So here we are after 16 days in Morocco, in Chefchaouen, the Blue City. Arriving shortly after midday, and with rain in the forecast for tomorrow, it was a case of checking in and then off for a free ranging wander through the Medina on our own and then a hike up to the Spanish Mosque, a popular vantage point to take in the view.

We checked in, Room 21 - on the 4th floor, took the lift that only goes to the 3rd floor and stairs for the rest.

Chefchaouen is in that northern corner of Morocco that was a Spanish protectorate whereas the most of the rest was a French protectorate, both countries relinquishing their control in 1957 when Morocco gained its independence.

The Mosque we hiked to was built by the Spanish in 1920 as a gesture of their ideological acceptance of Islam in their protectorate. Apparently that only went one way and the locals had difficulty accepting that the building was a suitable place in which to worship and it was never used and so fell into disrepair. It was eventually restored and in April this year, after 103 years, is now a functioning Mosque.

As with much of the country that we have seen so far, the landscape on the way from Fes was totally different. This time it was bordering on broad-acre farming. Vast swathes of golden wheat, some already harvested, some still maturing. Hay bales stacked in rows with what looked to us as grossly overloaded trucks of hay, lumbering along the road. And of course, olive trees on every other available piece of land. A far cry from our trip over the Atlas Mountains and into the desert.

I think I’ve written all these is to say about Morocco. It’s been amazing, a country full of patchwork topography, mountains, deserts and fertile plains. It’s easy to see how agriculture is the country’s biggest export.

So it’s with a pleasing sense of satisfaction that phase 1 is almost over. (Brighton UK doesn’t count). Tomorrow we take the ferry from Tanger-Med to Algeciras in Spain and then a short bus ride to Tarifa for the night.