LAST night I saw Africa from the roof of the house – purely by accident. I clambered up to view the sunset. And in the gap between the Andalucian hills – where there is usually a smudge of haze to be seen, or at best a shimmer of pewtery Mediterranean – there stretched a line of distant dark summits . . .
The horizon had lumps. Minute and pale, and barely discernible through my dusty spectacles, they were lumps nonetheless – land beyond the sea; a continent beyond the sea.
These are the Rif mountains of Morocco (click image for high-res version). They run east to west from the northerly extremity of the Atlas range. I reckon they are about 200 kilometres from where I was standing. Their highest point is Tidighin, at 2,455m or 8,054ft.
I must credit my wife, Anne, with this sighting because it was her suggestion I climb to the roof to view the sunset. Plus, I’d just discovered a praying mantis in the garden, and we all know that the females of the species are notorious for eating their partners when they tire of their company. Apparently, this is known as sexual cannibalism.
I thought it prudent to give her a mention. I expect at least half of you to approve of this action.