Narrowboatboy’s Big, Bad Blog...Narrowboat & Travel blog based on Lancaster Canal

“It’s    Friday, so it’s time to start taking it easy…Oh, and don’t forget your prayers today”…the Imam in the tower tried to inform us from the mosque before sunrise. Strolling down the desolate empty beach I spotted a dead camel, washed up on the sand in the night, so went over to have a closer look. As I approached, a grubby looking Tuareg wearing a pair of Arab wellies and a twisted turban popped up from behind it out of the sand like a genie. With a barked command and a kick of the tired, defenceless beast, he got it to rise up painfully with a groaning fart, and started to beckon to me with a view to climbing aboard the lanky, stinking creature. Once again, he was picking on the wrong fella, as I knew my camels, and had watched him lure a string of vulnerable, pathetic and gullible inner city tourists to mount his steed to look like idiots for a ten minute plod and parade down the beach for some ridiculously inflated cost of their hard earned dobbers! Not likely Sonny Ji...

The surf isn’t working today and it’s a little cooler so… Following the scrub and massage in the hammam yesterday, the body is now in good shape so the plan is to take the morning Alsa bus back into the big city again. Missing the bus by seconds we piled into a shared taxi for a 20 dobber ride as the cost is split so with an exchange at 1:13 we arrived half an hour later in town for less than £2. We headed straight for ‘Hassan’s bicycle Emporium’ to hire a couple of comfortable saddles for the day so we could have a mooch about at our leisure. He did us a ‘good price’, adjusted the seat heights and put a couple of PSI in the back tyre (cheeky bugger) and we were off, heading up first to have a look at the marina.  Agadir has a long seafront promenade and leisure marina, all rebuilt and modern following the earthquake that destroyed the city back in 1960. They are still re-building the city today and you get the feeling that one day it might get finished but it’s quite sad...

As the morning sun ☀️ climbs up out of the stratocumulus and above the hills, our forecast is down a bit to 27 degrees today. Early in the day the beach is devoid of people and 🐪 camels 🐪, just an odd fisherman and a few seagulls before   9am. Every morning, the fishingfellas stand by their boats with a small weigh scale to sell some of their nights catch so 2 freshly caught Dorado will do for tonight’s meal. The camels arrive later…  Bumjak beach is the spot for today for another afternoon session on the boogie board until, completely beaten by the waves it’s time to head for the hammam. …and then stick the fat dorado’s on the grill while we listen to Earth, Wind & Fire

There is a great sense of community here and entrepreneurial excellence as, for example, our evening meal meat was purchased direct from the butcher and then cooked on the grill next door and the drinks, bread, harissa soup, salad, tagine etc to accompany came to our table on the street from a small restaurant across the road…3 separate bills but all for next to nowt. As we sat with our morning brew watching the sun rise up warming the bay, the local fishermen set off through the waves for their daily catch. Yesterday had been great fun as after our surfing attempt, we opted for ‘Boogie-boards’ for the afternoon and had more success riding the breaking waves into the shore. Great fun, but when you get it wrong the power of the waves fold you like paper and cartwheel you along in a white blur…Now, the older bones and muscles are feeling the battering today so we are off to the souk! We piled on the local morning bus heading for El Had in Agadir, promising 6000 shops within the walled 13...

“ If at some point we all succumb For goodness sake, let us be young ‘Cause time gets harder to outrun And I’m nobody, I’m not done…” So, we have arrived at Taghazout, a small Berber fishing village on the Atlantic coast about an hour north of Agadir and nestled in the foothills of the High Atlas mountains directly behind us. Behind the penthouse door we found a wonderfully equipped and spacious ‘Surf Berber’ apartment that had everything we needed for the week and overlooked  the beautiful Taghazout bay….and the surf was looking good!  From the balcony we can sit and watch the enticing sets rolling in. Whoever said surfin’ was difficult just hasn’t tried hard enough…all you need is to be flexible and supple with a good balance, paddle-speed, technique, posture and the perfect wave and anyone can do it… That said, it took a good hour to slip gracefully into the neoprene snake-skin before we eventually managed to get the zipper to the position where the breathing became an issu...

  Pinch, punch it’s the start of the month…and the start of another blog! As the barrier lifts up it’s pitch black, wild and windy and the winter rain feels a few degrees above zero as we make our way into the long stay car park at Edinburgh airport to catch the early morning’Marrakesh Express’ flight out to the Kingdom of Morocco. We have between us 3 pairs of shorts, a speaker, sunglasses and a large lump of Mr Zogs Sex Wax…what more do u need for a winter break at a surf camp? This time, we are off to the Moroccan sunshine, spiritual home of the camel and the tagine…that would make a great name for a pub “Il meet you for a pint in the Camel & Tagine”…I digress… A week in the waves should be a tonic…so once Iv been swabbed for explosives by a stern Border Control operative we head for the Duty Free to purchase gin to go with it! Winding past the plethora of perfumeries and scarf-mongers we head for the gate, stopping to frown in despair at society as the baseball capped, shel...