The drive from Fes to
Merzouga was our longest in Morocco. We left the green hills and fields
surrounding Fes and began our drive south, armed with a detailed road map.
Fortunately, once you get out of the cities your options for which road to take
decrease significantly, so it makes navigating much easier.
Just an hour south of
Fes we drove up into the Middle Atlas mountains. We passed through some
charming mountain towns, including one called Ifrane that the French build in
the 1930s to look like a Swiss mountain town. And driving through it did feel
like we were in the Alps. Giant pine trees lined mountains up to the snow line
and the roads were lined with wooden chalet homes. Ifrane seemed like it would
be quite the getaway spot for rich Fessis in winter.
From there the
mountains sloped downwards to a barren landscape of wide, brown black valleys
surrounded by plateaus. We occasionally slowed down to pass through small towns
but there wasn't much of consequence around. Eventually the road ran along side
a valley that was lush with greenery, bordered on each side by the standard
brick home.
After weaving through
a large town the buildings and trees dropped away and we sped along a two way
road, really truly in the desert. On either side of the road was rough, dark
dirt and rocks, known as the black desert. In the distance ahead of us loomed
the dunes, glowing orange in the late afternoon sun.
Merzouga wasn't much
to look at. It's a small clump of dusty looking, single-story buildings that
would blend together if not divided by dusty streets. We pulled up to the dusty
building providing us with lodging: the Guest House Merzouga. Despite it's outward
appearance it had been one of the most recommended places on TripAdvisor and it
didn't disappoint. One of the owners, Hassan, met us outside and invited us up
to the roof of the guest house to enjoy some mint tea and snacks. This was, by
now, standard (and welcome) practice. But Hassan also sat down with us and we
chatted for a good half hour. He talked about how he grew up in a one-room
home. His mom slept in the corner with the kids and his father slept by the
door so he could protect the family if anyone came in.
Now he had a huge
house and was a leader in the community. He talked about how his daughter
wanted to become a doctor, which he thought was great -- female doctors weren't
accepted when he was younger and all the women would give you contradictory
advice until, he said, in the worst case scenario you died. And if you didn't
die then all the women argued over who gave the best advice for getting better.He'd also taken a big
role in protecting the dunes. Several people -- foreigners from Spain looking
to make a quick buck, he said -- had opened up quad bike rentals in town. The
quads caused a lot of damage to the dunes. And trying to enjoy watching the setting
sun play colors on the sand was made somewhat less inspiring by the wheeze of
the quad bikes' engines as their riders zipped around.
We had, literally, the
best tagine of the trip at the guest house after starting with a fantastic
harissa soup. Hassan and a couple other guys made their way to the corner of
the big room and starting playing traditional instruments and singing. The next day we woke
up, had a hearty breakfast, and piled into an SUV with Hassan's cousin Ali, who
was going to drive us around the dunes. ...All the way around. The Erg Chebbi
dunes are not very extensive -- about 15 miles long and 3 miles wide. We bounced
along the desert tracks along the perimeter of the dunes, making stops along
the way. The first was for a couple kids with a desert fox who came sprinting
towards our truck as soon as they saw us coming, looking for a few dirhams.
They had a 3 week old Fennec with them. It was the size of a kitten with large
French Bulldog sized ears and clung to the boy's chest. For a few dirham Sharon
got to hold it and instantly fell in love. The Fennec's mom was back at the
boys' home, Ali translated for us. After that dose of cuteness (and, probably,
desert fox germs) we hopped back in the SUV.
Our next stop was near
a long-abandoned French military base that was set up to support mining in the
middle of the 20th century. There are still active mines in the area and we
clambered up some rocks to see one in action. When I say 'mine' I'm not talking
about the massive pits seen in the Western world. Imagine a hole the width of a
well and going down maybe 20 or 30 feet. A small manually-operated crane
perched precariously on the edge of the mine shaft and was used to lower the
man (since only one man could fit) and raise out the minerals. The men working
were blackened with soot. The whole setup looked extremely rickety and Ali
confirmed that mining is very dangerous.
We drove on to the
next stop, a rocky Martian landscape devoid of any signs of life. We got out of
the truck again and Ali pointed out how many of the rocks had the imprints of
ancient shellfish, a relic of the time when this part of the world was underwater.
We stopped at a
nomadic family's mud home for a lunch of freshly baked flat bread with jam and
tea. The family's goats and camel huddled around a water trough a short
distance a way.
We arrived back at our
guesthouse in the late afternoon and had just a couple hours to relax before
heading out for our night in the dunes. Hassan dropped us off at the starting
point on the edge of the dune and Sharon and I were loaded up on our own camels
which were laying on the ground for easier access. Just hanging on the camel as
it stands up was a challenge. The extend their back legs first, lurching your
forward. Then quickly straighten out their front legs, lurching you back.
Camels, it turns out, are not comfortable to sit on. Their humps aren't broad
and soft -- it's more like straddling the back of your sofa. As our small party
-- me and Sharon, another couple, and two guides -- meandered into and through
the dunes I contemplated a mode of transportation that had been the backbone of
this part of the world for centuries. I could have walked faster. And my ass
was going to hurt.
Our guides were
friendly and chatty and were always cracking jokes. Despite never being outside
the Merzouga region they both spoke Berber, Arabic, English, French, Italian,
Spanish, and "a little bit of Japanese" thanks to all the visitors
they hosted. I was extremely impressed.
The journey to our
camp took about an hour and a half. As the day grew late the dunes' color
change from yellow to orange. We finally made it to a small cluster of sturdy
looking tents sitting in the bottom of a natural bowl, protected from the wind.
The guides told us we had about half an hour to find a good spot to watch the
sunset while they set up camp. I looked around, pointed to the tallest dune
peak I saw, and told Sharon we should climb to the top. She wasn't enthused.
I convinced her to
climb about halfway up even though she was content to stop anytime and watch
the sun dip below the horizon. We sat down. I glanced behind me at the dune
peak taunting me. The sun was setting quickly. "I'm just going to go to
the top real quick and then I'll come right back to watch the sunset," I
said. I started sprinting uphill. As I halved the distance to the top my lungs
began screaming. Not only was I not in running shape but there was no moisture
in the air at all. My heavy breathing was drying me out. Part of me thought I
would collapse and should turn back, but the idiot part of me kept saying how
close I was. I plodded ahead, wheezing the whole way. When I came to the dune
crest I discovered that it was not the top; it just appeared that way from my
point of view looking up. There was actually a lot left to climb, and who knew
if the "new" peak was the actual peak. I admitted defeat and stumbled
back down the dune to sit with Sharon as the sun disappeared.
With the sun gone the
desert got dark -- and cold -- quickly. We walked down to the camp, which had
tents arranged in a U shape around an open area with a table. The guides had
been preparing dinner in a separate tent and brought out bread, hot mint tea,
and tagine.
Once dinner was
cleared and we turned out the single light around off, the sky just popped with
stars. We climbed into our tent. Despite having no heater the blankets were
incredibly warm. In the morning we had some mint tea, back on the camels, and
rode back to the guest house. We had a hearty breakfast and a shower, said
goodbye to our great hosts, and left Merzouga for our next destination.
