Fez To Fez

INTO THE DESERT

The mountainous roads flattened out into dry hinterland as we headed Eastward towards the Sahara. We drove through endless villages where schoolchildren rode bicycles arm in arm down the middle of the road and where people crossed at will with no visible pattern of organization to the traffic patterns. A motorcycle overtook inches from the right side of my vehicle while a donkey cart blocked my way and a tour bus honked from behind in a forlorn attempt to move everybody along. People crossed all around through any gaps that opened up. Eventually, the villages spread further apart as a thinning line of pavement lengthened into the distance surrounded only by a sea of sand.

Mohammed, the camel man, met us and on his motorcycle on the road into the hamlet of Hassilabad and led us to the Camels House, a small room-and-camel-ride operation that he and his three brothers ran. 

Dunes at Hassilabad

Mohammad at Camels House

As I removed my bags from the trunk of the car my camera slipped out and landed hard on its lens. Upon closer inspection the lens cap was stuck onto the filter and I had to lever it off with my trusty Swiss Army knife. The filter was smashed but the lens appeared relatively unharmed and functioned fine. Relief! Our plans were changed slightly as we stayed our first night at the Camels House before preparing for our camel ride and night in the desert. This suited us well as we were exhausted from the driving and the dry air and my sinuses felt like they were ready to explode. It turned out that we were the only guests at the Camels House that night and Mohammed treated us like royalty. For dinner he prepared enough food to satisfy six people.