Merzougha
The streets are empty as we leave Fes. It’s 630am and we’ve got 453 km and 7.5 hours driving ahead of us to get to the desert. On the way we’ll cross the mid-Atlas, high Atlas and small Atlas Mountains .
We pass through Ilfrane, in the mid-Atlas mountains. A ski resort, the Switzerland of Morocco built in European style.
There’s a pack of Barbery macaques that we stop to see. They’re quite tame snd used to people. A few locals supply peanuts and encourage the macaques to climb onto people’s shoulders and heads. Not for us.
As we cross the mid-Atlas mountains walls for snow or wind protection appear and rough, low level shelters for the sheep. The landscape is wide and flat with little vegetation. It gradually changes to a drier, rougher, hillier terrain and then again, once we start to descend the high Atlas Mountains palm trees and olive groves appear.
A large dam provides water for 2 million people as well as generating electricity.
We pass through the city of Er Rachidia, an army city. The houses are flat roofed, only one or two storeys tall and match the colour of the sandy desert that surrounds them.
Through the Ziz valley where we stop for a buffet lunch - more tagines - beef, chicken and vegetables. The Ziz is a farming valley 700km long and produces dates and vegetables.
The red dunes are stunning and there’s water, the first time in twenty years, left from earlier storms. The camels are waiting for us. Not camels says Abdul, but dromedaries, since they only have one hump. They lurch into the air once we’re aboard and make their way slowly up the dunes.
The sun is setting and the colours of the sand are spectacular. Everything we ever imagined the desert to be. This feels like the real thing.
Our accommodation is tent style. A metal frame covered with heavy cloth, rugs on the sand and communal showers and toilets. Not fancy but a roof over our heads.
Sunrise, and we’re up early to watch the changing colours of the dunes before our 4x4 adventure. Our driver talks Paris to Dakar and Formula 1 before taking the first opportunity to go off track over the sand. “No need for a seatbelt here” he says. We disagree and hang on tightly.
In the distance the Algerian border is only 25km away, there’s a well used by the local people and we visit a Berber camp. The Berber nomads now number only about 125000. Twice a year they load their donkeys and camels with their tents and everything they own and travel between the Atlas mountains and the Sahara. It takes 3-4 weeks moving from one government reserve to another.
An icecream stop includes a performance by local musicians
Finally there’s some downtime and we have a relaxing afternoon, playing cards. Karen and Blythe try sand boarding on an old snowboard and Iain goes quadbiking.
I hike back up into the sandhills for the sunset. There’s low cloud and it’s not nearly as nice as last night. As I walk back Hassan the desert salesman appears out of nowhere and greets me.
“Welcome to Morocco”
“Let me take your photo”
“I’ve some rocks/fossils/souvenirs you would like”
I successfully negotiate my way out of all of them and make my way back to dinner unscathed.
We’ve a big travel day tomorrow, an early start and daylight saving starts so we lose an hour’s sleep. Time for bed.
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