I am acutely aware that my days are numbered now until I have to be back in Europe with a key decision to make. Leave the bike in Fez and come back later, or return by ferry / road through Spain and France (over 3000km). I think I am already too late, so then the question comes up if or not to return by bike this time to Merzouga, sand and desert an relentless heat. I will have to study the maps today.

I leave Tizi –n-Test and drive south. I am running out of fuel and cash, it is time to restock again in Aoulouz. North again towards Toubkal, this time from the south. Driving aro        und a tight bend on the pass, on a tarred road, there is a stream, and in the stream are water plants. Before I know it the front wheel slips away and the tar has grinded away the cylinder protector and reshaped by force my pannier. So now it is no longer water proof. And of course I am already wondering if a mechanic in Switzerland is going to do a better job of hammering it in shape, or one of the many Moroccan metal workers in every town. I think I am going to go for the Moroccan steel worker, and perhaps I can organize it to be beautifully engraved, like the Moroccan tea cans and serving trays… I will try tomorrow!

Apart from the damage on the bike, I have a slight graze on my elbow. Nothing serious. In the rush to get the bike off the road I miss the opportunity of a photo, which later I regret. Shortly afterwards the opportunity of a cool-down presents itself in the form of a cold mountain stream. Yes, cold, and burning on the recent graze, but wonderfully refreshing.

The road leads me back to Taccheddirt, which I remember for it’s friendly inhabitants, and this proves once again true. Coming in from the other side of the valley and driving through the Palmeraie and it’s water, by bike and my trousers merge with the beautiful deep red brown colour of the soil and the clay buildings of the town. I have to stop to wait for a truck in the road and promptly get invited to stay the night.

However, with a feeling of being pressed for time I decline after accepting some water and meeting all 4 generations living inside the house. Now I regret it, and dislike that feeling of being pressed for time – that feeling that has been my constant companion for a 15 year corporate career. That feeling that is personality changing, to the negative. But alas, I probably need to get used to it, as I cannot do this forever (although my mind already conjures the idea of writing Lonely Planets for adventure bikers for Morocco and any other exciting countries I can find!).

Today I sadly have to admit that I drove over a chameleon, I just could not stop or get out the way. As I turned around I saw him in his back, and the pantheist in me was hurting, just as much as when observing a cow have her eye scratched out by the metal guard rails on a transport truck – I almost wanted to stop him and lecture him on treating animals properly…. So perhaps the lecture should have been for me – drive slower. I notice I have picked up speed and probably am no longer traveling at speeds that avoid damage on the bike. I feel safe, but probably a rude lesson awaits me soon. For tonight I found myself another honest eatery, always go to where the locals eat, and it is even a fixed price menu! And it turns out to be great.