The first half of today’s ride took us up onto 400m in elevation and through some other kind of moroccan garden – mainly spots of olive tree plantations, potatoes, sweetcorn. But it also came with some pain in the buttock bones until we reached the plateau; felt like they were grinding on blank metal.
The second part was pure joy. Pain gone or forgotten, incline over, headwinds ceased, good music, just cruising along. I am travelling too fast for all these wonderful impressions.
Arabic is THE language in these rural areas. French and English are hardly spoken, independent of age. Nevertheless, we get along nicely but longer conversations are barely possible.
The cost of my accommodation tonight equals exactly the price of the bus ticket for me and the bike, one way from Essaouira to Marrakesh. 120 Dirham.
Tomorrow I shall see the Atlas Mountains!
Fair winds…
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