Part One: Kelâa M'Gouna to Todra Gorge and Merzouga
I slept perfect last night, with the door and windows wide open. The air cooled some, but I never did get beneath the covers. Sometime around 2:30 there was a call from the minaret way off down the valley, so the sound was muted, and it echoed wall to wall up the canyon to me. I went out on our little patio and stood in the dark, staring at the stars and listening to the quiet calls.
The coffee today was the best of the trip, and we had olives, dates, breads with jams and honey and orange juice for breakfast. It was all pretty good, but I was still full from dinner.
We sat out on the terrace a while after eating, reluctant to leave.
This little Kasbah Itran would not be for everyone. For example, the shower is more like a camping shower, right in the room with the toilet, but it works fine. The rugs on the floor are cool, but there is some sand drifted in on the outside patio areas. The ceiling is low, doorways even lower, and the rooms are dark to keep them cool. But, I have to say, it is a very cool place and we both loved it here. It reminds me of the great place we had in Olympos, Turkey. We will have good memories of this place.
Morocco, mainly the desert, is starting to grow on me.
The temperatures here are a little more extreme than at home, but not by so much; the humidity must be absolute zero, because my nose is bleeding. Every morning I blow out a new clot of blood.
You have to be able to get used to flies here. It doesn’t matter if you are at the coast or desert, inside or out, expensive place or cheap, there are flies buzzing around you everywhere. The only time we don’t have flies is if a stiff wind is blowing, or if we get in the car quick and chase out the couple that follow us in.
We leave at 8:00.
On the way to Merzouga we took a side trip part way up the Todra Gorge. It is amazing, the sheer rock walls dropping straight down to the river below, no sunlight able to make it in, cool breeze from somewhere up the canyon. I would like to spend more time, maybe a night or two at the guesthouse here at the mouth of the canyon, and a day just going all the way up it to explore.
Then we got back on the road to Merzouga, because we have a camel trip to take into the desert tonight.
Police Checkpoints zero, me two.
Winning!
The landscape gets harsher and emptier, dryer and hotter. A mirage in front of me… looks like a camel crossing the road.
No way.
WAY!
Slam on the brakes.
Later a mule crossing the road. Kids playing in the road. More and more mule drawn carts in the road, then suddenly…
The last town drops behind us and it just becomes empty.
Sand starts to drift across the road, and there are actual sand fences to help contain it.
Somebody has set up a “Relaxing Tent” which is a sort of nomad rest stop, with a shade tent, WC and of course, trinkets to sell. Everybody is selling fossils and crystals found in the Sahara.
Then empty again, kilometer after kilometer rolls by.
We are carrying probably three litres of water at all times, and just guzzling it down, all day. Plus, the safety factor: break down out here and you won't last long, even in the shade, at 50°. But with all that water, we need the occasional bathroom breaks. You get used to it real quick: empty roads, pull over, even if it is flat and open, and just go.
Seriously.
We pass maybe two cars in 100 KM in some of these places.
In the distance, a pink band starts to shimmer… it turns into bright, pink dunes rising high above the desert floor; almost neon pink shimmering in the heat against the grey and brown and black desert floor.
The Sahara Desert, the dunes of Erg Chebbi.
As we draw closer, we are hoping to find our way, but we have no real clear direction. Just a name, and a town. Just a small town, a dot on the map, way out in the Sahara.
We come upon a smaller road leading left, straight at the dunes, with a sign pointing the way to our Riad for the next two days.
We are staying at Maison Merzouga, the Seggaoui family’s guest house. They have set up the camel trip into the desert for us, and then we are returning to stay an extra day to relax, unwind and sweat in the desert before heading to the chaos of Fes. We know nothing about camels and are not sure what to expect out here, almost to Algeria.
The guesthouse is easy enough to find. They have a blue sign out on the main highway pointing off to the side road, and once in the little town there is another sign. We walk in and immediately are impressed by the beautiful, cool interior. Ali, the owner, is resting on a couch as it is a hot hot afternoon during Ramadan.
He brings hot tea and cookies for the weary, hot travelers from distant lands (that’s us) and we sit to talk.
We are early and hoping to be able to sit inside while we wait for the camel guy, but Ali actually shows us to a room, sets the pickup time three hours later, and tells us to unpack and go swim in the pool!
Seriously.
We get the room for an extra day, free.
So we go unpack in our modern, dark, air conditioned room, and go jump in the pool for an hour. That is the perfect thing! We waste the afternoon tanking up on cold water, exploring the various sitting areas, terraces and nooks and crannies, and resting in the coolness.
Suddenly, it is time to meet the camel guide.
Hot Camel Nights
Now, I can spin this story for you one of two ways.
Story Number One:
We loaded up on the camels with our supplies, and ventured far, far into the depths of the Sahara Desert, going this way and that, soon losing all sense of where we are in the constant sand. We stumbled upon our camp, Berber tents in the lee of a dune, and after an evening of feasting on local foods, prepared by a Berber tribesman, we fell asleep to the sound of the shifting sands, millions of exotic stars overhead.
We awoke, and left before dawn as the stars twinkled overhead. Our guide led us by the stars, leading us safely out of the deep desert.
If you like that romantic idea of a camel trip, stop now and enjoy the photos.
Want to know what it is really like?
Read on for…
Story Number Two:
OK, look, I’ll say it up front: it was great and we had fun, but it is a trip for tourists and thus the “romantic adventure” is very controlled and all. But there was nothing wrong with any of it. This is the way it really is.
Ali makes sure we both have a scarf to make a turban, and he teaches us how to put it on.
They are Berber blue. I love the color.
As a side, the fierce Taureg nomads wear the cobalt blue, and I have wanted to get a scarf as a moment from this trip. As luck as it, that is all Ali has. So he shows us how to wrap it, and it makes perfect sense: it protects you from the sun, wind and sand, and is pretty light and lets air flow through. Very practical. He also loads us with water.
Ali drove us over to meet the camel man at the edge of town. The camel guy was late, so we sat in Ali’s 2012 Toyota Sequoia and talked about his family. In short: 11 kids, four dead, three girls and four brothers. One brother in the military, the other three run the guest house, and they split the duties. He got into it because he was a well respected store merchant, and people urged him to do it, so in 1996 they built five rooms, no bathroom or shower, and built up slowly from there.
The camel guide shows up, his name is Hussain. He speaks a little English, but it soon becomes clear that it is about “Welcome” and “You OK?” and “You welcome, Marrakesh!” If we ask him how he finds his way through the dunes, he smiles and says, “Seven years, you welcome!”
“Do you have a family?”
“OK. Marrakesh!”
We do find out that the camels have names.
“Of Course!”
My camel is named Jimi Hendrix and Gail’s camel is Bahb Marley.
They load Gail up first. She is boosted up on the saddle, they pull her flip-flops off so she is barefoot and put them in the saddle bag. There is this handle bar thing in front of you; they hang her backpack there.
While I am watching, a couple kids materialize, literally out of nowhere. They have their hands out, “Francaise?”
Before I can say anything, Ali warns them away and I pick up the phrase, “…American…”
The kids back off.
My turn.
I throw a leg over Jimi Hendrix.
“Hang on!” Ali says and the camels rear up, butt first, so you are kind of thrown over the handle bars, then thrown back.
I look at that sentence, and it is written more dramatic than the real experience. Whatever.
Now, Hussain takes off on foot, leading the camels.
See, I had this idea that he would ride, his camel leading ours. But no, as we see tomorrow morning, every guide walks, leading the camels. So that gives you a clue that we could choose to WALK to our camp rather than ride camels there.
But the camels are the point, eh?
So we sway into the dunes, under the hot afternoon sun. It is about 18:00 but the heat is relentless; however up on the camel it is surprisingly cool, even though we have no wind. I am wearing jeans instead of shorts, so my legs don’t get chaffed by the rough camel fur. My legs are really sweaty. The turban is doing it’s job, and I am not at all thirsty.
It is still.
Perfectly quiet, except for the “shooook shoooook” of the camel hooves in the sand. Suddenly!
Beep da boink da beep!
Hussain’s cell phone goes off.
So he is leading us into the dunes, we are looking at the colors and shifting shadows, kind of bouncing gently and swaying along, and Hussain is talking to his girlfriend on his cell.
Ahhh. Kids these days.
Anyway, it is silent and a subtle, shifting orange to pink to rose beautiful.
We did wind up and over, around and through the dunes, but we weren’t lost, in fact I saw the highest dune, called Erg Chebbi, the whole trip. We kind of went in to the left of it, then after a while climbed up some and circled around behind it. But what it looked like, once we got up off the lower dunes and into the higher dunes, was kind of like we were in a sea of endless sand stretching off in every direction.
I just happen to be good at picking up on landmarks and wilderness navigation. I am sure most people would be totally enthralled they were lost” in the “unending Sahara.”
But, it was beautiful.
Some trash, mostly discarded water bottles and some plastic bags, easy stuff to ignore, so it was mostly pristine.
But a very subtle, light shifting sort of beauty.
But then again, I spend days in the Nevada desert and call it “fun” so you decide.
So, we plod up, down, up, down, over. Hussain gets the occasional call. I wish my cell service (Sprint) was this good. The camels kind of lurch! down the slopes so you have to hang on, but the rest of the time it is a “Look Ma, No Hands!” sort of ride.
More comfortable than horses, in my opinion.
I am a little worried about Hussain. It is Ramadan, he hasn’t eaten or drunk all day, and he is stumbling a little.
After about an hour and a half we “find” out camp. It is in a pocket, surrounded by dunes. The tents are set up in a square, to block the wind I realize. All the tents face in. They are black, of all things, black in this sun! and totally closed, with a little door.
We hang on as the camels drop, front first.
They are parked on a level dune above the small camp. Hussain ties their front leg bent so they can’t stand and walk very easy; a sort of hobble.
He hauls the pack bag with the food and water, we walk down. We are shown to a tent, and it is stifling hot inside. No windows, black tent, 50° day… no thanks. We’ll sleep out under the stars tonight.
Berber tent. Nice idea. Maybe in December.
In the rain.
So he tells us to go “Up dune. Sunset.”
I drop my stuff in the tent, put on shorts,and we both leave our sandals.
We slip and slide up the nearest sand dune. The lower sloes are loose, sinking sand, but up higher where it is wind scoured, it is firm walking. Same thing on the crest, where the fine, razor sharp line of the dune is: soft and sink on one side, firm on the other.
Huh.
We spend an enjoyable hour on top, looking at the changing shadows, listening to the silence, then to Hussain’s latest phone conversation, then to the silence. Hussain finds a spot in the shade to rest.
After sunset we come down, and in a while Hussain appears out of the cook tent with…
Hot tea.
Cookies too. Hot tea.
Oh my allah.
Crazy just abounds. Anyway, we drink the hot tea, then Hussain goes to make the meal as we lay back on our cushions under the stars.
We are seated on a big, red rug, in the center of the tents. There is a low table, and we are on half length pads, with a firm pillow to sit on.
It kills my back to sit like this.
So in between courses, I lie back.
Lie back and listen to Hussain sing along to the songs on his iPhone.
And answer calls.
There are a lot of stars. It is about the same as being in Nevada, or high in the Rockies. Better than in a city, but not “millions” of stars like you would think.
Well, right before dinner is served, Hussain turns on the spotlight so we can see to eat.
Yup.
Electricity in the desert. Solar powered, you can charge your cell phone here if you wish.
The spotlight is right in Gail’s eyes, so she switches sides of the table.
We start with bowl of chicken soup, then have a nice, smaller sized but really tasty chicken tagine. This one has more variety of vegetables, less chicken, and is a more manageable size.
You know how food tastes better when you are camping?
Exactly.
We had thought we would sit with Hussain and find out all about Berber life and culture, but the language barrier was just too great, and beside it is not his job to eat with us.
I am not being cold hearted here, it is just matter of fact.
He carries, he sets up, he cooks, and we “be tourists.”
“Everything OK?
“Yes. Oui. C’est bon.”
“Welcome. Marrakesh!”
And that was the extent of it. over and over.
So we ate till we were full, then Hussain cleaned up, set up our bed outside, instructed us to go to the bathroom behind any of the tents.
“It sand.”
OK.
Lights off, Gail tucks in, and I lay on top of all the covers. We watch for shooting stars, and I wake just once, around the middle of the night.
I never did get beneath the covers (I don’t know how Gail can stand it, it is so warm) we both just slept in our clothes.
I am up, as usual, before the sun rises.
I rub the grit out of my eyes, and climb back up the dune, camera and iPod in hand. Once on top I put on Tinariwen, a Taureg rock band I have listened to for years. The music is great as the sun rises, and I can hear where they get the inspiration. I can get the music, actually experience it. I am alone for perhaps an hour, then Hussain wakes, yells up at me, and I slide back down to camp.
I wake Gail, and we set off within fifteen minutes.
So, we had circled the big dune yesterday; today it is a straight shot back to town. It takes maybe an hour, and Hussain leads us right to the guesthouse door and drops up off for a shower.
We make breakfast at 7:30.
And that is what a hot camel night in the Sahara is like.
So, would I recommend it?
Hell yes. You'd be a fool not to do it.
Would I do it again?
Yup.
But would I do it every day? No.
It is well worth the money, €65 each. Think about it: food, camel ride and a “room” for the night. You can’t lose.
So, if you want a fun, tourist type adventure and experience, not too hot, not too uncomfortable, exotic to a degree and good food, you should do this.
If you can camp, you should do this. If you like camping, you should really do this.
If you think you want a “real adventure” and not some tame thing like this, then I will be impressed ONLY if you do the entire 52 day journey to Timbuktu.
If you can’t hack that, don’t bother telling me about it.
The part about Ramadan that sounds nice is the resting during the heat of the day.
Not so much the no food, no drink thing.
But resting? We can do resting.
So we prepared for our
"Half - Ramadan" Celebration Day.
So we got back in time for breakfast.
Here is the plan today:
Eat breakfast. It’s a good one.
Go to the store around the corner and hope the shop keeper lets us look without bothering us.
He does, and we buy a couple Berber scarves (really, this turban thing is just a great idea. I am going to do it from now on I think.) and a silver trinket or two, nothing really as we are not shoppers nor gatherers.
Blog. (Doing that now.)
Nap. (Gail in one nap #1)
Laundry. (Already done for us, for free, but I can’t stand it and tip the kid $100. His eyes grow huge.
Drink. We have brought two bottles of wine for the day. Now at 14:30 we have finished the first along with a bowl of olives and a couple litres of water.
More later, around 17:00.
Finish my book.
Look at tomorrow’s drive.
Pay our electric bill - stupid city, can’t do automatic payments so I have to pay my electric bill from Morocco. Sheesh.
Swim.
Nap.
Eat dinner. (Included in the price.)
A rest day. How nice.
It is hot hot hot today; so hot that even in the cool Riad we are sweating.
Gail loves it, the raw heat.
I love being barefoot all the time.