Day 198 - From Morocco to London & The Great Drone Retrieval Mission

Our final morning in Sidi Kaouki arrived much earlier than any of us would have liked.

At 4:45am, alarms started blaring throughout our room. After several weeks sleeping on what felt like a rock-hard traditional Berber mattress, it was the last time we’d wake up in our little Moroccan home. There was no lingering in bed. We had a long day ahead.

Fortunately, we’d packed everything the night before, so it was simply a matter of getting dressed, brushing our teeth, grabbing our bags and heading out the door.

Our transport arrived ten minutes early, which was a welcome surprise. The drive to Marrakech Airport was over three hours, and with the uncertainty surrounding our drone collection, we wanted every spare minute we could get.

The journey itself was surprisingly relaxing. Traffic was light and the roads were quiet. Most of us drifted in and out of sleep as the sun slowly rose over the Moroccan countryside.

Around halfway, we stopped for a quick bathroom break and breakfast. We’d packed some traditional Moroccan bread along with jam and honey from our accommodation. Unfortunately, somewhere during the trip the honey had fallen out of the bag and been left behind in the car. Nobody had the energy to go searching for it, so breakfast became simple bread and jam.

Kia and I grabbed a couple of strong espresso coffees to help counter the early start before climbing back into the vehicle for the final stretch to Marrakech.

We arrived at the airport much earlier than necessary, somewhere around 8:30am, despite our flight not departing until 1pm. It seemed excessive at the time, but that decision would prove invaluable.

Our main concern was retrieving the drone that had been confiscated and stored by customs when we first entered Morocco.

At first, everything went smoothly.

We relaxed for a while, waited for check-in to open, checked our bags and headed towards security.

Then things became considerably more complicated.

As we moved through the airport, we asked multiple staff members where we needed to go to collect the drone. Every person seemed to give us a different answer. Eventually, after several conversations, someone pointed us towards customs.

When I arrived there, an officer asked for the paperwork I had been given when the drone was stored.

I proudly pulled out a photo of the document on my phone.

He wasn’t impressed.

The officer explained that a photo wasn’t enough. He needed the original paper copy.

The problem?

The original paper copy was safely packed inside my checked luggage.

The same luggage that was already somewhere behind the scenes in the airport baggage system.

Panic immediately set in.

I sprinted back to the airline desk and explained the situation. Thankfully, they were incredibly helpful. They agreed to retrieve my bag, although it involved another round of waiting while airport staff tracked it down and redirected it to lost property.

Eventually, I was escorted to the lost property area where I found my bag, retrieved the precious piece of paper, and then re-checked the bag all over again.

With document finally in hand, I headed back through security, back to customs, back through the maze of corridors and offices, and finally reached the room where the drone was being stored.

This time the paperwork was accepted.

Success.

The drone was returned.

Then I was escorted back through security again and re-entered the departures area.

The whole process took around an hour and a half.

By the end of it, my stress levels were through the roof.

At several points I seriously considered abandoning the drone altogether. But by the time I’d started retrieving bags and chasing paperwork, it felt like turning back would only create an even bigger problem.

Thankfully, everything worked out.

The drone was recovered.

The bag was safely checked back in.

Nothing was lost.

And I could finally relax.

Not long after, we cleared the remaining airport formalities, boarded our flight and left Morocco behind.

The flight itself was uneventful, which after the morning’s drama was exactly what we needed.

A few hours later we landed in London.

From there it was straight onto a train, followed by a quick change to another service and then a short walk to our accommodation.

After Morocco, our new place felt luxurious.

The beds looked soft.

The rooms felt spacious.

Everything worked exactly as expected.

It was amazing how quickly simple comforts could feel like five-star luxury after a few weeks of rough sleep and constant wind.

Rather than immediately settling in, we headed out for a short walk around the neighbourhood. We found a local pub, enjoyed a well-earned beer, grabbed dinner and picked up a few supplies for breakfast the next morning.

Nothing fancy.

Just simple comforts.

After one final stroll back to the accommodation, we climbed into bed and reflected on the day.

It had started in darkness on the Moroccan coast and ended in London.

There had been long drives, airport chaos, customs paperwork, missing documents, train rides and plenty of stress along the way.

But we’d made it.

And for the first time in weeks, we were all looking forward to something very simple:

A good night’s sleep in a comfortable bed.