La Palmeraie, Tifnit (Morocco 87274) return to.

The waxing moon last night was absolutely stunning. A thin curved sliver of light pierced the only blue sky. We'd never seen anything so fantastic. The moon, the sky, the palm trees. What a setting. So taken with the sight we were later to bed than we should have been, so this morning we were both tired. But we couldn't linger. There were coloured boulders to visit. As we left Tafroute we felt we were leaving the film set for The Flintstones. For those of you not old enough to remember, The Flintstones were a modern stone age family. The programme was animated and was one of the highlights on television in the sixties. Back then, it was comedy at its best for children and adults alike. Soon Marge was off the tarmac road and on a rough track off into the unknown. Around three miles of bumping, over soft terrain until in the distance we could see the spectacle we'd come to see. The painted rocks of Tafroute.

Back in 1984 the Belgium artist Jean Verame painted the rocks in tribute to his late wife. Whilst his original painted rocks are beautiful, the other rocks painted by, well anyone who fancies a go, are garish. Jean Verame was the reason we drove all the way down to Tafroute. 

His painted rocks were on John's list of places he wanted to visit. It was early morning, the only other visitors with us were two motorcyclists who were on the campsite with us last night. Early morning is always the best time to visit places like this. Less crowds, and the light is normally better for photographs. But we needed to make haste. Leaving this outdoor art installation we trundled back along the dirt track, spotting  some Dorcas Gazelles who flashed across in front of Marge and then hid behind the nearby bushes.

We'd decided once back on the main road we would retrace yesterday's journey back to Tiznit. We are now heading back towards Agadir, but the road from Taftoute directly to Agadir wound through the Anti-Atlas mountains with steep descents and continuous switch backs. Obviously it wasn't for Angela! What also didn't suit her nerves was low cloud over the mountains, with little visibility, that we had to drive. The plus side, John had the responsibility of driving us down safely, and because of the reduced visibility you couldn't see the drop. The Moroccans being the craziest drivers we've ever come across didn't feel the need to switch on their headlights and tail lights. Well, why would they? Originally, we'd decided to return yet again to Tiznit for a third night, but decided not to, stopping only at the town briefly to eat a hastily cobbled together lunch. Tomorrow we are going to be once again stopping at Agadir. We need quite a lot of shopping, fuel and want to return to the souk to eat a tajine at the correct cafe this time!

Then we will head east to the only campsite open on the road to Marrakech. We are now heading inland away from coastal breezes towards a  diverse landscape of mountains and valleys. John has had to research our onward journey to accommodate Angela's fear of mountain roads. He wisely decided the road where motion sickness pills should be taken before setting off was probably best avoided!

La Palmeraie, Tifnit (Morocco 87274)

Nearly everytime we park Marge up here someone wants to wash her down. It's really a pointless exercise with so much dust around, but appearances matter, so this morning John gave her a quick once over before we left the campsite. A short drive down the coast took us to Agadir. Yesterday evening, when we walked down to the beach we could see the sea mist rolling in off the Atlantic darkening the skies over the outskirts of the city. Today we were on a mission to find wine for Angela. So not to overload Marge too much she only bought only four bottles with her from Spain. Rationing herself to a very small glass a day, she has already consumed two. Morocco is an islamic country, so no alcohol is widely available. However, some larger supermarkets in Tangier, Casablanca, Agadir and Marrakech have a 'closed cave' often behind a curtain. Two bottles of Bordeaux, for not much more than she pays in France, she was a happy bunny. Shockingly, whilst deciding which wine to buy. A boy of around six years old, who looked Moroccan bought a bottle of white wine, with no questions asked. Wine and provisions bought we released Marge back into the mayhem and drove to the souk. When we came to Agadir in February 2025 we ate a fantastic chicken tajine here. Marge was parked in the care of a guardian, the one today barely spoke English. He spotted Angela had some crisps in the front of Marge and asked if he could have them. Having been in Morocco a while and seeing how some people live, rifling though bins for food, and selling stale bread to people like this man, she couldn't refuse. The souk was bustling, just as we remembered. We stopped at the first place selling tajine, which John thought was where we ate before. Angela wasn't so sure.

Never less we enjoyed a delicious lamb tajine. After lunch we decided to walk around the souk a while coming across the place we'd eaten tajine when last here. The guys instantly recognised us, especially Angela. Not sure why. We felt bad, we apologised for not eating with them. They didn't mind, they were so pleased to see us again.

Not wanting to be away from Marge too long we bought a gift from one of the stalls, Angela bartering with the man. Then oranges and a melon from another before returning to a cafe we visited before for tea and coffee. Back at Marge, the parking guardian asked us if Marge looked O.K. She seemed fine. Angela paid him, he asked for more but she said no, reminding him she'd given him the crisps. Smiling, he asked if we could give him a drink, everytime you buy coffee here they give you a bottle of water, so she gave him one. Looking to have a more relaxing day than yesterday we were keen to arrive at tonight's campsite by late afternoon.

It is away from the coast, and in the season you are unlikely to secure one of the one hundred and thirty pitches, as many people stay here for months. Today, there is just us, the peacocks, peahens and pea chicks. Bliss!