Rif Mountains

Day 56
Distance: 84 km (total climb of 2100 m), Top speed: ?? kmph

We vowed to make it to Chefchaouen today, but that meant crossing the Rif Mountains, which were much more challenging than expected.

Our sense of remoteness definitely came apparent. The only people we passed were either strangers sitting at odd locations by the side of the road, or the occasional shepherd herding his flock from field to field. It also became evident that every single Moroccan drives a white 1970's Mercedes.

The road was littered with what were potentially devastating potholes (or chicken nests en Français ), made all the more treacherous by the seduction of our eyes by the stunning scenery.

Half way through the day, I became ill again, this time with severely painful bowl cramps. We stopped for lunch and ended up losing what had to be nearly half my body weight in fluid, along with all of my dignity. No nearby shelter meant every passing car could see me conducting my business.

Once your dignity reaches zero, however, it drops no further. There's a nice, almost cosy plateau when you hit rock bottom. Once you get over the initial plummet, you can rest safe in the knowledge that things won't get any more embarrassing for yourself.

Caroline began to feel weak too, so Max (a.k.a. tank man) took almost all of our gear himself. We ran low on water, so filled up from a nearby mountain stream (using Max's iodine tablets of course).

About two hours later we laid eyes on Chefchauoen, tucked away in the folds of distant mountains. Max pack-muled us onto victory, and put and end to what was probably the most challenging day of the entire trip.