Second Stop: Sahara

On our second day in Morocco, we rose early to take an 8-hour van ride from the city of Fes to the edge of the Sahara, the world's largest hot desert. At journey's end, we were about 15 miles from Algeria.

Our driver, a kind family-man named Mohammed*, was waiting for us at 8 a.m., so that we could get to the desert in time for a sunset camel trek. (*In Islamic culture, it is customary to name every firstborn male after their prophet.) Mohammed was very helpful and enjoyed answering our million and one questions. Remarkably, he had answers to everything, from the workings of lunar calendars and small town politics to religious histories, farming practices and macroeconomics. By trip's end the next day, we had become friends. We regret not getting a good picture of him. He had a smiling face and an open, optimistic nature. At first, we were busy taking pictures of the landscapes...then the adventure overtook us...

Here are some of the views from the van, as we made our way south. Morocco struck us as a country very much poised between antiquity and modernity.

Every hour or two, we passed official checkpoints like this. At one point, they saw us with our camera and stopped the car to tell us it is prohibited to take photos of the police. Enjoy this contraband...

One of the more mysterious sights on the way to the desert was the Dog Highway. It was a stretch of curving mountain road guarded by wild dogs. Or so it seemed. For about 5 miles, at every major turn, we saw a large prairie-type dog (German Shepherd, Collie, etc.) sitting by itself in the gravel of the highway shoulder, watching the cars as they passed.

The dogs were spread out in a very organized and regular fashion, one per curve. Mohammed told us that it'd been like this as long as he could remember. The only clue as to a possible reason was that Gypsies inhabited the nearby mountain passes and perhaps had trained the dogs. We saw no gypsies, and it remained unclear how or why the dogs would be trained in this manner.

We tried to take pictures, but it was very difficult (low light, van speed, windshield glare). The only picture that came out was the only time 2 dogs were close to each other.

As we found ourselves in ever more remote terrain, restaurants evaporated. We stopped for lunch at a gas station. We were initially a little wary (especially of the begging mange-cats), but the grilled veal with fennel and curry turned out to be one of our favorite meals!

On we went, to find the narrow road blocked by a protest!

We got out of the van and Mohammed talked to some locals and the police for a bit. (We think he knew them; he seemed to know everyone.)

Perhaps 50 students, mostly boys between 12 and 18, were gathered in the middle of the main intersection. Occasionally chanting, they completely blocked the street. They were demanding justice: a new teacher. The simple drama was surreal. We wanted to take pictures, but, given the context of social unrest, the police prohibited it. (No contraband. Sorry.)

We were stuck. We were within a stretch of canyons in rural Morocco, and it was by no means obvious that there would be any alternate routes in the vicinity...

We backtracked for a bit to find a detour Mohammed inquired about. He admitted that it was his first time on the narrow road, as well, and we realized we might have a further 1/2 day backtrack and rerouting if it didn't connect. The path was easy to follow, as it was the only one in these parts. As it turned out, the detour was a short one...

Throughout, we saw people traveling without any obvious destination, on roads that seemed to go nowhere, and shepherds...always shepherds.

We made it to the edge of the Sahara in time for a late afternoon ride to a camp at an oasis, some hour and a half away.

We met our transportation...

Getting on was interesting...

Our guide was a very nice, outgoing and happy young man - a Berber named Omar. We felt like fast friends, but we couldn't grasp what it would be like to live his life. About 21, he's never left his small birth-town, lives with his parents and eight siblings in a small home without a TV or conveniences, and has only ever worked with camels.

He led the camels on foot*, and told us a few jokes - in broken English - on the way. "How do you put a camel in a refrigerator in three easy steps?"

(*When we got to camp and started walking through the dunes, we realized we had taken his long march for granted...it's much harder than it looks!)

The desert was profound. On the one hand, it gave a sense of the rarity and fragility of life; on the other, we constantly saw the footprints of those who had journeyed before us...

There we were, shadows on a wall!

And, for a short while, when others joined us, we became a caravan.

We reached the oasis around sunset. There were a number of tent camps around a central well. The Berbers, though, are the only ones, acclimated to the bacteria, who drink from it.

This picture, in particular, reminded us of certain Christmas images of Bethlehem. Camels must be some of the laziest animals; once the guides positioned them, they didn't move until forced to the next morning!

To watch the sunset, we made our way up part of a dune. (We couldn't make it any further!)

Jumpy mattyP! Sleepy mattyP!

For dinner, our guides made us a traditional Berber tajine, chicken and vegetables cooked in an earthenware pot. We ate with two young couples who had had their own tours that day.

After dinner, they played some traditional drum music for us. Once we knew we could, we joined in!

After music, Omar took us up to the top of the dune mountain to show us "Berber skiing." It took a great deal of effort, and perhaps 15 minutes of continual climbing in shifting sand, but it was worth it. From the top, 50 km in every direction were visible. The three of us sat on the dunetop, for perhaps 20 minutes, telling stories and jokes, and taking in the stars and the lights of the Moroccan landscape. But the cold seeped in up there...so it was time to learn how to ski!

Omar had me sit on the top of the dune with my legs stretched out, down the steepest part of the hill (~ 45-degree slope), and Andrea sat in my lap. Once we told him we were ready, Omar grabbed my ankles and began running, backwards!, down the dune...Andrea and I making our own little sled. Berber skiing! The dune was huge, so we didn't ski all the way down. We popped up, and I began racing Omar down the hill...he sped past me as if I were reading a book. I waited for Andrea, and we ran down the rest of the mountain, howling like children, hand in hand. What a thrill!

With neither plants, buildings or clouds to retain heat, the desert is very cold at night! We needed seven thick camel-hair blankets to stay warm. They were so heavy it was hard to move!

In the morning, we started off without eating before sunrise... It was cold, but invigorating! And so wonderfully peaceful!

As sunrise neared, we got off our camels and climbed the highest dune to welcome the day. That moment alone made the trip.

Eventually, we left the desert.

It hasn't left us.