and hauling heavy loads besides service jobs as police officers or tourist guides) we see many of them just hang. A police man at a road check may earn $50 per month (job: wait for a car to come by and ask where you come from, where are you going…maybe ask for ID) The woman at the Gambian beach hotel also made $50 as a hotel manager: serving guests, keeping the accounts, cleaning rooms and overseeing the cook, gardener, and wash woman, who all probably made less than she did.
Begging is understandable. It’s just that candy does not provide nutrition, so I will not give that, or candy-money to kids. I hand out peanuts, which they like. But when they see that I keep some for myself, they want it all. They don’t understand we want some as well.
White people are expected to have unlimited resources, of everything. Even when we walk around with just a bottle of water, they ask for sweets or a ball, or otherwise my water bottle.
Yesterday, a Belgian guy on a motorcycle joined us at the camp. At one point he caved, and took an older boy along to the local store. He bought a $10 soccer ball, making it clear to be for the whole village. Then, while the boys played soccer, another load of kids came, to also ask for a ball, for their village. The demand is endless.

Still, we thoroughly enjoy the experience, the hardship and learning about life on the other side of the world. Despite the screaming need, hopeless economy and painful poverty, we discover a society that is without envy or hatred towards us. We feel safe and welcome here. We sleep with our door and windows open (just screened to keep the mosquitoes out).
On the occasions that we needed help, we received it without hesitation.
Yes, Africa is a difficult continent in many ways, but it is fabulous!

Senegal and Gambia, along the coast

We arrived in Senegal! After spending several hours crossing the border (we have to learn how to not let anyone cut in front of us…), we drove straight to the Zebra Bar, which feels like an oasis of shady beachfront rest. There, however, we discovered that the SIM cards we bought at the border stopped working. So, the next morning we made our way to nearby St. Louis, which btw is the oldest capital in Africa, with a French colonial old town center. After a long wait at the Orange office we hope to have a properly functioning SIM card.

While in the historic center, we went for a bland but very slow food lunch, stopped by a well stocked supermarket that played happy music, and walked past the fishing fleet before returning to our cool waterfront spot.

The lagune in front of the Zebra bar has quiet waters, but one can see and hear the ocean waves crashing on the island’s beach. We took a boatride, from where we saw many fishing boats stretching their nets across the width of the laguna. Big white pelicans and black cormorants were waiting for a chance to steal a fish or two. On the way back, the boat deposited us for a walk on the island’s beach. Here we watched the waves wrestling with the strong tidal current making its way out of the laguna. A fellow camper loaded with a day pack, playfully chasing a crab into the surf, almost succumbed to the waves, phone in hand…good thing that he, as an overland traveler on bicycle, was in good physical condition. Although we could not overlook the amount of plastic trash, we enjoyed the variety of birds, the mangrove replanting, and the overall feel of being on the water.

*View over the laguna and the island that protects against the crashing waves.*

*Protected from the sun, the Zebra bar is a place to meet other overlanders, do some birdwatching and enjoy a bit of beach*.

On our way to Dakar, we saw an increasing amount of baobab trees. Boababs have a special place in my memory: during our first trip through Africa I fell in love with them, but somehow never got a good photograph of any. So now, when we saw this accessible gathering of baobabs, we had to spend some time with them.

We had a nice and relaxing morning ride, but driving into Dakar was outrageous! We needed to revisit an Orange (mobile phone) office on the south side of Dakar, and I made the mistake of choosing the southern route into the city. BIG MISTAKE: we got stuck in traffic with an endless chaotic line of big trucks – many of them broken down and stuck on the pavement. The last twenty km – half an hour’s drive, according to Google – took us about five hours. Still about four km away, we decided to look for a place to park for the night and got stuck in another hopeless congestion. That one kilometer to the beach hotel still took half an hour. But here we found a little oasis of rest with a pretty little beach. The place was run down, which made me guess it was here first, before the port surrounded it.

*Surrounded by the Dakar ports, it is hard to believe one could find a quiet beach like this*.

We needed to extend our 10 day passavant Dakar, in order to drive our camper around Senegal for another 14 days, but being the weekend, we had to stay in here until Monday, when the government offices would open again. On Saturday we decided to take a taxi to Dakar proper, where we could buy new GBs of data for our phones, and take the ferry to the Unesco World Heritage site of Goree Island. Back in the days, thousands of African were held there before getting shipped off to the New World. On the island we found a good looking colonial settlement: the island has been occupied by many old colonial countries, like the Portuguese, Dutch, French, and English. Now a tourist attraction, we first wandered the streets after a nice lunch. Then we immersed ourselves in the dark side of the place: a visit to the slave house. One is first guided through a house across the street, where the gloomy facts and data are well displayed. When we entered the actual slave house, luck had it that a public explanation took place in the center court. We heard the painful details, like how families were separated to be sent to different parts of the Americas, and when an infectious disease would break out, all slaves would be thrown in the sea…Too many details to mention. Most of you will know about the door of no return. It is here.

*School kids on the boat ride to Goree Island*

*The courtyard of the Slave House. Here slaves were allowed some air once a day.*

*Holding cell. Men, women and children were kept separately.*

On Sunday we expected the Dakar traffic to be a little lighter, so we drove our camper out of the port area and explored the other side of the peninsula. We stopped at Ngor Beach, overlooking the bay and Ngor island. Although the water was blue- with floating plastic, we enjoyed an excellent lunch. We stayed at the parking lot for the night.

Early next morning we parked the camper closer to the customs office, where we were forced to accept our passavant extension for more ransom money. Then we left the city as soon as we could, avoiding the congested southside. However, the goodlooking northside boulevard ended up in a sand track through old neighborhood alleys, and we almost got stuck in the sand trying to avoid oncoming cars. Only after ignoring Google Maps we found our way out and on a main connecting road, which still meandered through busy neighborhoods before we reached the perfect toll road, which soon brought us to a beach town, where we thought we’d chosen a nice, laidback oceanside camping. It turned out to be an old rundown farm without facilities except a fenced in parking, but with a decent little waterside restaurant across the street. Good enough for one day.

*It took a while, but the food here was decent, and the sunset beautiful*.

After one night, we did not care much for our coastal location: the camping was just a fenced farm, where nothing resembled the pros of a camping: no toilets or showers except really gross ones, and no electric connection or the promised strong WIFI. I did have some fun with the turkeys, who immediately reacted when I imitated their call. The caged monkeys and (I’ve been told) other chained exotic animals there, disgusted me. The town had an outlandish feel with numerous western tourists emerging from gated hotels with private beaches. So we left, driving south towards the Gambian border. When we stopped for lunch near a water well, we could see a boy pulling up many twenty liter water buckets. What a workout at 38° heat!

We arrived at a village, connected across a river branch by a modern toll bridge – built by the Chinese in exchange for fishing and gold mining rights, so told by one of the locals here. Upon arrival in the village, people pointed us to “Encampement Baobab sur Mer”, where we could enjoy river views from our camper. The place provided decent bathrooms, but again, lacking electricity hookup and WIFI, as promised in the reviews. (We need to top up our batteries, and my phone is constantly reminding me that, in order to ensure my updates, it needs to be connected to WIFI!!)

We were getting tired of the Senegalese people, who would amicably join us for a casual conversation, which invariably led up to them wanting to sell us something, and since we were friends now we owed them a sale… Here, within the first hour, just enjoying an end of the day drink with a river view, we made a friend (last name Christian Dior) who wanted us to buy his overpriced African clothes, another offered jewelry, and one wanted us to support an island school by buying his trinkets. Tired, we gave in to the latter, and since I need some shirts, I also ordered something to be made by Christian Dior – though the negotiations are painful. We also committed ourselves to go look at wood carving and jewelry, and have a fish lunch at a lady’s market stall. High pressure sales going on here!

At our “Encampment” we ran into an American Peace Corps worker, who gave us some details about the town life, like the why of that awesome bridge: to accomodate ships en route to a future downriver port, where they will unload products to be trucked to Mali. Disadvantage of this bridge is its descent: regularly, overloaded trucks with bad brakes lose control and crash into buildings at the bottom of the bridge.

*Campement Baobab looked pleasantly rural. We were appointed to one of the rooms for the shower and toilet*.

*Village life: I think I disrupted the game: when I stopped to look, the guy in the blue shirt made some bold moves… and lost*.

*Village life: an afternoon soccer game*.

*We arranged a fish lunch with this lady. Maybe she did not believe we would really show up, for she only started cooking once we arrived. She worked hard and served us an excellent meal.*

*Bubble wrapped motorcycles: it keeps them looking like new!*

As we continued south, we did not want to cross the border to Gambia too soon, so we decided to make an extra stop not far from our last one. We picked Sokone, because it is located along the edge of the Fathalah wildlife preserve and Mangrove plains. There is a charming lodge/encampment there (les Calaos du Saloum), with extremely friendly owners, who apparently wanted to host us so badly, they tore down the roof above their gate, which was otherwise too low to let us in. We would have liked to stay longer, just to do them a favor and enjoy another generous and excellent meal, but it was so hot that day, that even a walk along the mangrove river at low tide was no fun.

Crossing the Senegal Gambia border was a breeze, without much corrupt pressure for money. Only at the immigration police, where we had to have our Gambian entry stamps done, they asked us for 15.000 CFA stamp- and entry-fee. When Thijs reacted surprised and replied that their own embassy had ensured us that all was free of charge, they let it go. We did not get a (ridiculous) prescription medicine search, fine or confiscation, and all police stops along the road afterwards were jovial and friendly. After the quick border crossing, we reached the Gambia river ferry before midday. We drove off the ferry at eight the next morning. Yes, it was chaos! Of three ferries present, only one was in working order. Although there was a queue, VIP cars who paid extra had priority. When lanes needed to be changed, some cars slipped in between, daring us to get our car scratched (theirs were old and dented, so who cares?) When directed to another place, three to four people were shouting and gesturing in different directions – none of them wore an official uniform – hard to know what order to follow… All together we had to wait out three ferry departures and then, after midnight, opted to spend the night at the front of the line, in order to get on the first ferry leaving in the morning. Even driving off the ferry was crazy: a yellow van overtook us at the last moment, then stopped on the off ramp to load its passengers and tetris in their luggage. But, welcome to Gambia, which feels like a Happy-Go-Lucky country. And they speak English here!

*While waiting in line for the ferry, I could observe these women selling food to passengers.*

*Even unloading the ferry is a test of patience: this minivan slipped in front of us, to stop right there on the off ramp to load passengers and their luggage.*

With our recent previous experiences in larger African cities, we did not feel like staying in or around the capital and left, looking for a nice beach front location, which we found in Sanyang: at an attractive place called “Eco Lodge” (in between quotes because the “eco’ part is hard to find through the trash filled entry, where cows are sniffing out delectable plastics.)
But overlooking that, there was a sense of order: landscaping with parasols and beach beds, clean bathrooms, good WIFI, and a very friendly and communicable staff. In short, we could easily stay for a few days.

*This beach lodge was one of our favorites. We stayed here for several days.*

During a stroll on the beach, we happened upon a circumcision ceremony. When I filmed men slapping pieces of cloth in the sea water, a red “monster” came running towards me, clashing two manchetes while howling. Just in time a guy jumped in front of me, and explained that the “Kankurang” does not allow unauthorized photography and he could have hit me with his manchetes. He explained about the circumcision of six boys, ages maybe nine months to six years, and how they had to be confronted with fear of the Kankurang, who would see to it that they’d behave well from now on…or else! These kids would stay isolated from their home (under their father’s watch) until their wounds would be healed, and I have to say, some of them looked pretty botched and infected. I don’t know why, but we were asked to have our picture made with them. I was handed the baby, who seemed to be more terrified of me than of the Kankurang. The next youngest was ok with me… Later on the Eco lodge manager told me some details, and how fearful and dangerous some of these Kankurangs can be…sometimes the whole village stays inside until the ritual is over. She also told me that in some villages female circumcision is still practiced… We really have arrived in Africa.

Tomorrow we will leave this nice place: off to explore some Gambian inland. But that is another story.

*This Kankurang looked pretty frightening when running towards you with hacking kni*ves

Mauretania

“Donnez moi la fiche” is the command we heard at least fifty times on the Mauretanian roads. At the outskirts of every self respecting town we could expect a police stop, and in between towns, at times, a gendarmerie or douane stop, where we were expected to hand over a “fiche”: a copy of our personal data (passport) and licence plate number – occasionally also phone number or visa data. Sometimes the officials were serious, but most of the time good humoured and curious about our well being. I have to add, that after our running stop in Southern Morocco, where we did not stop exactly at the stop sign one hundred meters ahead, and patiently wait until gestured to approach, we religiously stick to that rule. It makes them happy.

Getting out of Morocco was as time consuming as getting into that country. Long lines formed at the police and immigration windows, where the officers took their time to check and recheck every single detail. For customs, our camper, like every other car, had to be thoroughly searched – with a rolling X-ray machine, followed by a personal- and dog check. What were they looking for, to take out of the country?

Morocco is only the second one on our long list of border crossings, to check our camper on the way out. The first one was Panama on return to Costa Rica, but they just seemed curious about our interior.

Before the search could happen, it was lunch time, which would take an hour. One more hour, and we were already there for two hours! After the camper check, there were still three more windows to get the paperwork checked and approved, and we could proceed across the border, while fighting off a swarm of “fixers”, who offer to help you get through the border, for a fee.

The Mauretanian side was a bit more efficient, but here, entering, we had get a visa and insurance. We tried to ignore the fixers: a couple of them tagged along, pointing us to the offices we were already heading to. After the final check for forbidden items, like guns, drones and alcohol, and quick check inside, we could proceed. It was late afternoon when we reached Nouadhibou and Villa Maguela. At that campground we were well received by Dutch host Victor and Scottish Tish, who made sure we got a good tasting of the local seafoods.

In a slightly chaotic Nouadhibou we withdrew money, and shopped for groceries and local SIM cards. On the dusty streets, the number of rickety old Mercedes cars blew us away! People were friendly and eager to help us find our way.

*Nouadhibou’s downtown consists of low buildings and a lot of empty lots, where heaps of garbage provide fodder for roaming goats.*

*Old Mercedes cars everywhere…without lights, mirrors, bumpers… patched up and still going; the rejects of Europe, and even Morocco.*

*This guy noticed we were looking for a supermarket. He pointed us to one* *around the corner* *while he engaged us in some small talk. I told him I admired his robe and asked if I could make a picture….no problem!*

As soon as the necessities were taken care of, we headed inland. We heard Atar and the oasis areas to be special. It took two days of driving through the desert to get there. One wonders where people here survive off … the land is harsh, with endless sandy plains, where an occasional acacia tree struggles in the company of sparse little shrubs and dry grasses, interrupted by an occasional row of dunes. A sandstorm blasted dust across the road, invading our truck through the smallest cracks. When we were hoping for blue skies, the sun would bring heat, while the dust-muted sun kept the temperature sweater level- comfortable. The nights were wonderfully cool.

On our way inland, we passed the Iron Ore train. This train, which carries iron ore from far inland to the coast, sometimes needs five locomotives to pull up to 2.5kilometers of loaded wagons. This one was a bit shorter.

*Along this horizon on the left you can see the long line of iron ore wagons disappear in the distance. Glad we did not need to wait at a railroad crossing!*

*When the weather cleared,we could enjoy the sand dune landscape.*

After some clear weather, the wind decided to blow again across the endless flat plains. A few hours later we saw the sun again, so we could stop and enjoy the ever changing sand dunes.

Passed Akjoujit, the beautiful road – both in quality as in scenery- got pockmarked by potholes. The desert turned greener, and the building style became more natural with round, straw huts beside the white tents. Suddenly there was water, and plenty of it, surrounded by lush greenery. We climbed up the Adrar mountain range, with majestic flattop mountains and rocky rubble plains and greenish pastures in the wide valley that we drove through to reach Atar.

Once in Atar, we searched without the aid of a navigating system for a campground (the SIM cards we purchased have totally stopped working) Everywhere along the road, people were pointing us in the right direction, sometimes running alongside our car to make sure we don’t take a wrong turn. People here are crazy friendly and helpful. Their french, however, has such a heavy accent, it is hard to understand them. At the campground we were approached by a couple, also from the Netherlands, who told us they have us on film. It turns out they drove behind us when we were driving through the midday sandstorm.

Around Atar, we relived a bit of our Sahara memories with smooth gravel pistes, soft sand (time to lower the air pressure in the tires) and finally also bone rattling corrugation. Our destination was the historic town of Chinguity, a Unesco world heritage site, founded and inhabited in the 13th century when it was a cultural and religious center and a crossroad for camel caravans. Chinguity is considered the 7th holiest city of Islam, so still a pilgrim destination. At that time there were 20.000 people, now about 3000. The oldest mosque dates from the 13th century. The neighboring library keeps population and harvest records and has some 17th century manuscripts, bound in goat skin or “pudchifr” (- peau de chevre in local incomprehensible french.) We found the place disappointing: true, it is a genuine authentic desert town, but the volume of tourists in comparison to the size of Chinguity, and the begging children, spoiled the experience. Plus, we were (mistakenly) hoping for a lush oasis; instead we got dusty streets and a boatload of very pushy kids. Maybe a good tour guide could show the little secret places and keep away the swarms of begging children. So after an attempt to visit the historic library, where we had to join a crowd of tourists, we tuned around and found ourselves a serene spot in the wide open desert. Before returning to Atar, we made a stop along the way to see some ancient rock paintings. There are actually two sites, we visited the first one on the way back from Chinguity, but I think we should have gone to the other one, since that one also included nice walk…

*Old Chinguity regularly gets inundated with sand.*

*To reach historic* *Chinguity, one has to cross this sandy riverbed.*

*An old Islamic manuscript*, *bound in* “*Pudchifr”*

*Inside the exit building of the library, these women positioned themselves with trinkets to sell. As soon as we bought one basket, another woman tried to convince us we needed one more…*

Before leaving Atar, had to stock up our supplies. A helpful man showed us the way around the market, un-requested, so we figured we were expected to pay him a tip for his help, but no(!)… when we were done and ready to go on our way, he shook hands and turned around without hesitation. Wow.

Just south of Atar, Terjit is the prettiest oasis. One can spend the night there in a nomad tent, and the fee includes dinner. But the tale of the many mosquitoes did not appeal to me, so a quiet and peaceful afternoon there is perfect.

*Rustle of the palmtrees, birdsong, and dripping water….so calming*

*Water drops came down from the fern covered rock wall.*

We agree that the secret road connecting Atar with Tidjikdja must be Mauretania’s most beautiful road. The road cannot be found on Google or most other commercial maps (???) We thought we would drive on a piste- at least our West Africa Michelin map showed that to exist. The owners of the campgrounds in both Nouadhibou and Atar assured us it exists and it is even smoothly paved! The only warning was about the traveling sand dunes that could block the road. But we found several bulldozers constantly clearing those dunes…

The town of Aoujeft however is drowning in moving sand dunes. In town we should have taken a left turn, where we only saw a heavy sand track. Without the help of a map or a direction sign, we figured we should keep straight. At the end of town, the track split into two small sandy tracks. When we asked for directions, we were sent back to the intersection in town where, after driving up the sandy hill and around the bend, we found the pavement again. This town has an uphill battle to fight!

*Traveling dunes cover the perfect road with sand. A distance away, a lone bulldozer works fulltime to keep the road passable.*

*Wild donkeys? Feral donkeys? Or are they just loose domesticated ones?*

*Lunchtime break in the shade of a lonely tree*

The desert was beautiful and varied here. The sky competed in the show. We got rain – though maybe only a thousand drops, divided over four showers not enough to close the hatches or go indoors…

*Gorgeous skies before those thousand drops of rain.*

We arrived in Tidjika. So far we had our tires pumped up to the normal pressure again, got our diesel tank filled, and checked in at a hotel, because Thijs is down with a sore throat and wants to sleep in an air conditioned room. Oh well.. there is a shower.

After a healing sleep, Thijs was up for a true adventure: we wanted to go to the Matmatas- Sahara crocodiles. To do that we had to drive, without any available roadmap (there are no roads), the sandy trails (deflate the tires again!) to find the place where one can find the Sahara crocodiles. We got hopelessly lost through too many side trails, until a local guy showed us the way – first by walking ahead, and finally with us in the car. (I therefore had to sit in the back – no fun!) We could not have found the place without him and spent a beautiful night at the pools.

*One of the many forks in the road left us guessing* *which one to take. We had to backtrack several times.*

*Sometimes we had to drive through a tunnel of thorny acacia trees.*

*This guy* *guided us to the Matmatas- the Sahara Crocodile location.*

*We had this magical spot* *all to ourselves!*

We spent a beautiful night at the pools. The following morning we went on a hike to see the crocs even when we already spotted their tracks, from climbing out of the pools near us. The trail along the pools was getting more difficult, with a jumble of large boulders challenging us. When we arrived at a pool where we spotted three crocs, Thijs found it far enough. So we stayed there for a while, watching the beasts pop up and disappear, and pop up somewhere else. With birds and smaller reptiles around, we enjoyed the place.

*Before we saw the crocodiles, we saw many tracks.*

*One of the crocodiles popped up to look at us.*

*This croc first swam to the shore on our side*, *but then decided against it. They are so shy!* *He even hid his face behind the rock* *in an effort to sunbathe unseen by us. But we saw him come ashore, so a few steps to the side, and we could see him entirely*.

We left early in the morning, but a tricky sand dune – deep dip – sand dune prevented a running start. We were stuck! It took three tries after digging and the use of our sand-tracks, to get the car out! We picked another track to find our way back to the main road: the beginning and end was clear cut, but halfway through, the labyrinth of tracks confused us again – a lot of backtracking and trying another track finally brought us back to ‘civilization”

*These acacia thorns did a number on our roof, solar panels and paint finish.*

*No avoiding deep soft sand on this route*

Before we knew it -considering the heavily potholed road – we reached Mauretania’s capital Nouakchott. We drove along the camel market, then Google sent us through turns and returns through the busiest parts of the city; apparently the straight way to our beach side camping was even more clogged by traffic at this 5 o’clock time. It was good to see the beach again!

*Just a few hundred meters away from the fisher village, we enjoyed the sight of the boats on the wa*ter.

In Nouakchott, Kader – a contact through Thijs’ brother, welcomed us. He showed us around the city and pointed out the potential growth the city is looking forward to, with multinational oil companies offering to exploit Mauretania’s resources… We had issues we needed to address, and Kader helped us in the right direction. The solar issue took second place after Thijs noticed the clutch started slipping… again we had the good luck that this happened in a town with a Nissan dealership who could replace and repair the ailment, with new parts and super friendly service. With that done, our solar concerns turned out to be minor, so they were quickly fixed. To close off our stay, Kader invited us for Friday lunch, which consisted of a mixed salad, suckling lamb, dried and shredded camel meat, and stewed beef on a mountain of rice. For dessert: melon, mango and sweet, juice dates…a true saharan meal!

We had to find a bank to withdraw some more money…someone told us where to find one, but we ended up in the middle of the downtown market and got hopelessly stuck there. Fortunately a helpful police officer unclogged the traffic mess in front of us.

*A fine lunch at Kader’s impressive home.*

On Saturday we left Nouakchott towards the Senegal border. Like most travelers, we chose the smaller, laid-back Diama border. One has to cross a national park/bird sanctuary to get there, which we considered a bonus and good ending to our Mauretania visit, a country that we learned to love.

*On the way out of town, we had to stop to photograph this uniquely African, or maybe just Mauretanian phenomena : Believe it or not, but this car still dri*ves!

*Pelicans, cormorants, and many other birds in Diawling National park*. *Migratory birds, many from Europe, stop here for the winter.*

*One of the many wharthogs we saw along the way*.

*This road was bumpy now, but during the rainy season it must be a slushy and slippery mess.* *The better tracks were on the dry lake bed on the right side of the elevated road.*

The Southern part of Morocco

We had enough of the “Snowbird” campground: too much ATV noise, far away from beach or shops, no good walking trails (only ATV) and such a bad internet connection that, when I wanted to take advantage of the forced rest stop and work on my blogpost, I could not even upload photos. All together no fun, so we continue our trip – this time with me taking the wheel – with a detour into the Anti Atlas; another beautiful mountain area.

We drove through the dry Anti Atlas mountains, where the extensive mountainside terraces make it clear that harvest at some point is to be expected… It has been a very dry couple of years, apparently. We stopped in Tafraoute, a pretty town in a beautiful environment, that from the looks of it, expects many tourists, but is now sleepy at best. We will spend the night surrounded by impressive boulders, and mountains that turned fiery red at sunset.

On our last day in the Atlas mountains, we started the day with a visit to the Tafraoute Painted Rocks, an 1984 art installation by Belgian artist Jean Verame in memory of his late wife. Then we proceeded to drive the meandering road towards the coast, where we ended our day in a tiny fishing village. Here we enjoyed fresh Sole fish, with a view over the ocean. From now on we will get to see the ocean regularly. Otherwise it will be the Sahara desert.

I believe we have officially entered the Sahara desert. Morocco makes traveling fast and comfortable with an excellent highway. Before we know it, we will have crossed it – which will be different from our first trip in 1976, when there were only pistes through the desert – where one may get stuck in the sand, and travel was slow – but oh, what an adventure that was!
Surely this experience will be different.

After a long drive over (first hours under construction) boringly perfect road, we reached a city that we cannot figure out: surrounded by desert, this city looks like it recently hosted the Olympics or something, with richly decorated parks (+ lots of greenery) and sports stadiums all over the place, all connected by wide, palm- and streetlight-lined avenues. What is going on here? It turns out this town has a high representation of UN peace forces, to keep political unrest between Polisario – the Sahrawi people fighting for their independence, and the Moroccan government under control. Part of the Moroccan control is also their airforce base. Maybe the amount of high income people influence the high investment in public spaces here…? Can’t find another reason

For a few hours it felt like we found a quiet spot, away from the road, along the oceanfront: apparently all along the coast here, it is considered miltary zone, and every kilometer or so, there is a small outpost, manned by one or two guys and a couple of dogs. With a rocky road access from the highway to the oceanside, we asked if we could pass the night, and got an initial ok, though we were warned that the guy needed to check in with his superior. Three hours later, just when it turned dark and we were settling in for the night, we were told (by a very apologetic man) that we had to leave. Twenty kilometers down the road, we now are parked ata noisy gas station.

Since we entered the western Sahara part of Morocco, we had to pass a multitude of police stops, where, in contrast to Northern Morocco, we were disciplined for not stopping exactly at the stop sign – meters before the actual checkpoint, and ordered to dig up our passports to be glanced at. In the north we were always waved through. We arrived in Dakhla..and again, we don’t know what to think. Some online reviews made us think we would find an African Cancun or Cabo San Lucas, and maybe, ten years from now it will look that way. But for now, what we can see is -half finished and halted- ambitious hotel and housing projects, surfer spots, old broken up neighborhoods, and huge, ugly trashfilled fields, all connected by wide, palmtree and streetlight- lined avenues. We get the idea that this area wants to target mass tourism, while at the same time positioning prohibitive military zones at some of the most attractive locations. If places like Cancun or Cabo San Lucas at one time used to be sleepy little towns before growing big, at this place we are searching for any such charm. Maybe tomorrow we will find that secret place. 🤞🏻

We went to the very tip of the Dakhla peninsula, where Thijs was curious about the volume of fishing boats he saw on Google satellite view…we were shocked to see that the fishing village was an absolute horror, a slum, and that straight across from a luxurious surf resort.

After two days of exploring Dakhla -with a sinking heart- we found a spot that we did not expect we would like. From a distance it looked like one more Snowbird camp spot. After driving in, it started growing on us. The location was nice, with beach access at the far end of the bay, and most people were there to go kiteboarding. The camping was free of charge, and no water, power, toilets or showers- completely self contained, but still looked orderly and clean. The weather was excellent that day with a gentle sun and wind. This was not bad at al!

Today we left the Dakhla area, but before we could do that, we had to go (30km) back into town to take care of some things. It was not easy: we needed to pay our Maroc telecom bill, but the office was closed for the weekend; then we looked for a tire service place, to get our tires rotated, and either the googled address was not right, or it just does not exist. So we asked the omnipresent police, who helped us in the right direction of a small tire place. Close by we also found a small store that sold, among other food, fresh veggies! (which we had not been able to find here) Next on the list was water, which is a precious commodity in the Sahara. There was supposed to be water access at the public water works/water tower next to the airport. However, it was not functioning anymore. Again we asked the help of the police to find an open and willing water supply at the edge of town. Finally after a lot of riding around town, we were ready to leave. We still decided to first have lunch at our most favorite spot so far, and where we had spent the previous night: a bayside beach parking lot, where a hundred or so camping cars stay, mainly because of the beach access and the possibility to go kite boarding there. That beach was definitely nice enough to leave Dakhla with a good last impression. Now the last stretch south to the Mauretania border!

The Atlas Mountains

We left the waterfall resort of Ouzoud in the afternoon and back- tracked part of our route through the mountains. We picked some small mountain roads to arrive at the main road that would bring us to the north-south connection through the Atlas mountains to the Todra gorge by way of the tribal town of Imilchil. Before we would make the climb back into the mountains, we searched for a place to stop for the night. Just before dark we found something outside the clean and organized looking resort town El Ksiba, where a parking facility between a tennis court and a recreational park looked appropriate enough. However, within an hour, there was a knock on our door. A man told us this place was not safe; we should go to his hotel. To us, the place looked very safe, so we stayed put. Another hour later, police came by to tell us we should move to the town center, in front of their police office – that would be safer… we gave in and followed them to the street side parking spot…That was a first for us!

The road through the Atlas mountains was slow going; not only because of the winding mountain road, but also because we just had to stop often to soak in the beauty of the mountain views, the tribal towns and villages, and the people. When the mountains became desert-like, we drove up a trail to nowhere and parked our camper to enjoy the wide open views around us.

When we stopped to admire a well maintained farm and fields, we could see the girls pushing their father to join them towards us. He allowed us to take a picture of them, although the girls were a bit insecure about the attention.

*One of the fortified villages along the way, guarding the river and fields.*

*Like a silver ribbon you could see the road snaking through the valley beneath us.*

That was me on the left, in 1984, in the same region we now drove through. Nowadays you don’t see many women dressed like this anymore. They explained to me that the pointed headwear indicated their married status, and they showed on me how you achieve that look. Good times…

In one of the few busy towns along the way, we stopped at a “supermarket”, hoping to buy some necessities. They did not have much apart from laundry detergent and toilet paper, but there was a cooler with packs of fresh milk!
Across the street, the vegetable vendor did not speak French or English, but, as a former migrant worker in Spain, he spoke Spanish. This is how one is understood. Good we know some of the languages used here: French used to be the compulsory second language, now English is the foreign languages taught in schools; former migrant workers know Dutch, Spanish, German, and languages we don’t speak.

*With many donkeys, mules and horses still used, one can imagine stepping back to the time of Jesus.*

*Along the streets, one can sometimes spot a few Berber women in more traditional dress, but it seems that nowadays they only* *go in full regalia on festival days, which more often tend to take* *place in the springtime.*

*Traditional* *towns tend to have at least one Kasbah – a fortified mansion- the defendable part of the town* – *and traditionally inhabited by the town’s chief*.

*During market day, everything available in their world is offered for sale: old appliances can be bought, or are disassembled and sold for parts*. *Live and dead animals, clothes and shoes* – *old and new*, *fabrics and more. And of course produce, like dates, dried figs, apples, oranges, gourds*, *onions, potatoes….*

We continued along the High Atlas route. We stopped at a local market to buy fruit and veggies, and had a short conversation with three school girls, who wanted to practice their English. The younger generation now speaks English – the older one French- as a second, or third language (after Arab, and at times Berber)

Then we entered the Todra valley, which seems to start at a dam that held back no water. Around the bend from where the mountains almost touched to form the gorge, we were shocked by tourist terror, with bus loads of people ready to buy souvenir trinkets after the obligatory photoshoots. There were so many western tourists, that we were ignored by the hoards of boys begging for money; they had easier targets than us! From the Todra Gorge, the road towards the Gorge de Dades is an easy and fast one, though once in the Dades valley, it winds and narrows again – along rows of tourist hotels and guesthouses…I guess we should expect this look at least until Marrakesh..

*First signs of people’s presence are already visible* *in the Todra gorge*.

This is a nomad woman, according to an obnoxious nearby Moroccan man who happened to speak Dutch. She did not mind posing for a picture if I paid her a little money … but the man found it wrong of her to pose for money. When I told him a model fee is not more than normal, he grabbed a beggar boy and decided to pose as a threesome next to her. Then he grabbed the money I gave her, and divided among them three. His intrusive posing ruined my picture, so I had to crop him and the boy out. I still regret not being more insistent and only photograph her, so she only would get the money… She still thanked me *for* *what she received*.

*Emerging out of Todra Gorge*, *a huge Palm grove spreads below* *us.*

After the Todra Gorge, we expected even more tourists at the more well known Dades Gorge, but maybe because this one is a bit harder to reach with about 30km of narrow winding road, there were few. During the summer season the hotels lining the road will probably be filled, but for now, the street was so quiet, we could stop in the middle without holding up traffic. And, this place is gorgeous!

*To get to the narrowest part of the Dades Gorge, we first had to climb over the top (since underneath the gorge is so narrow*, *it does not allow a road alongside the river.*

*A sample of the hotels/ restaurants along the Dades Valley road. They all look pretty!*

*Early morning light in the Dades Gorge*

*One side had small rapids in the water, the other side is mirror still…*

We heard so much about Ouarzazate’s Taourirt Kasbah, we had to take a day to visit the old center, starting out with the row of tourist shops that had loads of very interesting old items for sale. However, we know from experience what happens with those keepsakes: most of them end up in a chest, so this time we only took photographs. When we found ourselves, freezing in 12⁰ C temps, at the entry of the Ouarzazate Musee du Cinema, we went inside. Here we could walk through movie sets, of films that had been shot here, like Lawrence of Arabia, Gladiator, Babel, Alexander, and the Mummy among others. Too bad there was no explanation offered at the sets, though one could hire one of the many guides at the entry.

*So many beautiful and authentic items* *are tempting*, *but I know from experience that most would end up in storage.*

*Was this where Russel Crowe as gladiator was held captive before going upstairs to fight a deadly opponent?*

*…No idea what movie this set is from..* there’s a throne at the far end…

We crossed the road to enter the Souk, where we again did our best to shake off a multitude of guides. We let ourselves get lost in the labyrinth of narrow streets, where we were at some point confronted by the tragic results of last month’s earthquake. Coming across the piles of rubble beneath the broken houses had a powerful impact and left us impressed…

*A peek inside (a shop?)* *in the Jewish quarter*

*To escape the cold*, *we decided to have lunch inside, though the lack of windowpanes did not make it much warmer..*

Before reaching Marrakesh, we took a by-road that first led to the World Heritage site and tourist destination Aït Ben-Haddou. It is a well preserved fortified Kasbah town, probably because of its Heritage status. Parts of the Gladiator movie (and other movies) had been recorded here as well, which attracts another crowd. Anyway, we again joined bus loads of people, who all sought the help of “Touareg” guides to lead them through the labyrinth of alleys (We, by ourselves, still found some quiet corners)

*A preserved Gladiator set in Aït Ben-Haddou*

After lunch we continued on the by-road, which became narrower and damaged by the recent earthquake. 2960 people lost their lives here in the beginning of September. We drove right along the epicenter. Our hearts broke to see the damage it had caused. Although a lot of the rubble had been removed, evidence of damaged buildings and temporary (blue tent) shelters was to be seen everywhere. At the same time we were awed by the people’s resilience and will to rebuild. We drove among so many construction sites and friendly people waving. Respect.

*Another beautiful wild camp spot away from the road*

We arrived in Marrakesh. First, we hit a perfectly smooth and wide piece of highway, and here I finally managed to get a decent picture of an overloaded van…To enter Marrakech, we were led through a multitude of narrow gates, but then, when close to the center, roads became wide avenues, leading us through sprawling parks and open spaces. Almost beside the landmark Kutubiyya Mosque we were able to park and spend the night in our camper. From here we had the opportunity to enjoy the old part of Marrakesh to the fullest. This city gives us a lot to absorb: the colors, the noise, the amount of tourists and everything there to please them…

The design of the turquoise leather piece we recognized from our trip through the Sahara, way back in 1976. In the middle of the desert a Touareg appeared on a camel. He stopped and tried to communicate with us for a while. Then he gave us a saddle with the same design and colors. It had a spider nest in it, so we stored it on our roof rack. I think we disposed of it later…

*This guy wanted me to take a picture of him and his donkey (that I was petting) He didn’t even want to have some money for posing, and we were so sorry we didn’t have any change to give him.*

*Smell the herbs… especially the fresh mint!*

*So many food booths! Even if you just ate, they try to pull you in for more because, of course, their food is much better- just try!*

Before we left Marrakech, we paid a visit to Yves Saint Laurent’s Jardin Majorelle (a botanical garden designed by French landscape artist Jaques Majorelle, and Yves Saint Laurent bought it as his summer residence) Intense cobalt blue rules the hardscape of the gardens. What a feast for the eyes it was!

About ten kilometers before reaching Essaouira, we made a stop at this beautiful campground, mainly for a nice hot shower and to get some laundry done. And what do you think? It rained! (practically that whole day) That one day that we needed to get our bedsheets dry!…the day before, and the following day we had clear blue skies, which is what one expects in a desert climate.

Essaouira is a beach resort that is definitely geared towards western tourists. No camping cars are allowed in the center, however there is a parking lot just south of town, so we parked there and walked to the Medina along the sandy beach- where we saw mostly western style tourists. After a walk through the old town we headed south to Kaouki Beach. Here we found a peaceful waterfront spot near a restaurant “La Mouette et les Dromadaires”, where we enjoyed a good Margarita (yes!!) and an excellent seafood meal (ten minutes before the kitchen closed), with a bottle of white wine (yes!!)
…maybe we are getting a bit tired of sweet moroccan mint teas…

*Dromedaries (or commonly called camels) are waiting to take tourists for a ride along the beach*

*I found a pretty linen shirt that this lady made right there at the shop.*

From Essaouira we are now seriously heading south, along the coast to Agadir. Despite this one day of rain, the land looks dry. Tough trees try to keep the soil covered. But when there is nothing else to eat, what do you do? The goats know it: they eat trees! How about that for a Christmas tree?

*Goats love Argan* *trees, so you will find them all over the trees, especially when there is nothing else to eat.*

Because had not done my homework, Agadir and its surroundings took me by surprise. I expected, before heading into the Sahara desert, a last frontier town. Instead, it felt like we returned to the Mediterranean coast (without the crowds!) Tagazouth, a few kms north of Agadir, could be Benidorm a few years ago..There are golden beaches and wide avenues, where a lineup of fancy shops and terraces offer tempting treats. I could not resist enjoying a few crệpes here: we had the classic crêpe citron, a crệpe au miel and, a new one: crêpe amlou which is dressed with a local berber treat: slightly honey-sweetend almond paste, mixed with argan oil. The latter crêpe needs an acquired taste, but everything was luxuriously satisfying..
(In the 1960s, a devastating earthquake flattened the city, killing 15000 people. Four years later, a new, modern earthquake proof Agadir was built south of the old city. With a mild year around climate, Agadir is now the biggest seaside resort in Morocco.)

*Driving into Agadir, on an avenue like this, we spotted a loose camel on the road, at the median, munching on a newly planted palm tree. We were so surprised, we missed taking a picture.*

Along the Agadir Beachfront Boulevard, we found an excellent Crêpe restaurant. We had the classic crêpe citron, a crêpe au miel and, a new one: crêpe amlou which is dressed with a local berber treat: slightly honey-sweetend almond paste, mixed with argan oil. The latter crêpe needs an acquired taste, but everything was luxuriously satisfying…

Leaving Agadir, we first stopped at the gas station, where Thijs tripped and fell, between the car and the pump. He bruised his upper arm and scraped his elbow. To nurse him back to health, we drove to the nearest camp site, which happened to be a Snowbirds campsites: clean and well run, with restaurant, camp store, bocce ball, many French retirees, and swimming pool. It may take a few days before Thijs can lift or move his arm again, but we are ok where we are. We will return with a continuation of our travels shortly.

Northern Morocco

We left Chefchaouen and meandered through the mountains, first east until the Ketama region (where everyone along the road offers hashish) then south towards Fes. It was slow going, with beautiful nature: mountain vistas, cedar forests, narrow winding roads. Near Taounate we picked a tiny mountaintop campsite to spend the night.

*View over the lake at the end of the day*

Again, the landscape changed from olive groves to dry desert hills to cedar forest. Although our destination was to be with the Macaque monkeys for the night, for us the more attractive animals along the road were donkeys (such patient hard workers!), sheep, and storks, at times sharing tall cell towers: with one enormous nest above the other, above the other, above the other. We camped at a quiet open spot in the cedar forest where, in the morning, we could spot a few monkeys foraging at a safe distance from us. To get some macaque close-ups, we returned to the busy visitor’s center (where feeding attracted a steady group of these monkeys – not a fan of that, so after two or three pics we left)

*In between the greener lands, you see these bare hills.*

*Those hardworking* *donkeys carry a heavy load, in this case water, and people*.

The country we drove through is breathtaking with undulating fields, grazed short by flocks of sheep. At first, distant trees lined the fields, but as we drove along, bare hills took over. When at one point we stopped to make some pictures of wild crocuses, I was struck by the silence around us. We took a break to soak up this peaceful sound of nothingness.

*The road, seemingly going from nowhere to nowhere, was the summit of serenity.*

Driving on, we arrived in a more fertile, olive growing region, where it is now harvest time: along the road there were mounds of olives to be sorted, separating black from green… We ended the day at the winery Hacienda des Cigognes (Farm with the Storks) where we were welcome to stay, taste the wines and eat the best tajine we had so far in Morocco. Here we stayed for a few days, enjoying hot showers, friendly dogs, and an autumn view over a (struggling) vineyard.

*Mounds of fresh olives alongside the road*.

*At the winery, we enjoyed a tajine meal with* *house wine, together with fellow travelers*

*The lady of the winery and her cousin showed off* *their traditional dresses before going to a friend’s wedding*.

Rabat was not too long of a drive away. For the first night we decided to park our camper outside of town, along the oceanfront – which turned out to be not that easy – the beach is not very accessible here. We drove north until we reached Mehdia, a small resort town where we could stay at a large parking lot overlooking the ocean. Here we strolled along the boulevard, awed by the giant waves of the Atlantic. There were many restaurants but, out of season, only few had customers – and most of those were coffee or tea drinking men. We picked the one where we also spotted a woman- it felt more comfortable to me. And yes, they had food, so we ordered some fish dishes. For drinks, we noticed a list of Mojito choices: so we both ordered the classic one…boy, were we disappointed: first, they served it only after serving our meal, and second, it was the worst: with a base of creme de menthe, diluted with Sprite, and as decoration, a tiny sprig of mint leaves and a half wedge of lemon… I could not drink it; better get some Moroccan mint tea!

Through a fog which reminded me of the seasonal fog along the Peruvian coast, we arrived in the capital city Rabat, where we could find easy parking alongside the waterfront, the Medina, and the Souk. This way, exploring the old part of Rabat was a pleasure. Even the sun broke through for the time we played tourist! Since the parking here is charged by the hour (at a reasonable price) we decided to remain at this spot for the night.

The Rabat Medina looked more open, white, and expensively restored than Chefchaouen, but being within the waterfront fortification made it attractive. An added bonus was the nearby bustling Souk, where we soaked in the sounds, smells and sights of a busy marketplace.

*The royal garden inside the fortification.*

*For me, the most charming alley of the Medina was this one with slanted walls.*

*Cats and chickens were given food in the Souk. This special looking chicken* *received a lot of attention.*

From a foggy Rabat we drove to a foggy Casablanca. It looks like this is a coastal fog, like the fog we’ve seen along the Peruvian coast.
Everything seems to be big in Casablanca: it is the largest city in Morocco, with big, busy traffic, the largest mosque (where the top of the tower disappeared in the fog) and an immense shopping mall with a huge aquarium inside.
In addition, we were hosted by people with big hearts – the family of dear Kika, the main person of camping la Bonanza in Silvia, Colombia. 💕

*The immense Mosque in Casablanca blocked the through road along the coast. Its tower disappeared in the fog.*

*Inside the Morocco mall, this huge aquarium is the centerpiece. More marine attractions could be seen underneath.*

After our visit to Casablanca, we headed southeast. Someone told us we should not miss the waterfalls of Ouzoud, so I included it into our itinerary. At first we took a road that was supposed to save us 50km. When it turned out to be a mostly unpaved road- although the views were peaceful, varied, and gorgeous-I changed the route to a smooth paved road. We will get enough rattle roads in the future. However, instead of saving kms, it added more, but so be it…

*The unpaved road was hard as a rock, but rattly like cobblestones.*

The new road I picked led us along miles and miles of conveyor belts on one side, and pipeline construction on the other side of the road; all to serve the phosphate mines – a major export product of Morocco and the historic reason of Casablanca’s existence.

Just outside the city of Beni-Mellal we spent the night at an attractive looking gas station/hotel/restaurant. We were allowed to park here, but warned about a wedding event that night. Even when we did not attend that event, it was quite an oral experience parking so close: a band of drummers welcomed the well dressed guests – arriving between 10 and 11 pm. At eleven, when special guests arrived (didn’t see, but probably the bride, or groom, or both) the already excited, multi rhythm drum beats culminated, aided by blows of meters long horns. After that, the party moved inside and went on until around 4am. We didn’t sleep much, but it was worth the experience.

*The serpentine road brought us high in the mountains.*

*The gravesite of a holy person* *could be a pilgrim destination.*

This morning we climbed a serpentine road through beautiful mountains to the falls. Once there, we fled the onslaught of “guides” and found a pretty, clean and peaceful camping outside of town, where we could even do the laundry. Just before sunset we walked down to the cascades, which were a bit disappointing because of major improvement-construction, lack of water, and too many pushy guides. However, we know what it’s like now: ✔️

*The top of the waterfall, before the water fall*s.

*Cascades d’Ouzoud, with minimal water*.

*Watercoolers along the roadside: the moist burlap keeps the water in ceramic urns extra cool, but also grows grass on the topside*.

*Also here at the waterfalls there were Macaques. At the end of the day though, they were not very hungry…maybe they’ve had enough to eat?*

*Tranquil end of the day at the campground’s poolside.*

Chefchaouen and the Rif mountains

Even though we’d been to Chefchaouen three times before, it was decades ago, and our memories were fading. We remember it was blue and charming and wanted to see if it still was that way.

From where we were at the coast, we could take a small road that cuts through the mountains and ends up right near the blue city. We did not regret our choice: the road was good, with little traffic. Life along the road was rustic: men encouraged their mules to pull a wooden plow that turned the slanted fields; a young woman dressed in traditional Rif Berber red and white striped cloth and a colorfully decorated straw hat, who gathered olives ripe for harvest from tarps spread out under the silvery trees. Faces of women, at one point frantic when their flock of sheep wavered crossing the road before us, opened into broad, radiant smiles when we patiently waited for the animals to be safe. People greeted us with their hands in a peace sign, a thumbs-up or prayer greeting. I wish I could have captured all these moments through pictures…however it mostly felt inappropriate..

*Somewhere in there should be a waterfall… but the water looks a tad too green to entice us…*

*While we stopped along the road to soak up this image…*

*A passerby on his bicycle told his plowing friend he should pose for us. Then he told us to make a picture: the plower agreed. So there it is*: *farmer with wooden plow*

*Along the road: a family on its way to bring their olive harvest to the oil factory, which is the building in the background*.

We stayed a few days in Chefchaouen. The inner city was easy to reach and people in the Medina were relaxed and easy going. We could wander around without getting bothered. Looking up along the hues of blues plastered on the walls were so intense that the blue sky above us felt almost grey. Turquoise doors vibrated against the cobalt walls, which in turn shimmered against the red clay roof tiles, or the earthen walls above. I thoroughly enjoyed this feast for the eye, I almost could not get enough of it.

There is so much more to see in Morocco, so we pulled ourselves away from the blues and headed for more mountain roads to explore.

Entering Morocco

With our passage tickets in hand, we entered the port in Algeciras, way too early: we were the first in line for the ferry to Ceuta – a Spanish enclave on the African continent across the straight from Gibraltar, that British enclave in Spain. Once the ferry sailed, we counted only four other cars on the ship: it clearly was low season.

Once on the ferry, we could see the two continents. On the left, hiding in the clouds, some of the Moroccan mountains are visible; on the right is Spain.

Even though, decades ago, we had been in Ceuta before, we’d never taken the time to look around and we did not remember the amazing fortification walls that we drove by this time, so we decided to stop and have a closer look…Ceuta is actually worth seeing! The old city is classic Spanish with an old church and shady plazas. But those walls! Especially where the walls enclose a clear blue (Mediterranean water) canal turning the cape into an island, the effect is intriguing.

After a few hours of admiration, we thought we could take a quick pass through the border, but boy, were we wrong! Since the enclave of Ceuta is a duty free part of Spain surrounded by Morocco, it makes sense that it takes a while: everyone who lives near, and can afford it, will do some big to shopping here. At the border, the Moroccan custom agents consider it their duty, with the aid of drug sniffing dogs, to thoroughly check every single car for contraband by removing and searching suitcases, boxes and bags. No random checks here, everyone was a target, so the line of cars stretched forever. It took us hours to reach the border check post. Finally there, we were sent to the side, where at least four officers and a dog handler swarmed our truck. A few men entered the camper for a close-up view. When one randomly opened the first cabinet door, falling coffee cups attacked the startled man. He rapidly closed the door again, and carefully, half heartily, opened a few more doors and drawers before he was done. Another officer asked if we had drugs, weapons, or alcohol – like whiskey? “No, no whiskey” Thijs replied truthfully, “but we have beer (one can), and wine” Thijs showed him the drawer containing three bottles. Uninterested, the guy let that pass. Next, the dog was encouraged to go in, then soon left: we had nothing controversial with us….

But wait! They found a problem!

On the driver’s side of the camper we had attached a world map sticker, showing the routes we’d taken on the first- and the current trip. This map showed a border line between Morocco and the Western Sahara: a large territory that apparently is Moroccan. The sticker with this border needed to be removed, otherwise we could not enter…
Quick-thinking Thijs took a Stanley knife and cut out the tiny offending strip. Everyone laughed at this clever solution, and we were allowed to continue.

Our new world map sticker showing our first trip in purple and second one in black

Thijs cut out the offending border; now all is good.

That’s how, even when we reached the border by lunchtime, we drove into Morocco at dusk.

Finally we crossed the border. This is the first town, Fnideq, before reaching Tetouan

The road we took to Tetouan became a smooth, wide, and palm-lined boulevard. Gated communities with sparkling white condominiums and spacious mansions lined the divided, well-lit road. Along the many roundabouts we saw abundant police presence, but no-one stopped us. Just before dark we reached La Ferma Hotel, a place with a chatty French owner, who also welcomes campers on his parking lot. The next day we drove to Tetouan where, at a glitzy shopping center, we could activate a Moroccan SIM card, happy to stay connected. Once done with that, we explored a bit of the Mediterranean coast.

Slowly, with every turn around the mountainous coast, we fell back in time. The fishing village where we stopped for the night was tiny. Small fishing boats came ashore throughout the evening, and a tractor was waiting for them to pull the boats further onto the beach. This was the kind of world we were looking for: basic, easy going, peaceful. Yes…we’re back on the road again.

Our Africa Truck

Today we bought our tickets for the ferryboat to Morocco. Tomorrow we will start our journey on the next continent. Our tiny driving home is snug and comfortable: we can take a hot shower when we want to, our composting toilet remains scentless with the help of vinagre (for the fluids) and dried coffee grounds (to cover the solids); our tiny seating corner provides enough space for the two of us, with a feeling of the outdoors when we open the large rear window. With the dining table at a good height and adjacent to the kitchen counter, I enjoy enough counter space for kitchen work. We can move and re-attach the dining table outside. We have storage space for our folding chairs under the inside seating. Our bed is roomy and comfortable; we don’t need to crawl over each other to get in or out. Operable windows and fans keep us cool at night. Most of our stuff has found its place by now.

*We now have a comfortable seating arrangement…*

*Our bed is large at 2x2m (we could also sleep across, but then one would have to climb over the other…*

This summer we worked hard to make it so….

Since we sold our Sprinter in South America, we searched and found ourselves a new truck in Europe: a 4×4 pickup truck with a camper on the truck bed.
We did not want to delay our travels for too long, (maybe for fear of relaxing into staying put) so we looked for something suitable, even when it was not yet perfect, since perfect on short notice is hard to find. We needed a camper with high clearance, enough power, but reasonably lightweight with a comfortable living space, which should include a toilet/shower space and enough storage to hold supplies for a variety of situations like climate, weather, or emergencies.

We found this Nissan Navara 4×4 diesel truck with Bimobil camper. The rig looked barely used, but with some issues:
*It has a bad looking dent on the overhead of the camper, but no leaks or structural damage evident.
* We would have preferred a Toyota Hilux, which is a much more popular truck in Africa.
* The Navara chassis had a reputation to collapse – though this was known to happen to slightly older models then the one we chose – This chassis looked weirdly rusty.
* Inside the (crew) cab, the crew seats were missing.
* the rig came with a bicycle rack that we wouldn’t use, but without a backup camera we would like.
* In the camper, the bench seating was missing (two garden chairs were the primitive replacement)
* Though there are ample cabinets, more shelves should improve easier storage for year around living.
* In the toilet/shower space, the shower faucet was placed on the wrong side of the shower enclosure.
* The camper’s rear end sticks out a little too much and ends a bit low, which could get us stuck at times. Not ideal!

*Before, this was the seating arrangement: the arm rests were in the way!*

*Before, the thick mattresses did not leave much headroom.*

*The kitchen counter had a fold down leaf, which was taking the space of one of the seats.*

*Before, the shower head had to be pulled out of the sink faucet and pulled to the opposite wall.*

When we considered the purchase, we decided (with all the drawbacks) to offer a price we would be comfortable with. We offered half the original asking price…and were shocked when the offer was accepted! After the truck passed inspection, it was ours to start improving:

*The chassis reinforcement: even when the car inspection results showed no signs of weakness on the chassis (during the inspection Thijs asked them to specifically check that) Thijs felt more comfortable to order and install the re-enforcement kit. With a constant weight of the camper over rough roads, it just felt better to have an extra strong chassis.
*Tire upgrades: the (winter) tires looked good enough, but we preferred to have all new tires of – from our experience the best- BF Goodridge AT KO2 brand, which should last us throughout the challenging roads of Africa. We also added a second spare.
*A pre-filter air intake for the engine with the help of a snorkel. Snorkels on trucks are rarely for going through water, but mostly used to pull in air from up high, and/or the filter dust out of the air before it reaches the paper filter.
*Weight reduction: the unit was already upgraded to 3.5 tonnes. More weight would involve a new roadworthiness inspection and this requires a (light truck) C licence (at least in Europe) We also like to keep a lightweight truck, which should be more fuel efficient and easier to get un-stuck in the mud. So Thijs replaced the heavy AGM battery with lithium; the heavy glass solar panel with two flexibel panels; the heavy 20cm thick mattresses with lighter weight 12cm one, and the wood-slat bottom with a lightweight Foli cube system(which also gave us more headroom while sleeping) We replaced the 7kg safe box with a lighter one; and removed the bicycle rack on the rear.
We had to add some heavy weight items, such as the chassis re-enforcement, spare tires, and necessary tools, but that weight should equal the replaced previously mentioned items.
*New rear shocks and air supported suspension in conjunction with the 10 Ply AT tires makes the truck more suitable for the bad African roads.
*Solar system/ battery updates: I already mentioned this above, but even without a weight relief, both the battery and solar panel were due for an upgrade. The new panels can absorb 220 watts more solar power, and the new battery can store more without taking more space.
*Backup camera: it took a while to find the ideal system: we now have a high res camera screen on the rear view mirror.
*Though we looked for crew seats, they seem to be impossible to find in the Netherlands, so we resigned to using the back seat area for storage.Thijs found a nice alu box, which he bolted down behind the passenger seat. It holds spare parts, like extra filters hoses and gaskets (even though we replaced everything already with the service)and all the nipples for refilling our LPG tank through the various systems in the world (because we cook and heat water on LPG gas)

The camper:
The reason we did not build a camper from scratch was that we didn’t have the tools or the place for such an extensive undertaking. It seemed easier to improve an already made one. At times, however, we wished we didn’t have to deal with hidden pipes and cables, superfluous parts, or inefficient installations.

We started out with the easy part: carpentry. One can do a lot with a circular saw and a drill. We added some shelving for the cabinets, and built the seating with a drop down table in between. Immediately we had more storage space (though for lightweight items only, to keep the weight mainly above and between the axels).

*We are halfway there. Two benches with a table that drops down to make an (extra) bed.*

While working, it rained a lot, and the camper leaked around the windows. We used caulk to fill the seal-gaps outside. We also caulked the new furniture seams – to stay in line with the Bimobile quality standards.

Then the fridge didn’t stop running: we needed a new thermostat. The fridge still does not work the way it should: it runs too long – it needs more ventilation – a conundrum, when we know a vent to the outside where the fridge is located, will solve that, but also draws in dust… More and more we realized advantages in our previous Sprinter camper (where the fridge was high up and not near the rear).

The weather turned hot. The roof windows, though double paned, let the glaring sun in. We could not install an AC if we are to keep the weight below 3.5 tonnes. So we ordered fans to keep us cool at night and added mirror film to the large rear window and the one above the kitchen. I also added (removable) white chalk paint on the roof windows – the kind that is used on greenhouses in the summer.
Then the weather cooled down again – of course!

*Fans are installed at the end of the bed.*

Thijs started looking at the technical part of the camper. With the replacement of the house battery, he found not only a loose wire and burnt fuse, but several adjoining gadgets placed with ample space around, so he re-ranged those inverters and chargers to leave space for something…like maybe a bigger battery(?)

Outside, on the rear end, we gained space for a spare tire and a set of sand-tracks when the bicycle rack was removed. And with that thing out of the way, we could open the rear window for lots of fresh air. Yay!

The hardest job to tackle was the shower: strange engineering had the shower head coming out of the bathroom sink faucet, which would be hiding behind the shower curtain when in shower mode. It did not make sense: how can you keep the furniture that the shower curtain protects dry, when the showerhead and hose has to force its way straight across, through and around the curtain? The only logical solution was to divert the shower faucet/head to the opposite wall, by pulling a line under the shower floor. The floor is slightly raised, but difficult to inspect for existing drain pipes. Anyway, we went to a camper store to buy the special water supply tubes, only to find out the latest tubes are 3mm wider than the old ones. At the local hardware store we bought a bunch of transition connectors and other needed supplies: we spent nearly €100 there, only to see most of it leak. In the end, Thijs managed to slide the wider hose over the narrower one, and keep them in place with hose clamps. 🤞🏻Fingers crossed the will hold… now we have the old shower faucet system inside the shower surround, and a new bathroom sink faucet. So much better, and we’re so proud of ourselves!

*Our new shower arrangement, with a new sink faucet and the shower- one installed on the opposite wall – visible through the sink side mirror.*

Now we’ve been on the road since 16 October. Almost in a rush we crossed the Netherlands, Belgium, France and Spain (and a detour to Portugal). Along the way we visited friends and family, but the travel bug was itching too much for more time in Europe: it feels like our serious traveling only picks up in Africa!

See you in a few weeks with a travel story.