Ouaouizarht to Ait Simour

March 5, 2012

slow progress

It's hardly what I had in mind, but it's hard to say no. Abdellah, who's been so thoughtful throughout, clearly reckons it's a great idea: walking to an elevated spot so I can take more photos. We set off around nine, by which time I've been awake for a few hours - initially waking at 2:00, but drifting in and out until eventually climbing out of my sleeping bag at gone 6:00.

The footpath squiggles across the slopes. I have no real idea where we're going. We don't see anyone. It takes almost an hour to reach the source of the village's water supply, a spring that trickles out of the rocky cliff face. It tastes like water should, chilled and tasteless, and after a minute there we then start to trek back to his home, past a two-roomed school that has obviously been abandoned years ago. It's in the middle of nowhere.

A neighbor comes to have a look at me - he's a man of few words

Before leaving I give Abdellah 50Dr, a show of thanks more than anything. He doesn't seem to have a job and can't write his address down in either French or Arabic - in the end I copy it from his ID card - so as to post him some photos. His father had gone off somewhere while I was packing up my tent before seven, so perhaps he's the sole breadwinner.

The road continues climbing and I soon stop, sitting on a milestone, to jot down the salient points in my little book. Silent, with virtually no passing traffic, the sound of a bike braking gets my attention. It turns out to be Marc, a young French cyclist who's been on the road for 7 months. We chat for an hour, by which time it's 11:00. I've barely gone a kilometre.

It's noon when I reach the pass. A concrete pillar stands there but whatever had been fixed to it - presumably a plaque stating the height and the col's name - has been stripped off, but I take a snap of it anyway before donning my jacket for the long drop to Ouaouizarht.

Once there I pay through the nose for a lunch of meatballs and salad. At nearly 190DR, it seems a complete rip-off.

I cycle on feeling pissed off, even though the road is a wonderful one, with the snow-capped Atlas in the distance. It's then a nice cruise down to a lake, crossing a newly built bridge and soon a long climb. By 5:00 PM I'm wondering where I''ll end up sleeping. It certainly iasn't going to be Tilougguite, a town I though I'd have been in a couple nights ago.

Salvation comes when a guy on a motorbike passes and gestures that tea is being served just ahead. Ten minutes later I stop outside his simple home, which is actually a café - but with no sign saying so. He says I can camp out back and my tent is up in a jiffy, and then tells me this is a place named Ait Simour - still around 30km from Tilougguite. This includes about 15km more climbing.

Dinner is omelet and chips, washed down with a coke, which cosst me 70DR. Camping is free and as soon as I finish eating I'm in bed, my body clock telling me it's actually around 3:00 AM, even though my Casio says it's just after eight. I feel shattered yet have only cycled 25 km today.

Today's ride: 25 km (16 miles)
Total: 43 km (27 miles)

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