Sahara Desert

The next day, we drove about 5-hours east to Merzouga, the gateway to the Sahara Desert. This town used to be an important caravan stop, and all the gold of the Almoravid dynasty came out of Timbuktu and through this town on its way to Aït Benhaddou. Today, however, it's better known as a popular destination for tourists who want to see the Sahara. We were here for an overnight camel trek in Erg Chebbi, the largest of Morocco's two Saharan ergs, "sand sea" or "dune sea," a broad flat area with shifting dunes formed by windswept sand.

We met Moha, the guide for our overnight trip, in the middle of the small village of Hassilabied, a little over a mile outside of Merzouga proper--and it looked like a ghost town. We saw only two of three people walking around the scattering of concrete houses, which seemed incredibly odd--we had passed through other tiny towns on our road trip through the mountains, and no matter how small, there is always a group of old men to be found sitting in a patch of shade or a mob of children running after a soccer ball. Moha said that while it might be a little quieter because of Ramadan (with families hiding indoors to escape the sun), it's usually quiet like this--but that it seemed like a big city after life in the desert! 

This village is about 80 years old and was started by a handful of Berber nomad families, but more families have begun to move in after the border to Algeria was closed in 1998. Most of this second wave of settlers have decided to make their living in tourism. Moha's family made the move in 2004, selling all their animals except for their camels so they could start a business leading foreigners on treks through the Sahara, a business that Moha now helps run. Much of the village is involved in the same work, and while there are many different rival trekking companies advertised around town, the reality is that everyone seems to help each other out. The guides all know each other, the treks all leave from the same starting point, all groups take a similar route, companies pair smaller groups together for efficient use of guides (we were "combined" with a Japanese couple and a pair of Spanish friends that had gone through another tour company), and the groups help each other stay safe...the desert can be unpredictable! 

For example, our camel trek had barely started when we were hit by a sandstorm! It started with a strong wind that flung up sand into everyone's eyes and was generally annoying, but within about 10 minutes the sky had darkened and the wind became so intense that it was difficult for the camels to even walk, and hard for their riders to stay in their saddles! Rachael managed to snap a few pictures as things started to intensify, but gave up after her camera almost flew out of her hand. The wind was thick with sand, which pelted any inch of exposed skin until it was red and raw. The storm must not have been that strong, at least comparatively, because our guides didn't turn us around but if that was no big deal, we don't ever want to experience a bad one!

We had both resisted being outfitted with turbans before our the trek, thinking it was more of a gimmick for pictures and that it would be disrespectful to wear someone else's culture as a costume, but BOY were we glad our guides insisted. Turbans are perfectly suited to their environment--not only do they block sweat, keep you cool, and protect your skin from the sun better than any hat, there is no way to survive a windstorm without one. Wrapped tightly around our heads (and rewrapped again and again as the wind began to unravel things), our long scarves protected us from the worst of the flying sand. But even so, sand managed to work its way into every tiny crevasse, no matter how covered. We can't imagine how we would have done it without the turban! 

Finally, we made it our campsite: a grouping of tents built in a circle to create a central "courtyard" of sorts that was protected from the wind. Our guides ushered us into the largest tent, which was full of pillows and low couches and table, to hide from the storm and meet the other four members of our trekking group over a glass of mint tea.

Tatsuya and Yuki are a couple from Japan who have been traveling off-and-on together over the last 3 years, working assorted part time jobs across the world to fund their long trips. Roberto and David are childhood friends from northern Spain who make a point to reunite at least once a year, often taking a trip together. The night of our trek was actually Roberto's birthday, so of course we had to sing for him! The conversation in our tent was so interesting and engaging that we hardly noticed the weather outside and dinner was ready in no time at all. After a post-dinner drum circle (which admittedly was a little strange...our guides gave a great show, but it definitely felt like a one-sided show, not a mutual cultural exchange), the wind finally died down and we all diapered to various sand dunes to look at the stars. 

At first, the sky was disappointingly cloudy and we couldn't see much. But as we watched and waited, things began to clear up and by about 11pm the sky was swimming with stars--you could literally see them twinkle! After some vain attempts to take pictures that did it justice, we gave up and decided to enjoy the moment instead of capturing it. We ended up sleeping under the stars with our Berber guides instead of in the tent prepared for us with the other trekkers. With just one night in the desert, we wanted to enjoy the sky for as long as possible! We spread a sheet on the top of a high dune and laid out a mattress facing east so we could wake up to the sunrise.

The moon rose late, at about 2am, and was waning into a slim crescent, so we enjoyed hours of dark sky and sparkling stars without any moonlight interfering. The temperature was perfect--cool, but not cold--and, with the exception of a grain of sand that snuck its way into Nate's eye and just wouldn't come out (has this ever happened to you? IT'S SO ANNOYING.) we were quite comfortable. That is, until the wind started again. 

We woke up in the early hours of the morning covered in sand. It wasn't another storm, per se, but it definitely so windy that it was no longer fun to be sleeping outside. But it was dark and late, the sun would be rising soon, and we were too sleepy to feel like moving indoors. So we spat out the grit in our mouths and covered our heads in the blanket, tucking every stray corner down to keep the wind and sand out, and we tried to sleep a bit longer. It was mostly in vain, and when we finally woke up (i.e. gave up trying to sleep) we were pretty grumpy. But the sunrise made it all better! The sky was certainly pretty, but the most magical part was what the early morning light did to the sand dunes, transforming them into a fiery, glowing orange and casting velvety shadows. 

We would have liked to stay all morning, watching the sky and exploring the dunes. (And they had sand boarding--which is literally a snowboard that you ride down a sand dune. As I'm sure you can imagine, Nate was annoyingly great at it...because of course he was.) But the higher the sun got, the worse the trip home would be, so our guides hurried us back on our camels about 45 minutes after sunrise. The ride back to Hassilabied felt completely different, and much more like we had initially pictured our trek...quiet and serene. Although, the sandstorm was actually pretty exciting and the wildness of the windswept dunes was beautiful in its own way. In the end, we're glad we saw both sides of the Sahara! 

Dades Gorge

After saying goodbye to Aït Benhaddou we had another 4-hour drive through more beautiful countryside, which became gradually rockier as we approached the Dades Gorge. Our Air B&B for the night was located in a small village just across the river from Boulman Dades. Our host was a really friendly man named Youssef. We were the only guests in our huge auberge (French for "inn") and so we got the largest room on the gorge facing side, with a lovely view of the high red walls of the Dades and the green valley below. At the bottom of the valley was a little spring, with fruit trees, corn, herbs, and other small fields on either side. You could hear bird song, frogs, and crickets and the gorge shielded us from much of the hot sun, so it was sunny but fairly cool.

After getting settled at our hotel, we hopped back into the car to drive further into the gorge. We heard that the next 17 kilometers of road was well paved, with beautiful views. There is also a famously winding stretch of road (although the whole of R-704, the highway going through the gorge, is quite twisty!) that we wanted to drive...especially after we saw the men of Top Gear driving it! We spent the next 3 hours making our way through the gorge, stopping whenever we saw a particularly beautiful panoramic view (which was about every quarter mile!) to get out of the car to better admire or to take a picture.

When we got back to the hotel, we still had about 2 and a half hours left before dinner, so we decided to take a walk through the river valley right below our hotel. Youssef suggested a path for us to take, and said that we could even climb up the big red cliffs at the base of the gorge for a great view. We made our way down to the stream, and for the first time could see that another small village was secreted at the base, and we met a few children walking home. 

The first hanger on we picked up was Harira, a quiet girl who looked about 9 years old. She walked cautiously along with us, obviously interested in us because she ran to catch us if she fell behind for some reason, but too shy to try to say anything other than her name. However, she flagged down two slightly older boys, obviously brothers because they looked almost identical, to join our caravan. Then, it started to rain. Nate and I ducked under an overhanging wall to wait it out, joined by the two boys. Harira ran home, but paused to wave, and she gave us her one and only smile. As we waited for the rain to stop, we tried to "talk" with the boys--not really talk because they spoke Arabic and French and we know only a few words of each, but we used them all and then made silly faces at them to try to get a smile. We learned their names were Mohammed and Ali. Once the rain stopped, we asked where the "belle vieu panoramic" was and they pointed us away from the village and toward the mountains.

With Mohammed and Ali in the lead, we made our way toward the mountains, through Hassan's garden. Hassan lives at the edge of the village by the river so that he has more room for his fabulous garden, full of fruit trees and herbs. We stumbled upon him as he was picking apricots and oranges and he invited us in for mint tea and a tour of his house. A 5-room concrete building he built himself about 8 years ago, Hassan's house was simple but lovingly cared for. The focal point of his living room was a collage of photos of his family, and he pulled out even more to show us from his "treasure box" in his room. Hassan is highly educated: he attended university and then attended Islamic college to become an imam (incidentally, he told us that Mohammed and Ali were the sons of the village imam), he's traveled, he speaks six languages. And yet he has returned to the small village his family is from, even though his siblings have moved away and on, to live near the mountains he loves.  

After our tour, Hassan took us and the boys on a climb up the mountain behind his house. We hiked to the top of the lowest range of rocky cliffs, where the Berber letter "zed" and the symbol for freedom had been painted. Hassan's two tiny dogs tagged along, obviously used to making the climb even with their short legs! After taking in the lovely view, we clambered down for a walk by the riverbed, where we exchanged the names of plants in our different languages--and all four boys somehow independently acquired walking sticks and found plenty of excuses to show off for one another. 

Finally, we returned to Hassan's garden where he picked two huge bundles of mint--one for us, and one for Mohammed and Ali. The boys walked us home to our auberge, where we parted ways with many high fives. After a great dinner and spectacular stars, both Nate and Rachael had to agree that this was the best day in Morocco yet. 

Aït Benhaddou

Our Moroccan road trip through the countryside turned out to be some of the most perfect days of our trip so far--which is especially great, because it had the potential to be really stressful! 

Our journey took us through the Atlas Mountains and into the desert. There are a lot of ways you might plan your route, but rather than take a bus and be limited by their timetables or go with a pricey adventure tour company, we decided to make the drive ourselves. We planned to rent a car (from the Marrakech airport, so we wouldn't have to drive through the busy city center) and make our way at our own leisurely pace through the High Atlas Mountains pausing to visit little towns along the way. Our end goal is Merzouga: the last caravan stop before the Sahara Desert. 

However, as anyone who has rented a car while traveling overseas knows, it's complicated. There are a lot of things that could go wrong when you don't know the traffic rules, aren't familiar with how people drive, are a stranger to the area and need to navigate as you go...the list goes on. And beyond how you yourself might mess things up, there are other drivers. Driving in Morocco is pretty aggressive and, if you're not used to it, kind of scary. If there are traffic laws, people don't really seem to follow them. In cities, it's a free for all between drivers who never signal and instead prefer to communicate by honk, whizzing taxi cabs who seem to race each other in competition for fares, motorcycles and cyclists who take advantage of their compact size to zig zag around the whole crazy mess, and the pedestrians just trying not to be run over. Our experience with the countryside so far has been limited, but it doesn't seem all that different. Although there are fewer folks on the road, that means most cars just ignore the lines altogether and drive straight in the middle, resulting in some terrifying games of chicken when you encounter a car coming from the opposite direction. Also, people almost seem to prefer to pass one another along blind corners. Perhaps for the adrenaline rush?

Luckily, we were pretty prepared for this. As reckless as Moroccan driving might seem, it's still nothing compared to India, Mongolia, or Vietnam, places we've encountered on previous adventures. We had a basic idea of what we might be dealing with, and did everything we could think of to ensure our road-trip would be safe and hassle-free. Nate did many hours of research before we left: he learned the basic driving rules, almost memorized our route, downloaded offline maps so Rachael could navigate for him with the GPS, made sure we had plenty of travel insurance so we could cover even the most disastrous accident, learned about how to handle police if we were stopped for speeding (pro tip: do not pay a "tip" for them to look the other way and take the full ticket instead, but ask for a receipt! You can show it to the station in the next town to make sure you were fairly charged--and they'll be less likely to inflate the price as a result!), and read many accounts of other travel bloggers who had made similar trips. He printed duplicated copies of every piece of paperwork we might possibly need.

Perhaps because we were so prepared for every worst-case scenario, we (Nate especially, as he was our designated driving encyclopedia) woke up this morning with butterflies in our tummies. What if we were late getting to the airport to pick up our car? What if the car wasn't reliable and it broke down? What if we got hit by someone? Preoccupied with "what ifs," it took us a while to notice that everything was going perfectly to plan. At exactly the right time, we found ourselves in possession of a cute little Fiat Panda (a car we saw thousands of last summer in Italy and always wanted to drive!) that comfortably fit all our things, drove smoothly, and--most importantly--had perfectly working air conditioning. Our plan to avoid the worst of Marrakech traffic worked too; we found that as long as we stayed steady and predictable, the other cars could weave around us safely and we made it to out of the city and onto the highway with no problems. 

And what a highway! The Atlas Mountains are lovely: painted in sunset colors and breathtakingly huge, with mountains upon mountains fading into the distance (our little camera couldn't capture how perfect everything was, but that didn't stop us from trying!). Rachael said she had never seen mountains that reminded her more of C.S. Lewis' heavenly city that went "further up and further in." We had such a fun drive through the mountains that we forgot to be worried about anything. We just enjoyed the winding roads that made Nate feel like a race car driver, the wonderful scenery, and a great playlist. 

We got to Aït Benhaddou around 3pm, but the drive had been so eventful that it felt like a full day and we were pretty tired--especially driver Nate. Still, we rallied and after finding our guesthouse, we made our way to the ancient ruin from which the town gets its name. Located in the southern foothills of the high Atlas Mountains, Aït Benhaddou is a former caravan stop between the Sahara and Marrakech. The ksar, Arabic for "castle" or fortified village, is built on a hill to allow the watch tower at the top a view of the surrounding plain--both to protect the city from invaders and incoming caravans from bandits. 

Aït Benhaddou is a famous example of pre-Saharan earthen architecture--so much so that it's been featured in various films, such as The Mummy, Gladiator, Prince of Persia, Game of Thrones...the list goes on. Basically, whenever Hollywood needs an old-timey Arab village as a backdrop, they go to Aït Benhaddou. The oldest building in the striking red ksar appears to have been built around the 17th century, but the techniques used in all the buildings were inherited from a much earlier period. Made from a core of mud bricks and rocks and covered in a plaster made with earth and straw, the buildings are vulnerable to the elements; the walls are therefore extremely thick, sometimes up to a meter, and need regular repair. The ksar fell into disrepair for many years as more and more families began moving out of the traditional buildings to a newer and more convenient modern settlement on the other side of the river, but in 1987 Aït Benhaddou was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site and was partially restored using traditional building methods and materials. 

We had a lot of fun exploring all the nooks and crannies of the old ksar and taking in the sweeping views from the watch tower--this time, with the help of a local guide (something we almost never do, but he helped us find our Air B&B when we got totally lost so we felt like we owed him!). Our guide Nassim had grown up in the new city across the river from the ksar and, in our conversations between the formal tour, he had a lot of interesting things to say about the tension local inhabitants feel between maintaining Aït Benhaddou as an important historical and cultural site and modernizing to improve their quality of life. The entire economy of the new village is built on tourism, and tourists come to a place to experience "authentic" culture and village life, but that may not be what's actually comfortable for the villagers themselves. For those who've grown up in the village, there is also the difficult choice whether to stay and try to make a living on uncertain and unsteady (but potentially profitable) work as a guide or hotelier, or to move to a larger city where there are more opportunities. In the end, we were glad we let ourselves get talked into a tour. Nassim didn't have much radically new information about the old ksar and he definitely steered us into shops owned by his friends at every opportunity in hopes we'd buy something and he'd make a cut, but the insight into life as an exhibit, so to speak, was definitely worth the 150 dirhams. 

By the way, Aït Benhaddou sunsets are pretty killer.