Erg Chebbi, Western Sahara, Morocco

Early on Tuesday morning, when it was still dark and cold we clambered onboard our bus and drove out of the ancient Imperial city of Fez. The long perilous drive South West begun as we slowly meandered on our crossing over the middle Atlas Mountains. Still sitting in the forefront of our minds was the amazing day we had in the old Fez medina yesterday. The windows of the bus fogged up from the warmth of our combined breaths. The air outside dipping to nearly 0 degrees celsius, a far cry from what it would be later in the early evening. 

Our tour guide in the front seat pointed out small things we passed and we quickly rushed to wipe the window so we could see out and not miss a thing. The bus chugged uphill and quickly the landscape changed from city to village. Most of us sat in silence, weighing up how long it would be to the next toilet stop and if we would be able to comfortably make it. 

Ifrane Barbary lion statue

We drove through farming towns where workers lined up along the road curb waiting to be picked up. "Apple farmers" Yassine said. After ninety minutes on the road we made a stop at the village of Ifrane. Known as the 'Switzerland of Morocco' for its orderly, tidy appearance and also famed for the now extinct Barbary lion. 

Noted as the largest and possibly once the most ferocious sub-species of lion. Growing over three meters in length with wild dark black long-haired manes. 

The lions, were held captive by the Romans for gladiator fighting and taken as trophies by royal families. We took photos with the large concrete monument and quickly climbed back on board. It was a fresh crispy two degrees and it didn't feel like we had enough clothes on to stay out longer. 

Just having a drink

Family of Barbary macaques

Our next stop was an impromptu pull over as we drove through the Ifrane National Park to see wild monkeys! Well to be correct a sign under the trees indicated they were Barbary macaques and they sure seemed tame! Nevertheless they remain an endangered species that live in the large Atlas mountain cedar trees. They weren't bothered by us in the slightest, sunning themselves, grooming and climbing on top of the bus for a good look around.

View of a gorge from the bus window

Roadside seller

We plundered on for a couple more hours crossing hundreds of kilometres of the harsh Moroccan landscape. Making only a few more stops for coffee, lunch and water. We passed hectares of arid, flat, barren and brown rocky land. 

High in the mountains there was nothing but more mountains, in front of us and behind they towered higher than the road showing off their beautiful white snow. We drove past rural villages and into wide rocky ravines. The sun sharply glared through the windows heating up the bus. 

At times we would past nomad camps, the herders not far away tending to their goats and sheep. The tents small, portable and camouflaged looked lost and insignificant against the infinite dry plains.

We begun to see more villages hiding between the mountains as we descended the Middle Atlas. On closer inspection the browny red square shaped houses were crumbling, made of mud and probably deserted.  

Deserted Kasbahs along the road

A small village around an oasis

We approached what Yassine the tour guide said was a real desert oasis. It was certainly a stark contrast of beautiful green palms against the brown rocky backdrop. 

Deserted Kasbah villages

The kaours (fortified mud brick buildings) we passed along the road were surrounded by healthy date laden palms and pomegranate trees.

The bus drove on some time through small townships where from the window of the bus we saw schoolgirls dressed in white, boys riding bikes and men standing outside shops. Life in the town moved at a slower pace.

Leaving the town of Merzouga

We eventually stopped at the small village of Merzouga to gather last supplies. 

It was necessary that we had a Saharan scarf to protect ourselves from the sun and sand as well as ample water. Merzouga is the last outpost before hitting the Erg Chebbi desert. 

An old legend of the area has it that when a wealthy family refused hospitality to a poor travelling woman and her son, god was displeased and as a consequence buried them under mounds of golden sand which became the origin of the desert and was later named Erg Chebbi by local nomads. 

The stop we made in Merzouga was short, very aware that we had limited hours of daylight remaining. Taking a left turn 20 kilometres out of the small city we bounded off road for another 30 minutes.

Dry barren land to our right

First glimpse of Erg Chebbi

The bus bounced and rattled, shaking like a wind up toy, overzealous in energy. In front of us finally lay the great Erg Chebbi desert. Rising over 150 meters in places the moving sand dunes mark the start of the Western Sahara desert and are only a mere fifty kilometres away from the Algerian border. 

We pressed our cameras against the shaking glass trying to take a stable shot of the golden dunes as the bus jiggled over the blackened Hamada plain underfoot. 

Ready for some mint tea in the desert

The dunes grew larger as we moved closer the colours changing from glowing bronze to soft pinks and then to golden yellow until we sat right underneath them. 

Fast forward forty five minutes, we had arrived and our bags were safely stored in a locker room. We sat on a comfortable tiled concrete terrace looking across at the golden sea of dunes, quickly sipping hot mint tea. Our guide called us on with a 'yela, OK yela'. 

Beneath the tiled terrace our maybe slightly unimpressed looking camels lazily waited on us, already saddled and taking the chance to masticate on regurgitated sulphuric-smelling grasses. 

Camels waiting for their riders

Guided by Saied, the flamboyant son of a local Berber nomad, who introduced himself as 'Humpfree' and said in an intense American accent to wiggle our couscous back, before we even climbed on the camels. 

Then he repeated 'oh my god, it's amazing' as he re-tied our scarfs correctly around our heads. He laughed openly and wiggled his toush toush around, singing along with the songs that only he was hearing.

Alice the camel

Waiting in the sand

Into the desert! 

Off we go! 

We climbed on board our shaggy fuzzy camels, throwing a leg precariously over the old grey woollen rugs. Then with a pat and an Arab tongue-rolling click the camels stood up one by one raising us higher than we realised we would be, akin to a roller coaster we were thrown back then forward then as we settled, farted on by the camel in front.

Caravan shadows on the sand

Once the group was straddled over a camel the caravan began. Our pelvises swayed forward and back; our upper body flapping around, our thighs spread too wide to grip, we clenched at what we could. There was little chance to get a stable photo but we tried as best we could while simultaneously soaking everything in. The setting sun shone at its fiercest, spreading a warm orange glow over the dunes, causing long black shadows to fall on the other side.

Heading over the hills

Untouched dunes 

Here comes the sunset

Looking back on the fellow travellers

Camel riding into the sunset

Last of the sun rays

We rode on in single file attached to the leading camel negotiating the sand dunes. 

Up the soft dunes we swayed admiring the sunset and the gorgeous colours all around us. Each minute the colours intensified. 

The huge hairy feet of each camel fell deep into the golden sand only to rise again and so softly fall deeper. Our guide Saied was constantly reassuring everyone and told us to hold on. 

He danced around us taking photos, videos and yelping with excitement. 

Kara and Alice

Nearly at the camp

Our fancy electrical-powered nomad camp was set up under a giant dune already hazy with the oncoming darkness. Rising well over 100 meters it towered over the small black camelhair cloth tents. We raced around in the twilight exploring and settling on our rooms. Outside the stars were already beginning to sprinkle the sky and we again were welcomed with hot mint tea. We sat down between the circle of tents on carpets drinking our tea by gas light.

We were so excited, the camp was amazing. We opened a wine and small bowels of olives were served. Dinner was served a little later: a local beef tangine cooked slowly with vegetables. After the meal we quietly listened to the guides sing old Berber songs about the journey along trade routes the nomads took from Sudan to Morocco. 

Kara and Tania waiting on dinner

The evenings entertainment

That night across the Western Sahara sky the stars shone the brightest we had ever seen. Millions of them. We cuddled into our warm beds, Kara opting to sleep outside in her sleeping bag. She tried to stay awake as long as possible staring at the universe above, watching the shooting stars but eventually the long day caught up and it was lights out.

The next morning when the morning's dark blue sky still glistened with stars we packed our bags onto the camels and rode off into the darkness. It was a cool windless morning and we layered up. Perched over the woollen blankets we rocked back and forth, watching the sky slowly changing. It was serene and quiet, just us in the desert.

Here comes the sunrise

Only the feet of camels

Up the dunes we went, higher and higher, steeper and steeper. Finally resting down next to the camels and watching the glorious new day begin as the sun rose from behind the sand.

Playing around

Everyone say cheese! 

Last look at the stunning Western Sahara sand dunes 

We returned to the hotel for a simple breakfast and a hot shower. Camel riding in the desert had been an amazing experience and it was a shame we had to return to civilisation. We thought that we kind of suited the life of a Berber nomad.

Tot siens,

Kara (Tania/Stu and John by association)