Over the hills and far away

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Am sitting on my balcony overlooking the magnificent sand dunes of the Sahara rising above me. The sun has just set and a camel and rider pass by in the distance. Kathryn and Natarsha are off taking photos amongst the sand but I digress.

Purchased some tea, coffee and bread for breakfast in the square. Things are very quiet, it seems no one stirs before 10am, maybe they need a spell after morning prayer.

We climb steeply through the cedar pines until we plateau out on top of the Middle Atlas Mountains. The scene is a picture of white and orange, where the snow meets the gravelly stone outcrops. A few scattered pines about. Some hardy local stone houses with smoke wisping from their abodes. It is the middle of winter of course. Some sheep and goats herded by their loyal masters.

Descending the mountains, we drive through a gravelly valley with the High Atlas Mountains now on our right. They climb abruptly out of the plain, snow laden, at first glance appearing to be a cloud.

We now enter a gorge not unlike the Grand Canyon, only smaller. A river flows beside us as we pass villages of sand-coloured, mud brick houses sitting amidst the date palms. An oasis I guess.

The larger towns a hub of activity: soccer playing children, brooding young men, (inwardly) happy ladies and constantly touting men.

Heading south towards the Tunisia border we happen upon oasis after oasis, a strange scene amongst the barren hills. Eventually (and quite suddenly) we run into a black, stony plain which is completely desolate. The dunes of the Sahara rising in the distance.

Merzouga is a small hamlet living off the tourist trade, though it appears none at this time of year. A couple of camper vans, some motorbike riders, and the odd traveller in the true sense of the word.

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