Once again this post is late due to lack of internet.
We’d read about the drug dealers and drug gangs in The Rif but decided that our Mog would protect us, and Lawrence was keen to cross this range to complete our Moroccan mountain experience.
The idiots on the side of the road and in cars trying to flag us down were merely annoying, and fairly easily ignored. They were just a pest. It was the idiots driving the ‘grand taxis’ that were the threat to our lives (plus the buses, trucks and general maniacs). The Police are also a real menace with their continual road blocks which don't seem to achieve anything - maybe just collecting bribes.
|A typical Riff Town - we didn't feel compelled to stay|
I stopped counting the number of near head-on collisions, it was simply terrifying. If I’d been driving we’d both be dead by now. Lawrence was forced off the road several times to avoid collision, but this was fraught as well due to riff-raff on the side. If we’d known how bad it was we’d never have driven that way as the scenery was not ‘unmissable’, nothing near as spectacular as the High Atlas.
Lawrence will post a missive on the driving, so I won’t go on.
When we finally arrived in Chefchaouen we were both completely exhausted, and downed several beers in quick succession. Feeling slightly seedy today, but the town here is lovely and there is no hassle in the souk, therefore feeling relaxed again.
Tomorrow we head to Martil on the Med before taking the boat back to Spain (which we now think of as home), and back to our lovely camp in El Puerto de Santa Maria.
|And you thought WE were mad?|
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