6 – 7 September, 2014
Right! Where was I?
Let’s hope this attempt at
getting back to blogging is more successful than my last.
I’d just had a very
refreshing dip in the pool at Kasbah Dunes D’Or. And then ….
thinking back to my less than successful donkey ride at Ouarzazate,
it was time to grit my teeth and get on a camel. Not a pretty sight!
Me, not the camel!! Seat belts? No. There was a T bar handle to grip,
not more than 25cm wide and no stoppers at the ends to stop sweaty,
fearful hands slipping off. I held on like grim death! Didn’t let
go until we got to camp. Surviving departure boosted my confidence
just a little. As the camel stood, I lurched forward, in great fear
of pitching over its head. We were off, on our way to spend the night
in the Sahara, on the edge of a 25km long, 5km wide dune known as Erg
Chebbi.
Camels are often referred
to as ships of the desert. Certainly they have the rock and pitch
motion of a small boat riding waves. Going uphill wasn’t too bad.
But downhill it was that “over the top” feeling again. I was at
the head of the train – the safest spot, I gather, and my lovely
driver/guide, Hami’s brother, led us on foot. I’m not sure how
far we went and how long it took. It seemed like miles and hours! But
probably not.
What seemed like half an
hour into the journey, a dune buggy came driving up. As I saw it in
the distance, I thought how wonderful it would be to be riding on
that instead of a camel. I simply couldn’t believe it, the
kindness!, when the two young men came right up to us and said they
were there to collect me if I wanted to dismount. Thinking back to my
donkey ride and my dread in anticipation of the camel ride, Hami had
organised this for me. But I then thought, I can’t fail two rides,
so I stayed with the camel, still fearful though I was.
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| Before dawn |
Eventually we got to the
camp, all the men and me. Interesting! There were three groups: me,
three youngish blokes, and a group of older academics with a young
PhD student, physical sciences, I think, from Italy and Morocco,
having a break before getting down to whatever their work was. Each
group had its own table and tent. So effectively I ate alone. I’m
not sure how many attendants there were, maybe half a dozen,
including the camel men. The evening meal was typical Moroccan and
delicious.
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| The sun rises |
The youngish blokes kept to
themselves – maybe they didn’t want to share the hashish they
were smoking! In my innocence, I’d never seen hash grated and the
cigarettes rolled before!!
The academics had their wine
and the young student fell asleep very quickly after eating and not
much drinking on his part. The older blokes kept on talking, and
talking. One in particular.
Later, The Talker came over
and started to chat. For a while he was interesting but then got very
boring with his theories of life and the place of women –
mysogynist, needless to say. Finally I told him to go away as I had
to go to sleep. So he went off to his group.
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| The desert camp at dawn |
The hash smokers and I
decided to sleep under the stars and a full-ish moon. We missed the
full beauty because those grown academics were so childish. There was
a light on a pole (Electricity from where? Battery? Solar?) and they
insisted that it remain on. They were afraid of creepy crawlies and
goodness knows what monsters they imagined might visit the camp!!!
A few hours later, rain! A
rare event in the desert. Everyone outside gathered up their bedding
and rushed to their tents. That’s when I started to imagine things!
It got a bit windy and the rugs that made the tent walls flapped and
flapped, sounding (in my imagination) like an animal trying to find
its way in. As it was, the rain was very brief – we could have
stayed under the stars.
I should mention, we were not in the "Luxury Camping Tents" that you see advertised. Our tents looked very much like those I saw en route that nomads and shepherds were living in. I did have an en suite toilet though - a self-composting porta-loo!
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| Looking back to my sunrise perch. My footsteps on the right. And yes, that's a rhododendron bush. |
And then it was morning. The
hash smokers and I got up to a dawning light and climbed the nearby
dune to watch the sun rise. It was steeper than it looks in the
photos and my feet sank down in the sand. But the effort was more
than well rewarded! Although there were a few people a way off, it
felt like I was alone in the magnificent landscape. Sitting, waiting,
slowly the sun rising over the dune opposite.
I can understand the
attraction to the early Christian “Desert Fathers”. The beauty
and isolation are stunning. Reminiscent of the Australian Kimberley,
but very different too.
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| Breakfast! With ancient and modern water 'jars' |
But all good things ….
down the dune to breakfast! A cross between Moroccan and Western. Not that I have a cloth on the table at home! Scrumptious.
Preparations were made and
all too soon it was back on my camel.
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| Preparing the camels for the return journey |
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| Heading back |
The journey back to Kasbah
Dunes D’Or didn’t seem nearly as long or as far as the previous
day’s travel! I finally gathered a bit of courage and took some
photos as we trekked.
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| Camel up close and personal |
Gorgeous ugly! This camel, supposedly following mine, nudged and
slobbered on my leg at one point. I’d have patted him if I’d
dared let go both hands!
I wasn’t afraid of getting
lost in the desert either, should I have been abandonned en route.
The wind might have blown the camels tracks away, but their poop,
“desert dates”, were more difficult to dislodge and remained a
constant guide!!
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| Almost there! |
I got back safely back thanks to
Hami’s brother and my gentle,trusty camel.
The camel men and caterers
looked after us so well. The camels were a joy – even if ugly and
slobbering! I’d be exhausted too after carrying me on my back!
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| A well-earned rest for 'my' camel |
Definitely a bucket list
experience. What a privilege to have done it.
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| The magnificent Sahara |
