3 May 2023, Tamtetoucht, 21.2km
Haute Atlas (including breakfast) R286 [DH150]

We are disconnected from the world, so you are unlikely to receive this today...
We are in Tamtetouchte, a little over 21km from last night's bed. It was not an easy ride, but the first 17km through the Todra gorge were pretty spectacular.
The gorge dead-ends at what looks like a recently-built barrage (dam). Here the R703 is freshly widened and tarred and zig-zags around the barrage. On the zig, a strong wind pushed at us from behind; on the zag it forced us from our bikes to push them against the dual resistance of an incline and the cyclist's bain.
From our hotel with it's glitter paint, we walked again the first part of the gorge where the cliffs are at their most impressive. It is along this 1km section that salesmen offer shirts and silk scarves with Berber symbols and silver jewellery and coffee and snacks. We saw rock climbers scaling the gorge walls. Apparently there are dozens of routes pre-set into the cliffs for the intrepid. It is here also that the Todra source is found. To the north, the river bed is dry; from the point at which fresh water wells from the mountain, the river flows south. We were lucky to see a young girl shepherding goats and sheep along the dry bed, their eagerness to reach the water patent.
Beyond the source, the world is arid and harsh. The valley that twists and turns north is wide enough only for the parched river bed and a road too narrow for approaching vehicles to pass each other - both must ride with one set of wheels on the narrow dirt shoulders.
The mountains are so jumbled that for much of the route only short sections of road are visible, maybe 100m at any one time. The road appears to end at a rockface, then twists either left or right, briefly revealing itself again.
We saw a couple of cave-dwellers at home high above the road; we saw five antique Citroens driving in tandem; we saw yellow butterflies; and we met two cyclists. Khalid, a Moroccan, cycling Rabat to Guerguerat on the Mauritanian border. And an old man (in hindsight probably quite a lot younger than Charl!) cycling toward us wearing a traditional Berber coat, striped in brown and cream, its pointy hood covering his head. He was very eager to engage with us, smiling and chatting away. I recognized several town names in his monologue, so assumed he was telling us from where he had cycled and where he was headed. After awhile he asked for food. I offered him water we had filled a flask with from the gorge, and he drank down two full cups.
In the last few kms, our pleasure in the day began to evaporate as the heat, wind and dust-infused air began to take its toll. Although on one long downhill run we hit 57kph (madness), our average of only 6.7kph tells a story of an upward trend.
I had pre-booked, by telephone and in broken French, accommodation at a Berber establishment. From the review online, I knew it would be a little rough around the edges, but with a charm all its own. Ibrihim, our host, has a large family and has lived on the property for 20 years. He started the hotel 8 years ago, but does not seem to attract many travellers. The property looks somewhat derelict, with mended chairs and tables and eclectic murals and decorations. We will be served our dinner at a table constructed from two old car tyres, plastic covered and topped with a round of chipboard. The bathroom is shared, with a shower over the squat loo, and clean. Our room is cool and clean. It comprises a cement platform that abuts three of the four walls, with two thin mattresses thereon. The lampshade is a pink plastic bowl. Love it or hate it - your choice.
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Thank you all for my birthday wishes - so special.