7 weeks and 150 years between us on a southern Morocco road trip (page 3 of 5)

We skipped it—it was raining. A little frustrating because it really looked like a beautiful spot.

I can't download the photos right now—I'll wait for better days to continue my travel journal. Today was my birthday, so now it's 151 years between us! 😄 Celebrated under the desert sun near Tighmert.

Happy belated birthday and best wishes for the future!

Happy birthday Anne! 🎂🎁🍾🎉😊 Though champagne might be hard to find in your area 😄

Thanks Marie Jo, I’m giving my travel journal one last try with fewer photos. Since I can’t preview it, it’s going out as-is. We leave Sidi Erbad in the rain, but not for long since we’re heading to Tiznit. We move slightly away from the coast, and the rain eases up. Our riad, *Le Lieu*, is easy to find in the medina, even though it’s tucked away in a tiny street. We drop off our bags and set out to explore the town…



It’s really charming and very commercial. Here, there’s a souk full of jewelers, and while Richard gets a haircut, I window-shop—no one tries to drag me inside, which I appreciate. We happily get lost in the little streets, still damp but with much more pleasant temperatures. Here are a few views.







The next day, we head to Aglou Beach for a walk. The weather’s cleared up, and the seaside promenade is lovely. Families come to picnic on the beach, and they never leave without their teapot, veggies, and skewers. Everyone’s still so hospitable—a woman offers me a skewer. *Choukrane, Madame*, it looks delicious, but keep it for your family. Thanks so much for letting us take photos!



A fisherman’s village was destroyed; all that’s left are ruins. It seems at least one fisherman has set up in a cave with his dog. There might’ve been more caves further on, but the rising tide and rocks littered with broken bottles don’t exactly invite a stroll. On the way back, the rain returns to Tiznit, so we decide to eat just outside the ramparts, not too far from our riad. We’d thought about heading to *Ferme de Tigmete*, a bit farther out and recommended by Aureora—we’d had tea there the day before, and it was really nice—but the weather changed our plans.

Thanks so much, a little tea in the desert was still pretty great…

Happy anniversary. All the best going forward.

With my network issues, I’ve fallen pretty behind, so I’ll group several stages together. We pass through Aglou again and stop shortly after at the eagle’s nest. We spend a great moment there watching beginner and advanced paragliders. There’s a real camaraderie with these lovers of great flights that, for some reason, gives us a winter sports vibe.



Mirleft is a charming little town. For tourists, there’s mainly the shopping street with restaurants and small storefronts. We’re staying at the Hôtel Alberti, and we’re lucky to have the top-floor room with a huge terrace. We treat ourselves to a bottle of wine to go with Friday’s couscous. We stroll around the fort, an old French bastion overlooking the small town.



The next day, we take contemplative walks on two really nice beaches. Nothing extraordinary to report, but we’re starting to feel like real locals with this pace—little teas, the sun, and all. I might even get some relaxation time on our terrace.





From Mirleft, it’s just a short hop to Sidi Ifni, a beautiful sleepy town. It’s very harmonious in blue and white, with architecture inherited from its Spanish occupation and little Art Deco touches.





From there, we head to Legzira, which is a must-see. A walk at low tide is essential if you want to pass under the arch, and grilled fish on the beach—we spend a really good long time here.



We return via the mountains to Sidi Ifni. It’s Sunday, and families are picnicking in the greenery near a dam. They always amaze me with everything they bring for their countryside outing—even rugs and cushions. But why do they leave their trash behind?



The sky is turning gray again, and new storms are forecast in the north. We’ll leave this little town in the rain, a bit disappointed not to continue further down the coast as planned, but the small *auberge du rayon vert* is fully booked. Let’s just say the weather is our excuse in the end. Goodbye to our friendly host at Maison Xanadu.

But why do they leave their trash behind?

That’s the question 😕 And it’s the same in a lot of places around the world, including France. But in France, there’s always someone behind to pick up the garbage!

Some recyclable trash gets collected. We’ve seen guys filling bags and women rummaging through bins, but then the bins are busted and left like that outside the containers. Often the containers overflow too. Back in France, in my rural area, there are piles of waste—cans and stuff—along the roadsides. It’s not better, just more discreet. Humans can be so disappointing sometimes. Sending everyone the sunshine we’ve finally found!

We leave the Atlantic and its mood swings behind to head east toward Guelmim. Or more precisely, to the Tighmert oasis. Our chosen retreat, recommended by other VF members, is La Maison de l’Homme Bleu. It’s beautiful, peaceful, and the meals are delicious. I might even take a little cooking class. Camel ribs for the evening grill—first time for us!



Plenty of spots invite you to relax—here, the tent is a great place for reading. The Wi-Fi isn’t great; apparently, fiber will be installed soon.



It’s not that we’re stressed, but the place is especially relaxing, and strolling through the oasis is a real pleasure. We visit the small nearby museum, where a bunch of artifacts from life in the old days are gathered, including the famous camel udder support designed to keep the baby from nursing.



The highlight of our stay is a day trip into the desert. The old, quirky Land Rover is perfect for the expedition.



Our very interesting guide tells us about the medicinal virtues of plants and the medical beliefs tied to drinking camel milk, which is said to even cure cancer… To do this, you stay in the oasis for a month, eat nothing but rice, and drink camel milk flavored with the urine of a young female camel—and you leave cured! Several centenarians live here, including French people who arrived in poor health years ago. Consider yourselves warned! Abdel gives us geological insights, and we pick up some galena stones—it used to be an industry here. We also visit a small site to see some prehistoric engravings.



And of course, we discover the hot spring—a small pool of water at 40°C fed by a geyser. There are quite a few tourists around, and I’d only dip my feet in… A full day with even an encounter with a large herd of Sahara’s stars.



The next day, we return to Guelmim for the first time to see the camel market being set up. There are a few camels, and the trucks overloaded with bales of hay are impressive.



We wander around the city and watch djellaba embroiderers. The threads are stretched and operated by a machine, and the embroiderers’ speed is amazing—a short video would’ve been more explanatory.

We’ll come back the next day, Saturday, when the vegetable market is especially rich. Here, you can buy sheep, goats, poultry, and just about anything else you can imagine.



We stop by Marjane, the Moroccan supermarket, and for the first time, we can withdraw up to 8,000 dirhams. Good to know, since everywhere else it’s no more than 2,000. Our long little stay at the oasis was really enjoyable—a place to remember.

Camel ribs for the evening grill. A first for us.

Oh?! And is it good? What does it taste like?

Yeah, that works. It tastes like beef. As a tagine, as kefta... but of course, you'll find it more in the south.

The camel chops reminded me of lamb—it was really tender. Thanks Marie Mathilde and Jean for the Blue Man’s address.

I love this way of traveling. Being nomads, just for the vacation time. It's awesome! Thanks for sharing with us.

Hi Violette, It’s time to hit the road again—we’re leaving the oasis and heading toward Tata. The route is stunning and easy, with the Sahara stretching out ahead of us. There’s little life in these harsh lands.



We pass a large herd of dromedaries.



Stop at the underground village of Icht. A child guides us through the maze of alleys. It’s still inhabited, and comfort here is stripped down to the basics. Richard helps carry water drawn from the well.









In Akka, we pick up a hitchhiker weighed down with bags and all sorts of containers. She has us stop after barely 1 km on the heights. It surprises us, but with all her stuff, we must’ve given her some relief. We get lost in narrow alleys that keep getting tighter. The women here wear skirts with two bright turquoise ruffles over their black veils, and when they ride their donkeys, the scene is really charming.



We can’t find the spot where we stopped 15 years ago, from which we’d explored the old village. There’s still some road ahead to reach Tata, where we’ve booked a campsite that also functions as a hotel. When we unload the car, we realize our hitchhiker took our fleeces, which were on the back seat. These fleeces are like a second skin—we’ve barely taken them off since arriving in Morocco. We’ll have our meal in the garden wearing our puffy jackets, but we’re a bit shocked. The next day, we decide to go for a walk in Agouliz. It’s a beautiful little hike along the mountainside, with a small oued flowing below. The road to get here has suffered major damage, and we have to drive on some pretty rocky tracks.



We end at the old Mellah, an abandoned Jewish quarter that’s quite crumbled. We walk—or rather climb—through piles of trash. The place doesn’t really charm us.



We decide to head into Tata for tea and try to find replacements for our fleeces. It’s starting to get really hot during the day, but mornings and evenings are still chilly. Our journey will continue toward Zagora.

Oh wow, Anne, my naivety took a hit with your hitchhiker story! Even though we know it can happen, it’s still so frustrating when it does. We’ve never had that happen to us, but once I wasn’t too comfortable with our bag in the back next to that day’s hitchhiker. In the end, nothing went wrong, and now we’re careful about what’s in the back before letting someone in.

In South Africa, we only picked up women because of the country’s reputation. Proof that it doesn’t prevent anything!

But despite the "risk," I really love these exchanges with locals. In some countries, it’s the only way we’ve found to talk to people other than hotel staff, servers, and taxi drivers. And I’ve kept some really touching encounters as memories 😊

Christelle

I'm really sorry to hear that... I've often picked up hitchhikers but I've never had that kind of trouble. It's so disappointing. Thankfully, the sun is getting more and more present. Temperatures should rise a bit. All the best.

Bad luck, but we kept helping out here and there. No need to worry too much about it… And yes, the sun hasn’t left us! We’re back on the road in our Dacia, heading to our next stop, Agdz. The road is still great, and we’re driving through breathtaking landscapes. Villages are hidden below the road, like Tissint.



We stop in Foum Zguid for a bite to eat. The town looks almost touristy now—it’s a common stop for desert trips or, like us, for crossing toward Zagora. Still, we decide to take the mountain road north to Agdz. Along the way, while we’re taking photos, a man flags us down—he’s run out of gas and asks for a ride to his village. Of course, he offers us tea, giving us a chance to step inside a Moroccan home. He even invites us for couscous the next day, but we politely decline.



His wife weaves beautiful rugs. Each design is symbolic, and the dyes are natural. We probably could’ve gotten a good deal… Either way, we admire the craftsmanship.



We drop him off at his car, and he’s over the moon. Thirty kilometers later, we reach Agdz—a town with little interest, but we push on to Tamegroute, where we’ve booked a stay at the Kasbah des Kaids. What an experience! First, we step under this archway and find ourselves in the dark.



They assure us we’re in the right place—luckily, a guy shows up, and we follow him through what feels like a maze of hallways and staircases. We’ll get lost again even after two nights! We sleep in a room with a tiny window, but it’s perfectly cozy. Sure, the comfort is basic, but it feels like stepping back 100 years. This little stay will leave a mark. It’s pretty cool to help this young Moroccan restore his hotel-museum, and the food is great. We’ll visit the palm grove, pick up some supplies in Agdz, and head to the waterfalls. Agdz is a good stop to break up the drive before Zagora. View of the mountains from the kasbah’s terrace.

I’m posting this without previewing because the Wi-Fi is weak.

The "fake breakdown" scam is really common in this region to get you to look at rugs. It happened to us too, a long time ago, when we were driving from Marrakech about twenty kilometers from Ouarzazate. Those rug merchants are *sly*. They’ll give it a shot. Now we know the trick. We don’t stop anymore when we see them on the side of the road with the car hood up...