A rapid crossing on the sea-cat, averaging 35mph: look at the wake. But rough: actually, very rough! 35 minutes might not seem a long time, but it is when you’re feeling queasy (Colin).
Tangier port is a model of gross inefficiency. It took 2 hours to clear the 20 or so vehicles through customs. Police, customs officials and semi-official form fillers (who expected a generous tip) all doing roughly the same jobs, including directing the vehicles, combined to create maximum chaos.
The chaos seemed to spill out into Tangier itself, where road users and pedestrians competed to throw themselves at, or under, the car & caravan. Even on the motorway, cows were grazing on the grass verge and vendors had set up stalls on the hard shoulder. So, if you break down, you can stock up with fruit & veg while waiting for the Moroccan AA.
We finished our day near Casablanca, having come through high winds, driving rain and a sand storm (from the beach, not the desert!). The site was somewhat charmless and run-down, but cheap. The pitch markers clearly represented the tombs of the unknown campers!
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