The Sahara Desert in the Palm of Your Hand

 

Through the crowded streets of a local village, you come to the end of the road. The actual end of the road. Beyond the pavement, a landscape of rock and sand sprawls across an endless horizon: the Sahara Desert. The 4WD bumps onto the open land, and you hear a small squeal of joy quelling inside you.

The wilderness. Off the grid. Freedom.

These words come to your mind for a brief moment before the sensation of sliding snaps your attention back to reality. “Hold on!” In the time it takes for you to reach the grab handles, your stomach lifts.

And drops.

Getting There : Adventure and Discoveries in Erg Chigaga

 

A roller coaster ride has started across the first of the sandy dunes. Peals of laughter fill the 4WD. It’s like a sandy slide. The car climbs the small hill and then slides down the other side, catching at last on level ground. Before long, you arrive to a flat stretch land and the driver slows so you can appreciate larger dunes beginning to rise in the rocky desert. He stops and you step out the vehicle, breathing in the wild terrain around you populated with desert plants you’ve never seen before, not even in Joshua Tree, California. The driver notices your curiosity. “Wait until you see the tourza up ahead.”

You climb back in, and after another thrilling turn, a small field of strange, plants spreads out  before you. They obscure everything in the vicinity except the path on which you’re driving.

“Tourza,” the driver announces and you search you memory for a plant like this back home.

“Very dangerous,” he says and then smiles, “if you don’t know how to use it. You call it apple tree of Sodom in English.” 

He goes on to explain that despite its toxicity, the nomadic Amazigh (Berbers) employ it for many practical and medicinal uses. You make a mental note to google it later on but soon forget all about it when the driver pulls up beside a make-shift stick & cloth tent atop a large hilltop.

For a few sweet minutes, you feel immortal walking the hilltop above the sea of desert that spreads out below you. This appears to be the starting point for the large dunes. You turn back and hurry to speak with the turbaned man that has emerged from his roughly-hewn tent. He’s friendly, offers you a peek inside his tent, and is open to photographs. You give him 50 dirhams (the equivalent of $5) before leaving, and he says something you don’t understand. “He’s praying for you,” the driver explains, and you wonder if the prayers of someone in-tuned with nature and the ways of his ancestors might carry more weight that any you’ve prayed before.

Down the hill the LandCruiser plunges, and it’s the biggest you’ve driven yet. A thrilling surge of adrenalin hits you.

A Desert Oasis

 

“Have you ever seen an oasis before?” the driver asks.

You tell him about one you visited earlier in the trip. He gives you a secretive smile, and you wonder what he has in store for you. A rustic, crooked sign that says Oasis 4km catches your eyes. When you pull up to the “oasis” a few minutes later, you feel a little disappointed. Although there are palm trees and a few chickens and goats running around, this is nothing like the lush palm forests you saw in Marrakesh or Zagora. The driver walks ahead and waits for you to follow.

“There,” he says with what could be pride or simply awe. In a small pool, water rolls and bubbles in the center. It’s the source. It’s the proof that an underground aquifer has created this oasis. You glance at the five or six nomadic tents scattered in the vicinity, and gratitude washes over you. How lucky these people are to have this gift of water an hour’s drive into the desert!

Your traveling partner laughs. “Do you see the frog?” You look past the bubbling center and spot a large toad spread out beneath the water’s suface. “He’s pretty lucky too. It’s his own personal jacuzzi.”

More sandy hills follow that tickle your belly. You had forgotten how much fun it is to play.

But, you are getting a little hungry, so when the driver stops for tea with his cousin, you’re more than happy to stretch out on the rugs in her tent. You’re surprised how quickly she whips up the Moroccan tea when all she has to work with is a small pan of charcoal over a fire and a tiny teapot that looks like one children use to play house.

The tea is delicious, though, as is the roughly-cut sand-baked bread she offers as a snack. A few bites in you realize the bread tastes smoked, and she more than happily shows you her outdoor oven & how she bakes the bread in sand.

Simple life. Simple pleasures. And more contentment than you have felt in years. 

The Desert Camp Experience

 

Back in the 4wd, and a few sliding turns later and the camp comes into sight. In the main tent, there are drinks and snacks to celebrate your arrival. The Amazigh (Berber) hosts show you to your canvas-covered tent. A king-sized bed with hardwood floors and artisan rugs awaits you inside. You pull back a large drape to find a modern bathroom with an enclosed shower and tiled sink.

Return to the main tent and enjoy the refreshments, settle in, or explore?

All options are tempting, but you opt for explore and set off to check out the orange dunes rising beyond your tent. Your breath catches in your throat as you reach the top. An ocean of dunes stretches towards the horizon as though they’re all marching in the direction of the late afternoon sun. You take a seat and let the warmth of the sand sink into your skin.

“Who wants to go on a camel trek?” someone calls after a while. Hurrying down the dune, sand fills your shoe and you fight the urge to stop and empty it. A thought is born and then grows with life:

I am in the Sahara Desert. I am in the Sahara Desert!

You scamper back to the main tents to see what the camel trek is all about, and before long, you’ve mounted a camel and have risen 10 feet in the air. Laughing at yourself, you consider the rough ride as the camel got to her feet. You had channeled the horse-riding lessons from childhood, although in hindsight it was more like a slow-motion version of the bronco bull you once tried when you drank too much in college.

Now that you’re astride the camel, you realize her fur is soft against your calves. You reach to pet her head. You expected coarse, but her fur is something that you could bury your face in. So soft.

The silence sinks in. The guide doesn’t speak. The sky cast its sunset over the dunes. The dunes glow golden for a while before transforming to rose-colored hills against the tired, pale sky. The temperature drops with the daylight.

As dusk arrives, you see the camp over a dune. You dismount from the camel—another bumpy, shot of adrenalin–before the calm of evening settles in. A well-deserved half-hour rest before dinner is followed by a delicious meal paired with a glass of wine. You feel so relaxed that you’re starting to feel sleepy.

A tap, tap, boom on a drum wakes you up. You wander outside the dinner tent to discover a large campfire roaring. Settling into a chair, you watch another traveler fling herself down on a poof. Tap, tap, boom followed by rough, metallic clang as another musician affixes his castanets to his hands. And the music begins, leading you on an emotional journey across ancestral terrains. It rises and fall, and the voices hit at something inside you akin to a core human memory. You close your eyes to absorb the moment.

As the campfire begins to burn down, you catch a glimpse of the stars above the camp. You grab a coarse blanket and head to the dunes to stargaze. Back at the camp, the fires are put out. In the darkness, atop a dune, the universe emerges in its perfection.

Dark sky. Constellations. A shooting star.

The chill of the desert night sneaks up around you. “Should we call it a night?”

Tucked under warm blankets and wrapped in silence, you sleep better than you have in years and wake up in the morning refreshed. After breakfast, you kneel and scoop up a fistful of sand. You let it slip through your fingers.

I am in the Sahara Desert. I have held the Sahara in the palm of my hand.

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