I get up very early in the morning but I can't remember much of last night except for the fact that I had to vomit several times and I also felt a feverish glow. As the sun comes up from behind the mountain I go refresh myself in the cold water while our neighbour Berber boy leaves his cave with his sheep and goats. I'm still not feeling quite to scratch but today we only have to walk a few hours. At breakfast I eat some extra sugar lumps to get more energy if only because of the thought itself.
We start walking beside the little creek but pretty soon we climb up a small path with loose stones and a yawning chasm on our left side. As usual and despite our quick steps, we can't keep up with the drivers and mules who race ahead to prepare the meal for our arrival. I don't see much of the vista because my eyes are almost constantly glued to the ground. It's a lot of puffing and sighing and even this short stretch is too long for me today. While the mountain path gets steeper and steeper, it gets too much for me and I ask if it's still far to the next camping place. "About 10 metres", sounds a spontaneous answer. "Hardly encouraging", I thought to myself but after a few more steps we suddenly stand in front of the tents and the mules. We are at destination. It is sweltering hot and the small river below has almost run dry. While everybody lay stretched out on the ground worshipping the sun, I seek shelter under a huge rock to get some sleep. And in the late afternoon, I already feel a lot better than before.