0191. Ruins of a French Garrison (Mor 040—new)

The day started out normally enough.  After spending the last two days visiting three towns along the Fes-Oujda highway, I was eager to get out into the Moroccan hinterlands.   I headed out early--I'd learned that the "village vans" don't run too frequently.  "Mhirija" was the closest town to Guercif on my map--and soon enough I'd found a van heading that direction.

After about an hour the van had finally filled up and we were on our way.  We headed straight south--through a pretty desolate wilderness with only distant mountains on the horizon.  Every now and again someone would get off and wander off in scorching heat... I strained my eyes but I there was no sign of any houses anywhere...

The van was almost empty by the time we reached Mhirija--I knew what that meant:  Mhirija is not a very popular destination.

  Sure enough, it was a completely characterless dusty little village that took me about ten minutes to walk around.  I couldn't really walk around any more without looking more ridiculous than I already did, and I was definitely in no mood to just hike off into the barren wasteland.  So I sat down at the only cafe with three dirty tables.  The owner wasn't even there--so one of the other customers when in and got me a soda.  Yep, it's definitely a small town.   I just sat there a bit, soaking in the vibe.  A truck full of rowdy musicians and wedding guests rumbled past, adding a little bit of excitement to the scene, but that was about it. 

Not sure if I wanted to head on looking for some other dusty little village or head back to the main highway, I ambled down to the main road to take my clip under the shade of a couple of trees.

  That's when my day started to get better... a LOT better...

Two fellows who were waiting for a bus came over and insisted I play a song for them.  As I strummed away, their bus sped past... I hope the song was worth it! 

I asked them about a crumbling old fort like structure over to the side that had caught my attention.  They said it was an old French garrison and offered to show me around.   It was quite impressive to explore--with its underground rooms for storing provisions and ammunition, its orderly rows of stone barracks... but even more impressive was the feeling of utter destruction.  Clearly this fort went through some rough times.  This fort visit was going to acquire even a greater significance over the next few days.

The two fellows suggested that I head up to the mountain villages "the weather's a lot nicer up there... and you can catch a van right here by the road heading up there..."  Sounded like a good idea, so I thanked them I went to wait under a tree.  A fellow waiting there said the van to Rchida had already left, but another van would be coming that would take me an hours hike from the town...