Day 43

The moon is full tonight but I feel less creative than I normally do on nights like this. Why go on a long motorcycle trip? What is adventure bike riding anyway? Why do this?

I watch a cork tied to a piece of string that hands from a bending Birch tree. It’s been hung there to entertain the cats that fill our dusty campsite. This morning, the elegant grey cat gave the cork a few paws before she grew bored and began looking for another human to feed her. 

The elegant grey looks like a Russian Blue, there’s also an older cat of beige and black that looks like a Siamese, then the cute kitten with his grey tabby coat, and the two spritely toms with their ginger tabby coats. After over a week here, they’ve learnt that we do not feed them and so, they now allow us more space. 

The Brits in the red caravan who pulled up a few days ago, however, were very excited by the fearless cat community here. They made cooing noises, called the cats over to their camper, and even bought cat food for them. Earlier on, their camper door was closed as they watched TV inside, meanwhile, a group of cats were outside meowing and pawing at their door. We do not have the luxury of a door to close, only the ventilation gap of our outer tent and a delicate inner tent that is now prickled with claw marks. The dry-cured ham and eggs, that I purchased for Wiggy’s 40^th birthday breakfast tomorrow, are hung on the 7ft high fence in a cool bag and as a precaution, I’ve also purchased a cucumber. 

So, why are we still here after a week? Why not spend Wiggy’s 40^th birthday in Morocco, enjoying a hot air balloon ride? Because, we are waiting for Wiggy’s warranty replacement bike tracker, and deal with a multinational shipping conglomerate’s paperwork. However, we’ve had help. Melania from ToroTrail is fluent in Spanish and English and has translated and guided us through the requests. She’s also ordered us new rear tyres through her contacts, so at least all this waiting has not been a waste.

ToroTrail is a trail-riding tour company that runs routes in Spain, Portugal and Morocco. They also do stress-busting adventure bike tours. Lyndon, their founder, was curious about our round-the-world tour and invited us out for lunch.

We dined at Restaurante Miralmonte, run by a pair of eccentric English gentlemen in waistcoats. The gent on duty when we arrived asked many questions and had some whacky ideas for vlogging, like staged crashes and riding down ditches. Lyndon was fantastic, funny, and had many surprising stories! I was particularly gripped by ones that involved bodily injury, so maybe our host was correct. In appreciation for the lunch offer, we said we’d get hold of authentic shilajit (a black goop of a superfood) from the Himalayas and send it to him as a thank you. 

Back at the ToroTrail hub, Lyndon showed us their fleet. The lowered 1250GS and 250 Husky felt perfect for me. Then, as we prepared to leave, we heard a rumble in the distance. It was their 1250GS motorcycles returning from their tour of Morocco. Six motors pulled up and I cheered and clapped to congratulate them. The riders and pillions climbed off, dusted themselves off, and with glowing faces started hugging and shaking hands. Their lead was a spirited and nimble man called Domien, he beamed, bounced about and introduced himself. He has an apartment that he rents out in Morocco, which he encouraged us to use during our tour.

Earlier this evening, we were asked to pop down to our campsite’s bar at 6 pm. A section of our campsite hosts several British mobile homeowners. Every evening they’ve been at the bar, roaring with laughter and telling hilarious stories, including a recital of the children’s book “Brenda’s Beaver Needs a Barber”. An absolute joy to be around. After we were settled with drinks, Keith the bar’s host, came out with a chocolate cake that had a wax candle shaped like a 40 kph road sign! And Wiggy was given a birthday card that they’d all signed! It was titled, empieza una nueva aventura, a new adventure starts, and embellished with glitter and a picture of a grumpy old man wearing motorcycle goggles.