25-10 Zagora Tinerhir 310km Shattering Italian 
As usual, Muesin 4:30, 6:00 standing, breakfast extra. We will look at the bikes hosto, it is not the guardian or person they were well guarded!, but Morocco is a very safe country and frankly it does not fear no hand. It takes
motorcycles, and are charged at 8.00 am we hit the road.
25 km of tar before hitting the track for Alnif. This track is in preparation for future paving, what a road called Gandini Inshallah, the old trail that winds around the news is more interesting. Passage of a small hill and on arrival Alnif smoothly, full of bikes and you start to Zagora.
Alnif After we made a dozen miles east, then right heading S, crossing the village, then exit Tabourikt the village I take a wrong track, the GPS indicates a heading SW while I shoot south to the Jebel, we try to trace the track pulling off runway heading but it's full of big stones, it becomes industrialized countries, half round, we found another track that seems to be good but again it brings us to the Jebel opposite is drawn to the Cape again and this time found the right track.
We drive now in a stony plain, I stop at a well built, the water is barely three meters from the surface. Patrick rolls before but it lacks a change of direction, it has no GPS at the same time it loses its flagship plate, I expect at the intersection, when he realizes he turned around, it picks up the plate, it goes.
When you leave this valley one approaches a large extent appears to be a shott, the wind picked up and blows hard enough, and turns into a sandstorm .
We head straight into a cloud that obscures the horizon, a little anxiety rises, along with driving on a completely dry and cracked earth, there is no track, sheets of dry land 20 or 30 cm wide and 3 or 4 thick crack under the wheels, the more one goes, the less we see, visibility is more than ten meters, I stop you decide to ride side by side and not lose sight of. It runs on GPS ground crunches under the wheels. It does not last long but thrills, you end up out of the cloud but the wind always blows and strong enough. Wind Sandy
Earth crusted
It then comes to a village and sandy zone that is bypassed by transplanting the East before full west to Zagora. Arriving at the inn Marabout lost in the middle of nowhere (actually it's a road frequented), lunch break, Kefta Tagine, fresh water, the foot. The young man who serves us about the various raids that go through there, and we even out a newspaper article on the raid of friendship with the entry list for 90 years, where we find the name of Michael B that we know well. Unbelievable.
Hostel Marabou
It takes the runway, I open the front and I let a little gas, after a while I turn around, nobody, I wait a few but not Patrick, I see half turn off the 4X4 I head toward them,''z'avez not seen a motorcycle? if so arrested later.''
Gas, all of a sudden a motorcycle gang and a 4x4 in front of me, the Italians the first day, the headlight hello, a little farther Patrick arrested, he burst forward and has already removed the wheel . Session
tire changer in the sandstorm, is better as a workshop, the sand gets everywhere, there are plenty inside the tire on the wheel axle sand has stuck to the grease, it will arrange the bearings treatment, short is not the ideal place.
The tire is filled with thorns, Patrick always providing there is at last taken a little time to prepare his bike and due to stock shortages on the Michelin Desert has mounted T63 ,'' but if you see it will ''he said. Reassembly, it starts but will have to accelerate the pace if we want to arrive before nightfall.
Gaz.
is rolled back into the sandstorm when, suddenly, 4 bikes arrested in front of us, the Italians, it is decidedly done to meet. We stop, they ask us if we have a GPS in my turn I ask them if they have one, NO, a compass, NO, card, NO. In short, they are lost with nothing sighted types, their group was cut in half and because of the sandstorm they lost to, well done.
They ask us if we can follow, with "una birra" it takes them to Zagora
Italians
Andiamo.
There is a BMW 1200 GS divested of its plastics, the guy runs really well (he is 5 dakar arrivals including three to his name), a nice Greek twin Africa who speak a little French and rolls a lot, an old Honda 500 XLR and finally a guy with a BMW 1150 GS not really rolling fast, which seems frightened and distressed, the tone will rise between him and the guy in 1200.
We have smaller bikes with our 400, but they will have trouble keeping up and it will stop every 2 or 3 km for the wait, it did not happen. In
crossing Jrane Umm I'm a navigational error on the outskirts of the village and takes the wrong track, rather than returning to the village I chose to cut off piste. A small field of stones, followed by a sandy part, crossing not very complicated but the guy does not follow the 1150, the Dakar turned around, he is using the bike to pass. We're back and we find the right track.
We must stop every 5 minutes to wait.
We stop for a drink, the guy comes to the 1150 I handed him my bottle, he threw the cap to the ground after he throws the bottle that Patrick gave her''oh boy it is not that, c is not a dump here.'' He starts to get drunk, that one, in fact it looks completely distraught, I think he is afraid. The Dakar
worries about gasoline, time ahead, so good.
You leave, Patrick was again burst forward but it deflates slowly, we decided to continue.
I decided to take the track south of Jebel Zagora Adafane before, but looking back I always did not pay attention to the GPS and we took the trail north stronger, it's not that serious goes there too. Again we must wait for the Italians. I pause, Patrick said he continued slowly because of its wheel. I'm on the edge of the runway and two girls about 4 or 5 years to come, I wonder where they come off when I see a camp. She looked at me with nothing say, I have in my bag some of the picnic lunch we did not hit, I decided to give them what I have, bread, a bottle of water and grains.
Given the time we could spend the night on the runway. The Italians finally arrived, the anguished at the 1150 passes in front of me without even a look, as his colleague with the 500 Honda.
Patrick returns at the same time as the Greek and two other Italians in the group, it starts to make the world.
Their band was reformed in part thanks to mobile phone, so we can continue, Arrivederci, i vediamos per la birra.
Before leaving it inflates the wheel of Patrick with a small gas bottle special bike. Now night has fallen, you drive coast to coast (Quench), lighting of motorcycles is not great, when I walk into a lighthouse off the GPS and beacon code or anyway it does there is not much difference parcontre must reset the GPS in the dark, "ON" button, page button twice too fast or it will not take it, all in stock, it's sport. An eye on the GPS, the other on the track, or what I guess, through mapping Mapsource obtained on the Internet by Bernard F, I can follow our progress on the track thanks to the GPS map display, it is also bordered by small cairns. We'll get by. Without this tool follow a trail at night is very difficult if not impossible. It has traveled many miles but it has still seemed long.
We finally arrived in Zagora, escorted by motorcycles young touts for the mechanics, hotels, restaurants etc. ...
Zagora has really changed in 8 years. It stops at the governor's palace under a lamppost, ostentatious.
We consult the guide book, our choice is the house guest Dar Raha to Amezrou . Good pick.
It is accompanied by a garage mechanic Said Motoring (service competition please) that we do not give up, you take the card.
We return the bikes in the lobby of the house, we were the only guests.
Fresh beer, shower and Kefta drizzled with red wine from Meknes, the house is superb, the welcome too, I sleep on the terrace
'' Hey Patrick, it is ground, eh! ''.
suite ....
Lobby house Dar Raha, incidentally garage for bikes
where one seeks to buy something to eat, but it's Ramadan and the shops are closed, we walked around, found a bakery, two pies and two chocolatines (chocolate croissants for northerners) it will. 
Picnic on the heights overlooking Chefchaouen. ''Hey Patrick, it is ground, eh! ''. In the village of Souk El Had, left direction Mokrisset where we hope to find a bit of track to get into the hike. The trail begins quickly, doubling a column of Italians, 8 motorcycles and a 4x4, we see them again in a few days in other circumstances. The track is actually a road that has deteriorated in track and road soon revert to the view of the ongoing work. This track is easy and pleasant, perfect for a beginning, motorcycles, even loaded, remain easy to drive. The scenery on the Rif mountains are splendid. All this is ideal. After 
Zoumi, we take the road to Fez. 
Restaurant La Menara 
Ski Ifrane before, a single lift. 
Meeting with a guy with an old Finistère BJ45 that is getting a health Midelt, we offer two beers in our room, nice. 
Runway continuous passage of a pass at 2650m before Imilchil, we put some gas in the climb. Patrick is pressed, turista?, No no just wanted to drop a little. 
The palm 
Exhibit rewelded 
