Many moons ago when I used to travel by road from Europe through to Morocco with various companions sourced through the American club in Estepona on the southern coast of Andalucía, Spain, that wonderful Azure blue coastal district, leaving the frenetic port of Algeciras across the turbulent Gibraltar straights and steaming steadily away from the surfers paradise of Tarifa town. Thoughts of Morocco and Tangiers filled each new companions head and My own thoughts, as we both became more articulate and then nearing the port of Tangiers became mysteriously quieter. This particular companion was Hans, a very amenable Danish gentleman for whom the delights and anguishes of this great continent were soon to be experienced.
Mostly our trip, as it always became, was a great voyage through the vibrant colours and exotic aromas of Morocco, through cities, towns, villages and great deserts we traversed deep into the continent over about two weeks ,which was my normal habit over many trips by this method at that time in my career. Snake charmers in Marrakesh, great family tarjine feasts in the desert regions where hospitality holds no bounds, to tiring sojourns over starry midnight passes.
Eventually our path led us to head northward home on this particular navigation of the Anti Atlas mountains, again the hour was early, too early, the small hours, as we traversed late in the year, the now increasing snow line towards our destination, a small satellite town high up in the snowy caps.
The old Mercedes truck laden down with rocks struggled slowly upwards which put us behind our schedule by many hours and making driving an arduous task. Even the blackened sky dotted with bright twinkling diamonds didn’t revive our spirits as the interior of our truck became colder and colder, even through our attempts to wear all the clothes we owned. The lonely night was suddenly pierced by eye numbing headlights in our wing mirrors as a lonesome vehicle approached speedily, well more than the 25km an hour we were making, it came up behind and hugged our rear for a few kilometres until we finally made the top of the next high level plateaux and the road levelled out, then the car packed full of passengers sped past us on the single track road I had heaved too and allowed them to overtake, carefully watching as to our left the drop was several hundreds of metres. We watched as the red taillights rapidly left us behind weaving some distance ahead, then suddenly seeming to slow and even stop [enormous snow flakes had started to fall], we thought maybe this was one of the many police or military checkpoints , the recognisable upright peaked roof box and counter weighted red and white bar which were scattered around the country at that time and so we prepared to slow as we neared the scene.
Suddenly and shockingly the taillights reflecting in the snowbound mountainous track littered with boulders appeared like a rocket come to ground, the rear off the car striking out of a shallow ditch to the right of the track near a slight bend in the rough road. horror struck the pit of my stomach as the way being so icy [I knew from experience on these passes], the slightest touch of the brake pedal assuredly meant a sliding scenario. all I could do was try to negotiate the wreck and take my foot off the gas and prey for the best. This is exactly what took place and keeping a steely grimace, my teeth clenched and eyes wide open in complete terror our truck now careered past the wreck and started to slide on the slightly inclined downward track.
It seemed like more than one lifetime as all passed before my eyes. Hans my co-navigator shouting in my ear to stop and all the time I crashed down through to first gear, not concerned to crunch the gearbox, just to S.O.S! The overweight truck rocked from edge of track to edge of track and kissed the left-hand edge which meant if crossed, instant death, the weight in the truck would surely have been the finish of us, more than once, we slid diagonally and I managed to right our heading. The experience was certainly life changing for both of us. eventually the old truck began to slow enough that Hans could jump out of the cab and fix a tyre wedge under a front wheel to bring us to a final shuddering and rocking halt.
Having plucked both our hearts out of our throats and seeing the victims of the car wreck, a group of goodly Moroccan men heading for the same town, run down toward us shouting with seemingly fear for our lives more than their own and coming to our aid was a now a comical scene to me, I suppose this born out of tension.
We all re grouped in our truck around a gas burner. One of there party, having been in the open without heat for maybe 10 minutes was bitterly frozen and it took several minutes for him to feel more thawed out from generated heat of his friend rubbing his over coated body, arms and hands, he was a very thin framed chap. Eventually we all piled into our truck and got to the town safely, some of the car wreck men with minor cuts and bruises and found an all night wood burner in a local garage, come coffee bar where we spent a night of unrest among other immigrants all now stuck as the snow started to fall rather heavily, like great white sheets obscuring any view beyond a few metres glimpsed through the few dim illuminated and aged street lights. Hans and I looked out periodically and wondered how long it could last!
We did eventually go out and down the mountain taking a rare opportunity behind a snow plough early next morning, passing stranded buses, lorries and cars and almost twice losing the road even behind the snow angel. eventfully we got off the anti atlas and headed to our port of destination and eventually back to the American club for warm drinks, you can imagine which warm drinks were on the menu on our return!
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