This is a map of the southern chunk of Morocco. It's on the wall in the front hall of the restaurant in Ourzazate where, on the second day of my four day trip out to the Sahara, on the way back from Zagora, I had lunch, and then swapped groups, and headed off to Merzouga.
But I'm getting a bit ahead of myself.
Quick explanation on the map though. Marrakech is at the top just a little left of centre, and almost cut off. Ouarzazate is the big kasbah (that was closed for repairs due to flooding incidently) about centre of the map, but again, as it's tailor will tell you, hanging a bit to the left. Ait Ben Haddou, an old ksar and, apparently more importantly, because people tell you this more than anything else, a popular filming destination (Lawrence of Arabia, The Man Who Would Be King, Gladiator, The Mummy, King of Thrones, Life of Pi - okay, kidding about that one), is just above Ouarzazate. Zagora, at the bottom to the right, was the destination for the first night, and a certain amount of space inbetween belongs to the Draa Valley, and a heck of a lot of palm trees. Still lots more map though before getting to Zagora, where what I guess is the beginnings of the Sahara if you're heading south. Once you reach Zagora it's then about 30 minutes by camel to a camp where they'll feed you, play some music, and put you to bed in a nice big tent.
If you head east from Ouarzazate, like the second group and I did after lunch on my day two (group one - the Zagora group [sounds like a venture capital group] was heading home) then eventually you reach Merzouga, which is on the far right of this map, a little above the middle, and basically the beginning of the Sahara if you're heading east.
Totally high-fiving myself for parentheses in parantheses there.
Along the way to Merzouga you wander through the Valley of the Roses, the Dades Valley, and plenty of other land. Also along the way, though you don't actually drive through them to get to Merzouga, are the Dades and Todra Gorges. If you time it right, and diddle-dally at Ait Ben Haddou enough, (which is pretty easy I will add), then you arrive at the Dades Gorge in time for dinner and a decent nights sleep. And that would be the second night of my four days. Then you get to get up and keep on going east until Merzouga, with of course a short stop in Tinghir so that someone can try and sell you a carpet. But eventually you reach Merzouga, where once again, you hop up on a camel, spend some time wandering through the desert, and then reach a camp at the base of one of the dunes that make up the Erg Chebbi sea of dunes. There again you get dinner, enjoy some music, possibly hike up the dune that didn't seem nearly as big when you started, stop and gasp for breath a few times, but eventually just lie down and stare at more stars than you can possibly imagine for a good couple of hours before you figure it's best to sleep in your tent and head back down.
Then it's simply a matter of getting up, riding your camel out of the desert, and hopping back into your ride (sans camel) for a near 1000km sprint back to Marrakech, with a stop along the way to watch goats being evicted from a truck.
And that's your day four.
Or it is if you were working for a tour agency that smushed their one day excursion to Ait Ben Haddou, with their two day excursion to Zagora, with their three day excursion to Merzouga, and sent you on it. Which is, as you might have figured, what happened to me.
Here's what all that looks like, or at least select pieces of it. It's not like I'm Abel Gance meets Richard Wagner and I'm now about to have you suffer through 96 hours of video I made from a GoPro I had stapled to my forehead set to a continuous loop of Ride of the Valkyries because I couldn't be bothered to actually appropriately sequence that much music, I mean why, it's not like I'd bothered to edit the film in the first place, and you should all just be thankful you got some music rather than me, in as much of a monotone as I can muster uttering "This is life. This is life." Over and over and over and over....
Right. Pictures.
Through the Atlas
It's a heart, if you look at it properly and have your driver Hamid tell you. To it's left and out of frame are what Hamid will tell you are eyes, and what I would say look more like nipples if David Cerny had tried to recreate a humungous version of his mirror ball woman out of a mountain.
Don't put it past him. The only thing likely holding Cerny back is that he'd have a hard time moving the mountain to Prague to install outside St Vitus.
Hamid was the driver for the Zagora trip, that made up the first day and a half of my trip, and the entire two days of the rest of that group's trip.
Across the Draa Valley
That's group one. Well, most of it. There's also Adnan, and his mom and dad, but they didn't eat with us at lunch. Really nice folk.
Camel ride from Zagora
Oh, and that's dinner, and there's Adnan and his parents. This little guy was awesome. Wonderful disposition, good energy but not crazy. Quiet, respectful. Quick with a knife.
Made that up about the knife. Though you never know what hidden skills young people are cultivating these days.
See. Music. Drumming music. And singing.
See! See what I mean? It's in the eyes.
Yes, I learned to drum too.
And for the record, Berber drumming, and Berber music in general, is not the easiest thing to pick up. There is a simplicity to it and its repitition, but it is a deceptive simplicity. Modal. Quarter tones. And no one has ever heard of 4/4 and having two "bars" of music with the same meter in a row. And besides, I have never been accused of having a good sense of rhythm. Fun? You bet'cha.
And then it's morning.
That's Matt, on the left. Jeroud is the fellow on the right. Also the fellow drumming, and also the fellow who had been our host at the camp.
And so we left.
And through the magic of pictures arrived at Ait Ben Haddou.
Actually it was more the magic of Hamid and a combustion engine, and three hours of driving, but whatever.
Ait Ben Haddou is a ksar, or fortified city, with oldest parts dating back to the 17th century. It may be older, but what with the mud and straw bricks and stucco used to build it all it's possible that those older bits are long gone. UNESCO pegs it in the 17th century on their World Heritage Site list, so we'll go with that.
Below is the structure at the top of the hill. This is part of the old fortress sits atop the summit. It's the oldest part, along with parts of it's walls. The fortress came first, and then the city started developing from the top down.
That's Laura. She sat up front with Hamid and I and we got to chat alot and that was fun.
And this is the view from the top.
Ait Ben Haddou happened before lunch on the second day, and was the brief moment on this trip where Group 1, the two day Zagora trip, merged with Group 2, the three day Merzouga trip. Then it was lunch, and it was after lunch that I bid farewell to the above and said hello to the below.
So this where I'll pause and reflect on my previous comments about "us", "them" tourist versus working for the tour agency, and all that.
I really do feed myself a load of BS from time to time. Who am I kidding. Us? Them? Argh. I can be a daft bugger sometimes.
In my defense, a day trip with a group of strangers can go either way, you can connect, or you might not. In the case of Essaouira, we were all basically just hitching a ride together, and didn't interact in the city at all, and no one talked much in the car. In fact, the person I got to know best on that trip was the Polish woman who sat up front with Mohammed and I on the way back. Cascade D'Ouzoud, as it was guided, was a bit better, but again, people didn't talk much with each other, and even though we all had lunch at the same place, everyone broke into their already established groups. Primarily couples. Ourika Valley, again a guided experience, had more camaraderie between all of the...
Sorry, there was a ruckus outside. Marching band. Dude in white in a horse-drawn carriage. Betting a wedding.
... travellers. More lone travellers on that one though. Also more younger people.
The multi-day trips though, completely different story. In the case of both groups almost everyone was pretty much engaged with everyone else pretty early on in the drives. And if they weren't, certainly they were after the camels. Camels are magic it would appear.
And I know they're dromedaries. Not the people, the not-camels. But I'm gonna keep calling them camels anyway. So just deal with it.
Shared experience is a wonderful thing. Eating together is a wonderful thing. And camels totally rock.
My Mom had little good to say about camels. Her father had been in Egypt with the UN in the 50's, and came back with little good to say about camels. And that's surprising, as my grandfather seldom had little good to say about anything. He was more of a lots good or nothin' at all kinda sayer.
I found the camels were fantastic, lovely animals. Calm. Good at what they do - walking in sand. Some interesting noises, and bizarrely long tongues, and a tendency to drool even more than I do when I'm playing the violin and forget my mouth is open. But hey, it's tough to play the violin with a cloven hoof, so you can't really blame them for drooling so much. They're concentrating.
Back to the people part.
So yes, two wonderful groups of people. Some great conversations and moments shared together. So just an "us". Or two "us", one for each trip. And damn fine us' we made, if I do say so.
Maybe it's the second hump that makes camels so ornery, and dromedaries, with their single hump, remain quite pleasant. Or perhaps they do differ in temperament. Either way my grandfather didn't like his, and I liked mine, so there you go.
This is the Kasbah in Ouarzazate if you have your camera on one of those odd special effects settings without knowing it.
And this is near the Dades Gorge, where we stopped to take a look.
Joanna, the woman from France, on the right in the photo of Group Two, above, is an archaeologist, and has also studied geology. Adel, our guide, not the singer, the fellow in the blue jacket to the right of Joanna in that same picture, thought she'd really like to see these, as they are interesting rock formations. Lots of really big thumbs, all trying to hitch a ride to Merzouga.
This is the band.
No, not actually. But I was busy taking pictures of the giant thumbs when I looked up and there they were, all U2-esque, so I suggested the pic. That's Daniel in the front on lead vocals, Augustin on the left with yes, a ukulele, Duncan, on the right, and as you can guess from the cool stance, the bass player, and Jeljer, or 'J' in the back, which, solely by being in the back of this picture must make him, through process of elimination, and more importantly, conventions of rock band portraiture, the drummer.
And here's more of the Dades.
The Valley of Roses, is clean out of roses right now. But it's December, so go figure. I'm sure they'll be back. But we had a pit stop along the way, and this place had a rose bush out front, and this was looking all artsy and stuff so I figured why not include a picture of a rose, even if it's not in the right place.
That's Adel. Still not the singer. Well, who knows, maybe he does sing, we never really tried to get him to. He's showing you all the entrance to where we stayed on night two.
Which makes this Tinghir the morning of day three.
And makes this the niece, or daughter, or some member of the family of the guy who explained Berber carpet weaving to us all.
Nothing like a human prop to help the story along. It reminds me of a time when I was at a conference and was one of two people to be giving a presentation. We stood up, walked to the front of the room, and my co-speaker introduced himself and gave his truly stellar credentials (which they honestly are), then introduced me as his friend (I think I waved), and proceeded to talk for the entire allotted time.
It was awesome, and I often think about getting my business card changed to reflect that position in the company.
Christopher Ford
Friend
I can now aspire to be CFO.
Of course, being at TELUS that would make me the future, assuming I also became an adverb.
Lolly Lolly Lolly get your...
Todra Gorge here.
Yep, this is the Todra Gorge. Good for rock climbing.
Also good for strolling along with Augustin and Daniel and Joanne and playing Somewhere Over the Rainbow on ukulele. Great acoustic.
And this is us heading out to our camp near Merzouga, which puts us close to the end of Day Three.
As a note, if you're planning on coming to Morocco, and only have time for a short desert experience, then go for Merzouga. Here you get Erg Chebbi, which means you get that great golden sand and large dunes that scream "I'm in the frickin' desert" at you. Zagora doesn't quite have that.
That's J. J had a dream, and it was on this camel ride that he saw that dream become a reality.
J, as you can likely guess from the shot, was directly behind me. So, it was really easy to hear it when Neil Young started singing A Horse With No Name.
And now I'm going to correct a common misconception that I and Daniel propogated on that trip, and which, having just looked it up, realize we were wrong about. This song is by the band "America".
Damn it all. I was really liking the Neil Young in the desert thing.
I'll have to go back and play Cinnamon Girl or something.
That's Augustin above. You can tell by the uke sticking out of his back.
And that's Daniel below.
Remember how, after Barcelona, I went on about Jared? Daniel is not Jared. Daniel is Daniel. And Daniel is fantastic. He's also Canadian, from Manitoba, and is a school teacher there in a Menonite community. Thoughtful, insightful, kind. He's a good man. I am so incredibly fortunate to have gotten to spend a few days with him.
He was actually supposed to catch a train to Casablanca the night we got back to the city, but we were running late, and despite playing out a running scene worthy of The Amazing Race, he missed the train. Plan B though was to crash at my place, eat pizza (decent pizza in Marrakech by the way) and watch whatever movie happened to be on TV. It turned out to be The Hangover II. Does it get any better?
Long before the smoking monkey though was this.
And then, after not having bothered to even try to take pictures of the night sky because I had already discovered my camera is useless for that sort of thing in Zagora, the dawn of day four.
And eventually to the place where the goats were being evicted from the trucks, somewhere in the mountains, to go and roam as only goats will do, out among the rocky terrain.
I'm not sure whose perspective I like more, the shepherd's, or the goat's.
After the goats we drove back to Marrakech, where eventually everyone got dropped off, and Daniel and I ended up eating pizza. Yes, pizza. I'm ending this entry on my trip to the Sahara by mentioning pizza.
I mean, I could end it by telling you what happened after we saw the goats, but we all promised we wouldn't.
All I can really do is wish Harold and Lucy a long and happy life together.
But I'm getting a bit ahead of myself.
Quick explanation on the map though. Marrakech is at the top just a little left of centre, and almost cut off. Ouarzazate is the big kasbah (that was closed for repairs due to flooding incidently) about centre of the map, but again, as it's tailor will tell you, hanging a bit to the left. Ait Ben Haddou, an old ksar and, apparently more importantly, because people tell you this more than anything else, a popular filming destination (Lawrence of Arabia, The Man Who Would Be King, Gladiator, The Mummy, King of Thrones, Life of Pi - okay, kidding about that one), is just above Ouarzazate. Zagora, at the bottom to the right, was the destination for the first night, and a certain amount of space inbetween belongs to the Draa Valley, and a heck of a lot of palm trees. Still lots more map though before getting to Zagora, where what I guess is the beginnings of the Sahara if you're heading south. Once you reach Zagora it's then about 30 minutes by camel to a camp where they'll feed you, play some music, and put you to bed in a nice big tent.
If you head east from Ouarzazate, like the second group and I did after lunch on my day two (group one - the Zagora group [sounds like a venture capital group] was heading home) then eventually you reach Merzouga, which is on the far right of this map, a little above the middle, and basically the beginning of the Sahara if you're heading east.
Totally high-fiving myself for parentheses in parantheses there.
Along the way to Merzouga you wander through the Valley of the Roses, the Dades Valley, and plenty of other land. Also along the way, though you don't actually drive through them to get to Merzouga, are the Dades and Todra Gorges. If you time it right, and diddle-dally at Ait Ben Haddou enough, (which is pretty easy I will add), then you arrive at the Dades Gorge in time for dinner and a decent nights sleep. And that would be the second night of my four days. Then you get to get up and keep on going east until Merzouga, with of course a short stop in Tinghir so that someone can try and sell you a carpet. But eventually you reach Merzouga, where once again, you hop up on a camel, spend some time wandering through the desert, and then reach a camp at the base of one of the dunes that make up the Erg Chebbi sea of dunes. There again you get dinner, enjoy some music, possibly hike up the dune that didn't seem nearly as big when you started, stop and gasp for breath a few times, but eventually just lie down and stare at more stars than you can possibly imagine for a good couple of hours before you figure it's best to sleep in your tent and head back down.
Then it's simply a matter of getting up, riding your camel out of the desert, and hopping back into your ride (sans camel) for a near 1000km sprint back to Marrakech, with a stop along the way to watch goats being evicted from a truck.
And that's your day four.
Or it is if you were working for a tour agency that smushed their one day excursion to Ait Ben Haddou, with their two day excursion to Zagora, with their three day excursion to Merzouga, and sent you on it. Which is, as you might have figured, what happened to me.
Here's what all that looks like, or at least select pieces of it. It's not like I'm Abel Gance meets Richard Wagner and I'm now about to have you suffer through 96 hours of video I made from a GoPro I had stapled to my forehead set to a continuous loop of Ride of the Valkyries because I couldn't be bothered to actually appropriately sequence that much music, I mean why, it's not like I'd bothered to edit the film in the first place, and you should all just be thankful you got some music rather than me, in as much of a monotone as I can muster uttering "This is life. This is life." Over and over and over and over....
Right. Pictures.
Through the Atlas
It's a heart, if you look at it properly and have your driver Hamid tell you. To it's left and out of frame are what Hamid will tell you are eyes, and what I would say look more like nipples if David Cerny had tried to recreate a humungous version of his mirror ball woman out of a mountain.
Don't put it past him. The only thing likely holding Cerny back is that he'd have a hard time moving the mountain to Prague to install outside St Vitus.
Hamid was the driver for the Zagora trip, that made up the first day and a half of my trip, and the entire two days of the rest of that group's trip.
Across the Draa Valley
Lunch in Ouarzazate
Camel ride from Zagora
Oh, and that's dinner, and there's Adnan and his parents. This little guy was awesome. Wonderful disposition, good energy but not crazy. Quiet, respectful. Quick with a knife.
Made that up about the knife. Though you never know what hidden skills young people are cultivating these days.
See. Music. Drumming music. And singing.
See! See what I mean? It's in the eyes.
Yes, I learned to drum too.
And for the record, Berber drumming, and Berber music in general, is not the easiest thing to pick up. There is a simplicity to it and its repitition, but it is a deceptive simplicity. Modal. Quarter tones. And no one has ever heard of 4/4 and having two "bars" of music with the same meter in a row. And besides, I have never been accused of having a good sense of rhythm. Fun? You bet'cha.
And then it's morning.
That's Matt, on the left. Jeroud is the fellow on the right. Also the fellow drumming, and also the fellow who had been our host at the camp.
And so we left.
And through the magic of pictures arrived at Ait Ben Haddou.
Actually it was more the magic of Hamid and a combustion engine, and three hours of driving, but whatever.
Ait Ben Haddou is a ksar, or fortified city, with oldest parts dating back to the 17th century. It may be older, but what with the mud and straw bricks and stucco used to build it all it's possible that those older bits are long gone. UNESCO pegs it in the 17th century on their World Heritage Site list, so we'll go with that.
Below is the structure at the top of the hill. This is part of the old fortress sits atop the summit. It's the oldest part, along with parts of it's walls. The fortress came first, and then the city started developing from the top down.
That's Laura. She sat up front with Hamid and I and we got to chat alot and that was fun.
And this is the view from the top.
Ait Ben Haddou happened before lunch on the second day, and was the brief moment on this trip where Group 1, the two day Zagora trip, merged with Group 2, the three day Merzouga trip. Then it was lunch, and it was after lunch that I bid farewell to the above and said hello to the below.
So this where I'll pause and reflect on my previous comments about "us", "them" tourist versus working for the tour agency, and all that.
I really do feed myself a load of BS from time to time. Who am I kidding. Us? Them? Argh. I can be a daft bugger sometimes.
In my defense, a day trip with a group of strangers can go either way, you can connect, or you might not. In the case of Essaouira, we were all basically just hitching a ride together, and didn't interact in the city at all, and no one talked much in the car. In fact, the person I got to know best on that trip was the Polish woman who sat up front with Mohammed and I on the way back. Cascade D'Ouzoud, as it was guided, was a bit better, but again, people didn't talk much with each other, and even though we all had lunch at the same place, everyone broke into their already established groups. Primarily couples. Ourika Valley, again a guided experience, had more camaraderie between all of the...
Sorry, there was a ruckus outside. Marching band. Dude in white in a horse-drawn carriage. Betting a wedding.
... travellers. More lone travellers on that one though. Also more younger people.
The multi-day trips though, completely different story. In the case of both groups almost everyone was pretty much engaged with everyone else pretty early on in the drives. And if they weren't, certainly they were after the camels. Camels are magic it would appear.
And I know they're dromedaries. Not the people, the not-camels. But I'm gonna keep calling them camels anyway. So just deal with it.
Shared experience is a wonderful thing. Eating together is a wonderful thing. And camels totally rock.
My Mom had little good to say about camels. Her father had been in Egypt with the UN in the 50's, and came back with little good to say about camels. And that's surprising, as my grandfather seldom had little good to say about anything. He was more of a lots good or nothin' at all kinda sayer.
I found the camels were fantastic, lovely animals. Calm. Good at what they do - walking in sand. Some interesting noises, and bizarrely long tongues, and a tendency to drool even more than I do when I'm playing the violin and forget my mouth is open. But hey, it's tough to play the violin with a cloven hoof, so you can't really blame them for drooling so much. They're concentrating.
Back to the people part.
So yes, two wonderful groups of people. Some great conversations and moments shared together. So just an "us". Or two "us", one for each trip. And damn fine us' we made, if I do say so.
Maybe it's the second hump that makes camels so ornery, and dromedaries, with their single hump, remain quite pleasant. Or perhaps they do differ in temperament. Either way my grandfather didn't like his, and I liked mine, so there you go.
This is the Kasbah in Ouarzazate if you have your camera on one of those odd special effects settings without knowing it.
And this is near the Dades Gorge, where we stopped to take a look.
Joanna, the woman from France, on the right in the photo of Group Two, above, is an archaeologist, and has also studied geology. Adel, our guide, not the singer, the fellow in the blue jacket to the right of Joanna in that same picture, thought she'd really like to see these, as they are interesting rock formations. Lots of really big thumbs, all trying to hitch a ride to Merzouga.
This is the band.
No, not actually. But I was busy taking pictures of the giant thumbs when I looked up and there they were, all U2-esque, so I suggested the pic. That's Daniel in the front on lead vocals, Augustin on the left with yes, a ukulele, Duncan, on the right, and as you can guess from the cool stance, the bass player, and Jeljer, or 'J' in the back, which, solely by being in the back of this picture must make him, through process of elimination, and more importantly, conventions of rock band portraiture, the drummer.
And here's more of the Dades.
The Valley of Roses, is clean out of roses right now. But it's December, so go figure. I'm sure they'll be back. But we had a pit stop along the way, and this place had a rose bush out front, and this was looking all artsy and stuff so I figured why not include a picture of a rose, even if it's not in the right place.
That's Adel. Still not the singer. Well, who knows, maybe he does sing, we never really tried to get him to. He's showing you all the entrance to where we stayed on night two.
Which makes this Tinghir the morning of day three.
And makes this the niece, or daughter, or some member of the family of the guy who explained Berber carpet weaving to us all.
It was awesome, and I often think about getting my business card changed to reflect that position in the company.
Christopher Ford
Friend
I can now aspire to be CFO.
Of course, being at TELUS that would make me the future, assuming I also became an adverb.
Lolly Lolly Lolly get your...
Todra Gorge here.
Yep, this is the Todra Gorge. Good for rock climbing.
And this is us heading out to our camp near Merzouga, which puts us close to the end of Day Three.
As a note, if you're planning on coming to Morocco, and only have time for a short desert experience, then go for Merzouga. Here you get Erg Chebbi, which means you get that great golden sand and large dunes that scream "I'm in the frickin' desert" at you. Zagora doesn't quite have that.
That's J. J had a dream, and it was on this camel ride that he saw that dream become a reality.
J, as you can likely guess from the shot, was directly behind me. So, it was really easy to hear it when Neil Young started singing A Horse With No Name.
And now I'm going to correct a common misconception that I and Daniel propogated on that trip, and which, having just looked it up, realize we were wrong about. This song is by the band "America".
Damn it all. I was really liking the Neil Young in the desert thing.
I'll have to go back and play Cinnamon Girl or something.
That's Augustin above. You can tell by the uke sticking out of his back.
And that's Daniel below.
He was actually supposed to catch a train to Casablanca the night we got back to the city, but we were running late, and despite playing out a running scene worthy of The Amazing Race, he missed the train. Plan B though was to crash at my place, eat pizza (decent pizza in Marrakech by the way) and watch whatever movie happened to be on TV. It turned out to be The Hangover II. Does it get any better?
Long before the smoking monkey though was this.
And then, after not having bothered to even try to take pictures of the night sky because I had already discovered my camera is useless for that sort of thing in Zagora, the dawn of day four.
And the ride back to the van.
And eventually to the place where the goats were being evicted from the trucks, somewhere in the mountains, to go and roam as only goats will do, out among the rocky terrain.
I'm not sure whose perspective I like more, the shepherd's, or the goat's.
After the goats we drove back to Marrakech, where eventually everyone got dropped off, and Daniel and I ended up eating pizza. Yes, pizza. I'm ending this entry on my trip to the Sahara by mentioning pizza.
I mean, I could end it by telling you what happened after we saw the goats, but we all promised we wouldn't.
All I can really do is wish Harold and Lucy a long and happy life together.
Hi Christopher, Matt here from the Zagora desert tour. I finally found your blog and must say, I really enjoyed reading this post (and some of the other stuff you have posted). I'm thrilled that you kept having an awesome time in Morocco. I would love to see the brochure you did up if it's available online? In any case, have fun in India or where ever it is you are now! :)
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