The road to Fez passed green rolling hills and fertile valleys. Stalls by the road side sold fruit and vegetables grown locally. We stopped later that afternoon to buy some figs and pomegranates and to have a delicious glass of freshly squeezed pomegranate juice.
As we drove into Fez we stopped at the supermarket, Marjane. We were not surprised to find we were being followed by a man on a motor scooter. The biker offered to guide us to our camp site and, although we knew exactly where to go, we agreed for him to guide us. He would then introduce us to the camp site guardian and offer us a tour of the city with his “brother”. We had been on the Fez tour before so we didn’t need the services of his brother but he seemed delighted with the 10 dirhams (80p) we gave him for his trouble. We only stayed one night in Fez, it had started to rain heavily and the campsite was run down and dreary.
It had been raining continuously and the roads to Azrou, a town in the Middle Atlas Mountains at 1250 metres, were narrow and treacherous. The 90 Km drive seemed much longer and we were relieved to finally arrive at the Euro Camp Emirates Tourist Centre, a facility (folly) with a lovely camp site built by wealthy Saudis as a resource for the local people. The site was situated on a terraced orchard surrounded by green hills covered with oak and cedar trees.
The following morning blue sky greeted us. There was a knock at the door and we were handed a freshly baked French stick by the guardian, Halid. We briefly met up with an old friend, Mathilde, who was leading a group of 18 Belgium camper vans on a Moroccan Tour. We had often stayed at Mathilde’s lovely camp site set in olive groves near Córdoba, Spain.