We’ve spent the majority of our first month in Morocco exploring the northern tip of the country. We’re excited to finally get over the Atlas Mountains to the arid south and our next destination: the small surfing beach town of Mirleft.
Mirleft is located 400 miles to the southwest, but getting there involves a jaunt over to the coast to go around the mountains (at least by rail) before heading back inland to Marrakesh. Then it’s another bus back to the coast (and Agadir), and a final bus (or taxi) tracing the Atlantic coastline to our final destination.
Our Euro-African Journey (So Far...)
But before we even get to that, the very first leg of our journey involves muling our gear through the winding alleyways of the Fez Medina to the nearest taxi pickup spot, a 10-15 minute journey on foot.
From the Medina gate, it’s a short taxi ride into New Town where the main rail station is located.
Fez is connected by rail to Tangier to the north, and Rabat (the capital), Casablanca (Morocco’s largest city), and Marrakesh (Marrakech) to the south.
Today, we’re riding to the end of the line in Marrakesh. Tomorrow, we’ll push farther south.
We normally ride second class on these sorts of train journeys, but seat61.com (my go-to for years for rail travel advice) strongly recommended paying the extra few bucks to do first class on this one—the main reasons being more comfortable seats (it’s a seven-hour journey) and ability to reserve seats.
It was a really pleasant (and scenic) journey with relatively modern and comfortable facilities.
The boys also got their first “bottomless-toilet” experience, where the contents of the toilet dumps right on the tracks (the bottom of the toilet is just a trap door).
Noe was beside himself, and listening to him recount his experience coming back from the bathroom was highly entertaining.
I first encountered this on a train in Greece 25 years prior, then in India in 2012. I thought that maybe this charming little carryover from yesteryear may have died out by now, but it seems Morocco is a holdout.
Something else that caught me off guard was the speed of the train. Morocco’s Al Boraq high-speed trains were inaugurated in 2018 and are the fastest in Africa, with a top speed of 200mph.
However, this is NOT an Al Boraq train (they only ply the route between Tangier and Casablanca). This is a classic IC (Intercity) train. So I was not expecting to clock it going 100 mph.
An hour into our journey, the snack and beverage trolley arrived.
Nothing terribly exciting, but they do have hot coffee (and the functional toilets to match). What else do you need?
From Fez to Rabat, it pretty much looked like this the whole way.
Then, almost immediately after leaving Casablanca and heading inland, the scenery took a dramatic turn for the stereotypical Moroccan, which I was very happy to see. It’s finally starting to feel like we’re in North Africa!
Arriving in Marrakesh, we were greeted by sunshine, and our first international chain in Morocco (Starbucks in the main station).
This is just wrong. Why bother? Don’t tease me, just give me a mint tea.
Many visitors who go to great lengths to get to Morocco end up staying in Marrakesh for more than a few hours. Not us. At least not this month. Marrakesh for us is merely a quick stopover to break up to long travel days on our way south.
Don’t worry, we plan to be back in March and look forward to spending a lot more time here.
We got a place for the night near the CTM bus station, and after a quick (and delicious) French-Moroccan breakfast, made our way next door to catch our bus.
The four-hour bus ride from Marrakesh to Agadir was uneventful, but offered some unique scenery.
The boys split their time between reading, listening to music, and staring out the window.
CTM buses don’t typically have functional toilets on board. But they’ll make a stop every two hours or so at a travel plaza. The CTM drivers always tell the passengers five minutes. We’ve come to learn that can really mean anything.
On our last bus, that really meant five minutes and we nearly missed it coming back from the restrooms. One time the wait was over thirty while the bus driver enjoyed a kebab lunch and coffee. This time around, we sat here for about 15.
In places like Mozambique and Laos, the driver would often disappear for long periods of time without saying a word. At least in Morocco, they take the time to tell the passengers something.
In Agadir, we hopped off the bus, hit the WC, and immediately hopped into the taxi we had pre-arranged to take us the rest of the way.
There is indeed a CTM (maybe two, it wasn’t clear) that plies the route between Agadir and Mirleft. But the arrival/departure times didn’t line up well, and with the four of us and our stuff, it wasn’t that much more to get a private taxi for the last 100 miles of our journey.
It took a little over two hours, door-to-door, 30 minutes of which was spent simply getting out of sprawling Agadir.
The drive south took us along the rugged and sparsely-populated Atlantic coastline of southern Morocco. It’s a stunning part of the world.
Two full travel days after leaving Fez, we finally roll into our home for the next month.
The hub coordinator, Aliya, was waiting to great us and show us to our digs for the night. Tomorrow, we’ll move down the road into our longer-term apartment.
We weren’t sure what to expect before we got to Mirleft. We knew it offered good surfing and was a lowkey hide-out for snowbirds from Europe during the winter. We also knew that Berber culture was strong down here, but didn’t exactly know what that meant in practical terms.
In the information sent to hub participants, it mentioned two places in town to grab a drink…as in, alcohol. Having spent the last month in Morocco and rarely encountering such places, I was skeptical. In little ‘ol Mirleft?
But sure enough, there it was, dominating the main drag: Casablanca. It was Saturday afternoon, so we thought, why not? We ascended the stairs into a movie-set inspired dining room and ordered up Morocco’s two native beers: Flag, and of course, Casablanca. It was our first time trying both.
For a country that doesn’t drink beer, they were surprisingly pretty good.
Now, why Morocco actually has its own beer companies, and for whom they are made, I haven’t a clue. It’s forbidden for Muslims to consume alcohol in Morocco, and Muslims make up close to 99% of the population. Tourists and the other 1%, I guess.
We didn’t leave the boys out. They got a Shirley Temple. One apparently giant Shirley Temple (grenadine…with a dash of soda), lovingly split into two huge glasses.
Tomorrow, Hub Day #1!
