Happy to be Traveling

This morning, the hotel in Tafroute with its mountain view looks gorgeous. But we are coast bound. To Taghazout, the Moroccan surf capital. Ali swoops by at 9:00 to collect us, dressed for the coast sporting a California T shirt. He has ditched the desert attire.  First, Ali says, we will go see the painted…

I think I’ve got the shot! Okay, maybe I didn’t use 78 mm film and a telephoto lens, but it’ll do for a Sahara morning memory. Leaving camp we said goodbye to Bashir who clasped my shoulder and said, “Bslama, Ali Baba!” We barreled over the desert flats. Stopped at a cozy oases. Three hours…

Monday Just another sunrise in the Sahara. I feel a surprising tug on my heart. I don’t want to leave. But we pack our bags and the moment we’ve zipped them shut, 2 young men are at our door to take them to the car. We are heading west, to Tafroute in the anti Atlas…

Sunday. After dinner last night, around 9:30, the dry heat of the day (nothing extreme in the autumn sun) had cooled so that by the time we went to bed there was a faint chill in the air.  And silence.  And a darkness so deep that even my doppelgänger kept his distance.  In the middle of the night I…

Sunday. It’s sunrise, we stand on a small dune outside our tent facing east. Bashir brings us chairs and coffee as the sun slowly crests the horizon. We wander down to the dining tent where breakfast is available. Spicy omelet, yogurt, assortment of Moroccan breads and jams, fruit, coffee, orange juice. All served. No buffet…

A rolling golden-brown sea of sand all the way to horizon.  The sun, hidden behind a thin cloud cover, is beginning to set.  Outside of a few voices in the distance, behind some dune, total quiet.   Earlier, down in the camp, Bashir pointed to the west in the direction of three large sandy hills.  “I meet you at…

Long drive on Saturday. Diverse scenery. From mountains to dry plains to stretches of date palms to scrubby desert to the orange dunes of the Sahara. Through the longest valley in Africa which stretches from north of here to the Atlantic Ocean. The river is bone dry.  We had a break for tea, stopped to…

We arrived late afternoon yesterday, enjoyed a sunset from atop a high dune and this morning’s sunrise atop a small dune with our coffee. But more later. This morning we are off for a camel ride and then a visit to a nomad family. This afternoon, we chill and will catch you up on our…

Today’s journey is from Dades ( blue dot near top) to the desert camp at Erg Chigaga (red balloon near bottom). I don’t know the exact route yet as Ali is fond of taking the road less traveled. I do know it will take about 7 hours plus stops. The thin, squiggly black line near…

We pulled into the Perle du Dades around six o’clock last night.  The Perle, located in a green oasis near Dades, is an enclosed resort style compound done the Berber fashion.   As we stepped out of the Land Cruiser, a thin man in a long-sleeved shirt and jeans wearing a white turban slid by giving Ali an imperceptible…

Little did I realize that I’d be leaping across gaps like a goat, sliding down crevasses, walking tremulously along ledges less than a foot wide. With Abdul as our guide, “I got you, don’t worry”, “Yes, I love you Ella, you strong woman”. But, that’s how our much anticipated hike in the gorge went. At…

As our train pulled into the Marrakesh station I overheard the taller of the two American guys standing in front of me turn to his friend and say, “This will make 22 countries we’ve visited.” “22 countries and all the continents,” his friend added. The man in front of them turned around and said, ”I’ve…

Ali pulled his Toyota Land Cruiser up to the hotel at 8am sharp. We loaded up, strapped in and then his “cousin” called. She’d left her wallet in the car. No way she could be without it for the next 10 days. Who could blame her? We detoured, did a quick handover and THEN we…

Here is our tentative route for today. And just because it looks cool and I forgot to post with yesterday’s entry. The Fes train station. You can see Grubb on the right, sort of.

We took the morning train to Marrakesh out of Fes through the high-rises of Nouvelle Fes, and then rolled by the disadvantaged burbs: unfinished ravaged apartments, weatherbeaten dwellings with paint peeled away in patches, shantytowns behind low concrete walls looking like they have been created out of landfills.  After that, the flat brown landscape parceled into…