The road is completely empty at this time, even so every inch of the 13Km between San Roque and Algeciras is a real fight against these tyres. It feels like ice skating... without skates.
I leave
A Capitana in the parking lot and rush to buy the ticket. Too late for the ferry of 8:00, the next option is Balearia at 10:00, not so bad. I am going one day later anyway, after the unexpected rain the day before and my lack of confidence in the Mitas C02, I decided that would be wise to delay the trip just one day.
It's not raining today and here I am, buying a ticket for the 10:00 ferry which "will depart at 11:00, we are late". And to make it even better, back to the bike I realize that the plate number is wrong on the ticket. The Balearia's clerk assures me that it's not a problem at all, the police will only check the registration papers. He looks very convinced, so I believe him. But, if nobody checks that, why bother to put it?
I am one of the firsts in the queue and this already starts to feel a little bit Moroccan, a "fixer" approach me offering -in exchange of a little tip- the form to fill out to enter in Morocco. Paper which, of course, I'll get in the ferry for free.
I don't understand how works this thing of different transport companies, but for some mysterious reason the people queueing for the Acciona's ferry at 11:30 is advancing while we are still waiting (with departure at 10:00/11:00). Finally the girl at Balearia's desk was wrong and we're not departing at 11... but at 12.
At the boat the party continues. The people started to create a queue while writing down their details in the form. Half an hour later an agent of the Royal Moroccan Gendarmerie arrives and he decides to sit in a different place: Races, chaos and people getting angry just in a moment.
I finished with the procedures and now I'm feeling really tired, it's more than noon and I woke up at 5:30 this morning. It's lunch time, happily
Deli anticipated this and she prepared a sandwich and some fruit
. I'll miss her in this adventure.
"A Capitana" is the only bike in the ferry, so I'll be the first getting out of the boat. The same bureaucracy of two years ago: Show the passport more times than would be needed with just a bit of common sense and organization, walk down and up to get the famous "green paper" (temporary vehicle importation), document to be showed just 100 metres ahead from the place where is obtained. Ridiculous.
But all this is secondary, I am now officially in Morocco.