This being the first time I’ve managed to log on since Morocco I just wanted to say thank you to the people who have left comments for me on the time to come home post.

Firstly, Louise, I’ll be collecting that hug so be prepared.

Stace and Patrick, thanks for the support guys I couldn’t have done it without you.

Other guy. Yes I know exactly what you mean. I love time on my own, I love to head into the middle of no-where on the bike and just ‘be’. My journey into Buddhism has taught me many things, I’ve not quite got to the point where I can leave behind my feelings of loss when my family are not near, and I’m not sure that’s the idea behind what I’m learning in any case.

Morocco would have been stunning for two weeks if I’d had friends with me to experience it, and to help each other through the tough times. Two weeks on the road, 4000 miles, and a journey most people could only dream of achieving have left a permanent mark on me that will never leave.

I’m proud of what I’ve done, even if it wasn’t quite what I set out to do.

The rest of the journey back to Tanger was pretty un-eventful, if you don’t count the traffic trying to kill you. Bought my ticket home easily enough, then filled out the customs forms and managed to side step the ‘helpers’ at the ferry gates, wanting to smooth my way through the various formalities.

It’s actually very easy, stamp passport, get bike customs forms stamped, get / cancel bike insurance, change money and then into the ferry waiting area. Success! Did it all myself and I’m starting to feel my feet in this country just as I’m about to leave it. Or so I thought.

Sitting next to the bike waiting for the ferry (it’s over an hour late – the crossing is only 35 mins so I’m trying to work out how this can be) several of us are approached by an elderly gentleman selling mint tea, I see him take money, scurry over to a portacabin and come back with delicious hot sweet tea – wonderful! But actually I fancy a treat – I wonder if he has any Diet Coke? (my first in nearly 2 weeks). I dutifully wait my turn and ask the simple question… ‘yes!’ he exclaims, ‘5 euro’, a bit steep I think but what the hell I have 10 left and I can’t change it out of the country – I hand him my 100 MAD note and off he pops… never to be seen or heard of again.

The drive back to the coast last night was stunning. The countryside really opened up, I got out of the way of the cities and just enjoyed the wonderful views and vistas across and out to sea or up into the Rif mountains.

I was on the brink of changing my mind again when I pulled over in the middle of no-where for a quick brew. No one seen for 50 miles or so and just fields in front of me, a moment of silence and a cup of tea to sooth the worries of the night before.

No sooner had I sat down than I was joined by a Sheppard boy, complete with goats! Wonderful, I’m starting to experience the real Morocco, perhaps I’m past  the worst of it and it’ll carry on like this. However, on getting out my camera to take a photo the small lads starts shouting at me holding his hand out, not wanting to cause offence (the budget is tight) I put the camera away and instead offered the lad some of me tea – he takes it, sniffs it and hands it back with that look only 9 year olds can muster. I chuckle and my spirits soar – this is it!

Then he had to ruin it, no sooner had the tea touched my lips his little hands thrust into his pocket and pull out some cannabis resign – okay be calm – he offers it to me with the words ’50 euro, 50 euro’. There we are then, everything confirmed there really is no ‘real’ Morocco, just empty spaces filled by drug pushing Sheppard boys.

So I’ve been at this for a little over a week. I’m feeling run down (even with the rest in Gibraltar) and if one more person tries to rip me off I’m going to hit the roof. I think that’s my point actually… I’m not sure I can do this on my own.

Today I hit a small money problem that has left only 90 euros in my pocket for the next couple of days – I could take a risk and carry on into Morocco and be confident it’ll work itself out – making sure I spend as little as possible. The problem is working to a budget here is almost impossible. You can say you’re only going to spend 30 euros but by the time you’ve paid your unwanted guide, your unwanted bike cleaner and whoever else manages to make themselves payable around you your money flitters away, 5 MAD at a time.

But it’s not the money that worries me, my family at home will make sure that I’m okay with that kind of thing, what worries me is my reaction to the problem.

I’m not the kind of person who hides from trouble, I relish a challange and I never shy away, but all I wanted to do today was go home, as quickly as possible. I miss Catherine so much that I’m still tearfull after I get off the phone with here – I really thought this would pass.

I think it all boils down to my coming out here on my own. Talking to other backpackers is great, perhaps even a biker (although I’ve not met one yet).. but there’s something about talking to ones friends that keeps one going, even when it gets tough – that outlet just isn’t here.

I sat in my room this afternoon and cried, alot. I was shaking and really really afraid of the fact that I don’t even have enough money to get back across the border. In the back of my mind I know this will be fixed tomorrow, but that didn’t stop it all rather getting too much.

I’ve been reading a biography about a great explorer and traveller called Wilfred Thesiger, a great man who travelled the world and worked in Africa and Arabia for most of his life. He wrote his own book a few years ago called the life of my choice in which he explained that by having no wife, no family to look after or to care for he was able to go on trek for months on end without the slightest hint of remorse. I think that’s what I’m missing. I have a family, and I love them dearly.

Whilst I’ve been away from home many times before, often for longer periods than this, I think somehow, over the last couple of years I’ve become too much of a ‘home’ person, someone who likes to be around thier family.

So, after this trip is over, I don’t think there’ll be any excursions on my own – I still want to travel the world – much of it on a motorbike – but from now on – only with my friends and family.

So I’ve decided to head for home. It’s not that I don’t like Morocco (although to be fair I’ve only seen a very tainted part of it) it’s a combination of things. Right at the top of that list is spending 14 days in my own company. It’s what some may call, madness; or at the very least that’s where I’ll end up if I spend any more time on my own with a very basic understanding of French.

I get the feeling I’ve not really seen Morocco – what I’ve seen is the Tourist hell hole that is the con artists, the cities and the crazy driving that is northern Morocco. I’m sure had I stuck with it I would have seen the many wonders and secrets that it holds; unfortunately this time it didn’t open them to me.

I’m coming back. Of that I’m very sure, perhaps next time with friends, which I think will make the world of difference. Three seems the perfect number; one to watch the bikes, another to search for hotels and the third to fend off the money making scum that have ruined this once great nation.

Tomorrow I head for home, I will of course be heading in the opposite direction from which I came, and my luck being what it is it will be beautiful, wonderful and everything I was hoping!