Date:         Sun, 4 Nov 2007 14:25:34 -0800
Reply-To:     Malcolm Stebbins <mwstebbins@YAHOO.COM>
Sender:       Vanagon Mailing List <vanagon@gerry.vanagon.com>
From:         Malcolm Stebbins <mwstebbins@YAHOO.COM>
Subject:      Re: Most Outrageous Vanagon Stealth Camping Spots?
In-Reply-To:  <56712.94341.qm@web45303.mail.sp1.yahoo.com>
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--- Poppie Jagersand <poppie.jagersand@ wrote:

> Keep those camping stories coming! Best reading I've had on the list
> for a long time.

OK, here is a never before typed story.  Back in 1995, I had a job in Morocco where I bought a
nice 1986 French diesel Syncro 14 Joker Westy.  We did a lot of great traveling through Europe and
Morocco.  This story takes place in Morocco. We were on a University break and traveling along
Morocco's Mediterranean coast.  We had made our way from Tangier to Tetouan and then along a
wonderful road that goes right along the Mediterranean coast. After an overnight in a tiny village
of El-Jebha, we continued  along to the Spanish enclaves of Al-Hoceima and Melilla.  Soon it was
getting near dusk and I was looking for another "stealth-campsite".  The map shows a long
peninsula near Nabor and I figured that we could just drive out on the peninsula, from the east,
and find a nice place along the Mediterranean for the night.

It was near dusk and the light was fading and as we drove out on the peninsula, the sun was just
setting and everything was back-lit.  No paved road, so we followed the tracks out towards the
beach.  This was going to be a great spot.

We found a level spot on a rocky beach and popped the top and started preparing supper. If you're
visual try:

http://picasaweb.google.com/mstebbins/WorkInProgress/photo#5129107859488392834

Not more than 5 minutes elapsed when there was a knock on the van door.  Upon opening the door,
there was a Moroccan solider with a nice big rifle, asking questions in Berber.....well it was not
Arabic and not French.  My wife, Patricia, speaks a bit of French and that got us no where with
the nice young man, and our Arabic was a good as his English.  There is a universal charades
language that comes in handy at a time like this and he had the gun, so when he motioned for us to
drive the Van and follow him... we did.

We drove slowly as he walked about 2 kms back along the beach to a group of buildings.  He
motioned for us to stop and stay put.  Pat was sure that we were going to spend the next 20 years
in a Moroccan jail, and no amount of "there, there, dear" was going to dissuade her.

After a few minutes, soldier #2 (one rung up the ladder of command) came out and explained (in
French) that it was Ramadan (we knew that) and that nearly ALL Moroccans were breaking-the-fast
(having not eaten or drank anything all day) and that he would come back after breaking-the-fast
(our word: 'breakfast') when HIS commanding officer was done eating.  Patricia is going NUTS by
now...and just in time, about 15 minutes into Pat's consternation, there was another tap on the
van's door...... and soldier #2 had, on a platter, 2 bowls of Harira soup, the traditional soup
served during Ramadan to break-the-fast.  An un-anticipated kindness.  Pat calmed down 10%.

After about 45 minutes, soldier #2 came back and we had a nice conversation.  Seems he had served
in the same small town where our university is, and took our ID cards & Passports at face value.
We explained that we were just on holiday and that we planned to spend just 1 night and then be on
our way.

He said that his CO had finished eating and that after he talked with his CO, he'd be back.  That
only took about 10 minutes and upon his return, he said that all was OK, but that we had to return
to the exact spot on the beach were we were, and to NOT move during the night.  That's OK with us,
so we again followed the first soldier (with the rifle) back to where we were, and re-parked the
van.

By now we were still a bit hungry and we made up some supper for ourselves.  Just as we were about
to eat, I peaked out from the curtains and saw the soldier standing guard.  We put together a 3rd
plate of food and drink and offered it to him.  He was thrilled! and even stuffed his pockets with
extra cheese and crackers for the night.

So... our safest campsite....and armed guard! on the southern Mediterranean beach, no other
campers within 50 kms.

As we drove out the next day, we thanked all of the soldiers, they could not have been nicer. Upon
retracing our route, saw the signs "ZONE INTERDIT"  ......... in  English:  "Forbidden Zone"
..........

As I type this, there is a smile on my face, and as I read it to my wife she said:  "Oh what a
great time we had".   She seems to forget how fraught with fear she was!  :-)    Malcolm &
Patricia





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