Bitterly cold night, though I was warm on the truck with the sides and back down. Struggle to get out of bed.
After breakfast we drove back into Meske for shopping. Very little open this early and not much on offer for presents for Kelvin’s birthday. But Vicki and I found a banana soap and blue Happy Baby powder. Nikki bought two lurid, fluorescent pink iced pre-cut birthday cakes. Bob bought Kelvin a Moroccan crocheted skullcap Kelvin returned to the truck pursued by mad Moroccans after Hassan paid only 30 Dirham for filling the truck with water, which was oily, when the attendant wanted 50. Seemed farcical when there was a tap in the market we could have filled from. Took off promptly, only to be pursued and then stopped by a car full of police. They escorted us to the police station, where Ben had to show his passport and we ended up paying 80 Dirham for the water. A farce, having to pay for oily water after swimming in fresh water just the day before only kilometres down the road.
Not much of a day visually so read “The Seven-Per-Cent Solution” by Dr Watson. Loved it, pulling in all sorts of previous adventures and implying that all the Conan Doyle novels were actually Watson’s reports printed under Doyle’s name. Clever. Buried in the book all day, occasionally looking up to watch the scenery, some of it pretty with mauve and blue Hills but nothing really of note after the spectacular recent days.
About 3-ish we turned off the tarmac after the road abruptly ceased in a small village. We followed an incredible bumpy red earth road - more holes than flat - making very slow progress, the truck rocking from side to side and up and down, and branches coming through the sides of the truck. Stopped to ask directions from a timber truck loaded with Moroccans - beautiful view over the valley and mountains. Pulled off the road in forest where our wood "wallahs" sawed a huge tree to stock the truck, hauling logs up hill to stow them on board.
After a delicious dinner of veggies smothered in cheese, we gathered around a fire, the pyromaniacs among us feeding logs into the flames. Everyone stayed up much later than usual talking. A few of us kept dashing into the truck surreptitiously wrapping Kelvin’s presents and later whittling the candles into 36. Went to bed to read to the music of the Rolling Stones.
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