I was away from the campsite nice and early on my way through Rissani and out to Erg Chebbi, the famed dune sea of Morocco, it wasn't long before it made its presence clear, as the dry arid black rocks of the flat plain I travelled on set off the Erg spectacularly. Into Merzouga, the village that serves the tourist industry for the Erg and there in front of me was the great dune of Merzouga at over 150 metres high. Sensing a great kodak moment was on the brink, I wheelspan up the nearest dune, dropping Bettys rear axle into the sand on the improbably steep slope. It made a great picture with the big dune behind it.

It had to be done....

I sensed I was about to become a marketing opportunity for a number of guides/tout/tat sellers, so it was time to get out of here. It’s very easy to get the rear wheel of a motorcycle out of sand, you just push the bike over, pick it up and hey presto. As soon as I had pulled Betty over a group of German bikers on their big Teutonic machines came around the corner and, leaping off their machines, ran up the bank to help me push Betty out. Oh the advice I was given about lightweight machines, lowering air pressure in tyres and basically it would have been better to stay at home and watch a dvd...... I couldn't even be bothered to tell them what I was really doing, so I thudded off to a quieter part of the Ergs edge.

Overheated, and I think that will do thank you!

The dune sand was much softer than the sand I had met in the oueds and it took considerable revs and body positioning to get enough drive to the wheel. Once stopped, getting going again was a real challenge and after a lot of false starts and a drop off, I noticed that we were overheating again and the fan hadn't come on. I had gotten about 100 metres into the Erg! This was just the excuse I needed for not getting to the top of the great dune! I left Betty to cool down for a while and had a wander about.

The barren black rock desert with the Erg behind

Back on more compacted sand I used the space to give a few power slides a go, but I knew this could end badly so I just went for a coffee in the village square. I was impressed by the diversity of religious interpretation and acceptance, not just here but across Morocco. Some women would wear a full burka in handy black, whilst other women were unveiled and wore jeans. There seemed to be no one way that was accepted, but more of a personal decision.

I went back to Rissani and went into a bank to change some money. A number of people were waiting and after a few minutes the bank manager came out of his office, shook everyone’s hand and wished us all peace. I was going to open up an account there after that, but I settled on just the money exchange.

Near Rissani are the ruins of Sijilmassa, a huge 14km wide city founded in the eight century by Berber dissidents of mainstream Islam. The kingdom grew to rule the southern part of Morocco, but all that is left are the decayed walls of the city that stretch for miles and miles. It was quite a sight.

The ruins of Sijilmassa slowly crumbling away

My next mission was to post back home some useless stuff and some presents for my family, that I can't mention at the moment! I instantly knew the whole thing would be a difficult affair after arriving at the post office and getting a waiting ticket number from a Group 4 security guard. I had bought a box to put my things in from a local shop and had spent some time whilst waiting reducing the box down cutting with my bike key to make the box fit the products.

When my number was up, the post clerk, lets call him Dwayne, it probably wasn't, but that’s the name that entered my head, was not impressed with my parcel. I had left it open because I had been told it would have to be inspected. Dwayne was not interested in the gifts I had bought, which he didn't even unwrap, but he was very interested in the books I wanted to send home.

By the time he had reached chapter 2 of 'A History of the British Countryside' by Oliver Rackham, I could sense the filling post office mood to become somewhat cold towards me. Dwayne grew bored of the first bit of literature but his interest was re-awakened by the second book all about a woman who rode the ho chi minh trail on a 25 year old honda cub, because it had a picture of her in the credits. Dwayne made a systematic examination of each picture looking for skirt. None was found, so we moved on to finding a price which took a good 5 minutes of screen staring and clicking. Dwayne must have got a high score or something because he briefly smiled for just one time.

His mood quickly soured when he observed the box I had brought in had deposited flour on his desk. Dwayne marched out and came back with a handful of napkins to clean up the mess of the infidel. Behind me a minor riot was bubbling as people wanting to buy stamps and other simple items had their day spoilt. I could see the G4S security guard would not be much use as by the hand gestures he was using with his phone, he was playing Angry Birds.

Dwayne finished his maid duties and told me I needed a better box. He came back with a prefabricated flat pack box which took him quite some time to fabricate. It was like watching Blue Peter in slow motion! The box was too small, so Dwayne went and got another one which you could clearly post yourself home in. Another ice age broke out and melted as this box was constructed, by now I dared not look around, I'm sure the waiting crowd were constructing some gallows.

I tried to cushion the goods as best I could with the old box and finally the lid was closed. I was beginning to feel the sun grow dim as it turned into a Red Dwarf. Then there was form filling, passport showing, taping up, oh the taping up, and sticking the label on, Dwayne, how many sticky things do you have to fold back on themselves, ruining them and then throwing them away, only to do the same thing with the next one? My life, and, Dwayne, possibly yours, is on the line here!

I think a fair angel may have got a tad pissed off by now, but officialdom was personified in Dwayne, and after spending a good amount of time checking each of the 4 duplicates (!), I was presented with my change and I could go. I veritably ran back to Betty and got out of town!

I took a little ride out of town to the west to look at some palm date plantations and eventually found a little roadside cafe in need of my patronage. I sat outside in the shade watching the cars go by, just seeing how life revolved. A number of elderly gents arrived on bikes and each and every one came in to be shook hands, placed hand on heart and told me their name. I followed suit, I knew they were talking Berber, but I could not grasp the meaning. All I knew that it was kind, and in some way grateful to Allah. This place is great!

Cafe break after I'd seen eras come and go at Efroud post office

Back to the campsite and after a lot of fiddling about, I had bodged together an override to the cooling fan. I put my racks back on Betty, gave her a little oil and started go get ready to be gone in the morning.