Desert Road Trip: From Fes To The Sahara
This is such an amazing, auspicious feeling, as we drive away from Fes and head off towards a little bit of the unknown, the hired Dacia Duster our companion for the next seven days, one of the most exciting parts of this entire Mediterranean journey opening up ahead of us. Also ahead of us are the Middle Atlas Mountains, looming in the haze like Earth-shackled storm clouds, goading us to take them on and make it to the desert beyond.
We are soon into the scrub style of desert where grey rock meets red earth, where nomadic shepherds tend sheep and goats beside their temporary tented villages, where dust devils spin across the road in mini tornadoes. Now and again the bright green of fruit plantations or an oasis of date palms splash a vivid colour, but all other hues are modest, subdued. This land is too big and bold to be colourful.
A few miles on, higher up in the mountains, a surprising and incongruous sight: here under the beating sun, in this dust-blown, harshly arid environment, are some red and white barriers, open today but closed….when the snow comes. Yes, these are snow barriers, these high mountain desert roads, so hot and dry today, get closed for snow in winter. We can only wonder at the harsh lives of those who survive such extremes as a matter of course.
The town of Errachidia sits just outside the gorge of the Ziz river, almost but not quite dry at this time of year, the giant, muscle-bound sides of the canyon a spectacular sight as we near our refuge for the night. With nearly eight hours’ driving between Fes and Merzouga, we opt to break the journey with an overnight stay here in Errachidia, an unmistakably Berber town on the N13 highway where the market is in full swing, the buzz of the stalls mingling with the call to prayer as it casts its haunting sound through the descending twilight. Flowing robes and sandals dominate; inquisitive stares greet these two, odd-looking travellers, though those stares are easily outnumbered by friendly smiles and cries of “welcome”.
Djelleba- and thawb-clad Berbers wander the streets, smoke starts to billow from street side grills, and as we sit at the plastic table by the main street eating chicken straight from the rotisserie and a salad sprinkled with cumin, darkness falling, the unfamiliar sounds and smells of the Berber town all around us, we know for sure that the real adventure of this trip has begun.
Our one night stand in Errachidia has a shower with no hot water and an AC unit which clanks like dockyard derricks and howls like a hurricane, and, in a country where anything other than local music is a rarity, the elevator, bizarrely, plays canned reggae. It’s comfortable enough but we’re eager to get back on the desert road and head further out into the Sahara.
Beyond Errachidia the landscape changes quickly, the soaring grey hulks of the mountains traded for the flat pale expanse of desert sand, long stretches of road as straight as plumb lines forming a dark ribbon through the dust and scrub. Suddenly a bend to the right and we’re back alongside the valley of the Ziz, the dramatic canyon carving unexpected depths into the flat terrain.
We pull in where there’s a viewpoint and cafe, and look down on the most wonderful sight: the oasis village of Zouala nestled way below among the date palms, houses raised above the level of the river of winter. The braying of donkeys drifts up from the valley: life is going on down there, villagers living their oh so different daily lives. As we sip our cafe au lait on the top of the ridge, a tour bus pulls in, its passengers take photographs to fill their permitted time slot, then get recalled to the bus. We can’t help but see the parallel with the nomadic Berbers, the tour guide is now the shepherd, the passengers are the livestock, and the bus driver, we guess, the sheepdog.
When the road parts company with the Ziz, the Sahara takes control. The sand is noticeably more fine, more ochre, then darker again, while in the background, lofty dunes shine as if wrapped in gold leaf, reflecting the sunshine with a glory which is hard for the eye to comprehend.
And then there’s another police checkpoint, a hazard of driving here which is so commonplace that a 300-kilometre drive will inevitably involve negotiating a dozen or so of these heavy handed interruptions. Yesterday, somewhere just short of Errachidia, one such block hit me with an on-the-spot fine for speeding – unfortunately, my second such offence on this trip as I got “done” by radar in France as well. These offences are hardly Formula 1 territory, both times my speed is a gnat’s whisker above the limit and it’s disconcerting to think that such minor offending has probably put my name on Interpol’s watch list.
So today I take greater care to be obedient, especially when approaching yet another checkpoint, so imagine my dismay when I get pulled over again and hit with another potential fine. This time, I know for a fact that I did not transgress, and so I steel myself for a battle and argue with the law. He at first insists I have “made a violation” as he puts it, but I stand my ground and tell him I definitely did no such thing. He consults the cop with the speed gun, comes back over and says, “you are right, it was a different car. You can go”.
OK, I think we now know what we’re dealing with here.
Drama behind us and wondering how many more such encounters lay ahead over the next week, the houses of Merzouga eventually drift into view like ghosts, so identical is their colour to the sand beyond. We’re off the N13 on to a desert track, guided by blue painted trackside rocks, following tyre marks through the sand to the rather elaborate gate of our riad.
We are here. Merzouga. A proper, proper desert village, one of those places where any sound – the grunt of a camel, a shout in Arabic, the throb of a quad bike – only serves to accentuate the silence. Our riad is unbelievably lovely, Mohammed and his team smiling and helpful. Merzouga shields itself from the sunshine, shutters down over its handful of shops, mint tea sending sweet odours into the street. Men sit beneath awnings, a solitary 4×4 kicks up dust as it grates through. Cats catch the shade behind pillars. Maybe not a one-horse town, more likely a ten-camel town.
This distant little village is a gateway to a number of Sahara activities; from here you can quad bike, buggy or camel ride your way across the sands, you can hike up mountainous sand dunes, and, if you wish, sand board your way back down the slopes. Rise early to watch sunrise, climb high for sunset, lay back after dark and watch the stars punctuate the blackness. Listen to the Sahara silence. The proper, proper dead silence of night.
Merzouga is going to be so very special.
33 Comments
Mike and Kellye Hefner
Every time I read one of your posts, I feel like I’m right in the town/boat/car with you. I want to absorb every word of your writing and analyze the details in every photo. You guys are traveling to the most interesting places that most of us readers will never see in person. I’ve known that there are towns scattered through the Sahara, but I’ve never seen one, and Merzouga is intriguing! Thank you for sharing your amazing travels with us!
Phil & Michaela
Thank you so much Kellye….as you will see from our next post, Merzouga was just magical!
Lynette d'Arty-Cross
Beautiful post and your lyrical descriptions such a tribute to Morocco. Cheers.
Phil & Michaela
Thank you so much ❤️
restlessjo
I have to admit, all that open road does nothing for me, but your enthusiasm drags me along. What sort of speed limit are you transgressing (or not)? Going slowly would drive me insane and you’d never get ‘there’. But I love the lyrical quality of your writing and I’m excited to stay in a riad with you.
Phil & Michaela
Well, much of the drive was spectacular, in truth, Jo – mountains, canyons, mountain roads, only part of it was barren desert. Speed limits…hmm…well it’s all single carriageway roads so the highest you ever see is 100kph (62mph), but mostly it’s 60 or 80kph, so yes it’s slow. The real problem is the police traps though..you don’t get much warning, and suddenly there’s little temporary speed signs, no more than 10 yards apart, which go 60-40-20-STOP. Your first instinct is to slow down, go down through the gears and coast up to the stop line. But if you get it slightly wrong (say 42 in 40 or 22 on the 20 line, then you’re fined. You soon learn to slam on the brakes and then creep to the line.
restlessjo
🤗🩵
Monkey's Tale
I’m starting to think you’re a reckless driver, Or just that the police know about all of that hidden money 😊 The desert drive feels familiar, but the sights and sounds make it much more Moroccan. Sounds like a great road trip for you two. Not many tourists here I’m guessing. Maggie
Phil & Michaela
Ugh those police…! Not too many tourists in Merzouga, but it is a destination for a certain type of traveller, those seeking certain thrills. It was fabulous…we left just yesterday.
ourcrossings
Wow, what a fantastic adventure. I love your photos of the open road, they make my feet itchy. I have to say that for me, the appeal of the Atlas Mountains lies in its many contradictions – arid desert landscapes and snow-capped peaks frame fertile valleys dotted with remote Berber villages begging you to explore them. Thanks for sharing and have a good day 🙂 Aiva xx
Phil & Michaela
Yes I agree, there are so many diversities and variations to Morocco, areas which are completely different from each other
WanderingCanadians
Looks like an incredibly scenic road trip. It’s neat to see how much the landscape changes along the way. The checkpoints seem a bit sketchy, but glad you were able to convince the cop at the second one that you weren’t actually speeding.
Phil & Michaela
The landscape certainly does change….so many different areas to explore
Toonsarah
Oh this is so my kind of landscape! Big skies, mountain passes, barren land punctuated with those patches of green – I love it! I’m not sure we’d have the confidence to attempt the drive but I’m excited to see what you get up to in Merzouga – I have a feeling it’s going to all sound very tempting 😀
Phil & Michaela
It was fabulous, Sarah, we left Merzouga yesterday after a fantastic few days. Just simply loved it!
wetanddustyroads
Ah, the desert – one of our favourite places! The vastness of this area is just stunning and how beautiful is the oasis town of Zouala. And the gateway into Merzouga is quite a surprise … Phil & Michaela, this is our kind of road trip!
Phil & Michaela
Merzouga was fabulous, Corna. The drive down there was indeed fabulous but the desert sands around Merzouga are just stunning
leightontravels
What a proper adventure this is featuring incredible landscape and off the beaten path town and villages. Looking forward to seeing more from magical Merzouga.
Phil & Michaela
Cheers bud
grandmisadventures
I think my favorite part of this trip is seeing the transition between places- from the city of Paris to the desert highway here. What a interesting chapter in this great story 🙂
Phil & Michaela
Well I’m pleased that you appreciate that element, Meg, because being able to travel by land – slowly – all the way from our home to the Sahara Desert feels pretty cool to us…
Travels Through My Lens
Your posts are all so beautifully and poetically written; they’re a treat to read.
Phil & Michaela
That’s such a lovely comment, thank you so much. It’s really lovely when someone appreciates our posts, thank you again 😍
Alison Hutt
Beautifully poetic Phil and some more amazing photos from Michaela. Sounds like you had better behave on the road, don’t want to be reading about you in the paper! I’m with Jo though and dry and dusty does nothing for me, but enjoying your trip. Waiting to see you on a camel 🐪
Phil & Michaela
Well thank you ma’am. As it happens, Ali, you may well get two wishes granted in our next post….our accommodation and me on a camel…
Helen Devries
I did not think I would ever have been interested in that type of terrain, but your posts have convinced me otherwise.
Phil & Michaela
Well I’m glad to be of service ma’am. Seriously, some of that mountain scenery was really dramatic. It’s just so…..big!
rkrontheroad
The Berber town and oasis are glimpses into another world and culture, beautifully described, as usual. I remember similar traffic cop discussions when I lived in Guatemala – good for you for standing your ground.
Phil & Michaela
Yes, exactly, Ruth – little glimpses into another world. Those police were naughty, plenty of tricks up their sleeves
Lookoom
Your beautiful road trip reminds me of the one I had from Marrakech to Zagora. The arrival of the dunes after days in the Atlas and Anti-Atlas is a welcome change of scenery, and a little mysterious at the same time. Like you, I prefer my freedom to the fate of these poor touring sheep.
Phil & Michaela
Absolutely
Anonymous
What an incredible journey! Your trip from Fes to Merzouga looks absolutely magical — from the winding roads through the Atlas Mountains to the golden dunes of the Sahara. Your storytelling really brought the experience to life, and your photos are stunning! Thanks for sharing such a beautiful adventure
Phil & Michaela
Well thank you so much, it was a really great experience. Unfortunately your comment has landed as “anonymous” so I don’t know who you are, but thank you again for your kind comments