Day 1: Monkey Adventures
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Early Start and Travel Challenges
The adventure began at the ungodly hour of 5 am on the frosty morning of 2nd January. With the cold snap in full swing, my entire family rallied to see me off. Ben and Toby tumbled out onto the street in their pyjamas, bleary-eyed and shivering in the freezing cold. They stood there waving goodbye, a sight both chaotic and heartwarming. Thankfully, the street was deserted, sparing them (and me) from any extra embarrassment. As soon as the car pulled away, they were likely back under their duvets before we had even reached the main road.
Lucy, meanwhile, had the unenviable task of driving Henry and me to the airport. She braved the early start, icy roads, and my overly enthusiastic chatter about the trip ahead, displaying her usual saint-like patience. By the time we arrived to meet Si, her support had already made the early chaos feel a little more manageable.
Surprisingly, the journey through bag check and customs was painless. No lost passports, no suspiciously heavy bags drawing extra attention, just smooth sailing. It was such a rare triumph that it left us with time to spare, which, naturally, was spent on a pint of Neck Oil at the airport pub. After all, nothing says ready for adventure quite like a craft beer at the crack of dawn.
A Smell Event – What’s a Smell Event, For God’s Sake?
At 9 am, we boarded our flight to Marrakesh, blissfully unaware of the drama brewing in the skies. Shortly after take-off, a strange smell began wafting through the cabin. My first thought? Someone’s socks had committed a serious crime. But then the captain calmly announced a “smell event” and informed us we were heading back to Bristol. A smell event? What does that even mean? Nothing like a cryptic announcement to crank up the adrenaline.
As we turned back somewhere past the French coast, the mood on the plane grew tense. It’s strange how Brits manage to carry on with a stiff upper lip in situations like this. You could tell everyone was silently panicking, but apart from the odd person fidgeting or whispering nervously, most carried on as though everything was fine. Inside, though, you knew everyone was thinking, "Is this it? Is this where it all ends?"
The aircraft started flying lower than usual, which I can only assume was part of some safety protocol. My ears popped with every altitude change, and a creeping dizziness set in, leaving me clutching the armrest and mentally begging for us to land safely.
Fish, Chips, and Optimism
The runway back in Bristol felt like a movie scene, with fire engines and ambulances racing alongside us as we landed. Thankfully, the drama stopped there, and apart from a few green faces, we all made it off the plane in one piece.
Back through arrivals we went, leaving our bags on the carousel. Security was a repeat performance, but this time my bag was pulled for inspection. That was when I remembered the five-pound smoothie I had bought earlier. Watching it tossed in the bin was a gut punch to my wallet, but hey, small price to pay for safety.
EasyJet handed out vouchers, so we grabbed fish and chips and two pints and got on with it. There’s something about greasy food that works wonders in a crisis. By the time we finished, the day already felt like the start of a ridiculous adventure.
A Smooth Second Attempt
At 2 pm, we boarded a new flight. This time, there were no strange smells or emergency landings, just a straightforward journey. By evening, we touched down in Marrakesh, where I met Vic and Tell for the first time.
I did not know what to expect of Vic and Tell, but when we met, it was hard to pin an age on them. Older? Sure. But older like mountain goats! tough, weathered, and seemingly indestructible. These guys were proper men, the type who could fix a car with a teaspoon or survive on a packet of peanuts for a week.
They were well-travelled, sharp-witted, and full of experience, but what stood out most was their humour and patience. It felt like they’d seen and survived everything, and they immediately made clueless rookies like me feel at ease.
After quick introductions, we piled into a taxi for the drive to Imlil, a small village at the foot of the Atlas Mountains.
Arriving in Morocco felt incredible. Marrakesh was a sensory explosion of colour, scents, and sounds. It was chaotic and vibrant, like being thrown into a festival. The streets pulsed with life, and the air was thick with the aroma of spices and street food. It brought back the thrill of my younger days exploring far-off places when wonder and curiosity were my only priorities.
As we drove to the hotel, the earlier delays felt like a distant memory.
Freezing Arrival...
Upon arriving at the hotel, we met our guide and were shown to our rooms. “Basic” would be putting it kindly. Bare walls, simple beds, and no heating made it feel more like an arctic survival challenge. A hot shower would have been a dream, but one look at the icy bathroom told me it wasn’t worth the frostbite.
I was happy to share with Tell and get to know him better. I figured if it came to survival, Tell or Vic would be the best bet. They looked like they could whip up a shelter out of a shoelace and a prayer.
The dining area featured a fire that was more “slightly warm” than “roaring.” We ate our tagine in wool hats, jackets, and gloves, except for the two mountain goats sitting there in t-shirts and jeans, as if they were enjoying a breezy summer evening. The food was hearty and delicious, which helped distract from the fact that my breath was visible between mouthfuls.
... and Reflections
Despite the discomfort, we had blankets and a roof over our heads, luxuries that many people living through winter without secure shelter can only dream of. It was a humbling reminder of how much we take for granted. Wrapped in layers, we did our best to settle in for the
night, knowing the real challenge would begin the next day.
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