Day 7:
Algeciras to
Marrakech
Today Mum and I are going to Africa.
It was another very early start to Day 7. But yesterday’s golden sunshine was long gone. Instead, an overcast sky lowered at the Algeciras waterfront, a cool breeze hinting at future drizzle.
We had booked a ferry sailing with Balearia from Tarifa to Morocco. However, Tarifa is about 15 miles from Algeciras, with no train station and extremely limited bus service. We were relying entirely on what had begun to feel like a ghost story: somewhere, supposedly, there was a free shuttle bus that transported passengers from Algeciras ferry terminal to the wharf in Tarifa. There was nothing on our ticket itself and no one in the hotel or bus station or taxi rank at Algeciras seemed to have had heard of such a bus. So, to summarise, we were not entirely sure that 1) the bus exists or 2) where it departs from or 3) when it departs.
Algeciras port is enormous, a vast expanse of freight docks and a huge passenger terminal. Inside - tucked around a corner – we found the Balearia desk, where staff cheerfully directed us to a bus stop in the car park to catch the shuttle. A few other passengers were already waiting. The bus did exist! I had half expected we would meet other Racers here, but we recognised no one, and saw no Lupine Travel logos.
While waiting I caught up with the WhatsApp group. Disappointment from yesterday’s countrycounter. Although they had tried, it turned out they had missed the only (tight) connection that made it possible to reach Marrakech before the cutoff on Saturday. So they had given up and booked a Ryanair flight, in order get to the afterparty in Marrakech.
A shower of messages greeted them, commiserating and encouraging, from the collected band of Racers on WhatsApp. It dawned on me that we will all see each other tomorrow evening. It felt a bit unreal. I’ve been following along with everyone’s messages and updates - it really feels like a community. By now more than 30 people have enthusiastically signed up for the Marrakech food tour. It’s not an official Race event - just a suggestion by one of the Racers - but it’s become an unofficial social!
Africa was so close we could see it clearly in the morning light, despite the overcast and slightly murky weather. The ferry to Morocco crosses the narrow channel that connects the Mediterranean to the Atlantic, at the point where Europe and Africa almost touch. Perhaps unsurprisingly, this stretch of water does have a reputation for being somewhat rough and windy at times. And that reputation is well-deserved.
We started out by taking a selfie on the deck, but rapidly headed indoors as the ferry turned to the open water and began to roll on the choppy waves. Walking was impossible; the deck moved so much that your feet did not land where they should.
As the ferry departed, a queue immediately formed at a desk inside the cabin. This was Moroccan immigration. We collected immigration forms, joined the queue, and had our passports stamped before arriving in port. On arrival we only had to hand in our stamped forms as we exited the boat.
Having boarded in Europe, and we disembarked less less than an hour later in Africa, rocky shores of both continents clearly visible, facing each other across the choppy grey seas.
Mum was exceptionally glad to disembark. Now that our feet were once more firmly planted on nice, stable, dry land, she pulled out the Race Pack, though, firmly back in Race mode.
“For Checkpoint evidence…. We need to photograph either the Rif Cinema…. Or the seal on the old US embassy. Which do you think we should go for?”
“I vote Rif Cinema,” I said.
“Yes, I think the same. How do we get there”?
The ferry port was located just outside the old medieval city walls of Tangier, which stretched out in front of us, a vast, smooth expanse of crenellated stone, pierced with massive, looming gates. In the distance a smattering of glass skyscrapers reflected grey skies.
We could see from Google Maps that the Rif Cinema was about a half hour walk, through a city gate and uphill into the old town.
Checkpoint 5: Rif Cinema, Tangier
The art deco Rif cinema has a great location, sited on a circular plaza on the edge of the souq, and we secured our checkpoint evidence readily enough. I had expected to see other Racers, but was surprised that we saw none. In fact, there were very few people around at this time in the morning. The city was surprisingly cold and gloomy in the drizzly air after yesterday’s golden sunshine. The souq was decidedly shut, kiosks and shops heavily shuttered. Too early in the morning. We decided to head towards the train station and find a café for breakfast.
At the train station, we immediately met another Racer – easily spotted in her Lupine Travel shirt – on her way to catch a train to Rabat. We pulled up chairs and gathered around a cafe table. I ordered Moroccan pancakes (msemen) but before they arrived we were joined by fourth Racer, on his way to Fes. It was so good to sit down and exchange notes! At this stage in the race everyone has now got stories to tell, and it was the first time we had heard from Racers who had chosen different routes. Everyone had followed the adventures and jokes of the WhatsApp group, but also everyone had had their own unique journey. Before long, though, we split again, each heading for different trains, with calls of “See you tomorrow!”
Morocco has the fastest trains in Africa – the high speed line opened in 2019 – and travelling on first class was a real treat. We sat upstairs, with great views of Morocco sliding past outside - a mixture of olive groves and wheat fields in the north, glossy new buildings and canals around Rabat, and then transitioning to increasingly arid desert as we headed south. The drizzle and clouds clung around Tangier only. Half an hour after leaving the city, a brilliant sunshine had appeared.
We had to switch to an older, slower train near Rabat, where we immediately met more Racers - a party of 4 guys we had last seen on the train in France.
The train finally pulled into Marrakech’s elegant art deco train station in the afternoon. We had chosen accommodation outside the town, with a nice big pool for Mum to swim in, so we said goodbye to other Racers and headed out of town.
For the last day or two we had mainly had sandwiches and salads for meals, snatched from train station cafes. However, for the final night of our race we now had time to celebrate Moroccan food. We had booked a table at Sahbi Sahbi, with an all-women staff and regarded as one of the best restaurants in Marrakech. The tagines and homemade bread were wonderful.
It had been a surprisingly long day for such a short distance on the map. We'd crossed a country, from Tangier in the north to Marrakech in the south. However, we had not finished the Race yet! I fell asleep almost immediately, full of anticipation to see everyone tomorrow.
