We spent three nights in Chefchaouen. Afternoon temperatures were in excess of 30° but our campsite was high up and there was always a cooling breeze and plenty of shady spots to relax after a morning’s exploration.
On the third day we set off south towards Fez, 160 miles away. The roads were narrow and the road surface quite uneven so we kept our speed down and regularly pulled over to allow more impatient drivers to pass. We left the Rif Mountains and drove through fertile hills where it was harvest time. We once saw a mechanical harvester but the upland fields were harvested by hand (women using a sickle). The straw bales were bundled by hand and stored in stacks, resembling Nissan huts.
As we drove on we passed olive groves and olive processing plants. We travelled by orchards and fields of melon. Every town had colourful stalls displaying local produce. We stopped and bought two large fragrant melons for £1 . . . . and we found these delicious green figs.
As we approached Fez the roads leading to the city were lined with Moroccan flags and there were soldiers and police stationed along the roadside and at every junction. We knew the signs – the King was in town! We were politely waved / saluted through each junction – although other motorists were being pulled up. Morocco needed tourists and everyone went out of their way to make foreign visitors welcome . . . usually.
As we were driving along the dual carriageway, a man on a motor scooter drove alongside and offered to guide us to the campsite. He waited for nearly an hour whilst we did a shop at Marjane, the local supermarket which was extremely overcrowded on that Saturday afternoon. Shopping completed the motorcyclist led us expertly through the busy streets to the campsite, 8 km away. We didn’t really need his guidance as we had been to Fez before and had our destination plumbed into the sat nav but, hey, he was so willing and friendly that we were happy to accept his help and it was easy to follow him through the complicated traffic systems. He delivered us proudly to the campsite reception and, of course, Tony rewarded him for his trouble and arranged for his “brother” to take us on a city tour the next morning. He did well out of us and he deserved it!