11/21/2023 Bikepacking Morocco Day 105 : Under a Moroccan Sun

“Is you mom still with you?” Asked Ahmed as he poked his head into the doorway.

“No,” I replied.

“Well, you can maybe give this to your sister, then,” he said as he withdrew a carefully guarded crocheted purse, about the size and shape of one of those pizza crusts with no toppings that I told you about last night.

I really liked Ahmed, as we had talked in his good English about his time spent in Virginia and even going to the twin towers in 1998. He had a sincere and generous manner about him. I felt awful saying, “thank you so much, but I have no space for this. Thank you.” It is true, too. Between all my diabetes stuff and the fact that I have a 3 person tent (a vestige of the trip with Janet), space for food and water for my long hauls in the desert takes precedence. But how do you refuse a gift like that? He looked sad. I considered accepting his gift and then leaving it with someone else. In retrospect, that probably would have been best - but as you guys know, I’m still learning how to “do” Morocco, taking a lot of missteps along the way.

The next 8 hours of riding were excellent. Good surface, in spite of this unusually heady wind. The route I took only exists because of a mine, but the dirt was hard packed and no rocks as a result. About 25 dump trucks passed me during that time (only about 5 per hour, so not bad). Each and every one of the trucks would stop as to not engulf me in a dust cloud. They smiled and waved as i plodded by. One truck even went to the opposite side of the road and flashed his lights - just so I could go upwind of his dust cloud!

And then I got to town where I bought food - the same stuff again for $5 instead of $15… a third of the price when only the + key is being used. As the adversities of the tourist zones are beginning to diminuendo in my mind, I’m returning to that state of happy harmony with Morocco that I had on the first days being here.

In spite of my Achilles, I’m having to do these long hauls to get water. 55 miles of dirt without water today. Also, since there aren’t any campgrounds out here, I decided to give myself a bit of luxury tonight. Normally, when wild camping, I will shower with one liter of water. That is the bare minimum to get a decent nights sleep. At the end of the day, I had made it to a town, and looked in the dumpster for an empty 4 liter bottle, and quickly found one. Since I couldn’t find a spigot in the dusty town, asked a shop keeper, “aviez-vous l’eau, s’il vous plaît ?” (Do you have the water please?) while pointing at the empty bottle. Not the perfect sentence, but he seems to understand and takes the bottle into his shop. He returns a few minutes later saying “l’essence ! L’essence!” (Gasoline, gasoline). “Oh crap!” I thought. He probably thought I had a motor bike and needed gas. He shows me the bottle, it’s full, and he is sniffing it; holding it for me to sniff too. I thought, “now I have to buy this gallon of gas.” But then I saw the separation of water and oil. I realized: someone had used this container for gas in the past! He was warning me, probably thinking I planned to drink or bathe with it. He suggested a solution, returning with a small scoop of white powder. I didn’t understand that! But then he returned with a better solution - he filled up a clean 4L bottle. “Merci beaucoup !!”

Everything wasn’t 100% perfect today. As I was pedaling off with my gallon on my back, kids started harassing me. They chased me asking for my water bottles, money, grabbing at me and my bike. I said, “no”. They continued to run along me, grabbing and saying “donnez-moi !” (Give me!). I don’t know where this came from, but after two polite “no’s” I suddenly ROARED, “NO!!!!!”

My! You should have seen the shocked kid’s faces as they ran away from this evil monster. I’m going to confess a secret: That felt DAMN good yelling at kids. Wow. I’m glowing with a feeling of empowerment.

The other bad thing is that I went to change my insulin cartridge, and found not one, but TWO of the cartridges had shattered and leaked all of their precious contents to the dry desert air. I had been riding that insanely rocky terrain a couple days back.. and even though they were padded to the hilt, it was no match for that terrain. What dummy made these things out of glass? Anyway, I lost 50 days worth of the insulin I use for eating. Luckily, the insulin I use for living is all still intact. The good news is that I think I can get more here in Morocco - albeit not the exact same stuff.

In Summary: Brian gets joy from screaming at kids. The good guys don’t rip me off - and get less money as a result. The best guys, instead of taking, they try to give.. What a strange world we live in, huh?