The R304 to the Cascades D’Ouzoud

Zagan the motorhome’s in the Dutch owned and run Camping Zebra, on the outskirts of the village of Ouzoud in the Middle Atlas mountains, Morocco (N32.004948, W6.72035). It costs about €10 a night to stay, including 6A electricity. We’re here as there are famous waterfalls about a mile from the campsite: the Cascades D’Ouzoud, although this blog post has to be unique in the sense it has no photos of the falls. Nope. I took Charlie with me on the walk down there, and was halted by the sight of a Barbary Macaque sat on the path on the way in. Phil and Jules went further on, reporting back this one was part of a troupe of maybe 30 of ’em. Chances of ’em attacking our wee beasty: too high to risk it. Ju and I will have a walk back in the morning sans pooch.

The R304, which we used to get most of the way here, shows up on our Michelin map as a yellow road. This basically means it’s likely to be in good condition and to be wide enough for two vehicles and so it proved. However, an army guard at the Bin-el-Ouidane dam had told us the white road up to the cascades was probably going to be closed due to snow until Monday (it’s Saturday today). Phil double-checked with a policeman setting up a routine roadblock up the road from the campsite, who called someone, who confirmed the army were wrong and the road was open.

Snow on the R304 in the Middle Atlas. Looks like only a little fell, and it was cleared by a plough way before we arrived

Marrakech here we come! 178km means about 4 or 5 hours of driving here in our lumbering adventure wagon

Snow in the Middle Atlas. We’re about 1000m up at this point

The landscapes on the way here had us pulling up a few times to grab photos. Paul, who owns the campsite, said it’s not snowed here in 25 years. He had photos of the campsite covered in snow, and was somewhat incredulous at the sight of the white. “It gets warm here in the summer”, he told us. By warm, he meant up to 48ºC. We took the opportunity to ask about the ‘For Sale’ sign at the campsite entrance, and he told us him and his wife have built the site from nothing, taking ten years to do it. They’ve decided to find another project to spend the next ten years on, and are waiting for a buyer. A local Moroccan who spoke great English (and 5 other languages), said it was up for €600k, but we’ve no idea how accurate that is. He also told us a good donkey costs about €150, something I’ve been fascinated to know.

If you fancy a campsite in Morocco, now’s your chance!

Anyway, sorry, back to the road. We rumbled through the snow and olive hills, the scrubby plants looking weird under the winter conditions, and pulled in at a cashpoint in Azilal. Ju jumped out to top up the Dirham stash, finding the Moroccan in front on her needed help from another random local to get cash out, as they couldn’t see the buttons and screen. Imagine that in the UK: a stranger giving you their card and PIN and asking for help getting money from their machine? I guess it happens, it just seems unlikely to me.

Snow in Africa: Azilal, Middle Atlas

As the road continued, the snow backed off and we peered out the windscreen at the usual sights of rural Morocco: donkeys just visible under huge loads, men walking the road, ladies kneeling in freezing rivers to wash clothes, kids at the side of the street walking to school. Phil and Jules gave a couple of nippers a lift down the road: again something I find unimaginable in my native UK. One of them couldn’t help himself but beg for sweets and small change when they dropped him off.

Here in Ouzoud I have to fess up: I’m a bit disappointed. The waterfalls themselves looked impressive from the glimpses I got of them, but to access them required being funnelled past an assortment of 24 hour car parks, beggars, cafes, restaurants and tat shops. The touts were soft, no hard sell. It wasn’t an ordeal by any stretch of the imagination, but I’ve been spoiled by the unspoiled, the likes of the Kravica waterfalls in Bosnia. They were just as beautiful, if not more so than the ones here, and yet were devoid of the sheep-dog corralling approach to tourists the town’s taken here. But hey, folks need to make a living and tourism’s big wonga, so why shouldn’t they make the most of it? Nothing to do with me in the end: it’s just not my cup of tea. That said, we’ll go have another look tomorrow without Charlie, and grab a photo or two.

Phil looking out over countryside near Ouzoud

Phil and Jules played a bit of footy with the kids in Ouzoud

Marrakesh is close now, just a few hours down the road. The half marathon’s in 8 days time and Ju and I have spent the past week or so being ill with some kind of virus. I’m fending off the last vestiges of the thing with a Steinburg beer but Ju’s feeling wiped out still. We’re looking at using the guarded parking in the city for part of our visit, which looks incredibly close to the bonkers Djeema-el-Fna square. Last time we were there, I hated the place. This time? Remains to be seen folks, but I’ll do my best to enjoy it!

A two-man hammam at the hotel next to the campsite

Cheers, Jay