25th day, may 10th 2023

Gorges du Ziz - Midelt Hospital

During breakfast at Jurassic Camp, I noticed two groups of geologists also staying there. As the name suggests, this region is full of fossils and crystals, attracting scientists from all over the world. The Spanish group seemed very relaxed, chatting enthusiastically about their discoveries, while the Italian group looked like a casting for an adventure film: the men impeccably dressed in Indiana Jones style, and the women sporting outfits reminiscent of Mia Farrow in Murder on the Nile, with flowing dresses and wide hats. Appearance clearly matters!

I left the Ziz valley via the RN13 and returned to the vast plains north of the Atlas. I took a slight detour, stopped, and climbed a gravel mound to take photos of the snow-capped peaks contrasting with the arid plains. Fascinating.

But as I was coming down, a misstep made me slip. A sharp pain shot through my left foot, followed by a strange sensation ,  my foot was twisted, tilted about thirty degrees. I got back on the bike, thinking I could carry on, but by the time I reached Zaida, it was impossible to put my foot down; the pain was intense.

A hotel employee directed me to a local medical centre. There, the staff confirmed they weren’t equipped to handle such an injury and advised me to go to Midelt, thirty kilometres away. Despite the pain, I decided to try the journey.

At Midelt, the hospital was waiting for me (https://g.co/kgs/1UuEgd8). As soon as I arrived, a team rushed to help. They transferred me from the bike to a wheelchair and took me to the emergency room. A doctor removed my boot, the pain was unbearable. The diagnosis: a dislocated foot.

I was informed that as a foreigner, I’d have to pay for the treatment. The amount was modest: 112.50 dirhams (around 10.25 CHF) covering everything: treatment, X-rays, surgery, except for medication, which I had to buy myself.

An orthopaedic surgeon first tried to put my ankle back in place manually. The pain was intense, but the attempt failed. Next stop: the operating theatre.

The operating room was basic. During preparations, a small ginger cat wandered about. The open door allowed curious visitors to come in and out. The atmosphere was surprisingly friendly, almost warm, despite the situation.

The anaesthetist finally decided to put me under general anaesthesia, worried about possible complications with my previous back surgery. An hour later, I woke up. The surgery was a success: three pins had been inserted to stabilise my foot.

Back in my room, I shared the space with another patient recovering from a hip operation. He only spoke Arabic.

Around 8 pm, hunger hit. The hospital didn’t provide meals, but Ussama, a young staff member, kindly offered to buy something for me. He returned with water, yoghurts, bread, cheese and dates. A simple meal, but priceless.

I contacted my travel insurance, but the number didn’t work from abroad. The online service sent me a standard message advising me to return to Switzerland for treatment, not much use at that moment.

Fortunately, the Touring Club Switzerland was quick and efficient: within five minutes, they called me to arrange my air evacuation and transport of my motorcycle by truck, pending the surgeon’s report.

After a shot of antibiotics and an infusion of paracetamol, I finally fell asleep, exhausted after a day full of emotion.

My journey ends here. While I’m relieved the surgery went well, I feel a deep sadness at having to abandon this adventure.

Today, I covered 197 km in 4 hours and 15 minutes.