Fan y Big

Another icy cold late December morning.  

Plans were laid to drive further up into the Brecon Beacons near Merthyr Tydfil, park the car at the foot of the peaks, and hike the "horseshoe"- a trip up a mountain and across the ridge lines of the next 3 or 4 peaks before heading back to the carpark, a trip of 14-17 miles, 

First, we had the young bulls to contend with.  They scrambled and fought and pushed each other all over the trail, pausing to catch their breaths, smoke rising from their faces.

The day started clear, but as we started the incredibly steep climb up Fan y Big, our first obstacle, and the clouds set in.

Once the trail evened out for the ridge walk,  I longed for the steep staircase again as I was unhappily ice skating on the trail.  I'm not exactly the most nimble of hikers, and the entire trail was nothing but a glare of ice.

Then the wind picked up.  The fact that we were walking on an icy cliff-side trail was comforting to me since I couldn't see the sheer drop into the abyss.

I had a full-on scarf covering everything but my eyes, hat and hood and layers of heavy woolens and a wind-proof jacket and mittens and I was not exactly cold, but not comfortable at all in that wind.  I kept hiking on the moorland instead of the trail- the going was slower, but less icy.

It cleared enough for me to see that we were quite near the edge of the world.

Coming down Fan y Big, we got low enough for visibility to happen again.

In front of us, the peaks of Cribyn, Pen y fen and Corn Du.  We had already done the majority of the climbing, so going up the next few peaks would be relatively easy.

We hit the crossroads and I just decided that I wasn't having fun.  I'm not a complainer at all, but the ice and wind and lack of views meant I just wasn't enjoying myself the way I usually do on these hikes.

It was a hard choice- turning our backs on three big peaks in walking distance?  argh!- but I decided that I had enough.  Walking head-on into the wind was just exhausting, and when we stopped in between peaks, I realized how shaky tired and cold I was.

We headed back down the valley to the car park, mercifully tucked away from the wind.

I was told that Corn Du was quite a scramble to get up, and the original plan would have been to walk back along that ridge line.

Once we hit the car park, we had a tiny bit of daylight left.  After wolfing down our sandwiches in the car (it was cold enough so that getting a sandwich up to my face on the trail seemed impossible)  we tried to do another walk since we had only done 8 miles for the day, but after a couple hundred yards I headed back to the warmth of the car.

The area was really stunning.  Summertime here is a new to-do for me.    

Arcadia

I'm always so conflicted about national parks. The idea to make things more accessible by building tons of roads through it kind of ruin the beauty of the place for me.

Still.

It is a really spectacular place. Ditch the car and take a hike and you'll find some peaceful places you wouldn't see otherwise.

While the weather wasn't ideal...it's still totally worth a gander. Get up early to watch the sun rise from the top of Cadillac.

Le Pont du Dieu

The area around Chefchouen ended up being a paradise for hiking. I honestly think I could go back and spend a couple weeks there exploring the mountains. Lots of parks, preserves and forest.

We did squeeze a hike in. People we met in Rabat kept telling us we need to go see Le Pont du Dieu- The Bridge of God.

After a little research, we found the trailhead. The trails here aren't really obviously marked or mapped. Local knowledge is best. For a longer hike, I would consider hiring a guide as I don't think being lost here would be very fun.

We got there early and had the trail to ourselves.

That is, when we could find the trail. We ended up blazing up a steep cliffside when the trail we were on dissolved into rocky ground. No markers, no blazes, no cairns.

Once we found it again, it was an easy hike. It probably would take all of 45 minutes to get there if you didn't lose the damn trail.

So I was told that late afternoon was the best time to see the bridge. Why?

Hello, sun.

Despite it being a bit tricky to even see the thing, it was impressive.

A natural stone bridge (reinforced by man) connecting two mountain peaks, a thousand feet above a gorge.

It was a really nice hike, but once again, the entire trail and surrounding area was covered with garbage. Lots of plastic bottles and picnic trash everywhere. How depressing.

Chefchouen

I had loved the blue-walled Kasbah of the Udayas so much, we decided to head to the high Riff Mountains. There's a lovely town there called Chefchouen, and the medina is known to be awash in shades of blue.

This is the lovely part of unplanned traveling. You go where you want, when you want.

We were trying to stop in a notable bird preserve on the coast called Moulay Bousselham, but it ended up pouring rain for a few hours and the visibility was crap. Plus, I had not a single waterproof item in my pack. Ah well. Sorry birds.

The Rif Mountains are kind of a sketchy place. I wouldn't have wanted to break down in them, or stop for food or a pee break.

You see, about 1/3 or the world's marijuana is grown in these mountains. It's the ideal climate for it, and it grows, well, like weed tends to do. It's everywhere. So one thing that was noticeable right off the bat is that the people here seemed to have a bit more money and means than, say, the villages in the Atlas mountains. Despite being completely remote, there wasn't as rampant poverty here. Although it is illegal to grow and sell, a blind eye is turned and the trade is tolerated, as these mountain villages have a long history of being exempt from Moroccan law. The majority of product gets processed into hash and smuggled into Europe by boat. So there is a drug lord presence here- Spanish, Italian, and French. We got a whole lot of mistrustful glares and bad vibes from the locals.

The area was beautiful though. It rains quite a bit more here than the rest of the country, and there are still old pine forests on the hillsides. There was constant pockets of fog and low clouds giving the place an otherworldly appearance.

Finally, Chefchouen.

The light fades fast in the mountains, and the color blue doesn't photograph at night, so we woke up early to take advantage of the gorgeous light hitting the medina.

The sunrise was spectacular. Worth getting early up for.

The medina here was amazing. Not only was everything painted one of three shades of blue, but the streets were narrow twisting staircases that wind up the side of a mountain.

It seems like this cat got into something.

A good navigational hint is that if the ground is painted blue, the street will dead-end. I didn't even have a map of the medina. It was great fun getting lost, and when you wanted to find the main square, you just go down hill until you can't anymore.

It's one of those towns that gives you quite the workout just to get around. We saw a lot of elderly, with canes, making their way with their shopping bags up the steep stairs. I really felt for them.

Aside from Arabic, they speak Spanish here more than French. This area was traditionally held by Spain. I had a conversation with a shopkeep where I asked questions in French, he answered me in Spanish.

Obviously, there were no cars or motorcycles in the medina here. They used donkeys to get goods to the top of the hill.

Or you just have a very strong back.

The old Kasbah near the town square had the best views of the town.

While it gets quite crowded here in summer, in January, we had the town pretty much to ourselves. We were the only ones staying in the hotel that we had booked.

We were offered hash quite a bit, but never aggressively. No one hassled us. The only other tourist we saw were some hippie types wearing clown pants and scraggly dreadlocks.

Not only was it a picturesque place to stroll about, there were lots of fantastic little shops as well. Spices, soaps, cosmetics. The good stuff.

I took advantage and stocked up.

Especially on the spices.