Up early, loaded up, and weaved my way through the labyrinth of cobble stone roads of Cadez to the bus station. 10.5 euros got me on board to Tarifa. The road to Tarifa, particular the narrows out of Cadez, was no place for a bicycle; a four foot breakdown lane with fast moving traffic. For the day the sun decided to show itself giving me a chance to up warm and mentally dry out. I arrived in Tarifa, meet some travelers my age who had experienced Tanger and warned me of the constant hustlers, lousy food and no alcohol. Several blocks down, I arrived at my booked Hostel, The Melting Pot. Everyone from everywhere, mostly young travels in their late twenties and early thirties with a few close to my age.
Down toward the water, I found a takeout with great and inexpensive food. Some good food combined with the sunshine gave me hope that this horrendous wind and rain is nearing an end. I have mapped out a route to Gibraltar by passing Algeciras. I have been warned to stay clear of this city, the drugs and crime makes it no place for a bicyclist. Well, with the evening, the skies opened up again, all night into the morning. Time to get tough, rain or not, the wind should be at my back for my ride tomorrow. I will ride to Gibralta where I have booked a hostel. Now, to see Tarifa in the rain.
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