I lay in my sleeping bag and watched a beautiful orange
sunrise. The scene was from a storybook. The two trikes, the sea and sand, the bodies spread out all over the place in sleeping bags. Fishing boats with gulls swarming around them, were chugging back into the
harbour after the nights fishing. Somewhere coffee was brewing, unfortunately not anywhere near me!
After first tracking down coffee and bread, Olivier
and I tracked down a phone and called BaseOps in England to ask them for the flight authorisation numbers for Morocco. We were shocked to discover that they had not yet applied to Morocco and they didn't seem to
know anything about the route and schedule that we had e-mailed to them 2 weeks ago. Aagghhhh! It takes quite a while to get flight authorisations from Morocco and it was Friday. BaseOps promised to apply
immediately. We called back a few hours later and were told that there was no reply yet. Olivier tried to call Tangier tower to ask them for authorisation, but we were unable to get through.
While we were phoning the local Guardia Civil arrived
in a Zodiac from the sea, and told Reynald and Greg that we were not allowed to land on the beach and that we should fly to an airfield.
At about 4 pm we were ready to leave and even had the
engines warmed up, when the wind suddenly swung around and blew quite strongly from inland. We decided to wait for the wind to reduce or swing, but it never did, so we spent another night on the beach under the