I made it! Phase one is complete, Europe is behind me and I am writing this from African soil - travelling proper has begun! I can tell this because in the last 24 hours I have been hustled by touts, seen border security punch a couple of people in the face, noticed a distinct drop in the respect for traffic laws and been woken at 5 am by a call to prayer.
Everything happened a bit quicker than I anticipated. I wasn't sure whether to get the ferry on Wednesday afternoon or wait and get it the following day, but after popping in to the terminal to check times and prices I found myself within half an hour on a ferry heading for Ceuta (Spanish soil), and from there joined the queue to cross the border into Morocco. Compared to the orderly process at the Chunnel (the only other comparable border crossing of this trip) this was a lot more entertaining. Hordes of people were trying to cross both ways, the Spanish guards were calling people sons of whores and threatening them with batons while the Moroccan ones were just shoving people. One guy seemed to take offence and kicked off, at which point he was dragged off by the police not to be seen again. I don't know what happened but I am guessing it involved him getting hit.
The paperwork side of things was actually very straightforward, and in less than 20 minutes I was out and riding off into the Moroccan sunset. While this was very much in line with my instincts to press on and make progress, as I rolled onto the highway it struck me that I had no idea where I was going. I decided to trail a French campervan on the basis that they were probably heading for a campsite but I think I might have scared them as after 20 minutes of me sitting directly behind them they pulled over until I went past. Luckily I was saved by my maps, and was camped up and asleep before 9.
Everything happened a bit quicker than I anticipated. I wasn't sure whether to get the ferry on Wednesday afternoon or wait and get it the following day, but after popping in to the terminal to check times and prices I found myself within half an hour on a ferry heading for Ceuta (Spanish soil), and from there joined the queue to cross the border into Morocco. Compared to the orderly process at the Chunnel (the only other comparable border crossing of this trip) this was a lot more entertaining. Hordes of people were trying to cross both ways, the Spanish guards were calling people sons of whores and threatening them with batons while the Moroccan ones were just shoving people. One guy seemed to take offence and kicked off, at which point he was dragged off by the police not to be seen again. I don't know what happened but I am guessing it involved him getting hit.
The paperwork side of things was actually very straightforward, and in less than 20 minutes I was out and riding off into the Moroccan sunset. While this was very much in line with my instincts to press on and make progress, as I rolled onto the highway it struck me that I had no idea where I was going. I decided to trail a French campervan on the basis that they were probably heading for a campsite but I think I might have scared them as after 20 minutes of me sitting directly behind them they pulled over until I went past. Luckily I was saved by my maps, and was camped up and asleep before 9.