So...on Friday, we drove to Chefchaouen. It was nice, though not as beautiful as our December drive along the Atlantic Coast. In some ways it was reminiscent of Illinois:
In other ways, it was not (hills, piles of piles of melons, and what looked like salt harvests).
It was basically uneventful...except for one short incident. We were trundling along on a small road through the countryside when BAM! we hit a pothole. I looked back, and thought I saw a rock fly up. We thought nothing of it. Ten minutes later, we stopped to look at a sign more carefully. We looked up, and there was a Moroccan guy running toward us from about 25 yards away, holding this:
Apparently our hubcap had flown off! Peter's French came in handy, and the man demonstrated how the hubcap could be pushed back into position. We thanked him, and he nodded graciously ran back to his own car, and drove off.
On Saturday we explored the city. In the pedestrian plaza, before our mini-hike, I had an excellent avocado and almond milkshake. It sounds gross, but it was actually very refreshing.
Afterward, we hiked up to an old mosque on a hillside. From there we had a terrific view of the valley and city.
Chefchaouen is situated in the hills of the Rif mountain range, where there are some terrific hikes, especially in the nearby Parc National de Talassemtane. On Sunday we drove only about 30-45 minutes to get to the beginning of the hike to the Pont de Dieu (Bridge of God). On the way, we passed a reservoir which currently contained no visible water, but clearly still maintained more moisture than its surroundings.
I liked the way the Moroccans indicate that the roads are dangerous:
Our little rental is sturdy, but not super fast on those mountain roads.
There should have been some exclamation point signs near the trails:
The Bridge of God was rewarding...
...but not as much as the view of the river from the top of the hill.
Peter made me a nice walking stick.
Today, we drove to Fes. More on that tomorrow...
