"Inshallah we will make it to #Imsouane!". We had set off in the morning with our #surfboards on the roof, our sandy #wetsuits and baguette sandwiches, everything needed for a #surftrip, except one thing: petrol.
The fuel gauge warning flashed a threatening red as soon as we switched on the ignition and the next petrol station was 30km away. "But we always have a little bit to go by, right?" she asked more than she asserted. Don't ask me. It's an old Japanese car with a name like a Soviet country house. Turn the music up , cross your fingers and wave your arms in the air!
After half an hour on dusty roads we finally drive past the banana plantations of Tamri, a small village which has become an obligatory stock-up stop on #roadtrips up and down the Moroccan west coast. An old man gesticulates in our direction. 'What's he saying?'. He is saying no. No petrol. In the only station in the region. Zilch, nada, not a drop. Maybe because it's Friday. Maybe the truck comes only once a week. Maybe we should have tanked up before. In any case, we are now an hour away from the paradise cove of Imsouane, with its endless rights that cross the entire bay, and we are not turning back.
Up the hills and past the tree-eating goats we ride, down and round the bend. "Do you know in Madagascar they switch off the engine when they go downhill to save petrol?". We push up for fifty minutes and finally get this glorious view: line after line uncurling for miles, perfectly shaped, #waves rolling into the sand one after the other. 'We still have a couple of hills to go'.
We start off again, driving past all those who relied too heavily on Tamri and haven't made it: car after car strapped with boards, dejected or hopeful tourists sitting by the lay side, some sticking a thumb out. Not with us mate! In fact we should start throwing off weight from the car to up our chances! Who wants to run?
One more turn and we finally pull up at the bottom of the iconic red lighthouse. Who cares now how we leave from here? We literally run down to the beach with our wetsuits half done up and as soon as I feel the full force of the rip pulling me to the middle of the bay, I know I am blessed.
PS: We eventually did care about driving back, bumped into Moroccan surfing legend @simoboukaloha who went with us from fisherman to fisherman trying to blag petrol, in vain. We set off again to Tamri ('what are you doing Rouchdi? - I am praying for good vibes to take us home!'), saw the same naysayer at the petrol station, and decided to pull up the road to enjoy the moment and try the 'real organic bananas' of the village (a dig at 'Banana village' near Taghazout which sells fruit not half as good). Lo and behold! A local man parked right behind us and opened his trunk full of jerricans. Abracadabra! Five litres and fifty bananas full, we drive into the sunset.
Chief Storyteller at Swellbound