We're in another seaside town. The beach is charismatic, powerful Atlantic breakers fill the air with both sound and spray. The local lads ride them on a hodge-podge mixture of surfboards.
Our next stop will be Laăyoune, Western Sahara. Morocco, supported by the Arab League, lay claim to the territory and are de facto rulers. The Sahrawi government-in-exile is in Algeria and is supported by that government.
Its population is just 500,000 and its languages are Arabic, Berber and Spanish. As we've travelled south in Morocco we've found that the Iberian language becomes gradually more common than French.
You have, touchingly, responded to our mugs predicament with feeling. So, in order that you won't worry...
|Problem solved (for now!)|
In response to information received from the excellent West Africa Travellers FB/WA group, and in order to avoid the notorious border crossing between Mauritania and Senegal at Rosso, we may ride to the Diama crossing.
The roads are interesting...
|This is what we got the bike for*|
|Let's hope we don't...|
The good news is that, with telephone help from my brilliant doctor in Bethnal Green, I was able to buy new drugs to deal with my rosacea.
The bad news is that they respond very badly to alcohol. I'm currently a teetotal traveller.
*I didn't know at the time of writing, but we were later to meet this rider. He is Jacques, the one-time Hindu monk I met in Grand-Bassam, Côte d'ivoire.