After dramas with the guide, more precisely the lack of one, for the planned day walk around the Tazzeka National Park, we returned to the auberge to instead do a shorter walk from there. Aziz, a guy who worked at the auburge became our impromptu guide for the walk around the mountain that forms the red cliff backdrop to the auberge.
Heading up the track behind the auberge, which is popular in the mornings and evenings with the local people taking herds of goats and sheep up for grazing, it was quiet during the middle of the day. We passed through a grove of olive trees covering the barley crops below in a shower of cream petals from their star-shaped flowers. Patches of red poppies and yellow daisies provided even more colour contrast, while down in the valley was a patchwork of green and yellow - the villagers crops. We followed the track as it wound around the side of the mountain, until we reached the saddle. It was like stepping into a different world. What a difference rain makes - the lucky side could grow crops and olive trees while the dry side was lots of white rocks scattered amid stunted palms about 40 cm high. In between were a few scrubby trees, with spiky leaves resembling holly. It was a dry barren area where we all had to be careful where we put our feet as it was easy to trip over a rock or a stick.
Meandering along, admiring the view I spotted what looked like a sheep sheltering in the shade of one of the scrubby trees. On approach it was revealed to be a nanny goat who had just given birth to two kids - one white and one black and white. one was so new that it was still wobbly on its feed and was having trouble finding her teats for the first important drink. Some of the group were totally enthralled by them - me - I must have seen too many calves being born when I was growing up so my excitement was limited.
Heading back down again we found a shady fig tree in the middle of a barley crop that made an ideal lunch stop. Ursula found the tree branches an ideal seat while some of us found a comfortable rock and others turned their coat into a picnic rug. It was a shady and relaxing place to eat our tuna and tomato sandwiches, hard-boiled eggs and oranges. Nearby while looking at the wildflowers: white and yellow daisies, gold daisies, tiny mauve stars and a herbaceous white spike of flowers, we spotted a black blister beetle with three horizontal red stripes across its back. So heavy was it that when it attempted take-off, it resembled a helicopter. (Unfortunately my photo didn't come out well so I've included Catherines.)
After Aziz gave a wandering donkey a drink of water at a nearby well, we took a slight detour to watch the local shearing. With the mob of sheep sheltering in the shade of a nearby tree, the stubble-faced shearer had a sheep on the track (soon to be a short-cut road to Fes) with its four feet tied together. Back bent, he was carefully cutting the wool from the sheep using a pair of big, metal hand clippers. I actually remember us having a pair on the farm as a kid, but I am not sure what we actually did with them. Once the fleece was removed, he just added it to the pile on the side of the road while the sheep was finally free to head back and join its mates.
Past so stick-covered, earthen piles where charcoal smoldered, through a scrubby forest, across another stone and palm covered plateau, it was then time to head down, back into the valley that was home to the auberge. Soon we were back home, back on the terrace enjoying the view, the local wines, each other's company and a few nibbles. Tough!!!
Heading up the track behind the auberge, which is popular in the mornings and evenings with the local people taking herds of goats and sheep up for grazing, it was quiet during the middle of the day. We passed through a grove of olive trees covering the barley crops below in a shower of cream petals from their star-shaped flowers. Patches of red poppies and yellow daisies provided even more colour contrast, while down in the valley was a patchwork of green and yellow - the villagers crops. We followed the track as it wound around the side of the mountain, until we reached the saddle. It was like stepping into a different world. What a difference rain makes - the lucky side could grow crops and olive trees while the dry side was lots of white rocks scattered amid stunted palms about 40 cm high. In between were a few scrubby trees, with spiky leaves resembling holly. It was a dry barren area where we all had to be careful where we put our feet as it was easy to trip over a rock or a stick.
Meandering along, admiring the view I spotted what looked like a sheep sheltering in the shade of one of the scrubby trees. On approach it was revealed to be a nanny goat who had just given birth to two kids - one white and one black and white. one was so new that it was still wobbly on its feed and was having trouble finding her teats for the first important drink. Some of the group were totally enthralled by them - me - I must have seen too many calves being born when I was growing up so my excitement was limited.
Heading back down again we found a shady fig tree in the middle of a barley crop that made an ideal lunch stop. Ursula found the tree branches an ideal seat while some of us found a comfortable rock and others turned their coat into a picnic rug. It was a shady and relaxing place to eat our tuna and tomato sandwiches, hard-boiled eggs and oranges. Nearby while looking at the wildflowers: white and yellow daisies, gold daisies, tiny mauve stars and a herbaceous white spike of flowers, we spotted a black blister beetle with three horizontal red stripes across its back. So heavy was it that when it attempted take-off, it resembled a helicopter. (Unfortunately my photo didn't come out well so I've included Catherines.)
After Aziz gave a wandering donkey a drink of water at a nearby well, we took a slight detour to watch the local shearing. With the mob of sheep sheltering in the shade of a nearby tree, the stubble-faced shearer had a sheep on the track (soon to be a short-cut road to Fes) with its four feet tied together. Back bent, he was carefully cutting the wool from the sheep using a pair of big, metal hand clippers. I actually remember us having a pair on the farm as a kid, but I am not sure what we actually did with them. Once the fleece was removed, he just added it to the pile on the side of the road while the sheep was finally free to head back and join its mates.
Past so stick-covered, earthen piles where charcoal smoldered, through a scrubby forest, across another stone and palm covered plateau, it was then time to head down, back into the valley that was home to the auberge. Soon we were back home, back on the terrace enjoying the view, the local wines, each other's company and a few nibbles. Tough!!!
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