Algeria, beyond the dunes

 

Leaving my B&B Riad Dar Kamar concealed within the tangled lanes of Kasbah Taourirt in the village of Ouarzazate, I boarded the local bus, filled with Moroccans.   Drawn irresistibly to the vast panoramic potential of the desert, I began my second foray on dromedary into the Moroccan countryside, the Western Sahara.

Without prior arrangements, I planned simply to arrive at Rissani, an implausibly conservative village.   Meandering tortuous sandy lanes, dodging horse-and mule-drawn carts and black ghosts - women cloaked in the abaya, with only hands, feet, and the occasional face visible, a statement underlining their modesty not their religion -  I would be  sought and hailed by hawkers bidding desert safaris.

A lanky black-leather-jacket-clad traveler wearily slouched upon the seat opposite me, gazing outward.  A stark white Moroccan turban accentuated his lined, espresso-bean-coloured skin and scruffy beard stubble.  We said nothing until hours later, having passed all points of disembarkation, we realized our destinations must be similar.  Khalid suggested Auberge Kasbah Lahmada, The Black Desert.  Nestled against the dunes of Erg Chebbi, this auberge boasted sandcastle sleeping quarters, Berber-blanket tent camps, camels, chefs, and guides.  Of course, he just happened to work there, as a guide.  

Mildly apprehensive, I agreed to his plan, soon squished with 6 others in a Moroccan Grand Taxi.  As we sped along the pavement to Rissani, I decided that the appearance of the driver, contacted by Khalid’s mobile phone, and the condition of this transport to Kasbah Lahmada would determine my decision to accompany him - or find accommodation somewhere in Rissani.

Long shrouded by darkness, finally we arrived at Rissani.  Khalid gestured to his driver, handsome and well-groomed, seated in an immaculate late-model 4X4, two antennae spiking from the roof.  Moments later, still pondering my decision, we bounced along the dirt-and-rock roads, scarcely illuminated by weak streetlights. Hastily we exited the civilization of Rissani’s earthen structures.  Almost immediately only the starlit sky guided me as we abandoned all roads.

We crossed the desert another hour before passing between massive gates, square pillars of sand, intricately carved with symbols.  Inside the walls, awaited a delicious vegetable tajin accompanied with Moroccan whisky (tea!).  The owner & I charted a plan for my camel safari to begin the next morning at 08hours00.  Exhausted, I clambered behind the heavy blanket curtains of the four-poster bed in my room.

A few camel-hours beyond the flat, hard-packed Lahmada strewn liberally with black rock, early afternoon brought bountiful wilderness vistas.  The sun embraced the sensuous ridges and ravines creating a sumptuous palate of golden hues.  The wind danced with Erg Chebbi, swirling and tossing her grains of sand, recreating curves.  In the distance beckoned the blue hills of Algeria, forbidden to enter from Morocco, the ridge containing us like protective Kasbah walls.