Southern Morocco in spring - into the Sahara palms, stones and dunes

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Our first visit to the African continent starts with a long corkscrew descent into Marrakech airport. After clearing customs we exchange money, pick up our backpacks and head outside into the welcoming warm spring air. First challenge: make it to the CTM bus station in town.

On most of our travels so far this would be reasonable simple, but there are three things against us - one, Morocco’s first language is Arabic, two, their second language is French, and three, foreigners are seen as easy targets for inflated prices.

So we wander up to the group of drivers milling around the taxi rank and try “CTM bus station?” “Yes, yes,” is the response and we’re ushered towards a car when we ask how much. The price seems more than a UK fare, so we decline the offer and walk away from the rank. An “official” then comes along and points to a notice board which explains that the correct fare should be about half what we were just quoted. Dejected, our cabbie agrees and only a few minutes later we arrive at the CTM bus station.

Second challenge: book bus tickets to Ouarzazate (pronounced- wa-za-zat).

To our relief the young women behind the desk at the bus station can speak English and so it’s with ease that we buy our tickets for the five-hour journey to Ouarzazate. Astonishingly, the tickets cost less than seven quid each but the down side, if there is one, is that our bus doesn’t leave for another four and a half hours.

We figure we could use the time to have a bit of a look around Marrakech if we can just leave our backpacks somewhere. Spotting that other people seem to be checking their luggage in, we decide to give it a go. The baggage guys seem to have great French, which we don’t, but with a massive smile and the exchange of a few Dirham, a pair of labels are slapped on our backpackers and we’re moderately comfortable that we have just managed to check our bags in advance for our bus trip. Or at least we hope so.

Consulting our guidebook map we decide that because it doesn’t look that far into the heart of Marrakech it shouldn’t be too hard to walk. Besides, it’s a nice warm day - we may as well make the most of it. Without going into too much detail we spend the next hour walking hopelessly lost into the dusty backstreets of Marrakech. Keen readers of our blogs will realise that this is a common occurrence for us, but this time we manage to surpass our best “getting lost” efforts and eventually we give up and hail a taxi to take us to the centre of the old town.

Arriving at Djemma el-Fna, Marrakech's UNESCO World Heritage listed square, we immediately look for somewhere to have lunch. With our detour sapping the time left before our Ouarzazate bus leaves, we opt for a restaurant with a shaded roof top terrace overlooking the action below. We take a table on the edge closest to the square and while we wait for our very first Moroccan tajine and couscous to come we observe the activities in Djemma el-Fna below. It’s absolutely amazing.

From our high point we can see snake charmers. Yep, real snake charmers! They’re set up on rectangular rugs with the main guy sitting at the back on a short stool blowing into his flute (or whatever is the appropriate term to describe the woodwind instrument he uses to ‘charm’ the snakes) and in front of him are three or four baskets with a big black cobra under each one. A ‘show’ consists of the basket being lifted off and the guy blasting high pitch noise at the snake. If it’s a bit dopey he gives it a tap on the head, which generally has the effect of making it stand up and puff its neck out so it forms that quintessential cobra shape. Around this event each snake charmer has an entourage that scout out into the crowd to demand tips. Many of them carry a series of smaller snakes that they delight in hanging around the necks of tourists (before demanding an even higher tip).

Given Lachlan’s love of snakes we’re more than happy to watch all this from the comfortable distance of the terrace enjoying our fabulous meal.

After lunch we cut a small loop through the square, carefully avoiding the snake charmers, the African drummers, the men with monkeys and a collection of other random performers before heading back the way that we originally came to hail a taxi.

Back at the bus station our Ouarzazate bus eventually pulls in and we jump on board. To our surprise, our seat reservations have landed us right at the front behind the driver. Cool. We’re also relived to look out the side window and spot our backpacks being loaded into the hold below. Looks like we’ll have a change of clothes for the next few days after all…always a bonus. As we pull out we’re running about 20 minutes late but we’re still chuffed just to be on our way...

Once we get outside of Marrakech the highway stretches out in front of us heading straight for the High Atlas (north Africa’s highest mountain range). We’re excited by the prospect that at some point in the next couple of hours we’ll need to pass through the series of snow covered peaks up ahead. In our book that’s a pretty cool trip for public transport.

Continuing along, we pass field after field of wheat and vegetable crops with the road lined on both sides by massive eucalyptus. Our gum tree escort continues until we reach the foothills and begin our ascent in earnest.

The road zig zags its way uphill passing many mud brick villages and the snow covered peaks that we’d spotted earlier get closer and closer. The scenery is spectacular as we continue climbing, and after about three hours driving from Marrakech the bus pulls over in a small village where the driver and fellow passengers pile off for some late-ish lunch. We take our time to buy some bottled water and admire the views back over the valley below.

The next section of the bus ride is the climb - proper. It announces itself as we round a corner to see the road form a rotated ‘W’ on the hillside in front of us. Looks like we’re going up. At the top the views behind us are absolutely amazing and to either side of us we can see snow covered mountains. We’re not too sure how high this point is, but from the simple map in our guidebook we’re guessing that its somewhere in excess of 1500 m.

After the excitement of reaching the top the next two hours of descent to Ouarzazate pass without exception. It’s well and truly dark by the time we make it and we’re really tired, seeing it was 21 hours ago that we set off from Nottingham. At Ouarzazate’s CTM bus station we jump in another cab to take us to the Moroccan tour company that we’ve booked the next four day’s travel with.

At Desert Dream we meet Allal, the super friendly English speaking owner, who first gives us an overview of what we’ll be up to the next few days and after filling in the necessary paperwork then gives us a lift to our hotel for the night. We’re absolutely knackered so it’s not long before we crash out.

Thursday morning after breakfast we check out of the hotel and walk outside to meet our guide and driver for the next couple of days. There’s a couple of Landcruisers outside, but the spare tire cover gives our’s away and we stroll over to meet Oualid, our guide, and Habib, our driver. Both are friendly young Arab Moroccans around the same age as us and before we even jump in the car we’ve got a feeling this is going to be a great tour.

Time to hit the road.

From Ouarzazate we cross the Draa River and head south climbing into the foothills. Out the window all the palm trees that were a common sight around Ouarzazate have now vanished as we find ourselves cruising along a highway without a tree in sight. The hillsides and high plains are covered in stones interspersed with clumps of new season grass and, as seems par for the course in Morocco, the shapes of serious mountains loom large in the distance.

By mid morning we arrive in a small town and we’re told that if we walk to the top of a dead end road heading up a small hill there’s a good view of the Draa River below. The advice from the boys is spot on.

Reaching the top, we are amazed at what we’re looking at. The countryside running down to the river is dry, dusty, largely grassless, with only the odd acacia tree for vegetation. This all changes at the junction of the hillside with the riverbed where the arid landscape erupts, without transition, into the type of oasis that we recall as children from storybooks. There are literally thousands of palm trees with the space between them filled with wheat fields, fruit orchards, and forage crops. Small channels of irrigation disappear from the edges into the dense green thicket. It’s amazing. To complete the picture to our left standing between the far side of the river and the arid hillside, a large Ksar (Moroccan fortified village) stands imposingly and to the right, the local weekly market is a hive of activity. Wow - we never thought we’d see anything like this.

We jump back into the Landcruiser and Habib takes us down through the palm trees and orchards, across the river, then along the dirt track that runs south parallel to the Draa. Oualid tells us that the road we’re taking is the old caravan route that the Saharan traders once used to take their goods to Marrakech. The roadside is punctuated with fortified guard towers every five kilometres or so and along the way we pass through many local mud brick villages. The local kids seem happy to see us, and wave as we pass.

After an hour or so we join back up with the bitumen and continue south to Zagora where we cross the Draa River again and pull into a Riad (traditional Moroccan hotel) set amongst the palmeraie for lunch. We’re seated at a table in the garden, which is refreshingly cool and to the sound of birds chirping and a fountain trickling cool water, we enjoy a magnificent platter of couscous.

Couscous in Morocco is a lot more than what we pictured in our minds before arriving. It’s not just cracked wheat. It’s served in a massive dish and topped with vegetables and meat and its fantastically tasty. We’ll definitely have to learn how to make it like this when we get back to the UK….

After lunch we continue south, stopping for a short visit to a Quranic library, underground Kasbah (Moroccan fortified house), and traditional pottery workshop at a village called Tamegroute. The pottery place has a collection of handmade pieces and being a community co-operative it seems like a good place for us to buy a tajine (it was inevitable that at some point we’d end up with one). We’re under no illusion that we’ll probably be able to buy one cheaper in the Marrakech souks in a couple of days time, but we figure that this one is more authentic and rather than tip the children working here the more responsible thing to do is to buy something from the store (after all the children should be at school, not posing for tips from foreigners).

South of Tamegroute the landscape changes again. The road heads away from the river and the countryside is starting to feel very desert like. Beside the road the flat, featureless dry plains are covered in little black bassalt stones similar to the eastern desert in Jordan. But just when we’re convinced that we’ve seen it all, we catch our first glimpses of dunes. They’re only small, looking a bit like beach dunes from back home, but it gives us a sense of excitement at what lies ahead.

Our excitement is however short lived as the dunes peter out and we start climbing into the hillside again. Surely this must be the last range before we’re properly in the desert? An hour or so after an ascent through a stony hill pass we’re descending towards the second last village before the bitumen ends. We catch sight of the river and palm trees again and soon enough we’re travelling along the edge of the palmeraie. Notably things aren’t as lush down this end of the Draa valley. The palms aren’t as dense or as healthy looking, and temperature wise it’s definitely hotter - in patches the wheat crops here have already started to turn golden brown.

In amongst all this we turn off the highway into a yard full of camels. Well, they are actually dromedaires. Oualid informs us that dromedaires have one hump and camels have two- you learn stuff every day. Getting out of the 4WD we are introduced to our camel trekking guide, Hassan, who’ll be taking us for the two-hour journey out to Erg Lehoudi, which is a set of 100 m high sand dunes to the north where we’ll be camping tonight.

So we grab a bottle of water each and the camera and we’re off. Hassan is a softly spoken, terribly polite young bloke who makes an effort to stop and turn around to speak to us whenever we ask a question. As the sounds of the road die down and we’re engulfed in the silence of the desert, Hassan relaxes and begins to sing some happy Moroccan tunes to himself all the way to the camp.

The journey is tonnes of fun and it’s just before sunset when we make it the campsite.

The boys (Habib and Oualid) had arrived at the camp by 4WD by this stage and we join them on a large carpet laid out on the sand to hear a mixture of Arabic and western folk songs played on guitar, supported by tablehs while we sip sweet Moroccan tea. Ahh, this is the life! We meet fellow Desert Dream driver Ali who is guiding a friendly Belgian family. Also staying in the camp tonight is a German father and son and a group of six rowdy Spaniards from Barcelona.

There’s a communal tent where we enjoy a fine tajine for dinner before venturing back outside for more guitar and singing. It’s great fun, and to help us join in we even get a tableh lesson from Oualid.

Good Friday starts with the alarm going off at 5:45. Lachlan rises and takes a short walk from the campsite to watch the sunrise from one of Erg Lehoudi’s tallest dunes. Some scattered cloud (there was even a spit or two of rain last night) prevents the magical light-breaking-the-horizon-moment of a great sunrise, but it’s still fantastic to feel the cool sand underfoot and the silence is overwhelming. We’ve still got an hour or so before breakfast is scheduled so after Ariana’s up we both enjoy a walk through the dunes before it’s time to eat then climb back on the dromedaires for the trek back into town.

Again Hassan leads us and we’re about half way back when the wind starts to really pick up. By the time we meet Habib and Oualid back at the main road we’re covered in sand and the wind is still gathering pace. Luckily the plan is to go to a local riad for a shower and lunch before we set off on a 60 km journey off road into the desert proper later today, (which certainly sounds like an interesting prospect given the current conditions).

Feeling positively refreshed by a shower, and having removed enough sand from our ears to support the root systems of several small plants, we relax by the pool before lunch. It’s amazing that even sitting here inside the palmeraie, inside the walls of the riad, the sand storm is still reaching us. After getting nice and clean we’re now being covered in sand all over again, and looking out through the palms the storm has turned the sunlight into a brown haze.

Luckily by the time we’ve finished lunch the wind is dropping and when we reach the start of the unsealed road, which starts literally at the edge of M’Hamid, the sand storm has nearly blown itself out. Now here comes some serious offroading...

Leaving the bitumen Habib takes us onto a sandy track, not too dissimilar to an Aussie beach track, following the 4WD in front being driven by Ali (it's the sort of place where travelling with two cars doesn’t seem like a bad idea). Out to our left Oualid points out the end of the Draa River. With its origins in the High Atlas we’d been following it downstream for a day and a half, and now not too far away, its surface water disappears as it goes underground for the last part of its journey to the Atlantic coast.

We’ve been travelling for about twenty minutes when the sandy flats gradually firm into a hard stone covered plain. Hamada, or stony desert, explains Oualid.

With the late afternoon sun pounding down, the landscape looks extremely hostile. Only periodic acacia trees and the odd tuft of grass break up the lumpy black stone covered surface. We’re both pondering how inhospitable it seems when we pass a nomadic shepherd with his herd of goats… it seems goats will live just about anywhere.

A few minutes further on we can make out a break in the hamada on the horizon. A line of palm trees signals that we’re coming up to an oasis! We pull over for a look and sure enough, surrounded on the three sides by bare stony desert, a natural spring provides surface water that makes it possible for date palms and an assortment of smaller trees to grow in what would otherwise be a completely inhospitable place.

Back in the Landcruiser we round the bottom edge of the oasis and passing over a little ridge we can now make out the start of the Erg Chegega dunes in the distance. After a quick tow out of a bog for Ali, we soon enough pull into our campsite.

This place exceeds all expectations.

There is a series of about 10 tents arranged in a semi circular pattern. At the front of the semicircle there is a large communal ‘restaurant’ area that is made up of carpets laid over the sand for a floor, a timber frame structure covered in heavy fabric for a roof, a mud brick rear wall, and bench seating complete with comfy cushions around the half height u-shaped front and side walls. It’s funky as.

The tents themselves have mud brick walls and heavy fabric roofs and doors and best of all, they are right amongst the beginning of the Erg Chegaga dunes. They may not be traditional camping, or even traditional accommodation, but geez it’s comfortable. There’s even a slightly salty shower available.

We chuck our backpacks into our allocated tent then join the friendly Belgium family in the communal area while we wait for the afternoon to cool off. A steady stream of other tourists arrive (all French) and before the sun gets too low we head off into the dunes to watch the sunset.

Compared with Erg Lehoudi, the climb to the top of the dunes takes some time (it's the whole going up and down thing) and the sun is much lower than we expected by the time we take up position on one of the higher peaks. There’s a gentle breeze blowing and it is magic to watch as the sun sets, turning the dunes a fantastic shade of dark red. Ahh, so romantic.

After the sun dips into the sandy horizon, we head off. Lachlan tries to repeat his running full pelt down a sand dune efforts from the morning but comes unstuck. A few commando rolls later, miraculously keeping the camera above deck, he comes to a rest completely covered in sand. again We burst into laughter. Hopefully no one else saw it…

Back at the camp we pick a good spot on a nearby dune, and with a sky full of stars we sit listing to Oualid playing the guitar and singing as we watch the full moon rise out of the dunes, gathering brightness as it lights up the dunes.

After another fine dinner of tajine we call it a night. Our first three days in Morocco have been amazing. We’ve seen things we never expected, and there’s still four days to go…

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Our time in Morocco is continued in our next blog. Check it out: Southern Morocco in Spring, out of the Sahara - mountains, markets, and a transport strike.
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Photos

Erg Chegaga
Sahara Desert, Morocco

Djemma el-Fna
Marrakech old town

Snake charmer and cobra
Give him a tap on the head if he's a bit dopey...

Djemma el-Fna
The start of the Souks...

Ouarzazate
The view from our hotel on the start of our 2nd day

Into the foothills
Just outside of Ouarzazate

The road from Ouarzazate
The views as we head south into the Draa valley

Draa Valley
Ksar, palm trees, and arid mountain sides.

Draa River
The power of water.

52 days by camel to Timbuctoo
Just in case you were tempted...

Camel trekking
Hassan leads us out on our 2 hour journey into the desert

Erg Lehoudi
Our first Moroccan Erg...

Comfy place to wait out a sandstorm
Riad just north of M'Hamid

Hamada
On the way to Erg Chegaga

Oasis
A proper oasis

Desert accommodation
The tents backing onto Erg Chegaga

Sunset
Erg Chegaga