Yesterday I thought I might cross into Tangier from Malaga, but today, with the help of Don — a Uralista — who lives here have decided to ride past Algeciras, which is supposed to be a zoo. Twenty minutes down the road at the most popular windsurfing beach in the world lies Tarifa, a much smaller and more sane place to cross. That way I'll be closer to Fez, which I want to get to, and I will go via the coast, not the Rif mountains where they grow pot and make "kif" has. Doesn't sound like a bad place on the face of it but there are apparently zero women there, which is never a good thing.
So I'll go down the west coast after all on the N1 from Tanger, cut inland at Larache, back to the coast at Kenitra, then cut over to Mekenes on the N6, and toodle on to Fes.
From there head a bit southeast to some canyons where rock climbers go, then to Marrakesh finally to lounge about with the Wild Writing Women for a week. I have a feeling I'll be ready!
On the way home I take a ferry from Tangiers to Genova, so I only have to ride 800 km back to Linz.
Well – that's the "plan." Please don't hold me to it!