Ah, wind. Our old friend came back for a visit and blew in our faces for most of the day, turning what should have been an easy route into a tiring challenge. We did have some interesting encounters to break up the fight against the wind, starting with a Moroccan cyclist sitting by the side of the road.
As we approached the man indicated he had a flat tyre but no pump. That sounded easy so we got out our pump but the valve was an odd size and a few minutes of fiddling got us nowhere. We did, however, get to hear our man’s intention to cycle to France. Quite how he was going to manage a trip of a few thousand kilometers on a rusty bike with only one pedal we don’t know.
Worryingly, he also started to use the word hashish quite a bit. Definitely a sign that it’s time to carry on. We gave our fellow cyclist some fruit in case he was stuck for a while and headed back on the road, only to see him jump on his bike and pedal vigorously in the other direction – apparently the tyre wasn’t so bad after all!
A few kilometers later, after having our lunch break cut short by rain, we met another couple on bikes. They were Dutch and were doing roughly the same route as we have planned, only in the other direction.
The afternoon was spent in a familiar style, dodging children looking for a selection of candy, money and pens, although we also encountered women asking for something to drink. We did not stop, perhaps hardened by too many people seeing us as cash cows, and also in the belief that if we can find wells to get water to drink from then surely the locals can too.