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November 23
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Pension stairwell
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After the 4:30 a.m. call to prayer, I was awakened
again by the sound of a rooster crowing; a cacophony of calls back and
forth between one chicken outpost and another. I put my shoes on and went to the roof
to check the weather. It was
completely cloudy but for a few holes in the clouds, no rain at the
moment. I debated for a while then
decided I could spend an eternity waiting for the “perfect”
day. I packed my bag and headed
for the trail.
Yesterday I hiked a short trail opposite the village
to get a better view of the Medina,
hoping to find a way through it. I
chose a route and returned to test it out. When I got to the road I had chosen, it
was closed, for retiling. I
wandered in concentric circles searching for an alternate route, but
found none. Finally, I decided
that nothing is truly closed in Morocco and I pushed by the
barricade. The young men spreading
mortar and placing tiles gave me a casual look as I passed. The road did link up with the hiking
trail and I was able to find the trail head.
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Chefchaouen With path through Medina
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Next I went in search of the perfect necklace. After haggling with a perplexed shop
owner, I found my necklace. One
chosen not for its beauty or price (though it was pretty) but for the
number of beads it contained. The
necklace contained exactly 25 large beads. By counting 20 paces (about 20 meter)
for each bead I could measure half a kilometer, and by alternating hands
I could count kilometers. I
can’t claim credit for this technique, it
was used by agents of the Great Trigonometrical
Survey of India. In 1865, this
agency was tasked by the British with mapping the closed mountains of Tibet. Tibetans were known to enslave or even
execute foreign agents so covert methods were used to survey the
area. The men were trained to take
exactly 2000 paces to the mile and carried “rosary” beads
that had exactly 100 beads to keep track of their paces.
My reconnaissance proved worthwhile, as I now breezed
thought the Medina
and up to the trail. By 7:30 I was
at the trailhead, counting beads in hand, starting the hike. The trail, a 4 wheel drive track, wound
its way through the pine forest cutting switchbacks up the slope. Finally, the trail broke out onto a
small valley. There were two small
hobbles with pot farmers and “Gringo” dogs. Rocks had been positioned to catch the
rainfall and channel it for irrigation.
Centuries old rock walls retain the thin topsoil for
cultivation.
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Village above town
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