In the late afternoon, Jean-Pierre emerges from his engine cave with some news. He says the main three-hundred litre fuel tank is severely rusted and all the diesel in it is contaminated. Whilst I might have had thoughts to insure and scupper, Thomas is all about solutions.
We have one thirty-five litre jerry can and another twenty litre container. We estimate we need six more to carry enough diesel to negate the lost main tank. At 2000h, Thomas, Manuel and I set out into town looking for more containers. A local is only too pleased to help and attaches himself to us, whether we want his help or not. After he's guided us to several of the various shop-slash-stalls selling plastic bric-à-brac and assorted crap, we've sourced only one container, purchased out of the car boot of a passing taxi driver.
By some incredible coincidence, we've crash landed into the one African port where Manuel has a friend - working here for a few months. We'd had dinner with this guy, Ben, last night. By an additional coincidence, I spot Ben passing us out on the street. He's with a Moroccan friend, and within twenty minutes, we've sourced five twenty-five litre plastic containers.
By 2200h, they're all filled, hauled across a raft of fishing boats, and secured to the Valentina's aft deck. And we're off again.
I did not see that coming. I checked the price of FastCat back to Spain earlier.
Photo: David Lustenburger, Tangier |
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