Just before 7am as promised our taxi arrived outside the hotel. It was still dark, and the roads were quiet as we drove back towards the airport. Buildings and housing surrounded by dry vegetation which shocked us upon our arrival, now were just the workplaces and homes of the people of Agadir. As we approached the airport the dusty suburbs gave way to an approach road bordered with manicured grass from which towering palm trees were positioned at precise intervals. We arrived in good time at the airport, only to discover our plane would be running thirty minutes late.
The first, of what would be four security checks happened as soon as we walked through the door to departures. Unlike Bournemouth airport they were strict on luggage size, so Angela rearranged her rucksack and squeezed everything down and kept her fingers crossed. One young girl had to pay £49 because her suitcase going in the hold was too large by two inches, understandably she was not happy, all was O.K. when she'd checked in at Bournemouth. After some drama whilst a mother emptied out her cabin baggage to find medication for her young son, we were an hour late leaving. Enjoying the warmth of the sun through the plane window we knew we were heading somewhere cold and damp. Temperature in Agadir today a cool 20c.
Temperature awaiting us at Bournemouth airport a cold 4c.
Some of the women on the plane toughed it out still wearing summer sleeveless dresses and flip flops.
The flight was only a third full, and as Angela had no one next to her in the window seat she was able to look out and take photographs as we flew out over the Atlas mountains. But after a while she didn't feel comfortable about looking down and moved back to her booked seat. Across the aisle a Polish man, with the unusual name of Magic talked a lot to anyone who would listen. Unfortunately for John sitting so close he was subject to nearly two hours of his tales. He said he was hungover, but managed to 'magic' away two small cans of Heineken lager and several Jack Daniels whiskies. As we approached Bournemouth the mood became sombre and the reality of a cold winter day awaiting us became all to real as the plane broke through the dense cloud and rain smeared the windows.
John thought perhaps we should have stayed another week in Agadir. Good idea, but no. You have to come home to set off again. Not all of you are probably aware that Muddy Marge now has a companion, a VW T6 California Ocean camper van called Margery. A little luxurious you might think, two campers, but she's part of our ten year plan, albeit she was not suppose to have been purchased just yet, but we were able to get her for a good price, so there we go.
Our car is sold, and she will be our daily drive as well. So watch this space. The adventures of Margery are being planned now. With reference to Joni Mitchell's 'Refuge of the Roads, journeys are life, and we still have plenty of living to do yet.
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