Up just before seven o’clock, and noticeably peaceful after the noises outside our room in the city at that time of day. Went on to the terrace and took some pictures of the rising sun, with spectacular colours in the clouds.
Showered, dressed, then walked to the main building for breakfast of yoghurt, fruit and fresh bread with honey. My companion had a Berber pancake, a bit like an Indian paratha, coated with honey.
After breakfast we made contact with the host, Paul, to discuss outings over the next few days. He seemed a little reluctant to agree to our request to split visits to two places over two days, he wanted us to do everything in one. I explained to him that we wanted separate trips if for no other reason than not having to take photographs in the midday sun. Not sure where we are with this at the moment, will have to chat again later. Paul gave us some ideas of where to go for a walk this morning, south along the wadi towards the mountains for as long as we want to go, and then track back along the road.
Whilst in reception started a conversation with a couple who were moving on to the city, and gave them our opinions of a few places to go and highly recommended Al Fassia.
Back to the room again to get booted up, and assemble our collection of paraphernalia for walk, some in my camera backpack and some in my tardis jacket (never managed to count all the pockets, let alone remember where I put stuff in it). By this time it was a bit overcast, so dressed rambler style, in layers, starting with the Craghoppers vest, then shirt and aforementioned safari vest.
So we go, out of the gate turn right and about 150 yards up the road head off the black top into an olive grove where a lady is picking the olives.
I reach river bed, and discover on looking behind me that my fellow traveller is engaged in conversation with a gentleman hawking his wares, including alleged genuine Berber artefacts and semi precious stones. On meeting up, she related the only way she was able to get him to stop and go away was to get her purse out and show him the contents. Nothing more than fresh air.
We walk the wadi bed for a while, but due to the water now running fast in places we are forced onto the bank. My companion on seeing a pile of broken branches, in true backwoodsman (it’s in the genes, she tells me) style began to fashion a staff from a straight piece of willow.
A short while afterwards we encounter a Berber farmer with a pregnant cow and a calf in tow. He appeared to be feeding his animals branches from his neighbours olive trees cutting them off with his machete.
Further along we enter a small village, two young lads mounted on a donkey come down the muddy road towards us and bid us bonjour, as we head in to the centre of their hamlet. We continue on and out of the village. At this point the landscape changes, the rough groves of olives are replaced with tended plots, on which a cereal crop is sprouting. Around the perimeter of these plots are makeshift barriers of camel thorn and willow probably to keep sheep and goats out. Some way along we become trapped by this thorny hedge, and in order to continue our journey we have to force our way through in one place. Lacerated is probably too strong a word to describe what happened to my arm, but I must tell you that blood was drawn, and the arm of my tardis jacket is available for inspection if proof is needed. My fellow traveller, as always with the benefit of hindsight said “I told you to keep your sleeves rolled down going through there”.
More thorns were in our path, but now we had the benefit of experience and they proved little obstacle. One gate made of criss cross pieces of stick, supplemented with rusty barbed wire and thorns had to be taken apart and reassembled for us to get through, and it was at this point we decided to head back towards the road and return to the Kasbah.
On coming out of the undergrowth we surprised a group of locals who were walking directly towards where I came out of the bushes. I of course bonjoured them in the usual manner. We were now walking along the road, going down hill.
A brief stop was made at a small local shop, and water and bread was purchased. Again many bonjours and ca va’s were exchanged with the shop owner and a group of gentlemen resting on a bench outside.
On entering the Kasbah’s drive we moved to the side of the road to allow a Land Rover Discovery and Range Rover Evoke to pass by. They were viewing the property with a view to using it for lunch for motoring journalists over the weekend. We had already heard that there was to be a Range Rover launch here this week, as there were a number of employees on the BA flight from Gatwick. We had also heard that there are 28 brand new Range Rovers waiting on a Formula 2 track outside of Marrakech for them to play with, and then they will route to the mountains for some off road fun. The original idea was for them to wadi bash up to the high peaks and then drive back, but the heavy rain has forced a change of plan.
Anyway, we are now back to the room, and our boots are off.
After a light lunch the remainder of the afternoon was spent relaxing at the Kasbah, on our room’s terrace and around the pool. Viv sketching and writing up her journal, me with my feet up.
