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Long way from home....
Sitting in a tent when it's -5 outside in the middle of summer with friends vomitting around you from altitude sickness at 10,000 feet. Long way from home.
With Dell having a mini mid season break I got offered a place on a budget expedition to Morocco - well I could hardly say no!... After stocking up on supplies in Marrakech we were off into the Atlas mountains to find a guide and pack ponies; leaving England, eventing and civilisation far far behind. We trekked from north to south over the Atlas mountains via Jebel M'Goun, one of the highest peaks in Africa and various gorges that wind their way through the mountains. The trip was totally accident free untill about 30 seconds passed in one of the gorges. We decided it would be alright to copy the Berber guides when they were diving head first into a waterfall pool. Albeit we didn't dive but we hadn't realised quite how shallow it would be, two near broken hands later and a twisted knee we just about got away with it. The second near miss was walking along an incredibly narrow path across a scree slope - think very large nasty looking cliffs below. A friend decided to look behind them and slipped, very nearly setting them off on the way down a kind of deadly playground slide.
After driving out of the mountains in a minibus that made a bus from slough on a saturday night look appealing we headed down to the Sahara. Now the trouble is in 50 degrees with no air conditioning is that you have to open the windows. This works fine until a sand storm passes through and you're in the window seat. Imagine 50 hairdryers on your face with sand being fired at you and you imagine what it felt like hiding under a roll mat wrapped round your face.... Upon arriving at the edge of the Sahara we managed to get a hotel room for the 13 of us without air conditioning - this is actually just a large scale frying pan. The plus side that cancelled any issues was that there was a pool. I'll never forget the look on a group of german sun bather's faces when 13 of us who hadn't washed for over a week dived in. The most common line was: "Where are you from?", "England", "Oh" as the nose turns up, they turn on their heel, flick the dirt and strut away. As if it was a crime to be English - Hey, God save the queen etc!
With Dell having a mini mid season break I got offered a place on a budget expedition to Morocco - well I could hardly say no!... After stocking up on supplies in Marrakech we were off into the Atlas mountains to find a guide and pack ponies; leaving England, eventing and civilisation far far behind. We trekked from north to south over the Atlas mountains via Jebel M'Goun, one of the highest peaks in Africa and various gorges that wind their way through the mountains. The trip was totally accident free untill about 30 seconds passed in one of the gorges. We decided it would be alright to copy the Berber guides when they were diving head first into a waterfall pool. Albeit we didn't dive but we hadn't realised quite how shallow it would be, two near broken hands later and a twisted knee we just about got away with it. The second near miss was walking along an incredibly narrow path across a scree slope - think very large nasty looking cliffs below. A friend decided to look behind them and slipped, very nearly setting them off on the way down a kind of deadly playground slide.
After driving out of the mountains in a minibus that made a bus from slough on a saturday night look appealing we headed down to the Sahara. Now the trouble is in 50 degrees with no air conditioning is that you have to open the windows. This works fine until a sand storm passes through and you're in the window seat. Imagine 50 hairdryers on your face with sand being fired at you and you imagine what it felt like hiding under a roll mat wrapped round your face.... Upon arriving at the edge of the Sahara we managed to get a hotel room for the 13 of us without air conditioning - this is actually just a large scale frying pan. The plus side that cancelled any issues was that there was a pool. I'll never forget the look on a group of german sun bather's faces when 13 of us who hadn't washed for over a week dived in. The most common line was: "Where are you from?", "England", "Oh" as the nose turns up, they turn on their heel, flick the dirt and strut away. As if it was a crime to be English - Hey, God save the queen etc!
Morocco is something you'll never see anywhere else. In the mountains the scenery changes round every corner from plateus' at 10,000 feet to waterfalls falling from cliffs. The culture spills out totally unconfined full of colour and vibrancy. From the friendy Berber people in the mountains to the nomads of the dessert right through to the people of Maracesh who are slightly corrupted by western influence there's a plethora of stories and language. Language is an interesting one. Most of the guides speak 7 languages. That said, my Spanish and French from GCSE combined with some arabic picked up from the guides meant I could communicate in a very round about way but it's surprising how much meaning you can get across with sentences of 4 languages (plus a bit of acting)!
Landing in England was a strange sensation. Being able to drink the tap water, speak one language, see greenery and not have to guard against pick pockets constantly was bizarre. I'd hadn't forgotten home I'd just remembered the bits that mattered. Eventing, friends, school, windsurfing and a few other things mattered but it makes you realise that somethings aren't that important - who cares whether we have to walk a 100m to get a drink, does it really matter? It also made me see how much I love England, I'm not sure what it is but I love it and despite current issues like the recession I'm not going anywhere. Of course within a few hours of hitting the tarmac I was back in the saddle and grinning as I realised things were really beginning to look quite bright. Check out thehome page of my website and you can read all about my new sponsor, equishopping. Plus, check out this weeks Horse and Hound (12 August 2010) p76 as I'm into the final six of the Dodson and Horrell bursary. Next stop is Chilham Castle where they've got a stunning new novice track which should be fabulous - big bold and technical - right up my street! Off to walk the course now.
Landing in England was a strange sensation. Being able to drink the tap water, speak one language, see greenery and not have to guard against pick pockets constantly was bizarre. I'd hadn't forgotten home I'd just remembered the bits that mattered. Eventing, friends, school, windsurfing and a few other things mattered but it makes you realise that somethings aren't that important - who cares whether we have to walk a 100m to get a drink, does it really matter? It also made me see how much I love England, I'm not sure what it is but I love it and despite current issues like the recession I'm not going anywhere. Of course within a few hours of hitting the tarmac I was back in the saddle and grinning as I realised things were really beginning to look quite bright. Check out thehome page of my website and you can read all about my new sponsor, equishopping. Plus, check out this weeks Horse and Hound (12 August 2010) p76 as I'm into the final six of the Dodson and Horrell bursary. Next stop is Chilham Castle where they've got a stunning new novice track which should be fabulous - big bold and technical - right up my street! Off to walk the course now.
Check out the photos for this blog here.
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Comment
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Comment by Chris Parkinson on August 17, 2010 at 1:37pm
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Wow, that sounds like quite an adventure you had! What's wrong with being English? I wonder why the locals in Morocco had a problem with that?
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