Overland adventure travel

Basically this is the "Shape up or Ship out" intro to the trip. All the guys safely off the plane from the UK to Gibraltar – all smiley faced, nervous, chatty, quiet, more nervous – but all beaming with that good adventurous spirit that was so obvious and ready to burst out.

Driving from Gibraltar to the campsite in Spain, with all bags piled in the back (nearly as high as some of those on board) – on our wild way we were. Our 1st mishap was a random dinner plate flying out of one of the lockers and sounding like we were falling apart !!!!!! Luckily no hitches with the truck as of yet – a good sign by anyone's standards.

Rain had been the constant flavour of the weather in Spain – and the 1st night of the trip was no exception. Mother Natures leaky water works were to show us no remorse, and continuing for the next 3 days. Our 1st night together gave us the chance to have a few drinks while dodging waterfalls spraying from the kitchen tarp, and to fill each others heads with friendly and excited banter. Tent buddies were quickly sorted – and even a few nicknames had been forged in no time at all. Even the trip has been given the unofficial nickname of "Brokeback Overland" !!!!! A free day in Gibraltar was all that was needed to shake off our last minute western ways and to prepare ourselves for Mother Africa. Gibraltar, being more like a major UK highstreet (with red double decker buses and every highstreet chain you could name) was easily left behind without any regret by most of us - more than happy to lay to rest any signs of normality, dormant for a while at least.

Just making our ferry departure from Algeciras by a cats whisker – we were on our way to our African home from home, for the present longhaul. Arriving in the Spanish enclave of Ceuta was just a tease really – not really home yet. A short drive to the Moroccan border and it feels more like we are in the Middle East rather than Africa !! Definate culture shock was about to set in for some of us - but this was the start of what we had all been waiting for, and just one of the many different sides to the same coin we would be flipping, as we travel further south and into the unknown.

The rain continued to test our early spirits, and progress with our 1st of many border procedures as a group. The atmosphere here was a bit crazy and chaotic, with the word organization not really being utilized to any visible level. 10 steps forward and 20 back is more the deal here – from border guard to border guard we trampled through puddles of water - and then back to the same guard who had previously sent us on to someone else !!!!! Eventually passports were beginning to acquire the 1st of many official souvenirs that will slowly but shorely map our route through Africa with a collage of ink.

There was a bit of a delay with making sure our Korean counterpart Han could even get into Morocco. Confusion over whether he was South or North Korean ended up in a quiz of questions. Luckily the head honcho knew that Seoul was the capital of South Korea – but this didn't stop them from trying to catch us out with a volley of random questions.

Our 1st BC in Africa – well you could say that it was a character building exercise, and one to shape the group from the early stages. Calling it a wet affair would be an understatement. Saying that it absolutely pissed down would be getting close, but still not quite there ! Let alone that all the tents were already soaked through from our 1st few days in Spain – putting up wet tents and attempting a nights sleep (no one mentioned a good nights sleep) was the 1st hurdle. Mud was everywhere – but a fire was still achieved by the 1st cook group. Shoes were already disguarded by some of us – wallowing in mud like pigs in poo could be the description used here.

Morning sunshine was welcomed on Day 2 – ready for an early rehearsal of digging out the truck from its shackles of mud. Shovels were coupled with plates, bowls and hands to remove some of the sludge. Machetes were out as well – sacrificing some local scrub in order to create a somewhat magic hovering carpet affect, in turn creating some traction and a barrier from the mud for the truck to drive over. It was already make or break time – as the truck was precariously perched very close to a major drop off into the dam overlooking our BC. Luckily our team work was rewarded with a happy ending.

Back on the road again to Chefchauen – in the heart of the Riff Mountains and the largest hashish growing area of Morocco. Our 1st real look into a different cultural and social environment other than our own. It was definitely the gateway for allowing us all to grasp what we were letting ourselves into for the coming few months. In saying this, maybe some of us were already suffering from that feeling of initial loneliness or were thinking "What the hell am I doing here – I wish I had someone to share this with ??". Is this what brought a few members of the group closer together you ask ?? – hence forming "special friendships" ???? Names you ask???? If we told you we'd have to kill you !!!!

Cook groups started sheepishly entering the market atmosphere. The dusty, raw (and sometimes wiffy on the nose) atmosphere of local markets makes one feel alive and actually somewhere other than in our normal day to day (and sometimes mundane) lives. Supermarkets were soon to be non existent (as we know them) – instead we would be bargaining and bartering for each souvenir and food scrap that makes it to our plates. Feast or Flop – nothing will be put to waste. Even a bowl of chicken noodle soup made from the previous nights stock was devoured at breakfast without any grumbles. No normal food habits from now on – dinner may become breakfast and vice versa – basically whatever fills the pit of hunger will be the call of the day.

Whether one can afford to buy special treats – like eggs for breakfast or sweet honey coated pastries for desert - its all a bit of a juggle with the budget at first. Averaging $1 USD a day per person (for breakfast, lunch and dinner) seems impossible on paper – but imagination and keeping tight purse strings can achieve the ultimate goal of a full belly within our extreme budget. The affectionate term for truck food is "One Pot Slop" – an in offensive way to stretch out the budget and please a hungry crowd. Even if you cannot really distinguish what food groups you are actually eating – all that counts is that is that it's tasty. We haven't had one bad meal yet !

From mud and rainy bush camps, to threats of being attacked in the night at one of our rural country BC - the challenges had definitely begun in earnest, and all of this only in the 1st couple of days. It all started with Audrey and Maria going off to be one (or two) with nature – when all of a sudden we see them walking back to the truck from the blackness of the night with three policeman. The police trying to explain to us that it wasn't safe for us to be here were using strong words like "kill" – "murder" and gesturing that our throats would be cut in our sleep !!!!! Further discussion on our well being was had by both sides along with a visit from the local police chief !!!! A promise to call him the next morning before we departed, was all that was needed to defuse an unusual, if not unique encounter with the authorities. It was interpreted by us that the warnings of murder and attack were more just over cautiousness by the uniforms who are not used to seeing 24 tourists using the bush as a natural campground. This gave some of us a taste of local opinion and also encouraged some of us to keep an all night vigil around the campfire to fend off any would be "attackers". Shadows that were supposedly getting closer in the night ended up being deep rooted trees in the distance – luckily ! (It made for a good laugh in the morning though). Some of us woke up all sleepy eyed while others didn't even realise any commotion had found us in the night – their snoring literally speaking louder than words. Rest assured that we still have 24 members of the group and 2 trusty crew. I think Audrey and Maria are still holding on for the toilet though !!!!

Sunshine following our path now – we arrived at Volubilis – the southern most Roman ruins in the world. A couple of hours away is Fez and its Labyrinth of alley ways, ancient leather tanneries, and mint tea laden carpet merchants. The local hub of the medina made for a full day following our local guide in and out of the shadows. Regular stops at date, fig and nougat sellers until we unsurprisingly find ourselves inside a carpet shop !! With chip and egg burgers awaiting our hungry mouths – we all relax and learn about the various styles of traditional carpets, kilims, and blankets. It did not take long for most of us to be clutching a possible purchase and then to actually part with our Dirhams – after we all swore that we would never buy anything !!!What did they put in that mint tea ??? But more importantly – where the hell were we going to put them in the truck ???

Making our way to Rabat and Casablanca on the Atlantic coast – we spend many hours organizing our visas for Burkina Faso and Mali. All without a hitch except for an unexpected request for the crew to speak to the head Consel, who was enquiring into the birth count of one of our Canadian lassies Lisa. The officer was intrigued to ask how such a budding youthful beauty could possibly have popped out 27 children ???? It did not take us long to figure out the discrepancy on the application form was in fact a mix up with Lisa's age, and not a count of her healthy fertility rate or the number of ankle biters she had produced.

A bout of bubbly belly syndrome was experienced by a few of the group, but quickly treated by most. A late night call to a mobile doctor was quickly transformed into the arrival of an ambulance with doctor and 3 nurses for Rob – and all in no more than 10 minutes waiting time. Here we are with our thoughts of depravity and visions of 3rd world services – but how often would this happen at home and all for under £20.

Making our way to the Moroccan Sahara we bump into a Canadian / Moroccan in an obscure little local market. With an offer of tea and hospitality – we went to his farm for a few hours where we were plied with mint tea, fresh made pancake bread, tagine and bags of fresh organic herbs to take with us. An unexpected example of generosity and a experience that cannot be purchased using the usual methods of currency. A smile and a handshake and many thankyou's were payment enough for the chance to experience the local tradition and hospitality, that our culture has either forgotten or for which you have to pay for these days.

The market itself was small, dusty but full of atmosphere and busy locals – we were the only foreigners around. We were taken in as one of the locals – our money was valued and worth exactly the same as the local people buying their weekly supplies. Prices were not immediately inflated as soon as we walked in. It has to be said that cook group found it very hard to spend the budget on this day. Vege meal tonight – not too much meat around except for a head of beef !!! Like every carpet shop or market seller in the city offering free mint tea – local market shopping fills your tummy with the obligatory taste testing of sweet mandarins, dates, dried fruits – all can be tried before purchase. Local markets also allow us the opportunity to venture off the truck for lunch and to try out the local delicacies like sandwiches packed with either marinated meat or fried vege. The bread out here is a meal in itself – whether it be pita style or french influenced baguettes – all the better when they are hot and straight from the oven.

Some driving days allow us to stop to take in the natural beauty of the surrounding area – and stopping off at the Meske Oasis was no exception. From the top of the gorge where we had parked – vast views of the lush palm filled oasis spread for miles below. Amazing to see such vegetation when for the last good stretch all we had encountered was dry, desert like conditions. The surrounding land around the oasis was busy with activity – from drying all the seasonal figs and dates to farming and weaving. If lucky – we even get the chance to glimpse some of the old ways of the people or even more interesting are the old villagers themselves – some with old fashioned tribal tattoos on their faces announcing to anyone in the know of what region or tribe they are from (back in the days when passports were not around !!). This was actually a common practise throughout a lot of cultures through Africa – and its only every now and again that you get to see examples of this dying tradition (unfortunately at times it is while we are driving through a town – but worth seeing it even from a distance or for a short time anyway)

We farewelled the truck for a night and opted for a seat on a "Mercedes of the Desert" – a smelly, hairy, spitting Dromadare / Camel. Hardly an upgrade from our bright yellow Oasis home on wheels – but an experience we all enjoyed.

Our night in the desert gave Audrey and Frankie their first chance to see a shooting star. The black canvas of the night smothered with flecks of white as far as the eye could see. No intrusion from foreign lights or pollution to ruin the display out here. Even the moon has been sleeping for the last few nights – allowing us to enjoy another example of nature's beauty.

A local and somewhat common meal (for us now) of Tagine (stewed and steamed meat and vege with morrocon spice) was placed in the middle of the group – no plates, cutlery or formalities – grab a piece of bread and just hook in before it all gets eaten. Unsurprisingly - it didn't last for long !!!!! Traditional Berber tents made out of camel hair were our choice of abode tonight – while some opted to climb a neighbouring sand dune and to spend the night up there. Some more than others may have seen a few more stars than some of us – depending on how much silly juice they drank !!

Cold and windy Todra Gorge was our next stop – whipping some of our belongings off our rooftop perch and nearly into the depths of the gorge. Unlucky for Bettina and Wazza, who one minute had a tent set up nicely until it was sucked up in a gust of wind and spat out quite a way from its original sight. Luckily B had decided to cut her trek short – only to see all their things along the same path – and being eyed off by some passing locals. They were quickly retrieved.

Daz, Han, Max and James climbed up to an imposing Mt. top – rewarding them with amazing views of the gorge below. Most of the group were off for a trek of sorts through the day – lunch packs in hand and ready to get some blood pumping through our lazy overlanding bodies.

Massive floods had passed through the gorge only a week or two before our arrival – the worst in 40 years some of the locals were explaining to us. (All around the same time we were getting pounded with rain in Spain and Northern Morocco.) A lot of the road through the Gorge had been washed away from underneath – so some careful judging of the road by our driver Brendan (affectionately known as "Brenda" our "Steering Wheel attendant") was manoeuvred.

Making our way to Marrakesh – we B-lined to the picturesque Dades Gorge. A few hairy, and tight switch backs saw us bumble up the steep mountain side to our lunch stop. The drive to the gorge was some of the nicest natural scenery we had seen so far – all red and ochre mountains dotted with ancient Kasbahs and fortresses – and beautiful sunshine to go with it.

The most famous and picturesque Kasbah town of all awaited us at Ait Bennadouh. Built up on a mountain ledge with mud turrets and towers dotting up all over. Its no wonder and easy to see why so many Hollywood movies have made replica villages of the Kasbah – to try and portray that feeling of exotic - other worldliness that these kind of settings easily instill. And here we were seeing it with our own eyes and not through a movie screen !!

Nights bush camping allows for some time out in the open – always starry nights to gaze at while sipping a glass or two of fine 49 cent cask wine !!!! Or in Adams case – numerous refills of some cask Scotch whiskey !!!!!What would the Scots think of this ????? Mmmmm – his many offers to help him consume his "primo quality" jungle juice was not really taken up by many of us. It may be said that this was quite lucky for most of us to say the least – after seeing Adams involuntary "backward shuffle two step tango" which abruptly ended when he encountered the heavy solid metal mass of the truck !!!! (which by the way Adam – does not need holding up !!!) Maybe not the wisest choice of amber liquid purchased in Gibraltar – but definitely worth it for a laugh. Dan also found out through the grapevine that he got into Uni so a few of the guys decided to celebrate the night away.

Our 2nd member of Club Canada (Josh) allowed the group similar laughs on another bushcamp. It somehow worked out that photos of family members, girlfriends, boyfriends, dogs, cats etc back home were passed around for everyone to look at. Frankie, Luke, James, Beccie and Pete all showed off their better halves to the nosy group. Josh's "smouldering / model like" photos of himself alongside his man also came out for a show and tell. All of a sudden – Josh as we knew him transformed into "Shua" (short for Joshua) – with the help of a sneaky glass or two of happy juice. Proclaiming his love for everyone and with many offers of "tapping (servicing) the crew" generously given – we felt very privileged ?? (to say the least !!! We'll keep it in mind just in case Shua !!!! Many lonely nights lay ahead..) Shua in full force only comes out to play occasionally – but all worth it when he does.

Marrakesh gave us the chance to leave the supplies of our trusty truck, and to all eat out in the Jamaa El Fna market square – where local stalls get set up every day from 3pm onwards. After some crazy market haggling while buying Secret Santa gifts – we perched ourselves at one of the terraced cafes overlooking the square – a great way to spend the afternoon as dusk fell over Marrakesh. Smoke from charcoal fires and awesome smells rising from the square – we didn't need much enticing to get amongst the frenzy of market sellers trying to lure us into their little makeshift restaurants – and expanding our waistlines at the same time. We gorged on seafood, fresh salad, kofta kebabs, cauldrons of soup, mountains of cooked snails-and of course the obligatory and free cinnamon or mint tea. Not sure if anyone was game in trying the sheep's head – but there was plenty of talk about it. No one can leave Marrakesh without a good dose of Vitamin C from one of the many juice stands – and just to keep everything a bit regular like clockwork in the bathroom dept. – mountains of dates, figs, apricots make for a tasty and healthy snack.

Even though the truck was full to the max, we managed to acquire a new member on the team – a Marrakesh market chameleon. Truck pets are usually frowned upon by overland crew, especially as there are usually more than enough animals of the human kind on board – especially after a few weeks into the trip !!!! Dogs and cats are definitely not truck friendly additions – but "puppy" as she was nick named seemed to be behave and do well amongst our noisy rabble. We realized that she was a cool member of the group when on one occasion she deposited the contents of her bowels over Terry – our very own Queens English gentleman – and a very vocal one at that. Never short of a joke, wit, sarcasm – mostly all at the most inappropriate times – puppy summed up in one poop what we have been trying to say for the last couple of weeks – "Terry – enough with the crap !!") Nah- we all love Tezza really (aka – our very own Michael Palin) – even his extended travelling waistband of 4 cameras and travel gear – a walking target if ever there was one !!!! But he knows that we are laughing with him and not at him (mostly). All good fun and banter really. Nothing like 26 of us all from different backgrounds, ages (18 to mid 20/30's up to 60+), creed, colour etc being thrown together and making it all work – most of the time anyway!!!

From the shades of turquoise and blue alleyways and doors in Chefchauen, to navigating the labyrinth of market streets in Fez Medina, to gorging ourselves silly in the Djemma El Fna square in Marrakesh – each experience is another deposit in the memory bank.

Leaving Marrakesh – we head back to the Atlantic Coast and arrive in Essaouira. A great seaside town – still filled with traditional culture, local markets while allowing a more relaxed atmosphere and pace to what we've been used to. The whole town is encircled partly by old bastions and arched gates – filled with alleyways geared to the tourist dollar alongside local fish stalls and bakers. Any excuse for some of us to try out the local seafood – we bargained hard for a platter with selections of fish from in the local seafood stalls.

Huge waves along the coast were making life for the local fisherman testing. Not a lot of boats went out to sea – so not much choice for purchasing our dinner from the local fish market. But a friendly fisherman took us into the back freezer room of the market from where we scored a couple of kilos of fresh Dorado. BBQ-ing our feast back at camp – we fended of the camp cats who we un-intentionally trapped in the dustbins whenever we threw any rubbish away.

Beautiful surroundings like this signalled an urge in everyone to ditch the confines of their tents and to start sleeping outdoors on straw mats – excellent fun. Getting serenaded by natures orchestra is the best way to fall asleep out here.

This southern stretch of Moroccan Atlantic coast abounds with numerous shipwrecks – one of which we got up close and personal with. Some of the boys climbed into the bulk of the ship to hear the creaks and groans of the rusty remains. Eerily the ship had a voice of its own – enough to not make you want to hang around inside for too long.

On our way through the Western Sahara (the disputed stretch of land that is claimed and occupied by Morocco) we did not see much life except for a few settlements and villages – basically set up to cement the supposed Moroccan occupation of this area. The coast allowed us with a few nights camping by the ocean front and allowing for some great lunchtime swims. We found any excuse to find a suitable swimming spot. One particular secluded beach was just out of a front cover holiday brochure. Not another person in sight, crystal clear water – what more could we ask for? And as the saying goes "kill two birds with one stone" – it was exactly on the Tropic of Capricorn – a great day.

As we got closer to the border with Mauritania, we left the coast and encircled ourselves (along with the truck) inside the crescent of a 40 metre dune. It didn't take long for the child in most of us to creep out – even some of our so called "mature" contingent made the dash up to the top. Most were running up the dune and then catapulting themselves into mid air for a hopefully soft landing. Some found that rolling down was a lot easier – but suffering the consequences of having sand in most orifices of the body was not that pleasant.