Day 57 – It’s a blue ending to today’s journey and our time in Morocco . . .

Stepping outside the European-ness of our usual existence and into an alien landscape, has on many levels been a most rewarding experience. Our final evening rewards us with an act of kindness that expects nothing in return. Something we’ve learned that in Morocco is a very rare commodity.

With our planned over-nighter at Motel Rif duly ignored as we sail by, we gain a day and carry on up to Chefchaouen. A further 70K. It’s still early afternoon. Chefchaouen is our last port of call before leaping back over the Strait.

The blue houses of Chefchaouen attract many visitors – homegrown and overseas. We share this viewpoint with a coachload of Koreans. From up here the blue painted walls are barely visible. We can’t see what all the fuss is about.

We’ve still to get to the site. We know it’s near. We can smell it. We just can’t see it. No signs to give us a clue. It’s not on our paper map. It’s not on our offline map. It is however showing on Google Maps. That’s not much help when the road to it is up for repair and not accessible. We go Google eyed. Google up this way. Google down that way. The streets are very narrow. They are steep. Porlock Hill steep. A couple of times Beastie’s tyres spin. Traction control needed. We’re getting hot and bothered. Stop again to try and get a handle on where we’re going wrong. Problem is there are no handles. We’ve lost them – along with our humour. Suddenly Roger Moore pulls up alongside. The Saint, isn’t driving a Volvo 1800 S. He’s in a Petit Taxi. “Looking for the camping? Follow me” . . . He picks up another customer on route. Takes us right to the door. Gives us another friendly wave and makes to leave. What!? He doesn’t want any money? Incredible. Now that’s kindness. We flag him down and handover an unexpected bonus. He’s over the moon. Smiles all round. And relief on our part.

Clinging to the overlooking mountain, the small old town is a mass of tiny alleyways. Randomly and tightly knitted together. Two shades of 4-ply applied everywhere. However, you can only go one of two ways. Down and up. We start by going down.

There’s a tension in the air. We can almost touch it. Less than an hour to sunset. Less than an hour before today’s Ramadan fast ends. Less than an hour to dinner. The kids feel it too. Five and six years old scamper around the lanes singing and dancing. Their fervour echoes. Bounces around the ancient walls. Adds to the excitement. Some men exchange harshly spoken words. Probably over something trivial. It’s all in their minds and not in their stomachs. We imagine that as Ramadan continues more and more frayed tempers will snap.