IN THE DESERT

We were able to take it easy for the day in Hassilabbad a tiny hamlet near Merzouga and short camel ride from the Erg Chebbi sand dunes of the Sahara. Mohammad introduced us to his wife and two young children and they shared mint tea and bread with us in their humble home. To Mohammad we were now to be known as Ali Baba and Fatima. A young Swiss man named Marcel joined us at the Camels House that morning and would prove good company for the next couple of days. Late afternoon saw us getting ready for our night in the desert. Around five pm as the heat of the day began to become less oppressive we saw the arrival of five camels. Also a Dutch couple joined our group now numbering five headed to the desert bivouac. The camels were loaded up and it was time to mount them. Cindy and I were quite excited for this night but also had a certain amount of trepidation about the levels of discomfort for this alien experience. I was assigned the largest lead camel, which we had heard would also be the “quiet one,” but by nature is also the tallest one. Indeed it is quite a distance to the ground perched upon the single hump of the dromedary. As the camel stands up it first lurches backwards and then forwards and just when you think you are up and ready there is the extra bucking bronco motion to catch you off guard. There is a metal handle that we were advised to hold onto – but “not too tightly.” The loping movement of the camel takes some getting used to. The Berber camel guide, on this occasion Assou, the brother of Mohammad, understands the camels well and walks in front of the camel train leading the first camel with a rope. Assou reminded us that when we walk uphill we should lean forward a little and when going downhill: “lean back and hold on tightly.” This was sage advice as the downhills were not easy to negotiate. On the outbounds journey I managed to lose both my camera’s lens cap and the clipped shades for my glasses. Both were miraculously retrieved the next morning. Apparently losing a small object in the desert is not as bad as a needle in a haystack.

My very own camel

 We rode over the dunes with shadows lengthening as the sun started its descent. 

Camel train shadows

Assou

We alighted at our Berber tented camp and had time to climb to the top of a dune to experience the sunset. Our guide prepared mint tea, also known affectionately as Berber whiskey, followed by a great tagine to assuage our earned hunger. The camels were allowed to roam off by themselves, which caused some initial concern among us weary travelers, but Assou assured us that they would be back and ready to go in the morning.

The stars came out in all their magnificent abundance. As our discussion began to wane, the experience of the magnitude of the universe began to beg small questions concerning the nature of existence, the shape of infinity, and the undeniability of impermanence.

I had decided to attempt some new experiments with astrophotography. The Milky Way did not seem to be showing up so, with much encouragement I tried a time lapse. I will not know the results until I put together the 240 photographs that will make up an eight second time lapse of star movements. This process meant that I had to set the camera to fire photographs at intervals for four hours. I was a little worried about leaving my equipment set up during the night in the elements. At 3:30 am I woke up to retrieve my camera and then took some photographs of the now emerging Milky Way.

Our camp under the stars

The Milky Way

In the morning we rode back wearily to the Camels House, had a good breakfast, took a shower, said out goodbyes to our new friend Mohammad, and packed up the car for the “six hour drive” to Fez. Our new young friend Marcel came along with us as he was headed in that direction also. As we were leaving town, a motorbike pulled up next to our car and a young man delivered a gift to us from Mohammad consisting of a fossil necklace each to remember him by leaving us with sweet memories of Berber hospitality. 

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.

THE WINDING ROAD TO THE GORGEOUS GORGE

We opted for an early start the next morning as we retrieved our car and headed out of Marrakech. Somehow we managed to find our third or fourth choice for an exit from the city and were smoothly on the road to Dades Gorge. This road winds its way high over the Tizi n’Tichka Pass through the High Atlas Mountains meandering, twisting, and curling through sharp hair pins without barriers, looking down over a thousand feet of cliffside. Each bend offers the opportunity for a new enticing view over ever changing terrain; also, the likelihood of an oncoming truck driving down the middle lane and forcing you onto the very edge of your life. I found this to be a fantastic and exciting driving experience. I also give a lot of credit to Cindy as the role of passenger is probably a lot scarier as you have time to look down at the abyss awaiting you after one wrong move. Locals will suddenly advance from the side of the road to sell you mushrooms, herbs, jewelry, fossils or meteorite shrapnel.

 We took a side road before Ouarzazate to view the ancient and remarkably picturesque Ait Benhaddou a ksar, or fortified city built into a hillside in the foothills of the Atlas. This town is a UNESCO World Heritage site and has been used as a period set in many Hollywood movies including: The Last Temptation of Christ, Gladiator, The Jewel of The Nile, Babel, and my own personal favorite, The Man Who Would Be King.

Ait Benhaddou

From there we followed the road along the Dades Valley through the Kasbah-rich towns of Skoura and El-Kelaa M’Gouna to Boumaine Dades and the start of the road leading up to the Dades Gorge. 

In the Dades Gorge

About 25 kms along this route we came to our destination for the night at what appeared from outside to be an unassuming auberge named Chez Pierre. Once inside, we were impressed by the warm welcome, the quality of the family built structure, the thoughtful design features, and the luxury of our room. All of this was however put to shame by the magnificence of the gourmet French multi-course dinner that was included in the stay.

LAST DAY IN MARRAKECH

It has been a whirlwind of driving, dealing with a congested head and sore throat, and trying to process all of the incredible images that we see. Every day there are a million views that I mental click without using a camera. I am mostly content to partake in the warmth of a person’s smile rather than to try to place a camera between us thereby changing the moment into something less fully interactional, in some way objectifying the person as “subject.” Nevertheless, I do realize that the photographic element is a major reason that I was drawn to this colorful country and its generous people.

On Sunday we visited with Ank, the proprietor of the Chambres d’Amis riad.

Next we visited the Marjorelle Gardens in Marrakesh; this was the home of French couturier Yves St. Laurent. The tropical gardens and brightly colored buildings, tilework, and decorative accessories are evocative of the bright style of the man. 

Yves St. Laurent's Jardin Marjorelle

Later that day Cindy had a shiatsu massage at our riad and then we then explored another part of the wonderfully beguiling, seemingly endless medina of Marrakech. 

Pastry seller in front of Koutoubia Mosque

Starting at the grand Koutoubia Mosque, we followed the narrow passageways with a vague intention of discovering the carpet souk. As we left behind any preconceptions of place or direction we became more open to that which appeared in front of our noses and were better able to engage with a few of the delightful characters selling their wide arrays of goods from tiny shop fronts.

Marrakech Medina

THE RIAD

The head starts to spin after a while in the souks and markets of Marrakech. The whirling colors, smells, people offering the best of everything, a million images lodging themselves in distant memory. One needs some quiet amidst the epic din. That is where the riad enters the fray. Riads are generally palatial homes converted into guest houses. The tradition is to build a quiet environment centered around a courtyard. Rooms thus face inward and encourage the guest to do the same. Hosts are available to assist with meeting the needs of the visitor and provide breakfast and other delights such as afternoon mint tea and pastries. The proprietor also arranges for tickets, massages, laundry, dinners, directions or other advice about the local area.

Today we spoke with Ank, our Dutch hostess at the Chambres d’Amis riad in Marrakech. She recommended a few places to visit this morning. We started by heading South from the main square along some slightly less intensely populated streets until we found the Musee Tiskiwin, a house that has been converted into a small museum of Berber art collected by an 83 year old Dutch man named Bert Flint. His artifacts include masks, textiles, carpets, carvings, headdresses, ritual objects, maps and photographs that he has gathered over many years of travel in the Saharan region.

From there we carried on to the El Badi Palace which dates back to the 16^th century. Nowadays one must imagine the grandeur of a place that once boasted 360 rooms and if you allow yourself to do so it is possible to conjure elephants and camels, bejeweled royalty, and lavish entertainment of the grandest standards in the world. Nowadays, the palace is inhabited by storks nesting on the walls. 

We viewed a magnificent photographic exhibit of the work of Don McCullin. I was looking at one photograph, which happened to be of a homeless man in the seventies in the East End of London, and recognized the location as being quite close to where I grew up. At that moment the man next to me was viewing anther photograph and identified that he grew up very close to the place pictured in that photo, also in London’s East End.

It is now that I relax at the riad drinking tea and resting my tired feet. I am able to reflect on the journey so far and to allow myself to more fully feel the loss of the presence of my friend Jonathan as he is currently heading back to England. It was a sad goodbye but a wondrous warm time spent together. As Cindy remarked: “Jonathan is really a part of our family.” Thank you Jonathan for flying a thousand miles to see us, and for being such a lovely, flexible travel companion as well as a true friend.