Having enjoyed a light snack the previous evening in Jerez (Lars: what's that you ordered Mike? Mike: A Spanish Salad. Lars: What's in it? Mike: four different kinds of meat and some onion), and with the barman's words of warning ringing in our ears (the petrol is dodgy down there, don't drink the water, don't breath the air, etc) we set off for the coast in glorious sunshine. The road to Algeciras ran through mountainous countryside with clouds hanging ominously over them – the flooding in the valleys clear evidence that they got their fair share of rain. It also became clear why wind farms dotted the ridges either side of the road – great gusts buffeted the somewhat slab sided XRVs (and riders) making the journey on brand new nobbly tyres an exercise in concentration. Luckily the rain held off and we made the port area around 11am. Algeciras is a proper port with large industrial cranes, buildings and containers. After a bit of a detour we found the ticket office, and a bit more of a detour we found the boat. Loading was fairly quick and easy save for the diesel and water covered deck, and the crossing took around 45 minutes.
Having arrived in the Spanish territory of Ceuta we disembarked with a certain sense of trepidation given the various stories and warnings we'd received. Lars got a "welcome to Morocco" manoeuvre from a lorry driver heading to customs but managed to escape unscathed. We left the port and went in search of the border crossing point following a lovely winding coast road, the sun shining and the smell of the sea in our nostrils – this is what we'd come for! After a while we suspected we weren't necessarily heading in the right direction. We stopped to ask directions – Mike: do you know where Morocco is? Little girl (pointing to large mountainous country behind him): Over there.
Passage through customs went like a dream compared with what we had been expecting. The work Lars had done getting the pre-printed import forms sorted was invaluable (Thanks Tim Cullis @ UKGSer Forum), and with a minimum of fuss we passed onto Moroccan soil. We were surrounded by the sights and sounds of North Africa – whitewashed apartments, busy construction sites, roadside markets, car horns blaring and animals wandering around.
The road down to Tetouan was relatively easy, as was Tetouan itself. A busy town the drivers were better behaved than those in London once you got used to them politely stopping to let pedestrians cross the road. Out of the town we headed south up into the mountains. The road became windy and narrow and the cross-winds became severe. This combination plus the tendency of oncoming vehicles to drive on the wrong side of the road when rounding bends, turned this section into an exercise in concentration – a shame because it made it difficult to take in the glorious views across the mountains.
We eventually stopped at Chefchaouen – a pretty town built on a mountain side and obviously being developed as a tourist resort, probably on account of its glorious outlook. Having checked into a hotel on the edge of town we had our first mint tea and set off to town for sightseeing in the Souk, dinner (first Tajine – very nice too), and a haircut for Lars (something for the weekend sir?).
Mileage: c 130Chefchaouen view from hotel with beer
Chefchaouen Gamers
Lars getting a final trim
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