A kind of magic

Ancient caravan routes, desert, sand dunes, medieval cities. Surely Morocco is one of the least accessible holiday destinations. Think again. Words and pictures by Marion Bull

The road from Marrakech comes to a halt at the oasis of M’hamid, after a two-day panoramic drive along the palm-lined Draâ Valley that meanders down to Zagora.

It’s strange that after all the centuries of travellers passing through – the picturesque Draâ is on the ancient caravan route from the Sahara to Marrakech – you still get a good audience. Halfway along the route, I’m invited into the crumbling, dark mud interior of a date farm for mint tea, surrounded by women in clashing, patterned Berber colours and henna’ed fingernails. The whole family – 11 children and a donkey – peer in from the white heat of the doorway to have a look.

Mud villages line the river in a dust haze, the same colour as the earth. Ait Benhaddou, near Ouarzazate, is the most famous, a magnificent, fortified kasbah and the location for Lawrence of Arabia and 25 other movies.

Further south, some of the most inaccessible terrain on earth: 1,200 km of Saharan dunes. A painted sign at Zagora, en route to M’hamid, says, “Timbuctoo, 52 days”. By camel, that is.

Nothing looks accessible – this is Africa, after all, and facilities for disabled holidaymakers have tended to reflect the poor facilities for disabled locals. With the exception of the Europeanised beach resort of Agadir on the Atlantic coast (the town was rebuilt after an earthquake in the 60s), Morocco’s medieval cities appear to be nothing but an impenetrable obstacle course.

Few people make it as far south as M’hamid, even fewer wheelchair-users. But here was Dominique Barbier from France, a “pioneer” for people with disabilities who want the adventure of sleeping under the desert sky.

After being left tetraplegic at the age of 18 in a motorbike accident, he set up Handivoyages, not as a tour operator, but offering free advice to travellers like himself. His first experience of Morocco, he said, “Blew my mind. I got a taste for adventure, and realised anything is possible.

A few years ago I would never have believed it possible to do a quarter of what I have done since. You have to break down the psychological barriers. Be open-minded, and don’t give up as soon as something goes wrong.”

He had travelled along the same route that I had with Cherg Voyages (English spoken) in their adapted vehicle. You might need to take a non-disabled companion, because the company cannot provide personal assistance. Cherg’s director, Halim Sbai, set up Le Petit Prince, an accessible campsite with facilities, four miles from M’hamid. But how can you negotiate dunes in a wheelchair?

“It’s not a problem,” says Dominique. “They roll out old carpets in front of us, and between the dunes baked mudflats are ideal to travel over.”

For the less adventurous, you can spend a whole week exploring the magical red city of Marrakech. It’s near the airport, and shopping and sightseeing in the souks are all very close to the central hub, chaotic Djemaa El Fna square.

Anyone with sensory loss should take extra care crossing it. There are no traffic rules. Caleches (horse-drawn carriages) and bicycles weave back and forth in every direction. There are no pavements down the narrow alleyways that lead off it. Deaf people have to look behind frequently, and be constantly aware that mopeds may whizz close by, instead of getting a shock when they actually do.

It’s at sunset when things really start to happen. The atmosphere is medieval street theatre with the snow-capped High Atlas mountains as a backdrop, just as they are ever-present on the route to the south. Kerosene lamps light up, swinging from orange juice stalls, a Berber fortune-teller adjusts her veil (no lipreading there), snake-charmers unwind their pets, a curl of smoke rises from an improvised barbecue, and the show begins. It’s a Moroccan thing. Storytellers pull crowds of locals into tight circles. Tourists can only stand by amazed, but mostly amused, helplessly handing out dirhams (Moroccan currency) for every photo taken of street performers – musicians, dancers and swivel-headed water-carriers.

The various souks lead from the square, each specialising: jewellery, carpets, spices, babouches (leather slippers), fabrics, copper. Haggling is vital. Expect to pay 30 – 50 per cent or less of the original price, and never let a young “guide” help or show to you a shop. They get their commission often while you are still in there.

For access, the souks have wide enough central alleyways. Interiors of shops can be narrow, or up steps in places, but most of the wares are on display outside. A man in a wheelchair was recently seen whizzing through the souks on The Apprentice on TV, and looked as though he knew where he was going. Getting lost is part of the experience, but ask a shopkeeper to help if you need to find the way back to the square. Look for the minaret of Koutoubia, the largest mosque in Marrakech, if all else fails.

There is no accessible public transport and no accessible public toilets. There are plenty of taxis on the edge of the Medina – the old fortified city – on the main road that leads to the modern Gueliz quarter, where you will find tourist police.

Moroccans are generally welcoming, kind, and hospitable, and attitudes, including in the government, towards disabled facilities are slowly changing. Recent high-profile events have put disability in the spotlight. In February, the French Supercinq Raid, a 48-hour integrated car rally, sped though the country in a cloud of dust, complete with 25 wheelchairs and 100 pairs of crutches clinging to roof-racks, in a show of solidarity with disabled Moroccans. Next year’s sponsored integrated rally will help disadvantaged Moroccan children. Anyone with a driving companion can join for a registration fee.

With cheap flights, more visitors, and the French influence, Marrakech now has a range of accessible accommodation, from guest houses, such as the fully-adapted (including a medicalised bed) Handioasis, a new venture run by a paramedic and a nurse, four miles from town, with
an adapted vehicle for transfers and excursions, to more centrally-situated Riads – magnificent former merchants’ houses, typified by a central courtyard and rooftop views.

The family-run accessible Riad Tarzout, away from the centre, has one fully-adapted room with chair shower, with the rest of the Riad renovated in accordance with the French Disability Association’s recommendations. They also offer transfers and excursions in an adapted vehicle.

The little Riad Jnane Mogador, conveniently two minutes from the square, offers ground-floor rooms that boast extra-wide doors (1.2m/4ft), but bathrooms are not adapted.

So it is possible to put together a trip independently, and if you live a long way from Heathrow or Gatwick and need to rest either side of the journey, the excellent new Yotel.com, right inside the two airports, has two fully accessible cabins rentable by the hour (the minimum booking is four hours).

After leaving the souks, I walked on to the beautiful blue Majorelle Gardens. It’s the final resting place of former owner Yves St Laurent, in the Gueliz area. Chic Gueliz is a far cry from across the road in the Medina, never mind sleeping in the Sahara. The journey to the desert might be rough, but, as Dominique says, no-one who wants to experience its magic should be denied the opportunity.