Monday 23 October

Today we leave the beautiful Oasis of Skoura and we are heading to the Jewel of the South – Marrakech.  But first we have to cross the High Atlas Mountains.  But, before that we drive through Ouarzazate, the Hollywood of Morocco.  There are huge film studios here, including one American one.  The Main Street, boulevard really, is lined with giant props and film paraphernalia. The industry is an important one here, and an international film school has recently opened.

We sail through, declining the invitation to tour the studio (the presence of 6 tourist coaches in the parking lot no doubt influence our decision) and continue our journey.   We are climbing, and passing specks of wonderful colours from the occasional roadside stall selling brightly coloured plates and tagine dishes,  in the middle of nowhere.

We stop at the fortified village of another UNESCO world heritage site,  Ait Ben Haddou, the best preserved Kasbah in the whole Atlas region. This village has featured in a huge list of movies, but I have only heard of three of them – Gladiators, Raiders of the Lost Ark and Lawrence of Arabia. Less discerning readers amongst you may have seen, even enjoyed, such classics as “The Mummy”, “ Sodom and Gomorrah”, “The Jewel of the Nile”, some eps of “Game of Thrones”, the list is a large ng one

We’re going to climb to the top of that.  Well, some of us are.  I make a Herculean effort, even if I do say so myself (I believe I just did) but don’t quite get to the top. Cherrie and the ever attendant Jillali do though.

And here’s what they saw

From my viewpoint, a little more than half way up,

I look down on some more wonderful colour

And, of course, I continue to look up to Cherrie.  Always have, always will

So, now we continue the climb up the High Atlas Mountains in earnest.  We know this is a rough and windy road, and as I am prone to travel sickness I take a TravelCalm.  It’s not enough to touch the sides.  This road is unbelievably windy, and in shocking condition.  It seems that every car that is on it is keen to get to the other side, and will spare no time to make it.  It’s a great race, for who can go faster and who can overtake closest and who can make it first.  Our driver is no exception.  It is terrifying.  The road spirals into the sky.  The views, however, are amazing

 Until, merciful heaven, we reach the top

I take some deep breaths of fresh air and Cherrie asks Jillali if he can drive a bit more slowly perhaps.  The plea falls on deaf ears, because the road is in better condition now and is sealed (oh goody, now we can go even faster). He continues the race to the chequered flags.  There are 99 bends in 30kms.  It was apparently a curious ascent. I cannot personally comment, because my eyes were clamped closed the whole time, as was my mouth for fear of expelling my breakfast.

An article we read a few days ago in the UK Telegraph says, and I quote “One false move here and you’re a goner. From the top of Tizi N’tichka, a car could freefall for almost half a mile before reconnecting with the hot, hard surface of Morocco, and then go bouncing off into the wheat fields below. During those few seconds, its passengers would enjoy the colours of Moroccan geology, from scarlet to crimson, and perhaps the odd trilobite hurtling past: a reminder that this was once below the sea, instead of 6,000 feet above it.”

It occurs to us that if the worst were to happen, at least we’ve skipped a step because we are already in the hearse.

On the way down we come across a nomadic tribe moving their goats

Extraordinary  views

And landscape resembling the colour of my face

And then, praise be to Allah, it all came to a sudden stop.  After nearly three hours of this hell, we hit a traffic jam.  Everything has come to a stop.  Jillali locks us in the van and walks down the queue of vehicles to investigate.  He comes back with the news that there has been a landslide and we may be here for some time. Frankly, that is music to my ears and we get out of the car and sit on the safety fence, although I use that S word lightly.  I nibble at a sandwich we made from our breakfast leftovers, and Cherrie and Jillali knock the rest off.  Eventually the traffic starts to move at a snails pace, and we pass the rockslide

That is one BIG rock folks.  It must be 6 feet high. We don’t know if there was any damage to vehicles or people, or how long ago this happened, but the temperate nature of the drivers doesn’t last long and soon the great race was on again.

Then we hit the remnants of a load of cement bags, which have come off a truck. The cloud of cement literally brings us to another stop, before we limp through at a much more lady like pace

This huge mountain range separates the Mediterranean and the Atlantic from the Sahara desert, and it spectacularly beautiful.  Apparently.  These photos are taken on the descent, which feels rather like the Big Dipper to me.  I certainly feel like mimicking the sound effects.

And then we hit level ground.  I open my eyes to the outskirts of Marrakech, after a five hour hair raising drive.   It’s a very different city to those we have been to in Morocco, and we look forward to exploring tomorrow. We are staying at a lovely riad within the Medina.

Next time I shall fly over the Atlas Mountains.  In a big plane.