The bus we took from Essaouira to Agadir drove right past our stop.
True adventure, I think, is created from the threads we pull to fix these errors.
If not for this mistake, we would never have ended up in the back of this tiny truck, heading north up the Moroccan freeway. Speeding along amidst caravans stuffed with sheep, and overstuffed taxis, we hardly made a ripple as we leaned over the tailgate, watching the desert turn to sea, and the sun set along the western coast of Africa.
We arrived in Tagazoute in the early evening, and spent the following days surfing in the African Ocean.
I've been a mediocre surfer for ages, never quite dedicated enough to commit regularly and improve. In Tagazoute, however, I fell into a perfect rhythm, running down to the beach in the morning, laying on the terrace in the afternoon sun, then back to the beach as the sun began to dip towards the waves. I was perpetually exhausted in the most invigorating way, and my mind was less noisy for once; as calm as the sleepy, one road town of Tagazoute.
I think I should have stayed...