So today I decided to head off road and take the piste towards Foum Zguid, I left the empty campsite before the owner had risen, he had arranged to be here by 10.00am but at 9.15am I was packed and ready to leave. I paid beforehand so I just made sure all was clean and tidy and made my way out into the morning sun.

on joining the ‘piste’ I discover that the road now has a nice coating of tar-macadam, I was a little disappointed to be honest as I had been looking forward to a steady day riding on unmade roads over to the next town , but hey ho! I ride the mostly made road and arrive at Foum Zguid in less than a couple of hours.

The next loosely made plan was to continue west for Tata, all was going very well indeed until I came to the town of Mrhimina (I think!). As I crossed the bridge into town there was quite a gathering of people watching the flash flood raging down under the bridge. It was quite some sight I can tell you! Where on earth did that come from? I haven’t seen rain since leaving the UK!! I took my photos and rode on into town.

I pulled over at a motorcycle shop to check the map and nodded to the mechanic, he nodded back.

Map checked I set off on my way again. About 6k out of town was an oued, a place where the road dips to allow water to flow across, there was a queue of traffic stopped in the road, I made my way to the front to be confronted by a raging torrent some 200mtrs wide of orange floodwater. I considered crossing for about like a millisecond and decided it was definitely not going to happen. There was a large truck waiting at the other side and several 4X4’s contemplating the situation, it was a definite no go for even the largest of the trucks let alone little old me!

A Belgian approaches me and says they are going to try the piste back over the bridge in town, apparently it skirts the current obstacle, they invite me to follow and I agree. I jump back on the bike, she turns over but will not start, what?

One of the Belgians comes over seeing I have a problem and offers to tow me back to the town, apparently they towed a scooter for 80k! Just the other day.

well I’ve never been towed by a car before but agree as I don’t have much choice really.

We attach a tow rope to my Kriega haul loop and off we go, not a problem, I even manage a wave to the Belgian guy, hanging out of his window, filming me with his GoPro, at last I’m a star..

We arrive at town and they drop me off at the mechanics shop. This is a 4X4 place but I’m grateful for the tow and I’m more surprised to be handed a cold beer from my rescuers. They wish me good fortune and leave.

So, the fun starts, what on earth could be the problem? I’ve done over 2,000 miles since leaving the UK and the CRF hasn’t missed a beat, now this?

We try everything, spark, fuel, pump pressure, side-stand switch (they can be buggers!), trace wiring, fuses etc, etc but can find nothing wrong.

The mechanic is lost, I’m struggling to figure it out so I call Ben in the UK, we go through everything we can think of but to no avail. It’s got to be something simple!

Earlier when I came through town you may remember I nodded to the mechanic at the bike shop, he arrives and checks everything we already checked, he’s a really nice chap and clearly knows his stuff. The bikes in nearly a million pieces and I’m wondering what the hell is wrong.

During this time I get a call from a mechanic in Zagora, he has men waiting to fix my bike and he’s going to send a big truck to transport me and the bike back there, the bike mechanic looks at me with knowing eyes and shakes his head, he’s telling me he can sort this. The knowing glance speaks a thousand words, I think he’s telling me I’m about to get ripped off for a huge bill. I look him in the eye and tell the Zagora fixer I will call him back. The bike mechanic reaches over and squeezes my hand, he gets back to work.

Finally the bike mechanic cracks it! He thinks the spark plug cap is faulty, you know that never crossed my mind because I changed it as a precaution when prepping the bike for this trip, but he’s right, it is the plug cap, it’s arcing to the head through the insulation.

Great, I think, that’s an easy fix, then I remember that I didn’t pack a spare, I just didn’t think I would need one as this one is new! Ok, so I can buy one then, from the bike shop. Likely story! Nothing like that in stock, I have plenty at home!!

My new saviour calls for something, insulation tape! He wraps the plug cap bit runs out, he jumps on his C90 lookalike and disappears? 2 minutes later he’s back with more tape. I think that if I had broken my leg this guy would have fixed it with his tape, he put yards of it around the plug cap! Plug cap on and he’s bouncing the CRF off the limiter, not something I would do but I’m just glad it’s running.

All three of us set to putting the bike back together and in no time it’s done, bike ticking over perfectly! I ask how much, gulp! I’m pleasantly surprised when the original mechanic say 400 dirahms. Reaching into my favourite Pac Safe bum bag I discover that the only Moroccan cash I have comes to literally just over 400 dms. That’s enough to pay for the repair but it’s Sunday and the banks are closed.

The mechanic takes 300 dirahms and says that’s fine, gives me a wink and says thank you!! I didn’t even contemplate bargaining, I thought the money was fair but he saw my predicament and saved me once more. So I paid about £30 for three hours working in the heat of the day for two mechanics and an acceptable fix, those guys were amazing and I am so humbled by their generosity.

That was a lesson in humanity.

The river is still not good to cross so the chap who fixed the bike gestures me to follow him, he takes me back to his shop where he has been working all night to fix another Dutch geezers AJP PR7. Speaking the the Dutch guy I find that he was riding off road and took a very hard landing on the bike, he stayed on but bent the rear shock and broke the bottom link of his suspension. My fixer had stripped his bike, driven to Zagora, got the link welded and re machined, straightened the rear shock, driven back and was now putting it all back together! He had been up all night and had taken the time to come over and help me too.

That, my friends was my second lesson in humanity within a few hours!

I said goodbye, the mechanic gave me another wink and I was off, over the bridge with the swollen river and onto the piste. Maps.me didn’t like it at first trying to turn me back to the paved roads but I followed the sun and rode for many kilometres along rocky track, then through open mixed desert, it was pretty damp and in sandy sections the bike sunk and bogged but I kept it rolling through many wet sections until I found the road again.

Bike is running well and I’m heading for Akka. So, as I’m riding and figuring out what to do I realise that I have no money so there’s not much chance of accommodation tonight. I decided to stop and look for options on iOverlander, there’s not much around in this area but there is a good wild camp spot 1 3/4 hours ahead. I decide to go for that.

Passing through Akka I really need fuel, I haven’t got enough cash to buy a full tank, all 12 litres of it! So I pull in and give the guy 100 dirahms and he tops me up.

I have enough cash left to buy bread, I dish out my last 12p and I’m set for the night.

Im chasing the setting sun now, I have 45 minutes left to get to the camp spot as the sun sets over the mountains at 7.00pm precisely. It takes a little time to get dark but in the dark I arrive, the spot is rubbish really but I’ve run out of options and I set up camp, no tent, just me wrapped in my new Snug PAC tarp, it’s going to have to do! I realise I haven’t eaten all day, I was going to cook but there’s nothing left in me so I eat a can of sardines and the bread and get my head down, it’s a lovely sky and the moon is bright, I’m done for the day.