“The fingers of Europe and Africa were almost touching and between them, at the end of a golden hour, the sun merged with the horizon. With the sky turning from orange to purple, the serrated edges of Morocco’s extreme north became clearer. The Port of Tarifa in Spain was getting smaller, yet it never disappeared. Laurie Lee described the town as ‘washed-up Africa’ because of its proximity to the continent, which is just nine nautical miles away. From the eastward-facing deck of the Balearia ferry, you could see the white cliffs of Gibraltar. There, you have warm beer, Marks & Spencer, red phone boxes and cannons facing towards the invisible enemies. On the other side, you could see Morocco, with Jebel Musa brooding and the sparsity of the Rif mountain range behind it, which forks sharply like a sheath of daggers. …”
NY Times/The Athletic