Morocco's largest waterfalls

A waterfall almost on the edge of the desert - another one of those contrasts that are typical of Morocco. The Ouzoud waterfalls were worth a visit, not only because of the many postcard motifs to snap here. For me, it was amazing to see how the Moroccans have managed to develop a tourist attraction with simple means while preserving its original beauty and naturalness. Naturally, there are many souvenir shops, snack bars, and restaurants around. But all of this doesn't seem as intrusive to me as many sightseeing highlights in Europe. It's fun to trudge down the steep, earthy path - despite the many stumbling blocks. And the 619 steps on the other side are mastered without complaints.

Here, members of our crew have ventured on the route who, like Berndt, have already exceeded 80 by a good bit and need a new hip or who scrape against 80 and are facing knee surgery like Ricci. Or Maria, who was still in the hospital around Christmas because of a corona infection and breathing problems. Like a locomotive, she steams ahead. They all stretch their noses towards the sun and march with a smile on their lips. Without a doubt. Without complaining. Simply curious about what life has to offer today. And every little detail is registered with joy.

Traveling in a group is new to me. Icke and I have been traveling with a caravan and then with a motorhome for about ten years. Always alone. So it was exciting for me to experience this. My experiences up to now have been consistently positive. The people here are all very relaxed. Maybe it's because of their age. Here, nobody has to prove anything anymore. Least of all themselves. Here, there is no beautiful, better, richer, or smarter. There is only one thing: everyone wants to experience something. Surely not everyone wants the same thing, but here in Morocco, the program is so diverse, so varied that everyone knows: I can get more than enough out of it.

That's why the cohesion is so strong, the togetherness. An example: I have two aluminum gas bottles that are permanently installed and can only be filled at LPG gas stations. In Europe, this is great, but in Morocco, there is no LPG gas. That means I have to make the two gas fillings last for the 50 days we will spend in this country. Now, the first seven days were bitterly cold. Since I am a cautious person, I want to save gas. I didn't heat, but managed with the 500-watt heater. With jogging pants, vest, thick socks, bed, and blanket over it, it worked. Somehow. But even at temperatures below freezing point outside, it was still cold. Bitterly cold.

Today I mentioned this in a conversation and five minutes later, Ricci, Bernd without a t, and Berndt with a t knocked on my motorhome door one after the other. The first one had an 800-watt heater in his hand, the second one had a gas transfer hose, and the third one had a head full of ideas. That's how it is with the motorhome friends: if someone has a problem, everyone helps to solve it. For me, a relatively inexperienced motorhome traveler - I want to avoid using the word clueless here - this is a nice experience and gives me a feeling of security.

Oh, yeah: I'm going to spend a night in comforting warmth today. I don't remember who gave me the tip, but someone advised me to try the 2000-watt fan heater. If no other power consumer is connected to my vehicle's mains, it should work. And rightly so: the heater has been humming happily for an hour now. It's pleasantly warm. I've rarely been looking forward to going to bed. After all, I have to be well-rested when we go to Marrakech tomorrow.