Todra Gorge – Not Having a Gorge-ous Time
I've lost track of the hours, the days. What week is it? What year? I can remember nothing but gazing at the endless expanse of roadway from my confinement on this bus. I have become... the People of the Bus.
Seriously, after another four hours in the bus cruising by small towns and stopping to take sweeping panoramic photos (usually of roadside stops or gas sations) we arrived at the Todra Gorge in the late afternoon. Settling in at the hotel, we soon met to get back in the bus and drive up to the gorge itself.
We slowly walked along the paved road through the mouth of the gorge and along the slowly flowing Todra River. Along the way we passed a series of kasbahs abandoned a few years ago when falling rock from the cliff above careened into the buildings, destroying the roofs and crumbling walls. After 10 minutes of walking, we stopped... apparently at the end of the gorge.
Given another 20 minutes of free time before being told to meet back at the bus, we zipped as far as we could as fast as we could up the winding road. There wasn't much to see besides limestone plateaus, a piece of cool graffi-tea and a cliff set up for climbing. Apparently there are about 150 routes for rock climbing in the wadi (river canyon). Ang and I were both bummed that climbing wasn't on the agenda.
Tea with mint,
Tinkling of fluffy water,
Savour the liquid,
That sails soft,
On your palate.
To our continued disappointment, hiking also wasn't on the agenda, especially with precious little daylight left in the day. There seemed to be quite a few trails winding over and around the limestone canyon walls, but we were being taken on a guided walk to learn about local life and agriculture. And by walk, I mean painstakingly slow meandering along the river and by small farm plots.
With every lackadaisical step, we learned about the various crops grown locally and the impressive, centuries-old irrigation system still in use today.
At the end of our second stroll we were given the option of getting back in the bus for a 10-minute drive back to the kasbah or a 40-minute walk back. I'm pretty sure I left a trail of dust at how quickly I ran from the bus. It was a lovely and welcome walk back at a human pace. I enjoyed passing by the homes and shops lining the road. Every group of women gathered to enjoy the evening smiled and said "Bonjour" or "Bonne soiree" as I walked by. Children playing by the roadside said "Bonjour, quel es votre nome?" - hello and what is your name? - as the sun set over the gorge walls and darkness fell.
Dinner was time for another misadventure. We had been given the opportunity to pre-order from our kasbah's restaurant, essentially eating in the hotel lobby. Wanting to find a cheaper, local restaurant, a few tourmates and I set out down the road to check out our options. We stopped at a few restaurants with their lights on and found to our dismay that unless you had a reservation, basically they did not have ingredients or food for you. We walked for an hour down the road to no avail.
Finding a helpful young lady, we asked her about how far the main town (Tinghir) was to find it was still kilometres away down a dark, winding road. So we started walking back to our kasbah and stopped in another hotel to look at the limited menu. Somewhat foolishly, I decided I wanted to see the options at a restaurant up the road only to be turned away.
Continuing our trudge back, we found our only options remaining were the same unimpressive restaurant at which we had a set-menu lunch or our hotel. Not liking our chances, we did stop back at our kasbah and were surprised to find they welcomed us and offered the full menu for our perusal. After a good meal, I gave up on the day and went to bed in preparation for our 4-hour bus ride to Ait Ben Haddou tomorrow morning.
We are the People of the Bus.
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