Turning towards home

There were a few spots of rain in the air when I got up, something not experienced in Marocco yet. I put the tent away wet as there would be no way to dry it. I put my waterproofs in the panniers as I might be needing them soon. I said goodbye to the Dutch campervanists who had been kind to me and lent me a chair. You can always rely on the Dutch to speak good English, have a good conversation with and theres often quite a sense of humour with them too.

Five or six kilometres down the road, I went over a speed bump and saw my cooker fly past my head. An unexpected occurrence which required further investigation. I stopped to find I had not locked my pannier and the bump had ejected my cooker. Everything else was there apart from my waterproof jacket, something I have had for 10 years and I have always appreciated. I went back to look for it but could not see it anywhere.

I doubly cursed my stupidity. That jacket was my only waterproof, my biking jacket certainly wasn't because I had taken out the waterproof layer to keep it cool. Things had gone too far and I was beginning to have a crisis of self confidence.

My foot was not getting any better, it was still up and although I could walk on it, it was verypainful to shift my weight on it. It still hurt like hell to cough because of damaged muscles, I was still doing battle with Montezuma, and now I couldn't trust myself to lock a box.

I had to snap out of the feel sorry for myself attitude and instead, concentrate on the achiveable. First of all I needed to get to Marrakech over the 2000 metre plus Tiz ne Test pass. That would provided a least some entertainment!

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The Tiz ne Test pass

Of the larger national route and onto the much smaller, sometines 1.5 vehicles width road. I pulled over to take a photo of some houses in tge valley and whilst away fron the bike, a mix of camber difference and road rubble meant Betty fell over. Great, just to make things better! Taking the luggage off it wasn't to hard to get her back on two wheels but I was very aware of a fly or wasp buzing around my head, indeed it was in my hair and no amount of hitting myself would get it to vacate the premise.

All of a sudden I felt a sharp sting on my earlobe and that sent me dancing up the road, with the insect around my head and in my hair. A Docker with two lads on it came around the corner, to what must have been an amusing sight. I knew they were amused because two minutes later, when I had got underway and overtajen them, they were still laughing.

Up and up the pass we went, with just about no safety barriers, it would be very easy to fly with the birds for a very long time before the eventual landing. I stopped at a cafe near the top, I was greeted by a young lad who clearly had some learning problems, but how nice he was doing a job, out in the comunity, not hidden away as is still the general fashion in my own country with its barely past the Victorian era attitude to people with learning problems.

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Good Views, Brown Trousers

After my coffee, I noticed my brake light was stuck on. Indeed it had been stuck on for the past week as the swich had been obviously bent when I had the big smash. I could not bend it back, but I did manage to unscrew the bolt it strikes on to make sure it works. It had been stuck on for a whole week and no one had said a word. Its very live and let live out here!

A couple of French blokes arrived on some old Honda 600s and immediately launched into telling me I was too heavy and my bike was Italian and therefore no good. I was beginning to get a little tired of hearing the same old s**t from the sane old know it alls. My bike was here, still going, battered yes, but id been on quite a few pistes fully loaded and we were still in it. I couldn't see a speck of sand on their bikes. I'm just going to give the next person who rolls out this drivel a bit of Birmingham Botox.

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A nice roof over the road

I had made good progress to the top of the pass but the route down was long and all along the way tge distance markers for Marrakesh did not fill me with glee. I was not ready to face another city's traffic madness. I had also decided to turn home early, without being able to ride the pistes there was a lot I would be missing and I was concerned about getting my ankle looked at sooner rather than later.

If I could get a good way from Marrakesh, then I could spend the next few days rolling up the atlases before heading back to Spain. I wanted to visit the famed cascade d'Ouzoud and saw it was just about doable in a day. There also looked to be some small but direct roads that avoided Marrakesh. Putting the details into the Sat Nav, I was shown a similar route. Even the Sat Nav was scared of Marrakesh!

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Little roads amongst the High Atlas

The small roads were a joy to ride along, probably quicker than the main roads because of little traffic and few big towns where your average speed would drop out of the window. Every now and again a pot hole, eroded bit of road or a goat would add a suprise into the equation, but it was no great hardship.

Camping Zebra had been recommended by a nunber of people, it was a great sire, a grassy pitch was found for me, unfortunately it was next to some very grumpy campervanists who refused to acknowledge me. Oh dear!

I ate in their restaurant, a wonderful Tajine Kefta with eggs and went back to the bike to change the front pads. The brakes were getting very wooden and the pads were also very low. I tried to undo the bolts with my ratchet and the thing broke. The bolts were on too tight to undo with an open ended spanner. I was somewhat dishearteded by the frequency of s**t happening, and made myself a cup of tea, tge last solituded, as although the site had wifi, neither my phone or tablet eould connect, so I couldn't call home.

Grumbling, I searched through my tool kit for some way to undo a tight 13mm bolt without wreaking it and cane across a13mm ring spanner at the bottom of the kit. Now that would do the trick. In less than half an our the pads were changed and I pleased to remind myself that a bit of thought and tenacity on a subject, rather than dispair, can make things happen!

I got into mt tent feeling like a minor deity. If thats allowed.