On the ferry

The last few days (apart from emptying my toilet) have been largely uneventful, due mainly to the inclement weather. I didn't much feel like hanging out in rain drenched Spanish seaside resorts so I just jumped in the van and started to knock off some of the kilometres to the south of Spain where I would get the ferry over to Africa.

The interesting, if not slightly frightening part of the journey was the road from Alicante to Malaga. If, as I have, you choose to avoid all toll roads, the road south takes you over the Andalucian national park and although I would not say they were real mountains, it was certainly very hilly.

I don't know what altitude I reached at the highest point but the road climbed for several kilometres at the start and seemed to stay high for about 200kms. At one point I could see snow capped peaks in the distance which I took to be the Sierra Nevada. But soon after that I was in the snow myself. I couldn't believe that at such a low latitude, the weather could be so hostile. At one point I got out to let Pepper have a wee and to take a photo. I couldn't stay out in the open for very long. Fair enough, I didn't have my down parka on but I had a hat, a scarf, and 3 layers on top but I couldn't tolerate more than a few minutes. I have never felt a biting wind like it. It was frightening because I didn't know if the conditions were going to get any worse, or indeed the road would climb higher or the weather would change. For a few brief kilometres, I was actually driving in snow.

I bought a copy of the Daily Telegraph yesterday and was amazed to see the satellite image of the UK covered entirely in snow. It would appear that everywhere is suffering from this cold snap and there seems to be snow where one wouldn't normally expect it. Except that is in the ski resorts. I have been keeping an eye on the Chamonix and snow weather report and with the weather being what it is in the UK and rest of Europe, I was expecting at least a metre of snow; but no. The snow gods don't seem to be smiling down on the Alps just yet.

I made the mistake of trying to go into a sizeable town again. I arrived in Malaga and it was awful, cars everywhere and nowhere to park. So I went to find a place to log on and decided to get out and find somewhere quiter to sleep. I parked up, found a hotel where I knew there would be a nice English speaking girl on reception. She was nice, she was helpful and they did have wifi access in the hotel but they did not accept dogs in the lobby. I went up to one of those cyber bars where they had computers for you to use but no wifi. The lady said that across the road in the train station there was free wifi. I went over to the station which incorperated a sizeable shopping mall too. Guess what? No dogs. So I walked back to the van, ditched the dog, went back to the mall only to find that there free wifi didn't seem to work. So i went back to the hotel and the nice girl kindly gave me the code for their network.

I found a nice place to park up round the back of a petrol station and slept well. I awoke this morning to a clear blue sky and got moving on to Algeciras. There are 2 destinations on the African continent from this port - Tangiers and Cueto. I'd been to Tangiers before and it is a smelly unsightly place so I thought I'd try Cueto which was convenient as there was a ferry in 30 mins. As soon as i got into the port a guy runs up and asks where I was going. "Cueto" I replied. "Give me your passport and I'll go and get you a ticket". I nearly did aswell but he didn't look like he worked there. He was dressed normally so I took him for a chancer and went to get my ticket myself.

It all went smoothly. Within 15 mins I ws on a ferry to Africa. The crossing was short and before I knew it, I was disembarking in what I thought was Africa. I have been to Morocco before and I remember clearing customs being a nightmare but this time I just sailed through. No questions, I don't even remember seeing aborder guard. I got out onto the streets and looked for signs to.... well anywhere. I saw no signs in Arabic, no Moroccon car plates. It took me a little while to realise I was not in fact in Morocco. Nobody told me Cueto was a Spanish enclave on the African continent. I followed a sign which looked like it might mean "Morocco" in Spanish and then I came across the border patrol.

It is truly chaotic getting into Morocco. Well, getting in yourself is easy, getting your car in is anotrher matter. It is not a simple procedure and there are no signs explaining what you have to do. I shall précis for you what I had to do.

  1. Pass through the Spanish patrol.
  2. Enter no man's land.
  3. Go to passport control and get your passport stamped.
  4. Queue at vehicle registration dept. to get a form.
  5. Fill it in
  6. Queue up again and hand it in to vehicle registration. He refuses it.
  7. Go see a customs officer because I don't have the French papers yet for my van.
  8. Go with him to see his boss, he stamps my form.
  9. Queue up again (3rd time same queue) and register the van.
  10. Take the completed form and get it checked by another guard.
  11. Boom, you're in Morocco. Easy as that

It felt great to be back in Morocco. Great to be back in a country where I spoke the language. No I don't speak Arabic, Morocco is more or less bilingual. I drove to Tetouan on the autoroute and then took the N2 to Chefchaouen. On the map, this road is dead straight. In reality it is a mountain road where you average speed in a camper is not much more than about 40kmh.

Morocco is an amazing place. It's like going back in time. Animals litter the sides of the road, many buildings are ruins, many vehicles appear to be unroadworthy, people sell fruit, veg and produce at the side of the road. But it is charming and it feels safe. People are freindly. I've only been in Morocco a few hours but I must have been asked if I want to buy marijuana about 6 times. They are polite about it and unoffended if you politely decline which as a non-smoker, I do.

Chefchaouen is bustling town stuck on the side of a hill up a 6km winding road. Popular with the French and especially the French "hippie" element. I found out there was a camp site too so that's where I write this from. 5€ per night for me, the dog and the van. There's water here, a shop, internet, 8 to 10 other vans including an English couple next to me. I was planning on leaving tomorrow to another place but I might just stay a while.


"Why can't I have soup with croutons?"