Day eight… Up early to catch a ferry. So lovely staying with G&A for a couple of nights. Spanish boarder staff were probably bored and wanted a peek inside Greta. Managed to delay the whole queue of traffic trying to leave Gibraltar. Short drive to the the ferry port at Algeciras. Slightly confusing signage at the port but we got there in plenty of time. Fairly small boat, mostly commercial vehicles and very empty. Easter Sunday I guess. Decent cafe at the front of the boat and watched the African coastline come closer. Border control at Tangier Med very simple. Our passports had been stamped on the boat and we had a couple of checks driving out of the port. There were only around 9 domestic vehicles on the ferry and we all had to drive onto a raised platform and exit before a scanner machine ran alongside. Strange system! Roads were very quiet and plenty of wind turbines scattered around the hills. Slightly awkward situation at the toll booth as we had not yet got any local currency but they accepted Euros. Beautiful drive up through the mountains to Chefchaouen (thank you Peter C for the recommendation!). Plenty of Police stops en route but Greta was waved through them all. Friendly police helped with directions to the nearest bank. Steep drive up a hill to the campsite and found a lovely spot amongst the trees. Walked into town down the steep hill to get local currency. 400MAD is roughly £30. Tough walk back to camp with an altitude of 780m. Reminded me of Snowdon! Drank plenty of water and happily munched on lentil burgers (thank you G&A!) and Spanish chorizo.
As the picture shows I managed to get a Kebab baguette on the boat. What a treat!
Border crossings are always either boring or a chore, and entering Morocco is a peach. Bizarrely we have to do the passports on the ferry, and the car when we arrive. Now it seems they have invested lots of money on fancy infrastructure akin to anything you’d see in Europe, and yet it is mostly empty with only a handfull of staff who as usual are bored and want to have a nosey in the back of the truck.
At least the roads are good and the views are stunning. Rach thought I was nuts for asking two police officers where there is a bank. There English was non existent, but with some crude sign language and saying bank enough we got there.
As for the campsite…. Holy shit Moroccans are noisy at night, with barking dogs, call to prayers, and some bloody drummer boy. I’m looking forward to heading South!