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Visiting the Sahara was one of the highlights of our trip I was most looking forward to, and it didn't disappoint. After travelling most of the day, it was around 4pm that we caught our first glimpse of sand dunes in the distance. Against the brilliant blue sky, the dunes appeared to glow pink, and in front of us the air shimmered in the heat (it was easily 40 degrees). We began to see camels, some roaming the plains around us in search of something green to eat, others tied up outside kasbahs which provide accommodation and transport for visitors to this part of Morocco. Camels in this part of the world are single humped and able to go more than a week without water. They were to be our ride to the Berber camp where we would spend the night.
After arriving at the edge of the desert we were taken inside one of the kasbahs and given time to ready ourselves - apply sunblock, drink another cup of mint tea, and perfect our head scarf technique. Then it was outside to meet our camels. I named mine Barbara. She was the smallest camel at the end of the caravan and she was lovely.
The camels were all seated patiently outside, legs folded underneath them, in two lines linked together by rope. As I approached Barbara, a blanket was thrown over the padded seat and my overnight bag looped around the handle bar in front (yes, the camels came with handlebars!). I was then instructed by the grinning camel handler to hop aboard my ship of the desert. With some nervousness I threw my leg over Barb and sat down, gripping the handle bar tightly. Being a trained professional, Barb hardly batted one of her long eyelashes at my presence. At the handler's command, she stood up. Back legs first - I teetered over the front of the handle bar - then front legs - I was thrown back, desperately holding onto the bar with outstretched arms. And suddenly, there I was seated on a camel in the Sahara desert and able to look around at my travel companions who were going through the same awkward process.
Dale had managed to place himself near the front of the column on a slightly more rebellious camel who required a bit of persuading to stand up. Dale was barely recognisable with a red chequered scarf wrapped around his head and face, with only his sunglasses showing. He definitely looked more terrorist than dentist.
Our guide Mohamed had transformed from a jeans and t-shirt wearing joker, to a white robed and mysterious Berber, complete with flowing purple turban, seated on a handsome white camel at the head of the train.
We set off into the dunes led by Camel handlers walking at the head of each column. The day was beginning to cool a little and there was a welcome breeze whispering across the sand. The camels padded effortlessly up and down dunes on their saucer-sized cushioned feet. They were quieter than I had expected. In fact, apart from the sound of shifting sand and the occasional comment from one of my companions, the journey was virtually noiseless.
We rode for about an hour until we reached the campsite. By that stage I was feeling a little saddle sore and was ready to stretch my legs by the time Barbara sank to the ground to offload me. The camp consisted of about 5 Berber tents for sleeping, a larger communal tent, a shed with a toilet, and a tent which I didn't enter but which I think was where the host's wife prepared dinner.
Dale and some of the other energetic ones tried "sand boarding", using old snowboards to surf down sand dunes. I was happy to watch them and continue admiring the scenery, so different from anything I'd ever seen before. We watched the sun set from a vantage point above the camp and then descended to sit on stools outside the communal tent as our host brought out dishes of green and black olives, and peanuts. Dale and I were craving a cold beer, but had to make do with the bottle of water we had bought earlier that day.
After a meal of turkey kebabs and tagine, finished with fresh fruit, we sat around a campfire (provided for atmosphere rather than any need for additional warmth). The Berbers pulled out drums and cymbals to accompany their rhythmic chanting. There was compulsory dancing and a lot of laughter.
Shortly before midnight we called it a night and fumbled in the dark for our mattresses and camel hair blankets. Dale and I pulled our mattresses out of the tent and crawled into our sleep sheets to look at the night sky. Dale fell asleep shortly after the first shooting star was spotted. I lay listening to the sounds of the camp - soft muffled voices from the tents around us and the gentle grumbles of the nearby camels. As the night deepened, the stars grew brighter. I managed a few snatches of sleep before the eastern skyline began to lighten.
Shortly before 6am the camp began to rouse itself. The air was very still - no roosters or call to prayer out here to break the early morning quiet. We again got onto our camels and slowly made our way out of the desert, pausing only to watch the pale sunrise. Breakfast was waiting for us back at the Kasbah - strong, bitter coffee, boiled eggs, bread, honey, orange juice and a kind of coconut cake.
We drove out at around 8am, returning to the hotel where we had lunched the previous day for showers. Then we hit the road again on our way to the Todra Valley.
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Columba and Liz Great to read of your adventures. Bit worried about Dale going back to asics!! . hope he hasn't lost it in the desert!