Wave du jour
I'm having trouble remembering this trip? Not due to large amounts of alcohol but because we surfed so many great days that they've all become a bit blurred...
After a nice 4hr plane ride we touched down in Agadir and walked out into the cool Moroccan sunshine. The board came off the conveyor belt in one piece and everything was looking good. Two suspicious looking fellows in surfing apparel made their way onto our bus...
We later became an 'inseparable surfing force par d'excellence'. 'French Dave' as he became known (amongst other things by simply inserting any word infront of dave) was a Cornish booger residing in the OAP's mecca of Bournemouth.
He was testing hard hats there or something. His fellow lifeguard buddy Ceri was also living there. Ceri hails from Caswell, Gower.
I was travelling with my girlfriend and the four of us quickly established a rapport, only surfers can achieve after sharing a few waves. They quickly took pity on us, offering us daily lifts to the coast in their deluxe rental - four doors + a boot.
Our first 'surf du jour' was near the surfing outpost town of Tarhazout. Most surfers visting Maroc end up staying in this place that wouldn't look out of place in a 'Mad Max' film.
It's a firm favourite due to it's close proximity to the classic breaks of Hash and Anka Point which on their day produce, achingly long walls of glass. Unfortunately for us they didn't deliver - looking distinctly average but we found better spots elsewhere.
Tarhazout is basically made up of guest houses, hotels, small cafe's and hash dealers who appear in all shapes and sizes offering you their "best price" Like most sellers of anything in Morocco, be it a carpet or camels, this equates to, "you're a tourist and I'm going to rip you off"
Our first surf was a mellow one at 'Mysteries'. The waves here were a bit of a mystery to all of us, nothing classic but a fun 2-3ft and sunny so it was a nice introduction to the local surf scene.
It was quite busy in the water but well spread out with about three spots all basically merging across one long beach. 'Mysteries' becomes 'La Source' further down which in turn becomes 'Killers', breaking a bit further out, off the headland.
I bumped into Albert from 'Odd' surfboards in Porthcawl over there with a bus load of surfers from Porthcawl and even managed to meet up with 'Son' - one of the guys I'd surfed with in Spain last yr. I spied him wandering along the road one morning with his trademark shuffle and blue board - it's a small world.
Our second day saw our first sorti out into the unknown. The local drivers are clueless and absolutely anything goes. Think whacky races in buses and you're getting somewhere close.
The horn is obligatory and after a few days coaxing, I managed to persuade our drivers to endulge a bit more. One of the locals we met told us that "if you use the horn people will think you're local" so we did.
Lane driving doesn't exist - everyone moves in and out, changing lanes randomly and overtaking whenever they fancy. Waiting on roundabouts for oncoming traffic, honking of the horns at red lights and then going on red is the norm here. Beware of the blue Mercedes taxis too...they have separate road rules altogether.
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