Day 8

Day 8: Mon 30/06/03

Breakfast was scheduled for 8 a.m. So of course I was up at 6! I had a bad nights sleep, don’t know if it was the noise of the crickets and birds outside my window all night, or the dream I had that kept me awake, but I knew I could not sleep any longer. The dream was a very vivid one, in which I was being chased by a man brandishing a shotgun who wanted to kill me. This after I had a pee in his garden and destroyed his lovely flowers! Or at least that’s what he told me in this dream! This nightmare in retrospect was probably due to all that beer I had drunk last night!

After another shower I went for a twenty-minute walk along the riverbank to shake off the cobwebs and build up my appetite for breakfast. I came back along the valley road, which I had rejoined a little way further up the gorge on the road that seemed to go nowhere! A few kids were out on the road already; this was after all, their playground.

I sat around on the open balcony; cum-dining room looking at the food laid out on the table. I was feeling hungry, but fighting the urge to eat while waiting for the others to emerge from their slumbers.

What I really fancied for breakfast was some weetabix, or bran flakes, followed by sausage, egg, bacon, mushrooms and beans with some toast, but unfortunately all I got was bread and jam with coffee and orange juice. Still there was some good news, the ointment had worked on Emma’s ankle and the swelling had now gone down. I wondered if I rubbed some of this ointment on my tummy, would it take away my hunger? Work up an appetite, I bloody knew I shouldn’t have gone for that walk!

The driver was getting a little impatient waiting for us all to get out of the hotel and back in the minibus, he, after all had a schedule keep! I was sure the driver was a stock market trader or something like that! He was always on the phone to someone or other, but only for a few seconds at a time, buy, sell, hold!

We were in for a treat this morning, or was it a punishment for keeping him hanging around, as he had found another tape, one he liked very much, so much so that he played it over and over again. Have you ever had to listen to the sound of a cat being strangled for two hours? It can really start to grate on you after a while! Now where did he put that Mamas and Papas tape I wondered?

Tinerhir was to be our first stop this morning, where we were met by a guide who took us on a walk through some lush green farming land towards the back entrance to the old Jewish quarter. We were soon the centre of attention with a great many young children who came running through the alleys once they knew we were there. The kids followed looking for money; sweets, pens or anything else we had to offer as we walked through the small souq that was almost a pleasure to roam through. It was a very laid back experience with nobody hassling you, or even taking that much notice as we followed the guide to the obligatory carpet weavers shop. The purpose of this trip, we were told was purely so as we could see the demonstration given by a Berber woman as she weaved her magic fingers across the loom, turning out another carpet. Oh yeah, right!

The man who narrated the demonstration was a friendly enough sort and spoke good English, French, German and Arabic. He was dressed in a blue robe with yellow turban style scarf around his head that really made him look the part. A smooth talker, he even got the girls to have a go on the loom, filling them with compliments about how good they were and how they would make perfect wives for Berber men.

We were treated to some traditional Moroccan hospitality with mint tea, as we sat on the carpeted floor watching the woman work the woollen thread backwards and forwards across the loom in a mesmerising fashion. Then with the demonstration over, out came the carpets, lots of them! This was my queue; I took my leave and went outside to wait for the others to make their escape.

As I waited stood in a nearby doorway for shade, I watched an old woman and young boy mix up some mud and straw, then apply it to some patches in a wall of their house. They were really quite adept at this and had the job finished within a few minutes, working all the time with their bare hands they applied the mix into the holes and smoothed it off to blend in with the rest of the wall. The rest of the group came out one by one, with Ulla being the only one to buy a carpet last.

This was the end of our visit here, so now it was back in the minibus and time to head out of Tinerhir. It was not long after that we found ourselves heading down through another lush and very fertile looking valley of thick palmeries and picturesque Berber villages, we were on our way to the next stop, the Todra Gorge, some 15 kilometres away.

The driver told us that we had about an hour and a half to look around the gorge and also to get ourselves some lunch. The Gorge reminded me of Cheddar Gorge in England, only this one was swathed in sunlight, unlike Cheddar Gorge, which is always wet and windy whenever I visit!

The Gorge is the result of a massive fault in the plateau, which divides the High Atlas from the Jebel Sarbro.

Following the not very deep river along the gorge we walked for about a quarter of a mile. It was shady in places as we were hemmed in on both sides by the massive rock formation that is a climber’s paradise. Tom who I have mentioned earlier likes rock climbing was telling me that he would love to do some serious climbing in this area. It was possible to walk further and up into the hills along some well worn trekking routes, but we did not have any time to spare, most of us just wanted to eat. I know I did, as the breakfast we had eaten this morning was far from substantial.

Along the road and tucked into the shady crevices were the usual array of trinket sellers, with all things Moroccan. I think a few of them were in luck today, as the group bought a few things, mostly head scarves for wearing around faces when we rode the camels in the desert later that day. Everyone wanting to look like Peter O’Toole in Lawrence of Arabia. Whether they would really need this protection from the sun and sand remained to be seen!

One stall holder in particular eager to make a sale asked me to have a look at something, but trying to avoid having to do this I told him he would have to ask my wife, pointing to Danika. He looked at her sceptically and inquired if we had any children, to which I replied “Yes we have six”. I don’t know if he believed me or not, as I certainly look old enough to have fathered six children, but I don’t think Danika whose head was covered by a scarf looked old enough to have given birth to that many. Danika asked why I had said six, further adding we might have got him to believe it, had I only said three!

Back near where the minibus had dropped us was a couple of restaurants, we chose the more reasonably priced one that looked like it was able to accommodate us all. There was no problem here as we were the only customers as there were not many tourists about at all. Most of us had brochettes (Kebabs) and warm cokes, as the fridge here had not been on. The man selling drinks from a stall across the road seemed like he had the right idea; he kept his crates of drink in the cool flowing river!

Our next stop was to be our last before heading into the desert for the night, so we had to make sure to stock up on any important supplies we would need, namely water!

I bought myself a scarf that resembled a sarong to put around my head. Well, I didn’t want to be the odd one out, the only one who didn’t look like Laurence of Arabia when we were charging across the desert on the camels!

On a more serious note these scarves are worn for a purpose, namely to keep the fine dust particles that blow up in the winds from hitting you full in the face and entering into you mouth, nose and eyes.

Back in the minibus Emma was recounting the story of how she had bought herself a small carpet for 350 DH, something of a bargain when you consider the man who sold it to her had asked for 2,000 to start with! Emma must have very persuasive powers, or the man was really pushing his luck to start with, because one thing is for sure, no one is going to sell you anything at a loss!

The road snaked further into the desert landscape that soon became very barren and was only broken up now and then as we drove through small villages, past very old ochre coloured sandstone kasbahs that stood out majestically in the desert landscape. These kasbahs surrounded by palm trees looked fantastic, having weathered not only the desert sands, but also the sands of time. If ever you wanted to go back in time, and then this was the landscape to accommodate that request, here it looked as though everything had stood still for hundreds of years. Were it not for the occasional motorised vehicle you would have thought you were living in Biblical times.

Its not often you see natural phenomena, so we were all a little excited when driving through the desert road to Merzouga. Tom noticed way off in the distance a swirling sandstorm that was in fact a mini tornado in every sense of the word. When we asked the driver to stop to let us take some pictures, he was a little bemused as to why we would want to take pictures, of what to him, was an everyday occurrence.

I was too late to get a picture; by the time we had stopped the vortex has died off and began to disintegrate before my eyes. No picture, but it was still a sight to behold for real, having only seen this kind of thing before on National Geographic TV.

Sandstorms were very common in this part of Morocco and very evident by the amount of sand that covered the tarmac road in places. The driver had to keep himself focused on the road in order to steer around small dunes that were forming at certain points along the way. For many miles we could see the desert on either side of the road, but it was flat and boring looking, not how you imagine the desert with great big dunes creating mountains and valleys out of sand. My vision of how this camel trek would be was one of riding up and down, then trough natural valleys and ridges that made up the desert picture in my mind. I hoped it was not going to be flat and dull looking like the current sandscape we were driving through.

Along the road in certain high risk areas were barrier fences mad from what looked like wicker, stuck into the sand to try and stem the tide as it overspilled. They were not that successful as far as I could see, but better than nothing I suppose! Seeing the mini tornado and then all of this sand that had blown out of the desert and covered the road, I was now feeling the scarf was not just going to be a chic accessory and might have been a worthwhile investment at 25 DH.

The plan for the camel ride into the desert was that we would ride out into the sands for sunset and return the next morning for sunrise. It all sounded very romantic, I just hoped I was lucky and got myself a good looking camel for the trip!

Late afternoon we reached the area where we were to pick up the camels, pulling off the main road and heading across a loose gravel road that led a for a good few miles into the desert and allowed us our first views of the spectacular sand dunes. We passed quite a few hotels and small desert kasbahs that lined the edge of the dunes. Our place was, as always, about the last one along this stretch!

This staging point for picking up our camels and guide was a rather run down looking building that also doubled as a cheap hotel, that I dare say got very few, if any tourists stopping there. This was definitely the bottom end of the cheap accommodation scale.

We were allocated a room into which we could leave our rucksacks, as we were to only take what was absolutely necessary for overnight. This meant for me, a toothbrush, my bottled water and my camera. Oh yeah, I nearly forgot, I also took my newly acquired scarf.

The rest of the group done the same and we were soon ready to go. The Berber man who was going to lead the group led us out of the compound and across the scorching underfoot conditions to a group of camels sitting patiently on the sands, looking like a group of bored girls at a wedding reception waiting to be asked for a dance. There were eight of them in total; all tied together in a daisy chain effect, so all we had to do was pick one.

They all looked the same, but I think I got the best looking one of the bunch at number 5. There was no long-winded courtship, I simply jumped on her back and we were an item.

No, the reason I chose this camel was because I really wanted to be nearer the back than the front so that I could get some pictures, of not only the desert, but also some of the group on their mounts.

I knew one thing straight away; this was going to be a little bit uncomfortable and would take a little getting used to. As soon as the camel leader got the beast to stand up by making a weird clucking noise, I was holding on for dear life to the metal bar in front of me that formed part of the saddle seating arrangement. There was to be no reigns to hold onto, just this metal T bar that you could see had been well used, with grooves worn into it from where previous riders had been holding on for all they were worth. My hands were starting to sweat already and we hadn’t even started to move off yet!

Of course the secret was to lean backwards to aid your balance as the camel lurched forward, using it’s front legs to pull itself up. Great! I had no experience on horses, and John Wayne I’m not, so this rodeo style of riding was not coming naturally to me. These rodeo riders do this one handed as well, using the free arm to counter balance their movement, not for me, I was holding on for dear life as I tried to lean back as far as I could, but this is easier said then done.

Thankfully I managed to stay on board and not have to suffer the indignity of falling face first into the sand before we had actually got moving. The grooves in the handhold that was now feeling red hot, had now been further indented as my fingers were so tightly wrenched around them it was hurting!

The Berber man who was to lead the camels finally managed to get everybody on their mounts in a fashion! We were all trying to look as though this was the most natural thing in the world, but I can assure you it wasn’t, at least not for me as I wriggled in the saddle trying to make myself comfortable, all the time trying not to move too far and falling off. The nervous laughter and joking coming from the others reassured me that I was not the only one still coming to terms with this new experience.

We set of into the Sahara desert slowly; with the camel behind me wanting to get a little bit too friendly for my liking, it was sniffing at my arse and prodding me in the back! I suppose it had no choice really, as they were all still tied close together making an eight coach camel train. Not a pleasant experience for either of us I would think. The Berber man was not even on a camel, he was holding the rope attached to the lead camel as he walked bare foot across the scorching sands, seemingly without a care in the world. He was even wearing a jumper over his shirt! It was still very hot, I would say at least 100 degrees, yet looking at him I thought to myself, If he wasn’t feeling the heat now, just how hot did it have to get before he walked around in his shirt sleeves?

I know it was hot, I was sweating buckets, although to be fair this could just have been from fear of falling off!

The views in front of us were everything your mind could possibly picture when you think of the desert. It was all there, the rolling sand dunes, some as high as a small mountain, the deep depressions, wide sand valleys, high ridges that were just a few feet wide. And the colours, oh the colours were so beautiful, not normally a word I would use to describe anything (it’s a macho thing!), but there was no other word to describe the various hues of reds, browns, pinks, and ochre, all contrasted by the rich blue evening sky. This was what I had come to see in my own minds eye, and that was exactly the picture being presented to me. There was a picture I wanted to take in every direction I looked, but have you ever tried to take pictures while riding a camel? Not that easy I can assure you, especially when you are still not comfortable on the beast and holding on so tight it hurts! My hands and buttocks were clenched so tight and my face must have looked like a fighter pilot’s would when experiencing G force 10!

Things were going alright after a few minutes and I felt comfortable enough to take one hand off, then I was able to release the other one and quickly get the camera up to my eye to shoot off a couple of frames. No problems, this was easy, OOP’s, spoke to soon as we were now climbing up the side of a dune, I had to let the camera swing loose around my neck and banging into my chest, as I grabbed the metal bar again in a blind panic!

It’s not exactly like riding a bike, but you do get used to it quite quickly, providing of course you don’t get too over confident.

In retrospect I have to admit that it was all very tame and only a tourist thing, but I was enjoying it, cruising through the Sahara desert on a camel, doing a nerve racking top speed of about three, or even four miles an hour!

I would say we were not on the camels for more than an hour, but it was long enough for me and a great experience none the less. After climbing and descending the dunes for this long without getting off the camel I was ready to get off, so I was quite pleased to see the tents in the distance from the top of the last sand ridge.

Tonight we were going to live like real desert nomads under the stars in the Sahara, a good three or four miles from the nearest brick building, not a great distance I know, but not one I would have liked to walk, especially in my bare feet!

The little encampment we were going to stay at for the night was about a quarter of a mile from the main Berber one, which we could see further in the distance.

Set out in the pattern of a square and hemmed in by some palm fencing, the tents were all open and had foam mattresses laid out in them. In the centre of encampment were a lot of blankets laid out to cover the sand. The Berber man said to us once we were off the camels we should climb the sand dune behind the camp to view the sunset. A great idea… not! This sand dune was about the biggest one in the whole bloody Sahara desert; it was about the size of K2. This mans idea, I think, was just his way of giving us something to do while he went off to see his own people a little further on.

A few of us did start to try and climb the dune, with Tom and Guillaume making it to the top in record time, but climbing was not easy in the sand, every two steps you took up, you slipped back one! I got about two thirds of the way up and feeling the strain a little decided I did not really want to go to the top anyway!

To be honest, I was bloody knackered! Instead I sat on the sand and took in the wonderful panoramic views as the sun was slowly setting overhead. What had taken about 15 minutes to climb up, took about thirty seconds to descend as I made my way back to the camp to drink some of my boiling water.

The camels were still tied up and now all sitting contentedly in the sand outside the camp perimeter fence. Not a bad days work for these camels I suppose, just an hours trek into the desert and nothing like the nomadic camels that have to travel all day across the sands carrying great loads of whatever!

Facilities at the site were limited, in fact they were really non existent, all you had was a tent to cover you from the sun and a blanket to lay on, but really, what more did you need? There was no water to wash with and if you needed the bathroom you had to use the big toilet (surrounding area) as one person aptly put it!

In one of the tents I could see and smell the evening meal cooking away slowly in a large pot on a small burner.

We sat around on the blankets taking in the natural beauty of our surroundings and chatting away until the man returned to serve dinner from the pot. It was a typical Tajine, which is slow cooked meat with vegetable stew, supplemented by the usual copious amounts of bread, followed by some nice juicy melon. With the meal over we were given some mint tea to finish off the evening feast. What could be better? Here we were now all sat around on blankets in a Berber encampment, under the dark sky, looking at the stars in the Sahara desert and drinking mint tea!

When the tea was over the man got out a set of drums and proceeded to play them, but as far as I could make out he wasn’t that good, as the sound was not that rhythmic, but hey! What do I know about Berber music? He passed the drums around for us all to have a go, with Tom being about the best, as he was the only musical one amongst us being the member of a band. Guillaume managed to get what sounded like a rhythmic pattern sound going, and I, well, in all honesty, I was crap!

Out of the darkness a woman appeared. I assumed she was the wife of the Berber man and had come over from the other campsite. She was quite shy and stood at the entrance to the camp with her face covered by a scarf and a baby strapped to her back with the aid of a large cloth. A few of the girls asked her some questions via Ulla the interpreter designate. Then just as she had come she left disappearing into the dark night sky again, on her way back across the desert sands.

Again we sat around talking, mostly about our hopes and aspirations for the future and giving the others just a slight glimpse into our lives as we hoped they might turn out.

The plan for the following morning was to set off back at around 4.30 a.m. to catch the sunrise over the desert. With this in mind we all turned in around 10 p.m. and all chose to sleep out under the stars, rather than under the canvas tents.

A little laughing and joking ensued as well tried to get to sleep, but all was soon quite as one by one people dropped off to sleep. The Berber man who was still with us was sound asleep and snoring before anybody else, although he did have a good excuse as he had walked here and we had ridden in luxury all the way! I think I would have liked to walk a bit off the way as I was having trouble dropping off to sleep, but sleep did come and I slept well until I heard a loud scream from what I thought was some kind of animal.

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