Chris and Craig are finally back in Canada after spending a full day visiting government officials and departments to figure out a way to donate Daisy the Truck to our friends in the mountain village near Damnate without having to pay ridiculous import duties. It was a complete cluster but near the end of the day a solution was found. The truck is currently parked at Aziz’s work and the customs office sealed the truck so that it can’t be moved until the transfer to the village association is completed. Basicaly Aziz will act on our behalf to transfer the truck – a process that will take time but this compromise allowed the boys to get the paperwork they needed to be allowed to leave the country. Otherwise they would have had to stay another 10 days mimimum to transfer the truck or drive it out of the country and fly home from Spain. The good news is that the truck will be in the hands of the village shortly; the government will most likely assist them to convert Daisy into an ambulance (upgrade engine, lights, oxygen tanks, medical kit, etc.). The association (and Daisy) serves 5 villages in this mountain region with an estimated total population of 300 – 400 people.

Dan left for Paris in the morning to spend a few days before heading back to Hong Kong. Meanwhile, Craig and Chris went to the beach town of Essouaira where Cat Stevens and Jimi Hendrix had spent some time in. The C&C lads are still trying to figure out how and when they’re going to get home since they were originally scheduled to fly out of Bamako on Feb 3rd. They asked Dan to help by contacting Air France on their behalf. Dan reminded them that Mark Kloosterman had once asked him to help him with a French speech in high school; Mark subsequently told the class (unknowingly) that he liked to play with himself. Craig and Chris will most likely be enroute to Zimbabwe by the time you read this update.

Today was the last official day of the rally race. We left Marakkech and headed towards the finish line on the coast in Agadir. Once again, we got arrested for illegal passing on a mountain. Dan managed to get the police to let them off without a fine, explaining that the phone book Craig sits on to see over the dash when he’s driving had shifted and he’d fallen on the accelerator. Most of the teams had already arrived in Agadir by the time we got there. We attended the closing race conference and raided the open bar. Afterwards we found out that the truck we are donating to the mountain village could be subject to a significant import duty charge. The team is now trying to figure out how we’re going to manage this – the truck is registered in Chris’ name and it’s possible he might not be able to leave the country without the payment. A meeting is taking place in Marakkech on Monday morning with transport authorities to determine next steps. There was a big post-race party but sadly the SponsorARallyTruck team was too tired to attend and went to bed at 11pm.

We awoke to the blaring sound of what must of been 15 different mosques all trying to outdo themselves with calls to prayer at 5:30am. The trip so far had been a mixed bag of experiences (both wonderful and not so good) but today was incredible. We met Aziz at 9am. We had asked him to find us a poor village that could use the truck as an ambulance. He found the village we had envisioned, high in the atlas mountains where people live off of basic agriculture (almonds and walnuts) and livestock (mostly goats). We left Marakkech in the morning and slowly made our way to the village thru the most treacherous and dangerous driving we’ve ever experienced. The road was a rudimentary trail dug out of the sides of mountains, barely wide enough for the truck, with cliffs on the side that ranged from 100 to 300 feet deep. We thought more than once about turning around; death was not supposed to be part of the itinerary. The thought of Toonces the Driving Cat on SNL (every episode ends up with the car going off the cliff in a fiery explosion) came to mind once or twice. We stopped at a clinic in one of the villages along the way to donate our medical supplies. After a river crossing in the truck (another scary moment that was in hindsight child’s play), we arrived at a collection of small rustic stone buildings perched up high on the mountain just below the snowbelt. It was an incredibly beautiful landscape with the white blossoms of the almond trees contrasting against the steep, rocky terrain and greenery. The villagers came out to greet us, which is not surprising given that we no longer had a muffler and could be heard leaving Marrakech 6 hours earlier. We parked the truck, took out boxes of school supplies and hiked for another 20 minutes up the mountain. Apparently a steady consumption of Special Flag beer during previous nights and chronic diarrhoea are not conducive to a pleasant hiking experience. We were greeted by elders of the surrounding villages and seated in a small rustic room to feast on brochettes and tajine of meat. Aziz told us that Moroccan custom is such that strangers are greeted with the utmost in kindness and generosity; these people who had nothing gave us everything they had. It was a humbling experience and an incredible meal. Afterwards we had tea, took photos and exchanged words with Aziz as the interpreter. Arrangements were made to have someone from the village meet us in Marakkech to take the truck back after the completion of the race. We thought we might have to stay overnight as the sun was coming down; there was no way we were going down in darkness. We managed to make our way with some light until the river crossing, after which time the road became easier to navigate. We made it back to the hotel at 10pm, tired but deeply content knowing that we had done some good and lived an experience that will be etched in our hearts and mind. We promised each other that some day we would go back to see our friends in the mountains again.

The morning was spent taking photos of the hotel and surrounding area. It was stunning. After breakfast we took Daisy into the desert for sponsor photos but got stuck twice in the sand. We then drove all day to Marrakech to meet Dan’s friend Aziz. Aziz was Dan’s guide when he took his family on a trip into the Saharan desert. Aziz also took care of the family when Dad ended up being bedridden for 2 days because of food poisoning. In case we haven’t made the point strongly enough, if you come to Morocco (and you should, it’s a beautiful place with friendly people), bring all the immodium you can carry. We arrived in Marrakech at 10pm and went to the Medina for a few drinks.

Today was a relatively easy and relaxing day in comparison to most of the daily treks we’ve had to undertake. We had breakfast with some Hungarian teams who were staying at the same auberge. We proceeded towards la Route Blanche along the western coast of Morocco. The race stage ended at Cap Draa, a location used by Nato forces to train for Afghanistan, but we had had enough of staying with the mass of drunken, defecating Hungarians and thought we’d fine a hotel of our own, We took a small piste in the middle of nowhere and stumbled upon a beautiful hotel in the middle of the desert, which just happened to be where the teams were supposed to stop. We decided to stay and enjoyed a mid-afternoon siesta. For dinner we gorged on pasta and went to bed at 9:30pm.

Our overnight stay was in the city of Sidi Infi, a bizarre Spanish enclave on the coast. The city was actually under Spanish rule in the 1930’s and a social experiment by the government to create an outpost in Morocco. Like most government brainfarts, it failed but the legacy of old Spanish architecture and infrastructure remains (albeit crumbling). We started our journey to Tatouine, the filming location of Star Wars (the outfits worn by Obi Wan Kanobi et al were inspired by the traditional Berber robes). It wasn’t anything special, to be honest. Along the way we managed to get arrested three time – once for the passing a truck along a mountain road, another for a rolling stop and the last for taking a photo of the officer arresting us. The BlackBerry was confiscated, tempers flared towards the photographer and pictures were eventually deleted once the officer started to understand a Quebecois accent. To celebrate the return of our precious mobile phone, we had delicious roast chicken in a small town and immodium for dessert a few hours later. Our night lodging was at a small auberge run by a French Pied-Noir.

Day 9 was the highlight of our trip so far. In the morning we travelled to the mountain village of Agouliz (yes, this is the correct spelling…). We had to snake our way thru a mountain range to get there. As we made our way into the village, children poured out to greet us. We stopped and found the Mr Fawksi, the village chief and his associates. We had tea and discussed their needs. Their immediate response what anything for the children would be appreciated. We decided this is where we would introduce the game of hockey in Africa. We grabbed the bag of sticks and balls that we had brought from Canada and were led to the schoolyard. We briefly played a game to explain the rules to over 100 kids and family members. We then invited the children to play on teams of 4 – boys vs boys, girls vs girls, and the very young vs kids their own age. The excitement was unbelievable, to the point where we thought they were going to injure themselves with the hacking and chopping. The girls were by far the most aggressive and vicious players – let’s hope Canada never meets a Moroccan team in the Olympics. The only casualty was a 4 year old boy got butt-ended in the head (he lived). We played for over an hour before going back to the truck to donate team uniforms and schools supplies and making our way to the next stage. The were other highlights during the day but nothing like this – magic.

We got off to a bit of a late start (8:30) and proceeded towards Tata. On our way, we saw a number of teams heading the opposite direction. We thought they were probably tracking geo-points (a sort of scavenger hunt which is part of the rally race competition). We soon found out why. The road we ended up taking wasn’t a road; it was an immense rocky plateau wedged in between two mountain ranges. We were poorly prepared with no extra fuel or water. It took us over 5 hours to cross this area travelling at a crawl, sometimes coming across nomad shepherds. Daisy took a beating but the only damage was a busted exhaust. We’ve all said that our next car will be a Toyota Landcruiser – other trucks have been breaking down and our 23 year old girl keeps chugging along. We got lost looking for Angouliz, the mountain village that the race disorganizers had said needed aid. So we headed back into Tata. Passing thru, Chris saw a restaurant with a cheeseburger on the sign and shrieked like a little girl at a Marilyn Manson concert. At night we proceeded to discover the local Stork beer whilst wearing traditional berber outfits. Let’s just say that some of the locals were not impressed. At the end of the night, an evil Yoda and attacked another Yoda, blaming an additive in the Stork beer the next morning.

Today we drove from Merzouga to Mhamid. It was a long day of toilet hopping from village to village (mmmm….tajine kefta…), chasing GPS coordinates given to us by the race disorganizers that were about 100 miles off course and driving thru the Draa Valley between Agdz and Zagora. This region is beautiful and famous for its dates, which the children sell on the side of the road. Daisy overheated going over the mountain range (as did others) but keeps going and going… We picked up a camel shepherd along the way; he then invited us for tea with his family. We told him that we were running late and didn’t have time. He told us that Moroccans have a saying – people in a rush are already dead. We thought this was either profound or that he was about to kill us, so we mitigated our risks and had tea. We made it to the kasbah in Mhamid around 10pm. We offloaded our suitcase of aid for Bamako onto one of the trucks that is continuing into Mauritania and were briefed on a village that needs aid (and possibly our truck) high in the Atlas mountains (Anghoulise). Our primary objective on Day 8 is to meet the village chief and determine what assistance is required.