Roof of North Africa

Looking at Toubkal

Grand taxi to Imlil - foot of the High Atlas

The much-awaited Nazgul video

Into the Atlas

We're aware of the technical difficulties in video uploading on our blogs. The truth is, we now have a backlog of some good material. We're working on the problem - most of the internet connection here is wifi and only able to upload pictures. As soon as we get to some bandwidth  - probably in a few days - there will be some videos coming your way. Tomorrow, we're heading into the Atlas Mountains for a four day trek.

This is us lunching in Imlil this afternoon - we were looking to throw out a very experienced hiker vibe.

Our tent is erect and christened: "Wife of Toubkal"

Toubkal is the highest mountain around so we thought it only fitting. That's Dave bending over by the fence. I think he was pretending to look for 'the only dirhams we have left' for the proprietor of this mountain inn we are bunking down at. Not bad haggling from the Merchant this afternoon - we still have a way to go to match the Moroccans - professionals, them. We don't expect to have internet for the next four or five days.

In the meantime:

Snake charming: not what it used to be.

Notice the two squirrels: "Fiercest and most well-known enemy of the snake". Who woulda thunk it.

Marrakech accommodation

INTO THE FRAY

McAlpine leads the way through the ancient Medina wall of Rabat. As far north as we will be.

Marrakech

Our bearings are now southerly. After brief forays through the capital city, Rabat, and the clamorous ancient capital,  Fes, we venture  below Casablanca for the first time; Marrakech-bound. It is a seemingly arbitrary milestone but one we celebrated on the train with plump olives, sweet dates and a few swigs of Nectar Manguine (Produit Marocain). Much awaits us but the knowledge that every lurch and flurry brings us closer to home is the best kind of morale.

We met a man in Rabat. Witnessing his general demeanour and overhearing absurd utterances made me certain he was some form of Kafka incarnate. Idling his time away on the shores of the Med, his body in Africa, his mind somewhere closer to Paris.

McAlpine:"Our journey south may take as long as 9 months."

Kafka:"Ah, like a kind of rebirth."

McAlpine:"kind of."

Kafka:"Where from?"

McAlpine:"Afrique du Sud"

Kafka:"Ah, So you and us both, not in Africa"

Crossing the Med is obviously the extent of his wanderings. How wrong he is, I thought. Morocco's wealth divide is better understood as wealth divisions. rich and poor know no delineations here. The idea of a wealthy part of town demarcated by a certain deteriorating road or security perimeter simply does not exist. One can be eating luxurious nougat in the mediaeval medina, propped against the Palais Royal, while robed outcasts scuttle past reciting rubbish and the infirm sit, blind and mute, waiting for the end or for God or maybe some small change. Feral cats play out their lives under the meat and fish stalls - their fate decided by the slip of a butcher's knife or a sardine forgotten on the ground and across the track the newest satellite dishes and lithium batteries can be found 'for all occasions.' Apart from my own camera, it seems.

The chaotic cluster of the city precincts extends to the senses. Smells and sounds repel and coax, offend and delight, on a whim. Constantly forging through this lineal sentience reduces one to the fundamentals. Emotions are snatched by the sounds and the smells and one’s spirit peaks and troughs with the surrounds. Such craziness has made us hungry and thirsty. A sip of sweet mint tea is fast becoming a debauch.

Things are different here. The benefit of the doubt should go to Kafka. Culturally… well we all know about culture. It throws up some good food, interesting music and generally impedes human progress. Why impose an idea of Africa on an arbitrary land mass severed from Gondwanaland some time ago. Morocco never got the African blueprint – good for them.  And as I write,  through the smudged perspex, far away, the anti-Atlas peeps on the horizon. Distant bastions guarding and flouting their weary winter-clad giant, Jebel Deltouk, who confirms nor denies anything. Yet, carried on the desert zephyrs, through the ancient mosques, through colourful, wailing humanity and above commuters who, with murmurs and tinny cellphone music, respond to the drone of the train, I hear the giant’ whispers: “you forgot we’re on the ancient land.”

Nazguls are two-fezed

We're in Morocco for sure. The older generation may try and convince you Casablanca has ambience. Either they haven't been there or they still have a crush on Humphrey Bogart or that other actress who starred alongside him - an old-sounding name (?) Pretty sure it was filmed in LA, to be honest. And I'll tell you another thing, the pilots suck. To be fair, he may have been an Egyptian but he was obviously so distracted by the allure of the sultry Casablanca that he briefly forgot the importance of not landing solely on the left-hand set of wheels. Airbuses don't correct like a skateboard. Anyway, amidst much wailing and gnashing of teeth (not from us) the right-hand side of the plane touched the tarmac and we were alive. An Air Egypt official (not doing much official sitting next to us and scoffing cake the whole flight) found the whole incident hilarious. To my question "how often does this happen?" - his grinning reply: "First Time "

And, indeed, it has been a whole myriad of First Times for Dr. McAlpine and I. 

1)Tea with a Nazgul, (video to follow tomorrow).

Here are some other things we have done for the first time:

2)Been sleeping in a sitting room when the person across the road passes on in the night and the whole community begins to wail after a towncrier sprints around the streets announcing it (9 hours, give or take)

3) Worn a fez for twelve hours. 

4) Been told, "let me show you around," and later informed those five minutes had cost R120. Calpers didn't budge, though. He had a real punch-me fez (ambiguity intended).

5) Ate a liquid goat in a bun

6) Sleeping in a den that Withnail would have recoiled at. We remained unfezzed.

7) Had a banana thrown at us by the village dunce who later threatened to bring out 'Michael Jackson'. He was unbuttoning his trousers at the time.

Clarity

But a few hours to idle away before wheels up!

Our mobile hospital is straddled between backpacks and we are growing more and more confident of our route. Overwhelmingly, it seems, to keep dry, we must set a southerly course from Casablanca.

Here's a little musing - I have every suspicion this could be us in 6 months.

Many people are wondering about this new link that you see on the right of the screen - BackaBuddy.

Here's the lowdown (particularly for some of McAlpine's thrifty friends who thought a portion of the proceeds went to our trip and "thought better of it." Cheers, guys.

The Key School is a highly specialised institution for children with autism. There is alarmingly little sponsorhip and support for schools of this kind - often eclipsed by causes that ostensibly have more "immediate" need. 

This is not a platform to badger you asking for money. Rather, we aim to create and maintain highly entertaining blogs to keep you sniggering into the wee hours. Everyone needs a purpose, though. This is ours.

No doubt, in the midst of Sahara, with McAlpine's feet in my face, noxious gases oozing from all his bodily crevices, and a tree-climbing goat gnawing our guy ropes - I will desperately need to cling onto some kind of higher ambition. Some kind of finish line.

100% of anything you wish to contribute goes directly to the Key School. BackaBuddy website is safe and secure and you will see an easy to click "Donate" button which takes you through to a private portal set up specifically for the Key School. McAlpine won't have the slightest opening to get his dirty paws on the loot.

Here's the link one more time for those of you who aren't considered "technical natives":

http://www.backabuddy.co.za/champion/project/casablanca-to-johannesburg-for-the-key-school

You'll notice it indicated that McAlpine and I are "champions". Well, spot on!

We've always been from the "If it feels good do it," school of thought...

Loomings

Soon, we're off. On buses, dhows, beasts and feet to the uttermost ends of our continent, we go to find out what Africa is really up to.

Watch this space. Watch out for Dr. McAlpine.  

If you, too, seek the uncanny - tell everyone you know (even your granny).