As ever I welcome you all back to my adventures but feel I must start with an admission. The trend set by parts one and two together show a statistical increase in verbosity over the Peru Adventures. I had hoped to have finished telling this tale before Christmas and may not do at the current rate, so will increase my efforts for conciseness and sort the wheat from the chaff to give you one hundred percent wheaty goodness. Perhaps I can entice you on by promising you that this instalment details a walk on the 'wild' side; well when I say 'wild' side I suppose it was more the 'not house trained' side, anyway you'll see.
Last time I left off just on the other side of the 'Tunnel du Legionnaire' from which point we continued to drive through the Atlas mountains and back onto more level ground at the other side. Here we gradually started to see a more desert style landscape (called the Hamada) that for some while was just a vast flat hard looking surface covered in blackish stones and grit that stretched from one distant mountain horizon to the other. As we neared our destination there were small isolated sand dunes and areas planted with date palms which all looked somewhat prehistoric to me, probably reminding me of rather old dinosaur movies. By this stage we were running a fraction late as it was customary once on the edge of the sand dunes of the Sahara to climb the pile of sand imaginatively referred to as 'The Big Dune' to watch the sunset. To be honest it was a race we knew we were going to lose but the prize for coming second to Mother Nature was a walk up 'A Smaller Dune'. Having arrived at the auberge we were staying at we all walked out the back where the sandy part of the desert started with the intention of walking off up whatever dune we came to only to be greeted (and subsequently pestered) by a group of local traditionally dressed men. These guys had been stood about in the dunes expecting us tourists like a flock of seagulls on the roofs all around a chip shop waiting for the lunch trade. These fellows were mostly fairly young and all wore the long blue robe-like clothing and white head gear. To begin with I tried to resist their attempts to engage me in conversation (they like many Moroccans seem natural linguists and could speak at least a bit of most European languages) suspecting it would eventually lead to having to part with money but it was too long a walk to keep that up all the way. So anyway we trudged up to the top of a decent size dune which gave me a better look at what this Sahara desert thing was all about but the sunset never really happened due to the clouds. After all the photo taking and the walk back the predictable happened and I was invited to look at what one of the fellows had for sale. I must confess that I am not much of a barterer and never have been so he got rather a good deal more out of me that I might have liked but to be honest he had been quite entertaining company on the walk telling me such implausibly tall tales about desert life. Naturally I didn't let on that I doubted his stories, after all I may have ruined the fun of a future tourist.
That night after settling into our basic (prison cell style) rooms it was time firstly for another chicken tajine and then for the nights entertainment. We'd dined on tables outside and as our meal neared its end some of the locals from the auberge set out mats in the courtyard near to us and began to play their drums. As this continued it intensified and was joined by a rhythmic chanting type of singing and then the playing of some strange metal instruments. These resembled two small cymbals joined at their edges by a thin flat bit of metal. A pair were held loosely in each hand and were clanged together to make a fairly rough metallic clattering sound. By this time we had all left the tables and had moved to sit around in front of them to watch and once they started to dance around as well they invited us to join in. Fortunately the dancing style was far from ballroom and therefore simple enough for me (with some of the others) to have a try. This wasn't the only audience participation to go on as they seemed keen to involve us in any way they could and so later they found some volunteers to have a go at the drumming.
The previously calm day had all of a sudden changed and a hot blustery desert wind had started to blow. This was rather a pity as partly due to the heat in the rooms and partly for the fun of it many of us had planned to sleep outside on the roof. This was common practice among the locals and having got the idea into my head I was certainly not about to let a bit of wind get in the way. I won't go as far as to say that I wish I hadn't done it especially as sleeping inside would have been way too hot but it was without question the worst nights sleep I had in Morocco. I wasn't the only one up on the roof, I am pleased to report that half the group were up there (many of them managing to get a better nights sleep than I did), showing that the spirit of adventure doesn't blow away in the wind. Not that I wish to suggest that those who slept inside had wimped-out or anything, no, I am sure they all had very good reasons for their choice. In any case we were all going to have to be a little adventurous the next day whether we liked it or not. Before we got to the good bit though there was a visit to a carpet shop to get through. They didn't make the carpets here, they were all made by various Berber women near and far and brought to this co-op for sale. Consequently there were a variety of styles (and qualities) all of which were explained by the shopkeeper and one of his assistants. This part of the experience was fairly interesting and was made all the better by being plied with sweet mint tea and 'Moroccan Pizza'. Moroccan Pizza is more like a hot sandwich than a pizza and didn't have any cheese on it, instead it was a large round flat bread which is cut open before its fully cooked and stuffed with cooked beef, onions, egg etc and then closed up and returned to the oven. It is cut into slices and this is really its only resemblance to pizza. It was pretty nice and if anyone had told me it was actually lunch I would've had more. Naturally after all this it was time to start the buying, our shopaholics got busy and soon it was only Phillipe, James (Canadian) and I that remained resolutely fixed to the bench. Unsurprisingly we were all the single men of the group and I assume the married men's interest was less in the carpets and more in just how much they were going to cost. After over an hour of this James decided to wander back to the auberge and I tagged along looking for fossil fragments on the way which are almost as common as stones on the Hamada.
I idled away the next hour or so whilst the remaining shoppers trickled back still high on the carpet buying buzz. I on the other hand was in a bit of a daze which I put down to a combination of the heat and lack of sleep. I also wanted to be recovered for the part of the trip I had been most looking forward to and at last the time for it to begin had arrived. We traipsed out the back of the auberge across the desert sand to where our Berber guides had parked our transport, or camels as they are more commonly known. I had never been on a camel before, in fact I have never even been on a horse before but I had been rather looking forward to this part of the experience. We'd been briefed on what to do and more critically what not to do, which all revolved around the idea of not falling off. Not unlike a plane journey the trickiest bits are takeoff and landing or in this case when the camel stands up or sits down, although there were a few other treats in store going up and down hills. I was the first to be sat on a standing camel, one of the two white ones, and before long our guides were leading us off in groups of four or five into the desert. As we progressed I started to get used to the odd almost gyratory movement of my camel and learned fast how to stay on it especially as we crossed a crest of sand and changed from up to downhill. I was in the lead group and our guide was a only a boy but he seemed to know what he was doing and soon we were some way ahead of the others increasing the feeling of serene desolation that this place imposed. It in some strange way reminded me of being out at sea on a completely windless day far enough from land to see only water in every direction, only it was huge ripples and waves of golden sand that stretched to the horizon without a drop of water in sight. There are only two real features of the landscape, the first of these are of course the dunes which being of uniform colour really only offer texture and the surprisingly numerous bushes. When I say numerous I only mean that you see one every few hundred meters but still far more than I expected, apparently at the lowest part of the dunes the water table is only a matter of a couple of meters beneath the surface allowing them to survive.
As we continued the sun was going down and the night was creeping over us making me wonder if we were getting close to our destination, it was hard to see how these people could guide us through the desert in the day but at night (and without any lights) it would surely be impossible. Fortunately just as the darkness was almost absolute I could make out some dark low square structures which were (apparently) Bedouin style tents made from camel hair cloth. Having parked the camels I for one was rather glad to get off as after more than two hours I was feeling a fraction sore. Our guides laid out mats for us to sit on and then busied themselves making our dinner. You know if someone had told me five years ago (or longer) that one day I would be camping out in the Sahara I would have been really rather sceptical, but there I was. I have to say I feel it will become one of those cherished memories like the first time I saw Ayers Rock on the horizon in OZ or Machu Picchu in the dawn light, just a little bit unreal. Then all of a sudden our peace was disrupted by the arrival of some scorpions. Two of these creepy little chaps (and they were only small ones) were locked in mortal combat on the edge of our mats, which caused quite a stir. Having never seen a scorpion in the wild before I was pleased to be able to add them to my list of 'creatures I have seen' but the locals seemed rather more alarmed by them, which made me wonder if I should be. After these fellows were removed there followed a search of the area in case there were more, which there weren't and as it was the first time they had been found here they were probably just lost. With all the excitement over it was time to get some sleep on a night that thankfully wasn't as windy as the previous one meaning that almost everyone opted to sleep out under the stars instead of the mangy looking tents. Well, I say under the stars, but between us and the stars was fair bit of cloud which was rather a pity as I feel we were missing out on a pretty spectacular starscape the likes of which I have only ever seen in the southern hemisphere (therefore having different stars). Oh well, better luck next time. One thing that you wouldn't have bet on even with the clouds was that at about 2am it started to rain! The Sahara has an average annual rainfall of about 3 inches, with some years getting none at all. To be honest it was only light and lasted for about 5 minutes but even so it kind of makes you feel special, a bit like when the sun shines in Yorkshire.
In the morning we were all up early and back on the camels for another two hours of discomfort before we could have breakfast back at the auberge. Back on the bus it was time to leave the dunes behind and head for Tinerhir but as you will by now expect there were a couple of stops on the way. The first of these was a workshop where local fossil containing rock was processed, cut and polished to produce everything from ornamental 'specimen' fossils to tabletops and fountains as well as more affordable items such as plates, ashtrays, egg shaped bits, oh…and a full size gas canister - I can only assume there is a market for large polished fossil-containing rock gas canisters however unlikely it sounds. Between here and lunch was a lot of 'flat desert and distant mountain' scenery to gaze at out of the window; a part of travelling that I rather like is to have nothing better to do than stare out of a window, provided the view is up to it. Lunch was at a place called Jardin Ferkla where we were seated out the back in a very lush irrigated garden. Despite the fact that it was tajine again everything was going great until all of a sudden a full-on thunder storm started and the heavens opened. We were seated beneath a kind of awning (perhaps more camel hair cloth) which due to its zigzag ridged construction allowed the water to run off until it reached a trough whereupon it seaped through and drenched whoever was beneath that particular bit. For some reason these unlucky folk decided to eat indoors. Before we had got to dessert (fruit as usual) the storm had passed, I am just glad that didn't happen in the desert the previous night.
Our hotel in Tinerhir was a converted kasbah which still had many original features as well as a number of tiny model kasbahs on display. One other thing it had was a pool which seemed to be something held in curiously high regard by many of the group, only for them to decide after no time at all that it was too cold (I seem to have missed the point again). The reason for coming to Tinerhir was primarily to visit the Todra Gorge. The gorge is a massive fault in the plateau dividing the High Atlas from the Jebel Sarhro. At its narrowest point it is about 300m high, almost vertical and quite simply too massive to photograph. The gorge itself, with its sparkly little river flowing through it doesn't take very long to walk through so once out the other side we took a turn and headed up the steep rocky mountainside. The sun had come out and the day was warming up as we started walking up and up, soon the gorge below looked just like a distant valley on the other side of which some mountain goats resembled tiny black flies tottering about precariously. This was hot work but well worth it and the mountain views at the top were as amazing as such views never fail to be. As is often the case (in my opinion) downhill is harder than uphill and this was no exception but made worse by the lack of even the vaguest path and the presence of very sharp loose rock underfoot. We were out there for about three hours (in the 38C heat with no shade) and I would happily have continued had it not been for the promise of a lunch back in the village which wasn't going to be tajine. It is perhaps a little sad that someone who enjoys travelling and experiencing new cultures, countries and of course cuisines that after only one week of tajines (and bread breakfasts) I should be so pleased to eat chips. There were brochettes as well but most significantly there were plates and plates of chips (hand prepared by a kitchen full of locals frantically peeling potatoes to keep up with the demand) although the spicy tomato sauce was very disappointing. From here we went back up the valley to a palmery where we were to be given a tour by an unconventional Moroccan called Lahcen (pronounced Larsen). Lahcen was unconventional in that he didn't prescribe to some of the beliefs and practices of his society. He had refused to get married (so far) which at his age (probably about thirty?) was considered odd (and probably also bad). He was very talkative and was interesting to listen to as he encouraged us to ask questions about Moroccan society that some locals might not have liked him answering so frankly. All the time this conversation was going on he was also leading us through and explaining the palmery which is kind of like a very big allotment. Compared to the dusty surroundings this place was incredibly lush with things grown for their usefulness (mostly as food) rather than decoration. The various plots were handed down through families who divided their own land between their family members, therefore giving an idea of the family size by seeing how small the divisions were. As well as the rather lucrative date palms there were almonds and peaches and just about everything else that can be grown being grown. One idea that I rather liked was that they grew sprouts not for the sprouts themselves (which they cut off and throw away) but for the leaves which they cook with cous cous, meaning I was in a country of sprout haters - cool.
It was a 6:40am alarm call to be ready and breakfasted (you'll never guess what we had) to get going on a fairly long travel day. Naturally there were stops on the way and the first worthy of mention was at Ouarzazate which has seen some development of recent years as it is being promoted as a tourist base for exploring the Draa and Dades valleys, however the demand for this has been slow to build. One nearby industry that is growing well is the Moroccan movie industry and we passed the Atlas Studios built out in the desert outskirts of town where such films as Gladiator and 'The Man Who Would Be King' were filmed. We were not stopping for any of this sort of thing though as we were really just on a short shopping trip to get some snacks for a picnic lunch later on. Naturally there were other shops about the place which quickly distracted some of the group with at least one person trading the shirt on his back for souvenirs, which I regard as 'Extreme Shopping'. Next stop along the road was a rather old and unusually decorated and picturesque kasbah. This was Ait Benhaddou and it is one of the best preserved kasbahs in the Atlas region and as such has been used in films such as 'Lawrence of Arabia', 'Jesus of Nazareth' (and Gladiator). So its appearance attracted money and this money helped to preserve its appearance as well as rebuilding much of the village that surrounds it. Graham told us that we had only to cross the dry riverbed in front of the kasbah and find some shade under some trees to have our picnic before exploring the kasbah and village. Only problem was that we couldn't find many trees and certainly not enough for all of us so thinking that the promised trees must be around the next corner we accidentally explored the place first. Out the other side of the village back near the riverbed we discovered some trees and a suitable looking mound of grassy sand to sit on which I think was someone's back garden; so it was picnic time. By the time we had all had enough to eat and thanks to the high temperature my trousers were about dry having been sprayed with Sprite by Allie. Exactly the sort of 'accident' that has put me off picnics in the past, oh well at least you don't get wasps in Morocco like we always had on picnics when I was young. Anyway, moving on. Leaving Ait Benhaddou behind we got back on the sweltering bus and continued on to another kasbah which rather than being preserved was fast becoming a ruin despite its significance to Morocco's history. It was once the palatial home and headquarters of the powerful Glaouis family. I can't remember the exact details of the story behind this place but at some time in relatively recent history the head of the Glaouis family helped the Sultan of the time and his troops who was caught out in the mountains in winter and were close to perishing. Normally a man like Glaouis would have killed them but instead he invited them in and after the winter they were allowed to return home. As a thank you the Sultan gave Glaouis his only cannon (the only cannon in all Morocco) and assorted other small arms (we drove past this cannon earlier). Naturally Glaouis wanted to test out his new toy and so went and blew up the neighbouring families kasbah and then proceeded to take over the country bit by bit. As a result of this his family home is now brushed under the carpet as an embarrassing reminder of a tyrant. However one thing Glaouis did achieve was to unite Morocco as a country instead of simply a collection of tribes, so without him the country would probably be a very different place than it is now. Since these days Glaouis has been deposed (in 1956) and the people are ruled by a King, with the present one being very well liked (all's well that ends well?). We took a wander around the parts of the complex that are still considered solid enough to stand on and despite the fact that it has been left to rot you could still clearly see that it had once been an exquisitely decorated palace but having been built predominantly of mud it was in only fifty years or so already dissolving away.
From here we headed deeper into the Atlas mountains towards our days destination but I have gone on long enough for this issue so you will have to wait for part four to read all about that. I will tell you now though that whilst we didn't need camels to get to it there was no vehicular access so we were going to have to walk the final stretch, although we did get some mules to help with the bags. So, until the next time.
David.