Travels

Day 6 cont'd It was south once more & over the last small mountain before we dropped into the start of the desert. Yes, the excitement was building. First though, we had to stop for the camel ride that my wife was so looking forward to – as well as dreading. She was afraid of camel spitting, biting & of course . . . falling off. A beautiful-looking riad called Chez Pasha was our way stop for this experience. On the left after the village of Oulad Edriss, it was a stark contrast to all around it. It boasts a pool, an outside patio bar, restaurant etc with some a large comfy lounging gazebo. This was also our staging area for the desert trek & the profusion of 4x4 SUVs in the parking lot proved that we would not be alone. It was now a wonderful 30C or so with blazing sun & the pool looked very inviting. But we had camels to ride. Well . . . let’s be honest here. You don’t exactly ride them. You hang on while a wrangler walks ahead & leads the pack that is tethered together. It was just my wife & I so our caravan was pretty small. I took the lead camel – the lead is always the docile old pro – while my wife took the follower. We were led across the road & into the sand & dunes. Acacia trees dotted the area & it was very atmospheric after we left the noise & photo-marring power lines behind. The camels plodded along except for the jarring ups & downs on dunes. As usual, my wife’s beast liked to munch on passing greenery. And five minutes out, my legs were in the I’m-too-extended mode which made the ride less than comfortable but horses do the same thing to me. Anyways, it was really cool in a dorky way but an hour was more than enough. We ‘rode’ back to the Chez Pasha gate. Then it was chill time at Chez Pasha until 4pm. We lunched & lounged & fed the cats until the allotted hour. And we noticed & acknowledged the LA couple, for the third time in the third place.

Camel riding	Chez Pacha's map of the desert		Camel riding
Departure time had arrived. And Said appeared as a Bedouin. His transformation was complete when he added his headdress to the traditional dress tunic he had on that day. Around Morocco, people don’t wear their full traditional tribal ‘dress’ togs unless they are in the tourist business. They wear everyday things in the towns & markets. Except women of course, and then all bets are off. His attire looked awesome & his timing of the donning of it impeccable. He was a proud Bedouin while we were only tourist schmucks. We had company for the drive. Two other SUVs – each with one couple - and yes, the LA couple was one of them in a black SUV. It would appear that the other two drivers didn’t know the way across the desert to their respective camps. One was coming to our camp & the other – the LA couple – needed to be led to another. The hotel manager had sidled up to Said & asked if he would lead them. He agreed because there is always safety in numbers in the desert anyway. We made one last stop in the very last outpost M’Hamid El Ghizlane. Water. We bought 3 frozen & a 4 pak of unfrozen as suggested. A cluster of kids surrounded us clamoring for candy or money as we belted in. The giveaway pens we brought for such times were still safely packed deep in our suitcase . . . (insert irony).

M’Hamid El Ghizlane	Said in Bedouin dress		The end of the road
The amazing thing about the desert is that whenever you touch it, you always realize that your perception of it as sandy nothingness is quite wrong. It is an ever-changing tableau – an awesome & humbling natural work of art. Any of you southern desert-dwellers will have to forgive me for my hyperbole. As an urbanized northern arboreal inhabitant, I think the desert – any desert - is incredible. But the Sahara was somehow very special - probably due to Hollywood & seeing Lawrence of Arabia at a tender young age. I know, that this was a different desert except L of A was filmed partially in Morocco . . . Anyway, the drive was incredible as the route traverses bumpy & stony parts, small sand dunes & sandy scrub patches along the way. Many tracks weave through the route as drivers search for a smooth path. You drive roughly west/northwest between two mountain ranges with the southerly one – more distant - at the closed Algerian border. Said pointed out small plants with yellow flowers that his mother had boiled – twice – the 2nd time with herbs - to make an edible vegetable. Or the poison plant: berberis – that grows everywhere & its milk will temporarily blind you – but the nomads also use it for treatment of eczema. Even the wood stinks too much so they don’t burn it. We stopped at a waterhole where three cautious donkeys let the lure of some dates we had in our stash overcome their shyness. Some minor dunes gave Said the chance to really use his 4WD & we told him that he was ready for some real Canadian snow now. He liked the idea & was eager to try. It was a fun drive.

Nomad camels in the desert	Sahara dunes The mtns are the border with Algeria		Sahara dunes


Donkeys at the waterhole	The Sahara		Green desert - the poison plant
As we approached the Chegaga dunes, we came upon a large level area of low plants & hundreds of camels munching happily in what is the feed for Lake Iriki. The nomads had turned them loose to enjoy this rare banquet. Said told us that there are no wild camels – they all belong to somebody. I have no idea how they sort them out afterwards but he told us that camels do have a very long memory & if you are nasty to them they won’t forget. He also told us that they best way to find water in the desert is to withhold it from one camel & he will lead the rest right to it. Simple desert logic. Oh & remember . . . the babies are the tastiest!

Camels graze with dust in the air
After dropping off the black SUV – the LA couple – we doubled back to our camp. If I recall correctly, Said told us that many of the camps are run by the same company who have emergency contingencies available for anything catastrophic. We had seen a tall antenna in the distance & at the camel buffet, there is one permanent structure visible in the distance – a school. We all – by all I mean all 4 of us since we only 2 couples at this point - hit the dunes for sunset. In the distance you could see tiny figures on the tallest dunes as others did the same. Beautiful.

The Chegaga dunes		The Chegaga dunes
Back at camp we settled in while the staff prepared dinner as the darkness set in. Candles were supplied to each hut. Not a tent at all (thankfully) the huts were small with mud walls & a thick cloth top . . . and a steel door. The interior was lined with fabric & matting on the sand below. Two twin beds together & a small nightstand. There was also a main cook shack, a separate staff sleeping building as well as the toilet/wash building. The running water - wasn’t - so it was bucket flush & water bottles for teeth & washing at the sinks. The showers were available but gravity-fed cold water only. And no power to the dangling lights in the huts because that would mean they would have to start the generator - which would spoil the tranquility for our camp & those all around.

Desert camp	Inside our hut		Desert camp
Around the dinner table, we met our campmates. A couple from London – he was German in IT & she was ½ Indian & an astral astronomer in a previous career – now an actuary. Our late-comers were a young French Canadian couple (gallery owner + costume designer) who lived 5kms from my boss in a small town in Quebec , Canada just east of Montreal. Small world phenomena at play. They were budget traveling via bus & train & they related a hairy experience in the north. I think they said it was heading south of Casablanca that their train was stoned & many window panes in their car were broken. Everybody hit the floor & they said it was pretty frightening. They didn’t know that it was stones at first fearing gunfire. The officials at the next station weren’t quite as concerned however & did a calm inventory of the damage. We had nice meat tagine meal & I contributed 2 bottles of my wine to the table & the Quebecois couple bought a bottle of red from the camp. We finished the evening around the campfire with a drum performance by the camp guys in costume. I missed the spider sighting by the campfire but I heard talk of a big one that got away from a stomp by one of the camp crew. We had a running joke about scorpions & the 2 oranges I kept to throw at them but ultimately, they were not needed. We fell asleep with the door wide open watching the millions of stars stretching all the way down to the horizon.

Drums in the dark		Our driver - Said at dusk
A Note about the pictures . . . For High Res Versions of the photos on this page go to: The Sahara & Anti-Atlas to Taroudant And keep clicking the magnifying glass in the lower right corner