you’ve all seen the pictures—sunset & sunrise in the sahara, camel trekking through the desert, it all looks so magical. & it many ways, it certainly is. in others however, it’s a bit of a nightmare. here’s an honest account of what a budget 3-day sahara journey looks like.
first of all let me just say that when i was doing my research for this trip, i came across tours for $350-500. then i read in a few places that if you just wait until you’re in the country, you can find them for $75-100. i assumed this had more to do with booking last minute, hostel discounts, and/or haggling. buyer beware, you get what you pay for.
i took a tour arranged through my hostel in marrakech, rodamón. it cost 950 durham (a little over $100) & lasted for 3 days/2 nights. honestly i didn’t ask too many questions, it was much cheaper than i had expected & i trusted the folks there. i guess i just assumed they got a good deal because they sent them so much business.
we were picked up from our hostel at 7am, a portuguese guy name vosco, who ended up being my best friend in the trip, and i. turns out our hostel was the first stop, so we spent the next hour+ picking up other people. finally, with a total of 14, we were on our way.
our group! taken on the second day while exploring a gorge. these folks quickly found their way deep into my heart. we hailed from mexico, canary islands, spain, portugal, brasil, china, italy, belgium, & i held it down for the US
the roads out of marrakech are some of the windiest i’ve ever experienced. i thought the buses i took across costa rica were rough, or the winding mountain roads i drove in california were harsh but those were tame in comparison. we’re talking hairpin turn after hairpin turn with a measly guardrail separating us from dropping off the mountains. i broke out my quease-ease auromatherapy pen & was huffing emphatically.
an example of the incredibly windy mountain roads
mountain views from our first stop
a couple hours in we stopped for a 15 min break at a little shit pit with junk food snacks, fresh squeezed orange juice (common in morocco), toilets you had to pay 3 durham for, and an amazing view of the mountains. we also stopped a time or two at little turn offs lined with people selling chachkies, for the views & photo ops.
photo op example
around lunch we were brought to an ancient berber village for a tour. apparently their biggest claim to fame is being used as a movie set, for gladiator, game of thrones, lawrence of arabia, & pretty much anything else that called for an ancient city with a desert backdrop. the tour cost 25 durham ($2.50) & lasted about an hour. along the way they had us stop at little shops set up, watch an artist demo in his studio, etc.
the ancient berber village that was our first stop
eventually we were dropped off at a total tourist trap pit of a restaurant, where our driver & guide surely get commission. this restaurant, like the one we stopped at the next couple days, has price fix menu with minimal options. you end up paying around 100 durham ($10, which is a lot for food in morocco) for subpar crap. it was frustrating but you have no choice.
the food might’ve been overpriced but the garden patio was on point
back on the bus, we drove for a few more hours with another stop or two.
pro tip: before you leave for the tour, make sure you have lot of small bills/coins. these snack shops are small & either can’t or won’t make change. i was unable to buy water at one because i didn’t have small enough currency. a liter of water costs 10 durham everywhere i went.
that night we arrived at a decent enough place, tucked into the mountains of god-knows-where. dinner was included, but heat was not. we were shuffled off into rooms of 2-4. we chose to have 4 people in our room, vosco, the outgoing former actor from portugal who lived in london, jing, a sweet, smart, & kind chinese woman who now lives in the alps of italy, and a funny man from the canary islands who only spoke spanish, & who’s name i never quite caught. we all got along well & had a great time together. i cherish their friendships & hope to reconnect in the future.
our hotel for the night
our room featured beds that were smaller than twin, only 1 working light (a raw lightbulb dangling from the ceiling) 2 outlets, and a shower curtain instead of a door to the bathroom. when the spanish guy started farting on the toilet, he & the rest of us burst into laughter. i pooped in the bathroom downstairs off the lobby, that looked like it was the set of a horror movie. the food was at least pretty good, soup, bread, & tajine, which they even made vegetarian for vosco & i.
the only heat in the hotel was this fireplace on the first floor
i quickly made a friend, aka trip highlight
the highlight of that day was our after dinner walk. our odd little foursome set out, guided only by the full moon. we did not realize until jing saw online the next day, that it was a super moon, & the biggest since 1983. we walked along the winding, empty, mountain road for a bit until we found a large pull off that turned into huge boulders leading down to the river. jing & vosco had nice cameras they were playing with, and my canary friend & i just wandered and enjoyed the view.
he & i ended up sitting down, jing & vosco were standing, and we all fell into complete and utter silence & stillness. i was meditating and basking in the glory of the moon, i felt the energies of everyone else fall into something similar. i didn’t check for the time before or after but would estimate it lasted about 30 min. when we came out from it (i feared my ass was getting frostbite) vosco commented that we were all so still & quiet for a moment he feared we had somehow all died. we giggled and made our way back up to the road.
that & a similar walk through the sahara the next night were certainly my favorite moments of the trip. those along with the friendships that were created & laughs we all had as a group made it all worth while.
the next day we were up early again, shuttering against the frigid cold. breakfast was 1 small pancake, bread, and tea or coffee. it was all cold & rather bland, even by moroccan standards.
the cat was more interested in my breakfast than i was
view from the back of the hotel
we left by 730 and were similarly shuttled around through the countryside, which was at least phenomenally beautiful. similar stops with another tour of another berber village, followed by another crappy, overpriced, fixed menu. this tour was at least a bit more interesting & included a visit with a berber rug making family.
rug demo and explanation in their home
there are 56 of them in their extended family, about half live in town and the other half up in the mountains with their animals. they make rugs from camel and sheeps wool, as well as cactus silk, which is extraordinarily strong. it almost feels like one of those outdoor rugs you’d get for your patio. the woman are all weavers, & they process the wool as well as weave it. the house was covered in rugs, on all the floors, hanging on all the walls, and piles upon piles of them stacked in each room we walked by as we made out way down the hall.
the man who explained everything to us could not have been nicer or more informative. we sat in the floor sipping berber whiskey, which is thankfully just tea. we were all a bit worried when our guide said we’d be enjoying some at 10am on our nearly empty stomachs. berber tea is comprised of mint, sage, absinthe, rosemary, & verbena sweetened with a bit of sugar. it is delicious, & a nice break from just mint tea. a belgium couple & i both bought stunning rugs, which is probably my favorite purchase from morocco.
our host pouring us berber whiskey
our berber host & i with my rug. he made me promise i would not resell it, & asked we take this picture together
we shuffled along again, now heading deep into desert. i do not think i have ever experienced such vast, completely flat, barren, land. everyone once in a would we come across a small town & marvel aloud about what they must do for work, or fun.
barren af, drastically different from the mountain roads of the first day
all of the sudden, the sahara appeared on the horizon. the massive dunes rising out of the plains looked like mountains, & we were all completely in awe. it is totally odd how it just…begins. there is no segway between the rocky plains and the monstrous dunes, the sand just beings and then literally never ends.
pic taken from the van of this incredibly vast countryside, sahara breaking on the horizon
by the time we got to the camel trekking camp in merzouga the sun was already beginning to settle. we were instructed to take only what we would need for the night, and leave the rest in the van.
mike marker at the entrance to the sahara, an omen perhaps?
i emphasize, we were told only to take what we would need for the night. we were not instructed then or at our last stop in civilization to stock up on water, nor were we told to bring toilet paper. i know these plus warm clothes are common sense, but it seemed a bit odd to me that we weren’t warned of the complete lack of resources at the camp. i had my 40oz. hydroflask filled but overlooked the toilet paper because for some idiotic reason i thought they would at least have that covered.
spoiler alert: they didn’t.
i grabbed my toothbrush and clean underwear, & put on every item of clothing i brought with me—this consisted of long underwear, leggings, a wool thermal shirt, thin long sleeve, thin athletic jacket, sweatshirt, wool socks with boots, & scarf.
spoiler alert: this is not nearly fucking warm enough.
we wandered off towards the dunes where there were some camels lined up and lying down. i cannot emphasize enough the complete and utter lack of directions, throughout out entire trips, & here. we saw a guide and more people moving towards one pile of camels so we wandered instead to another. there were a few men sitting around but no one said anything. minutes later a familiar face finally arrived and instructed us to being mounting.
my trusty steed, who’s name i was never told, & who seemed to hate me
now, i wasn’t exactly expecting these camels to be pampered. and they weren’t exactly abused either but they fell somewhere in the grey area of kind of heartbreaking to watch. they have their noses pierced with ropes running through them for leading, and the guides step on their front legs to get them to get up. the camels groaned and cried as they were asked to move. the guides were not too harsh but were far from encouraging or gentle. i already felt sad for them.
by this time the sun was heading for the horizon, casting a beautiful warm golden light across the sand. we began riding off into the sunset, or actually a combination of parallel and away from it. this made it not entirely ideal for photographing.
camel train heading into the desert
the paths in to the desert are worn and dirty, there was trash scattered about. i tried to look past it but on the empty open sand canvas each bit stood out dramatically, & broke my heart to see. there are tire tracks from the trucks and quads that also go out on tours, which, along with the trash, certainly disrupted the secluded and natural feel.
our #squad, the spaniard, vosco, & i. we had our own little camel trio, & shared a tent together
the sun quickly disappeared behind the horizon and with it, the last rays of warmth. from here on out it proceeded to be the coldest night of my life (& i spent 4 winters in vermont so i don’t say that lightly).
after riding for about an hour, we arrived at our campsite. we passed a few other sites on the way in, including a beautiful one that must be for the people in that $350-500 range. their set up included a bunch of cute little white bungalow tents, with a couple larger ones mixed in. there was the whir of a generator in the background, & i have to imagine, toilets as well.
our camp was certainly more rustic, which in & of itself doesn’t bother me. the tents were short, dark, and had ratty blankets covering the doorway openings. we were sectioned off and assigned tents, vosco, the spaniard, and i were directed into one. vosco asked jing, who had just been assigned a neighboring tent, if she wanted to join us. she agreed but was immediately stopped by the guide and sent back to her original assignment. we were never sure why.
our tent had 6 bed set ups, thin foam pads on the ground with one pillow and two blankets each. since there were only the three of us we gave away a couple blankets & rationed the remainging extras.
calling our tent “rustic” would be generous
when we were leaving to get on the camels we were told dinner would be at 11, with no explanation as to why. we arrived and were settled in the camp by 7, and everyone was beginning to get hungry. being the perpetual snack hoarder i am, thankfully i had a couple things to ward off hanger.
another couple groups arrived to the campsite, & together they outnumber ours by about 2:1. we were not introduced to them. thankfully sometime before 8 maybe (i stopped carrying my phone, there was no point) the call for dinner was made.
we all shuffled into the largest tent where there were small, short tables with pillows on the floor. four of us from out tour took one, & we were joined by another portuguese man, ricardo, who explained that he was on a 4 day tour & they had just spent the entire day out in the desert.
look ma, i’m on a camel! they were actually incredibly uncomfortable to ride
bread and soup was brought out and i will thrilled to have something warm, though severely disappointed when it arrived cold. it was quite bland but even still, i was grateful for some sustenance.
dinner came around & was actually a bit warm, a large plate of chicken tajine (no vegetarian option this time). we didn’t all have forks so we used our hands and spoons and giggled and chatted while we ate. a few cats wandered in & we shared the last scraps of chicken with them, which they ate feverishly. finally desert was presented, a classic fruit combo of clementine and pomegranate. no water, tea, or other beverages were included, and i wondered about those who didn’t bring enough—or any—out here, expecting to have access to something.
after dinner the guides built a fire a short walk away from the camp, and they brought out a couple drums. a few of the guides sat in the sand and began playing and singing. the group of perhaps 40 or so of us all huddled around the small fire, stealing whatever scraps of warmth we could.
someone had a joint going with a little hashish, and i took a couple hits and enjoyed a gentle buzz. vosco also had some and we ended up dancing like fools outside the circle, using the blankets we had wrapped around us as wings or capes as we twirled and dove around laughing.
vosco dancing around the campfire
the singing and drumming was a blast, and after the guides finished they opened up the floor to anyone else who wanted to play and/or sing. a couple people played songs, including one in spanish and one in japanese.
after the music was done some of us noticed the guides laughing hysterically with one another, it seemed that whatever they played for us was made up, or total crap. since no one spoke berber, we were none the wiser. they were laughing so hard they were bent over and nearly face first into the sand. i was totally amused by whatever little prank they pulled on us.
our guides probably singing bullshit to us
as the fire wound down people trickled off. vosco and i went off with some of our other friends to walk along the dunes. the moon was so bright, we didn’t need headlamps. even in the darkness the dunes were a fierce red color, unlike anything i’ve seen before.
we were tempted to ride down the dunes on our blankets, an idea that was likely fueled by the hashish. we scampered off to find a steep dune for our sledding, and ended up losing the rest of our group.
some of the dips were so deep they looked like portals to the underworld. i have faith it wasn’t just the hashish that made me trip out staring down into the valleys that were so stark the sand was blackened by shadows. we mused over the height of the desert, as it was entirely impossible to tell where sea level was vs. the valleys vs. the mountainous dunes.
the ripples across the sand were stunning. we stood at the top of one dune and i became mesmerized by the sand i pushed down, which rippled and seemed to breathe as it slid. thankfully we decided that our sledding endevor would likely end with cold sand in places we certainly didn’t want it, & that 10 seconds of fun would result in a night full of discomfort. instead we walked, and shared stories.
hashish inspired photo of ripples at night
we could have wandered for hours, other people were simply specks on the hillsides of the enormous dunes. there really are no words to capture the impressive size of the sahara, which left me in awe because i knew it was only the tip of this extravagant expanse.
after a while we decided it best to head back to camp while we still had a firm idea of where it was. i could see how disorienting the desert can be, and marveled at all those who were able to navigate it throughout history.
the fire was still going & a few people were still huddled around it. we stayed up a bit past midnight talking about the world, our place in it, our responsibility to it, our connections to one another, & to this vast, glorious universe that created us. oneness was the topic of conversation, & my soul felt full afterwards.
our conversations were heady af. pictured here, vosco & a friend (not ricardo)
finally everyone else had peeled off to bed, and vosco followed. i was left behind with a portuguese man name ricardo, who was a bit heady for my liking. he was a self-described yogi, who said he follows a modern version of yoga, with his own added twists (insert eye risk here). if you’ve ever lived in vermont, you know the type.
as vosco left us to go to bed & it was just the two of us left, ricardo turned to me & said “don’t worry, i’m not a rapist.” entirely caught off guard i just kind of looked at him confused & said okay. “and even if i was,” he continued, “you could yell & all these people would hear you.”
let me tell you, nothing quite reminds you of your womanhood like sitting around a campfire in one of the most remote places on earth & being told by the man you’re sitting next to, basically, that he could rape you. men reading this: don’t ever fucking say that. seriously. it has happened to me multiple times, where a man has declared himself not-a-rapist, & it only ever makes me less sure of their intentions, & leaves me feeling drastically less safe. also in case you haven’t been following the news, declaring yourself not a predator certainly does not make it true.
praying for sunrise…& that god awful conversation to end
anyway, after ricardo-the-not-rapist told me he wasn’t a rapist & reminded me of my severe vulnerability, it kind of killed the mood. he made a few other condescending comments, told me that my desire to live in the US & teach people about sustainable living was “putting myself in a box” & “not living up to my potential” because i wanted to live in my home country instead of abroad. sufficiently annoyed and done with his mansplaining of my own life, i went to bed shortly thereafter.
it never ceases to amaze me how yogi types and self proclaimed enlightened folks can be such condescending dickwads.
when i got back to my tent, the lingering warmth lent to me by the fire quickly evaporating, i settled in for what would turn out to be the coldest night of my life. now i pride myself on having survived four vermont winters, including -40F (with wind chill, -20F air temp) but what i had during all four of those winters was a heated home. with walls. & not an endless sea of freezing sand below me.
note the open doorway covered only by a blanket
the bottom of the tent was a thin tarp, & our sleeping pads were no more than 3” thick. i put 1 of my blankets under me to add as insulation against the frigid ground, and folded it in such a way at least part of it was on top of me as well. my top blanket i left folded in half to double its thickness. at first, i was feeling optimistic, thinking the blankets would hold in my heat & i would be chilly but fine.
then it seeped in. the relentless cold. soon my lower back felt like there was an ice pack on it. it was so cold it actually became physically uncomfortable. i thought about dragging the sleeping pad next to me under mine to double my insulation but any movement cost me escaped warmth, & both my tent mates were sleeping. i rolled onto my side to minimize the surface area of contact with the cold, which helped a little. i was unable to move for the rest of the night because i lost too much warmth if i did.
that night i dreamt of snow. i am not sure how much i slept that night, probably less than an hour or two. i was convinced i hadn’t slept at all as my mind kept racing, thinking of warm thoughts, of moving my mattress pad on top of the other, of heat and warm showers & how this was only temporary. i didn’t even realize i was asleep until i woke up from my dreams of snow, & a dear friend.
shot from our ride in that captures the scale of this place well, zoom in to see the 2 people at the top! the sahara is yuge, simply yuge.
as i laid there, i felt a deep connection to the earth below me. i could feel the billions of sand grains stretching far & wide, transporting the cold to each other. it felt like the entire sahara was sending it’s cold to me, like an endless network of ice stealing away the warmth by body was attempting to imprint upon it. never before have i felt or seen the ground communicate with me in this way. perhaps i was delirious, but it was one of the most profound moments i’ve ever experienced of connection and communication to such an expanse of land. it was truly humbling.
5am couldn’t have come soon enough, the night felt like it dragged on forever. finally we awoke to claps & calls of “yallah, yallah!” or “let’s go!” in arabic. coming out of my blankets was horrible but once i accepted the cold as part of my body i was able to stand and move. returning to warmth was my primary motivation.
crappy iphone pic of our camels lying down in the early dawn light. brightness up to be able to see them!
we walked back to our camels who had all slept together where they were left, with their tack still on. one of the camels had a horrible time trying to get up, and was screaming and groaning. it seemed sick and/or injured, but was eventually forced to get up & join the others in the train. i felt waves of pain and sadness pouring off of it, & my heart was heavy. i did not appreciate the way these animals were treated.
we were told that we would ride up to the great dune to watch the sunrise but instead we just walked the hour back to the road. the sun rose behind us, just as it had set behind us the night before. this made it hard to appreciate or photograph, and we did not stop to watch it.
sunrise pics, taken while trying to face backwards on a moving camel
finally we arrived back at the base site, where breakfast was served. 1 pancake type fried dough thing per person, plus bread, & coffee or tea. the tea burnt my tongue & i have never before been grateful for that sensation. it was literal days before the last bits of the cold finally left my body, & the rest of that day i remained fully bundled and huddled. i could feel the cold rising up off my legs.
i wasn’t going to wear my scarf like this because it felt appropriative but it was so fucking cold i ended up doing it anyway. repping moglo here!
overall, i am grateful for the opportunity to experience the sahara. what i wish though, is that we were better informed of any aspect of the trip before departing, that the way there was not littered with tourist-trap stops, & that we were given any amount of time to actually enough the desert during daylight. i was also deeply saddened by the treatment and condition of the camels, who seemed miserable at best. if i were to do it again, i would certainly spring for a more expensive trek & perhaps do four days, so i had some time to experience the desert in the light. lastly, i would certainly have packed much better & warmer, so i could have enjoyed my night a little bit more.
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