We took the toll road heading east from Fès in the direction of the Algerian border.  An automatic machine dispensed the ticket at the start of the journey but when you left the motorway (oh the joy!) the pay booth was manned by a real person who took your cash payment and even gave you change.  Much less stressful than hanging out of the truck window trying to reach the “tap and go” screen with a credit card attached to the end of a fly swat (for extra reach) and with a queue of impatient motorists behind you.
The land looked dry and arid but there were several rivers in the area. Â They looked like dry river beds but they provided enough water for irrigation for citrus orchards, olives groves and even fields of potatoes. Â We passed stalls selling pomegranates. Â We stayed at a family-run camp site which was deserted when we arrived in the mid afternoon until the roar of 20 or 30 trail bikes shattered the peace. Â There were a few rooms for some lucky bikers but most of them slept on mattresses laid on the salon floor. Â The bikers were mostly silver-haired Frenchmen.
We paid under £40 for two nights’ stay with evening meals delivered to our truck.
