I've been meaning to mention the Netbook I use is having a break down. Well I bought it in June two-thousand and ten and with the exception of needing reformatting last year, it hasn't let me down until now. The problem seems to be the hard-drive has too much on it. That's what the pop-up boxes are telling me anyhow. The message in the box suggest I uninstall programs, which I have but uninstalling only remedies the problem for a brief period. The problem being I can't upload photos from the camera memory card. When I try a box comes up: the message something to the effect: An error has occurred. Then that's when the box comes up that reads: Low disk capacity. You need to uninstall programs. When I do and I can upload pictures for once or twice, the pictures can't be edited. It is just a bummer and means there won't be any more pictures on this journal for a while. I'm thinking of taking to a technician when I return to Spain.

Today on the road was a drag struggling against strong crosswind and I'm hoping it isn't the same tomorrow.

I had a restless and sleepless night tossing and turning. The ground where I was camping feeling hard and uncomfortable. Strange as the same ground felt comfortable enough the other nights in the campground.

Oh how I didn't want to get up this morning. I remain laying there dozing for a long time after dawn. Then when I eventually sit up and begin dressing, I wonder why it had taken me so long.

I know why.

I've everything packed in their panniers ready to go and enter the campsite restaurant at eight looking for breakfast. But eight o'clock is a bit on the early side for the workers. I see someone but as he is just up, it is half an hour before breakfast comes out in which time, having tired of sitting at the empty table, I return and take the tent down and put everything on the bike, then ride back and lean the loaded bike outside against the wall before returning in to my seat where breakfast still hasn't been served.

Breakfast having come at last. An omelette and I savour the coffee at the end. Then it is time to pay the bill and everybody has disappeared. I wait for nearly ten minutes for someone to reappear, who takes a sheet of paper with my name therein, listing the number of nights camped, number of breakfasts and lunches etcetera. The figure comes to 820 DH for four days, or eighteen euros per day. Reasonable as I didn't spend anything else in those days. I give him nine-hundred as I don't have the change, nor has he. He gets in the car and drives somewhere, returning ten minutes later with my eighty in change.

I say goodbye to Karla the campsite owner before leaving because it is a nice place and a good place to relax and use the wi fi to bring the journal up-to-date, the slow service in the morning notwithstanding.

I'm on the road gone nine-thirty and in Erfoud take the right split, the R702 west.

I discover my mistake. I thought it is a hundred and forty Ks until 702 meets N12, but looking again at the map, the distance to the other road is in fact only ninety; the red tick with the ring on top not being at the junction but fifty K further along 12. Anyway today I'm aiming for a town starting with T where the two roads run into each other.

The road is flat and straight across scrubland. I pass through a few scattered villages on the way of brown mud brick, the same hew as the surrounding desert, in which lots of small boys cycle along with me part of the way, and others call out "Bonjour! Cest va?" from the roadside. The young people are much friendlier here than in the north.

By noon brown haze is filling the sky ahead and soon I've a bit of headwind. At this point I see a roadside restaurant ahead and I struggle to it for a lunch stop. The building is only a blue painted concrete shell inside except for a counter in the corner and a top opening fridge. Behind the counter is a teenage boy with extremely crooked teeth. He points at the menu card on the wall. Targine is 70 DH. Too much. I order an omelette for 35, take a bottle of sparkling water from the fridge and take a seat outside.

When the omelette comes out, it look a rushed affair. Just as well I didn't order the extra expensive targine. The only redeeming feature is a bowl of nice black olives.

Then when I go into pay, he writes the figure on a piece of paper. I look. Sixty Dirhams. I explain to him that thirty-five plus ten for the water plus ten for a second water only equals fifty-five, not sixty. He doesn't argue.

The wind gets even stronger in the afternoon. The sky darkened with clouds of brown rising out of the desert ahead. My speed reduced to ten kilometres per hour. The wind tries pushing me off into the loose gravel and sand shoulder and my nose is burning with dust and also its hard breathing. I rap a new scarf I bought for sun protection up over my face but to no avail.

I'm glad to reach a village and a café where I stop. I sit on the balcony with a coffee watching the small trees in front wave back and fore. Then a little later when I look they're still.

I keep going and reduce the distant to twelve kilometres when the wind starts again and shortly there's a brattle of thunder through the haze with spots of rain. Then it starts coming on heavy. I quickly stop and pull on the rain jackets. Riding on big rain drops cut into my face. Thankfully it is only brief.

I reach the junction as it clears and ridding into Tineydad I pass a sign for an Auberge. It is the only accommodation there is in town. The price when I get there is 280 for a room with breakfast, pushing up or rather breaking the budget for the day.