4 May 2023, Ait Daoud, 23.26km
Auberge Brahim (including breakfast) R152 [DH80]

At the top of a two or three km walk was a hotel where we had a cold drink and connected briefly to their wifi which is why you received my May 3 whatsapp today. We are 23km away from our Tamtetouchte accommodation and still without connectivity. Apparently Maroc Telecom does not work along this stretch of road. So again you will receive today's whatsapp tomorrow (I hope) ...
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The only way for me to conquer particularly steep climbs is to set short term goals. Look ahead up the incline, find a landmark you think you can reach, then walk to it. Walk at a steady pace, keeping your upper body, angled to push the bike, as relaxed as possible so as to husband your physical resources. Once at your landmark, stop and wait for breath and heartbeat to slow. Then do it again, and again... So the climb is defined by a round stone or the start of a retaining wall or a road sign depicting rocks falling from the mountain or a lilac thistle... And when you look again, you are at the top and if you are very lucky, so is a hotel serving cold Coke.
Our ride was through much more open scenery, with only one small town (Aït Hani) between Tamtetouchte and the small village of Aït Daoud where we are sleeping tonight. I had selected Auberge Brahim off Google Maps and called from Tinghir to secure a room in broken French, there being no other way to communicate. The hotel proprietor at the top of our climb today, assured us the auberge was ferme (closed). We got him to call and confirm all was OK. In Aït Hani, a restaurant proprietor assured us that the auberge was in fact in Agoudal, tomorrow's destination. We got him to call and confirm all was OK. The auberge owner must have thought we were extraordinarily neurotic and was waiting outside when we arrived to welcome us in.
Our room is basic and the ablutions a little rough, but at R160 we are not complaining. Ibrahim also served us a delicious tagine and worked hard at making conversation. He is Berber, has no schooling, has three children, and looks in his 50s when he is only 36. Life is tough out here. He told us that salt is mined in the mountains here and that before the piste (dirt road) to Agoudal was tarred, it took six hours to get there from here; now it takes just one.
On two occasions today I was joined by local boys on bikes for a km or four. It is not easy to make conversation in a foreign language while puffing up an incline, but when someone is eager to engage it seems churlish not to make the effort. The first boy, a rapper style necklace (bling) bright against his black T-shirt, was on his school holiday and just out for an exuberant ride in the countryside. The other two, old enough to have completed school, were on their way home to their village.
Not all youngsters are a pleasure to deal with. Sometimes small groups of boys try to stop one cycling past, demanding a stilo (pen), bonbon (sweet) or "un dirham", the equivalent of two Rand. Sometimes two or three on bikes will gather in tight formation around you. I find it difficult to ride between or beside them. They are considerably more agile and careless than I, often forcing me from the line with which I am most comfortable, sometimes grabbing at my flag or mirror, setting me wobbling.
Tomorrow we climb le mountain, armed with oranges and salt, which we have found to be ideal sustenance on the road.
It was overcast today, and at this altitude it is chilly tonight.