Post written by William Maddicott | 28/08/2013
The Sahara, often called the "Greatest Desert" by the locals, evokes images of endless dunes, scorching heat, scorpions, oases, and adventure. As the hottest desert on Earth, it stretches across an area roughly the size of China and is home to an array of desert wildlife, some beautiful, others rather unfriendly, like the infamous Deathstalker scorpion.
With these images in mind, it was with a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation that we set out to spend a night camping in a traditional Berber camp in the heart of the Sahara. The Berbers are a nomadic people who have long roamed the deserts of Morocco, following the rhythms of nature as they move with their herds in search of grazing and water. Their deep connection to the desert is evident in their traditions, resilience, and hospitality.
Our journey began in Arfoud, on the edge of what could be considered “civilised” Morocco. After a brief stay at a comfortable hotel, complete with Wi-Fi, air conditioning, and all the modern conveniences we were about to leave behind, we boarded 4x4 vehicles for the 50-kilometre drive to Merzouga, gateway to the great dunes. Within minutes of leaving Arfoud, the paved roads vanished, replaced by open desert tracks. The landscape became a vast sea of sand punctuated only by the occasional palm tree and the distant silhouette of the Atlas Mountains. Despite the featureless terrain, our drivers navigated with effortless confidence, seemingly guided by instinct.
After an hour of bouncing across the dunes (and a few photo stops to capture the immense emptiness), we arrived at our camp, and to our surprise, it was far more luxurious than expected. Flushing toilets, soft towels, a refrigerator stocked with cold drinks, even a swimming pool! Each tent had electricity and lamps, making it a far cry from the rugged camping we had imagined.
We were greeted warmly by our hosts with bottled water and wide smiles, instantly putting us at ease. Before long, a group of camel herders appeared, each leading a string of camels ready for our sunset trek. Mounting a camel is an experience in itself. My own camel, who was simply introduced as “Camel,” made his displeasure at my presence very clear. After much protesting (on his part) and laughter (on mine), we set off into the desert just as the late afternoon light began to turn golden.
As we moved deeper into the dunes, a sense of peace washed over us. The only sounds were the rhythmic creak of the saddles and the soft crunch of hooves on sand. The stillness was surreal, no traffic, no chatter, just silence. When we reached the top of a large dune, we dismounted to watch the sun sink below the horizon. The sky glowed in shades of orange and pink, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. One of the herders pulled out a snowboard, and we took turns trying (and mostly failing) to glide down the dunes. It turns out snowboards are not exactly built for sand, but the laughter that followed made the effort worthwhile. As darkness fell, we rode back to camp under a canopy of stars, my camel grumbling all the way.
Back at camp, we were welcomed with a feast of Moroccan delicacies, hot soup, tagine, and bottles of Casablanca beer. After dinner, the Berber hosts gathered around a bonfire with drums, inviting us to join them. Soon, everyone was clapping and dancing, united by rhythm and laughter. Despite the language barrier, music bridged the gap. It was a night filled with joy, connection, and the kind of magic that only happens in the desert.
Later, as we stepped away from the firelight, we were struck by the sight above us, thousands upon thousands of stars crowding the sky. The Milky Way stretched clearly from horizon to horizon, and for a moment, it felt as though we were standing in the centre of the universe. The spell was briefly broken when our guide, Idris, called out “Scorpion!” We rushed over to find him crouched by a rock, pointing to a small but intimidating desert dweller. It quickly scuttled away, reminding us that despite the comforts of our camp, this was still wild country.
The next morning, after a surprisingly restful night’s sleep, we woke to a traditional Berber breakfast of fresh bread and eggs. It was hard to leave the peace of the desert behind as we climbed back into our 4x4s, waving goodbye to our kind hosts, and to our temperamental camels. The Sahara had delivered everything we hoped for and more: adventure, beauty, silence, and a sense of connection to something vast and timeless.
