I'll take the High Atlas Road

04-06-2013 - 06-06-2013

Before I could start tackling the big mountains of the High or Haut Atlas I had to get there and this involved a long drive through the middle part of Morocco and into the (semi) deserts of the south.

Whilst driving from north to south, it was interesting to see the differences in farming methods between the plains of middle Morocco and those in the more mountainous and (semi) desert conditions of the south. It was harvest time for wheat, barley and fodder in both areas. In the more northerly temperate and less mountainous areas some of the harvesting was being done by hand and was very (mainly female) labour intensive, however, there were also men using combine harvesters. Many of them were wearing conical straw hats – bit like a sombrero with a narrower brim.

In the southerly more desert areas the work was all by hand and nearly all by women who carried the hay, straw, fodder in large baskets on their backs. On several occasions these women asked me for suncream to put on the backs of their hands, presumably because this was the only part of their bodies exposed to sunlight as they laboured. I realise that it is not a good idea to comment on another culture – I believe the trendy phrase these days is ‘consider your privileges before speaking’ – however it was notable that the women of all ages were working from dawn to dusk whilst the men were often sat in the shade for hours on end, admittedly some of them watching over herds of sheep or goats. However, much of the herding seemed to be done by children, sometimes quite young.  

There were many men commuting long distances from remote villages to the larger towns – I lost count of the number of people to whom I gave a lift. There were very few parts of my journey when I did not have at least one hitchhiker with me – one time I stopped somewhere on the Tizi-n-Tichka pass road to pick up what looked like two women and seven not small women crammed themselves in.  Sometimes the conversations were limited to me just understanding ‘selaam/bonjour’ and ‘shukran/merci’ and them eventually understanding that I was ‘anglais’. Other times with a mixture of my poor French and their better English the conversations were fuller – one teacher even quoted Samuel Johnson about tiring of that London is tiring of life. I turned down all the offers of hashish, money etc. - but occasionally accepted  thé à la menthe.

Enroute to the High/Haut Atlas I broke off the journey several times.

Diana and the bathing nymphs

Tangier Gate - Volubilis

I visited Volubilis on the Zerhoun Massif – a Roman site occupied from about 300 Before Common Era. The site was surrounded by olive groves and wheatfields and that gives a clue as to why the Romans settled there.

Triumphal Arch Volubilis - spot the wheat and olive trees

The Macaque family

Later I stopped in the cedar forest south of Azrou and came across a group of semi-wild macaque monkeys that were clearly used to being fed by tourists. Wherever, you stop in Morocco even if it seems quite remote, within minutes there is someone trying to sell you something or just simply saying ‘donnez-moi Dirham’. Naturally enough the traders here were trying to sell me items made from cedar wood. After Midelt and the border between the Middle Atlas and the High Atlas the trade is mineral stones and fossilised trilobites and ammonites. 

Middle Atlas

Tizi n’Talghaunt/Tizi-n-Tairhent pass 

Semi-desert

By time I reached the Tizi n’Talghaunt/Tizi-n-Tairhent pass (1907m) over the High Atlas the trees were mainly gone and it was semi-desert. Down through the Ziz gorge and to the oasis town of Er-Rachidia (the spelling differed from one signpost to another) where I turned right on a desert road westwards. I was tempted to go further east/south to experience true desert conditions, however that is not where the mountains are.

High Atlas - eastern end

Desert

I read somewhere that in Morocco the size of a town is measured by the number of palm trees rather than its population. After much thought I decided the UK equivalent could possibly be the number of CCTV cameras. My overnight stop was at Tinerhir – which judging by the size of the palm grove is a major town – in the Auberge Atlas camping site on the road to the Todra gorge. I was parked next to the Oued Todra and surrounded by palm trees.

View from motorhome at Auberge Atlas

Todra gorge

Bonne route

The following morning I cycled about 40km (return) through the gorge with its 300m high vertical walls and onwards to the small village of Tamtattouchte on a, thankfully, nearly traffic free road. On my return there were a number of rock climbers on the clearly marked routes on the sheerest walls. I wonder how well it would go down if similar markings were made at Tremadog or the north face of Ben Nevis. There were also coachloads of tourists being accosted by the traders selling pashminas, carpets, mineral stones and ceramics.

Dades gorge

Later in the day I drove from the oasis of Boumalne du Dades up the Dades gorge past weird rock formations and many villages to a high point in the mountains before returning to Boumalne and the main road. I stayed overnight at a camping site in Skoura – Camping Amrhidil. At most campsites I was the only resident – at this one I suspect I was the first resident this year (and possibly longer) – and the amenities are quite Spartan, if there is toilet paper and the shower is hot it is a **** site.

Gorgeous Dad

Dades above

Weird rocks - Dades gorge

However, I was now ready to get to the high High Atlas at last.

My favourite roadsign - beats boring old 'ford' anyday - of course, there was never any water

Shepherd's camel

 

Mouflon sheep and the two headed camel

Well

Pillars of Hercules

01-06-2013 - 3-6-2013

Gibraltar from Monte Hacho

You’d think, wouldn't you, that when the Romans came up with the idea of the Pillars of Hercules that they would be clear about which hills they meant? I understand that it was the furthest west that Hercules got when doing his twelve labours - although I think they were named after a pub in Soho, in that London. Anyway, the least the Romans could have done is give the precise longitude and latitude for the summits of the two pillars. It is generally recognised that the pillar on the northern side of the Straits of Gibraltar was the Rock of Gibraltar. However, there is less certainty about which one on the Libyan (as it was then known) southern side it is – the two contenders are Mount Hacho, which is in the Spanish enclave of Ceuta and Jabal Moussa, which is just over the border in Morocco. As an obsessive hillbagger I decided that I would try to visit the summit of all three – not something that many people, if any, bother to do.

The messy top area of the Rock.

Obviously lots of people get to near the top of the Rock of Gibraltar – there is a cable car, special taxis and several walk ways. Hardly any get to the actual top because of walls, barbed wire, steep rocks, difficult vegetation and the apes ( although I found the seagulls, behaving like bonxies, more menacing as they flew straight at me and did not swerve until the very last moment). I started at sea level and walked around the town looking for a haircut  – and found a traditional barber still using cut throat razors and scissors. Then feeling a lot more light-headed I walked up the long traversing road to the Pillars of Hercules sculpture, paid my 50p entrance fee (it is £12 if you drive up there) and got to the point where the path goes down the other side on the Mediterranean steps. 

Mediterranean steps

From there it was pretty easy to clamber over a wall to avoid the barbed wire and on to the rock by O’Hara’s battery. Most people don’t go to all this bother and they are probably right not to. There is another summit to the north that looks as high, but the barbed wire has been reinforced all round that one – I know, because I tried to get round it from both the north and south, despite the gulls.

I walked the rest of the ridge as far as the cable car and then felt I had done enough and followed  the steep steps that go straight down into the town with its cafes offering ‘real fish and chips’ and ‘all day breakfasts’ for the people on the cruisers who are already feeling homesick.

I decided against setting up a hedge fund to take advantage of the lax tax regime in Gibraltar.

11.59km, 781m ascent

Gibraltar from Spain

Overnight in a carpark by West Quay, Gibraltar

Monte Hacho from the ferry 

Next day I caught the Acciona Trasmediterranea Ferry from Algeciras to Ceuta – a ferry ride that was a tad quicker than the Portsmouth – Santander one i.e. one hour rather than 24. The days objective was to get to the top of Mount Hacho 203m P   which has a fort built on top. Not having a proper map it took a bit of driving around until I finally decided to park in the Mirador de San Antonio (117m) -with great views across the Med - N35.89975 W 5.29456 on the northern side of the peninsula.


 From there I found a dirt road that lead across the west side of the fort – just before the road came to an end I found, by chance, a narrow track that lead uphill to the walls of the fort. Forcing my way through the overgrown vegetation accompanied by the calls of a peacock I came out on a road that came up from the town – when I looked later, I could not find the beginning of that road though. This took me up to a locked and closed wooden door – close by was the highest accessible natural rock I could find, N35.89372 W5.29261 – although it was obvious there was higher ground inside the high walls. I followed the walls around for a while and then found an alternative way back down to the carpark.

Highest accessible point at back

The pretty but closed back door

The main door to the Forteleza de Hacho

Later, I discovered another dirt track that went up to the east side of the fort and here there was a gate guarded by a sentry. N35.89543 W5.28794. I did ask, but he politely refused to let me inside. 

Overnight in a car park in Ceuta.

Jabal Moussa from Monte Hacho

Jabal Moussa from the ferry

On the third day, would you believe it, there were clouds and, in particular, there were clouds obscuring Jabal Moussa 839m (prominence unknown, by me). I nearly let this put me off – I didn’t have a map, I suspected that there would be no signposts/waymarks or any other form of encouragement and it was going to be stumbling around in the mist. However, I decided I would at least have a look.

Moussa from east end of Ben Younech

Crossing the border into Morocco was fun – I am sure the authorities have tried to make it as difficult as possible. Interestingly the Spanish make the crossing to and from Gibraltar more difficult than the Schengen agreement intended. However, at least they don’t have the numerous forms, the booths with their windows away from the vehicles so that you have to get out and all the time there are several people, pretending to be official ‘helpers’ in the hope of a tip. And does everyone get the interrogation about whether they are carrying guns in their vehicle?
It was almost by chance that I ended up driving down a road to the village of Ben Younech which hugs the coast at the foot of Jabal Moussa. This road crossed the mountain at quite a height but there seemed no obvious way from it and when I stopped to have a proper look I was waved at by a soldier across the road to move on. It took me a while to figure out a possible route from the village. In the end I drove through to the other end of the village and parked by a little house (61m) N35.91111 W5.40246 – it wasn’t until I got back I realised that it was a cafe and that it was called the Populare Jabal Moussa - see the sign. 

The cafe sign - told you it was called the Jabal Moussa

The col is on the left of the prominent rock

From there I followed a goat/goatherd track that lead into a dry oued/stream This track then goes up to a few houses which could be reached by a road, but there was nowhere to park, I passed by a few chickens and then into the scrub. I eventually hit upon a mule track that lead in sweeping traverses all the way up to a col at 593m N35.90183 W5.41508.

The final mule track traverse turns back to the col

Then it was back to goat tracks and the occasional small cairn. I picked my way through the limestone rocks, loose stones, endless flowers, goat droppings and messy scree on a broad ridge to a second col from where the summit came into view. The summit was marked by a goatherd’s shelter and what could have been the rusty remains of a beacon - 828m N35.89808 W5.41133.

Just some of the goats - can you spot the Rock of Gibraltar and, I think, Torrecilla?

Moussa summit

Promise you this is natural - not someone's rock garden

The cloud swirled around – so that sometimes I was in mist, sometimes above the cloud with views over the Straits of Gibraltar and along the coast to the Port of Tangier. All around me were dozens of goats and an abundance of bright coloured flowers.

The village mosque

Going down I decided to follow the mule track more diligently than I had on ascent – mainly out of curiosity as to where it would come out. Eventually I got fed up with it, as it wasn’t really that much easier walking than the ascent route I had chosen. I came out in the village by a mosque N35.90849 W5.39984 –  just as the overwound cassette tape of a prayer was played loud and tinnily and set off the village dogs barking in unison.




I reckon if I had followed the mule track all the way I would have come out near the taxi rank N35.90731 W5.39286 where there is a small carpark.

So, there you go. My first African mountain (if you count the Canaries as European) – Jabal Moussa, Jbel Mussa, Jebel Sidi Moussa. And it gets my vote as the other Pillar of Hercules because at least you can get to the top, even though it is a bit of a ‘labour’.

9.08km 1640m ascent

Jabal Moussa from the south

Overnight in Motel Rif Aire de Repos, Route de Fes, Bni Kola, Ouezzane

GOM-El Torreon del Pinar

31-05-2013

Back in Spain

Now here's the thing, back in Spain, thought I would grab another Major whilst I could. Looks like I git the timing right, another day and it would have been technically closed. Mind you I suspect I wont be the last person this summer to go up there and that there will be people who defy the notice somehow - I know I would probably do so.



I didn't spot another sign until I got back down that you are supposed to get permission to go on the path anyway, from the El Bosque visitor centre - tel 956709733. So there was me trespassing anyway.
As it happens the route finding is pretty straightforward once you have sought/ignored permission and arrived  on the right date. I started from a small car park at 847m N36.75491 W5.43569. The path traverses away from the summit until it makes a broad turn at around 1045m N36.76043 W5.43935 until it crosses a large sink hole at 1500m N35.76413 W5.42634. Itis at this point that the JMH level of difficulty as being 'median' rather than 'facile' is justified. There seems to be a choice of scrambly routes to the summit, although only one of them has the markers that are occasionally used to show the way. The summit is graced by a small rusty bolt and steep drop over the other side - great panoramic views all round.

One of the signs at the start - just follow the yellow line.

Sendero El Torreon i.e. the path of the towers

View west on the way up

The path squeezes between some rocks

Told you it was steep on the other side

Looking down from the summit

Rusty summit bolt

El Torreon del Pinar summit

Overnight in the Camping Los Alcornocales Parque Naturel, Jimena de la Frontera.

Bottom left corner

28-05-2013 - 29-05-2013

After dropping off Patrick at the place where people disappear into the sky, I drove over the Tagus had a quick look at the Cristo Rei and then started a long drive south. Overnight in an Estacao Servico Autocaravanas in the small resort of Porto Covo south of Sines.


I made a quick visit to Foia the highest point on the Serra de Monchique - a Major 902m P739 - when I say the highest point, I mean the highest you can reach by the fence of the Radar station, only a few metres from the obelisk and trig point. How frustrating. And what a mess of  human-made construction the summit area is. A good hazy view of the sprawl of resorts in the Algarve to the south. The serra itself seems to be a giant plantation of eucalyptus trees

The Atalantic from Foia

A year ago I went to the point where the Baltic and the Atlantic meet at Grenen in Denmark - see http://oakesave.blogspot.co.uk/2012/07/went-up-to-danish-most-northerly-point.html

So, I thought I would go to the point where the Mediterranean meets the Atlantic. I know that this is not the same as arguably that point could be at the Gibraltar straits. And the waves does not literally crash against each other here.

The Romans considered Cabo de Sao Vicente to be at the end of the world - the Promontorium Sacrum - and it apparently has the most powerful lighthouse in Europe. The way the lighthouse is built it is impossible to get to the edge of the cliff at the extremity of the cape, despite attempts to clamber past it on the 60m high cliffs.

Cabo de Sao Vicente

I also visited the Point of Sagres which is defended by a fortress that was originally built by Henry the Navigator and tried to stand at the most southerly point of the point.

Henry the Navigator's pebble wind compass - the Rosa dos Ventos

Cannot say that I was impressed with what I saw of the rest of the coast of Algarve - a continuous nightmare of seaside resorts.
Overnight in the Parque de Palmeira, Albufeira.