We filled our tank with water from a tap outside the desert lodge. It is pumped up from under the sand and is probably far superior to the bottled stuff. The car drives better with the 70litres, which sits mid-car, good for balance and stability.
Every so often shepherds wave at us and signal that they want water. Since they've been in the business for thousands of years without depending on passing tourists, I suspect the real reason is boredom alleviation. On the other hand, we found one young chap with a bicycle in the middle of nowhere who was clearly parched and very grateful.
There has been good rain recently, and the desert looks most un-desertlike, as this photo shows.
We dug out the GPS for the first time to follow a 60km piste that links two tarred roads. It was reassuring to have it pointing ahead at waypoints taken from the guidebook, although in this case, following the line of the valleys, we could not go badly wrong.
By late afternoon we were following a river valley that runs north/south on the eastern side of the Atlas. It is incredibly fertile, with palms and paddies and orchards where every tree is in bloom. It also has a great collection of kasbahs or fortified homes, and most are picturesquely ruined. We stayed in a restored one near the town of Skoura, which was really fabulous. Our room was high in one of the towers, our bathroom the room beneath; about the only occasion I remember where the bathroom is bigger than the bedroom. The high ceiling is made of rough beams and woven reed. Less than €30 for dinner, bed and breakfast and incredibly peaceful, without even a nearby mosque to disturb the night.
View from the roof of the Kasbah hotel in Skoura
On Saturday, we continued our journey to Marrakesh, stopping only for a quick visit to the village of Ait Benhaddou, used as a location for various movies, but now a B-grade tourist trap, where most of the inhabitants look (and act) like the mother from The Life of Brian. Still, nice from a distance.
After an extremely torturous journey - four hours for 120km - over the mountains, we arrived at Marrakesh with a couple of hours to spare before Jason flew in. It was enough time to get installed at a fine riad in the old city. It just has a few rooms, run by a French couple. The streets outside are clogged with people, scooters, fruit stalls, stray cats and piles of rubbish so it is wonderful to duck in through the heavy wooden door to find a serene blue-tiled courtyard with a fountain and four orange trees.
Jason has arrived to take over as co-driver
