Thursday June 24th: Last galop

Thursday June 24th: last galop

Quiet night except for a few trucks early in the morning. We're looking at the return to civilization without much excitement.

On we are for 3.5 hours on the saddle. On the beach first, a last stroll on the sand by the waves. Last galop. Small incident at the end of the race with Andrea's horse, which doesn't stop as fast as expected and bites the back of Driwich, my horse. I don't really notice what's going on since Driwich avoids confrontation at any cost, and instead of kicking, starts dancing nervously. Everything is quickly resolved.

We head back for the hills. Properties, often empty, show up more often, the villages are denser. The closer we get to Essaouira, the more thuyas (trees) we see. These trees are higher, tighter, and a lot more thornier. I get scratched several times on the face and the legs. Along the ride, we see, among others, a tortoise and a beautiful blue lizard. It's easier to share the sight with the rest of the riders, these guys being quite a bit slower than squirrels.

Arrival at the last midday camp, somewhere along the road to Essaouira, at the edge of the forest, next to a windmill pump. Perfect for our thirsty horse, but also for numerous herds which pass by constantly without ever getting mixed up.

After lunch, under the trees, a truck arrives to pickup the equipment and the horses. We closely watch the loading, a bit confused as how they will get the horses on the back of the truck without ramp or obvious way to lift them up. Well, once all the rest (tents, "shower", mattresses, ...) are on the back, a thick layer of hay is spread over the deck, watered to keep is from flying all over, the truck moves up to where the sides of the road are high enough for the horses to walk on the deck flat (a few stones fill the gaps between the truck and the hill). The horses are tied really close together to avoid nasty kicks.

Off to Essaouira, about 15 minutes away. Abdel stays with us. We arrive just hours from the beginning of the Gnaoua, a big world music festival which starts with a loud and colorful parade on the main street of the Mogador. All things I love.

Our hotel, La Maison du Sud, is in the middle of the medina, unreachable by car. Which is probably part of the charm of the old part of town, the lack of big vehicles. Our luggages are brought on a pull cart. Once we get our room, I drop off my luggages and go buy a pair of shoes. My hiking/riding shoes are completely toasted, the sole is long gone and holes are developing through the last layer. I will leave them here, in Essaouira, a very decent final destination after years of loyal services around the world. My trainers are still a bit wet from the last galop in the ocean, and just too warm. I'll find out once back in Switzerland that these shoes as well are somewhat destroyed: the soles are starting to take off...

Ballade in the Medina with the girls, shopping and haggling. Yes, we have to get used to it, even if we don't like it so much. We quickly gain in conficence. Well, let's say that we feel like we're doing ok, but I not sure to what degree.

As I'm tagging along with Jayne and Andrea in a painting gallery, I hear commotion on the main street, just after the gate to the Medina: the bands of the Gnaoua are parading, showing their skills in any kind of possible drumes, songs, dances, and fancy costumes.

After an early dinner, we're going back on the streets. It's after the sunset that the town comes alive. Very crowded, but also very happy and comfortable. We join the rest of the crowd massed in front of the stage on the main square to enjoy the Gnaoua. No idea who's playing, but does it really matter, the music is wonderful. Andrea and I head back to the hotel quite late that night.