Sounds pretty exotic. Sahara. Desert. Dunes and soft breeze. The stuff of films and Lawrence of Arabia and Omar Sharif.
Our camel ride began after a dusty, bumpy ride across hundreds of miles of Moroccan dry and dusty wilderness. The few oases along the way were the stuff of postcards, date palms, goats, green lushness and spectacular views.
It began well into the afternoon, when coolness could be felt needling its way into the hot and humid air.
The promised shower and preparation time suddenly never existed as our bags thrown against a wall in an office seemed to laugh at our folly as we were led to a line of camels pointing their soft noses to the dunes.
Ill prepared and rushed we were up on the ships of the desert. All too easy and wonderful. The trek went straight into the Sahara. The line in the sand all too immediate and definite.
Handles on the saddle were gripped tightly, legs straddled wide and the camel sway started.
Such magnificent, patient, plodding beasts. Soft gelatinous pads slid into the red sand and all in tow they followed their familiar path across the dunes. Long shadows were cast as the sun set and it was well into darkness before we saw the faint lights of the camp.
Stumbling around in the dark we were shown our tent, shared with a few others. Sandy mattresses on the Sahara. Stars twinkling through the weave of the roof. Soft breeze rustling sand around, reforming and renewing the sandscape.
A traditional meal was prepared and we all ate from a common bowl. Rice and vegetables, then chicken tagine. The light was very dim and it was hard to make out what was what. I recognised a chicken neck and potato. It was all very tasty and we laughed away the mess we made, blaming the one next to us.
No toilets. No showers. No water. No problem. There is the whole of the Sahara. And only the vast Milky Way to watch you. The cleanest bathroom in Morocco indeed.
Music and dancing for a little while, then sleep. The stars so bright more than enough light by night. Star of wonder, star of night, star of royal beauty bright. Westward leading, still proceeding, guide us by thy perfect light.
The Magi would have travelled by such light. To the King. Probably not this desert, but very imaginable when in this desert.
With the freshness of dawn approaching, we mounted our camels and rode again.
Sure footed and steady, they plodded in their train another hour until the light behind us became the sun and not the crescent moon.
Dunes turned yellow, orange, red. Shadows formed and firmed.
Tiny tracks told nighttime stories. A mouse, a lizard, a something else.
Another hour and daytime claimed the land and felt like noon.
The aches and newfound body bits erased the Hollywood set and murmurings were heard.
The breakfast awaiting promise true, but still no room or shower. So dirty, red and dusty bodies climbed off the doe-eyed camels and grabbed the bags and packed back into buses.
Twelve hours, uncertain hours for us. Drove for hours away from the desert and the camels and the wonder and delight.
The stars still shine, but cannot be seen so brightly. The sand is there, but no so red and pure. The land is there but not so special now. The night is gone but daylight will not dim the memory.
Our camel ride began after a dusty, bumpy ride across hundreds of miles of Moroccan dry and dusty wilderness. The few oases along the way were the stuff of postcards, date palms, goats, green lushness and spectacular views.
It began well into the afternoon, when coolness could be felt needling its way into the hot and humid air.
The promised shower and preparation time suddenly never existed as our bags thrown against a wall in an office seemed to laugh at our folly as we were led to a line of camels pointing their soft noses to the dunes.
Ill prepared and rushed we were up on the ships of the desert. All too easy and wonderful. The trek went straight into the Sahara. The line in the sand all too immediate and definite.
Handles on the saddle were gripped tightly, legs straddled wide and the camel sway started.
Such magnificent, patient, plodding beasts. Soft gelatinous pads slid into the red sand and all in tow they followed their familiar path across the dunes. Long shadows were cast as the sun set and it was well into darkness before we saw the faint lights of the camp.
Stumbling around in the dark we were shown our tent, shared with a few others. Sandy mattresses on the Sahara. Stars twinkling through the weave of the roof. Soft breeze rustling sand around, reforming and renewing the sandscape.
A traditional meal was prepared and we all ate from a common bowl. Rice and vegetables, then chicken tagine. The light was very dim and it was hard to make out what was what. I recognised a chicken neck and potato. It was all very tasty and we laughed away the mess we made, blaming the one next to us.
No toilets. No showers. No water. No problem. There is the whole of the Sahara. And only the vast Milky Way to watch you. The cleanest bathroom in Morocco indeed.
Music and dancing for a little while, then sleep. The stars so bright more than enough light by night. Star of wonder, star of night, star of royal beauty bright. Westward leading, still proceeding, guide us by thy perfect light.
The Magi would have travelled by such light. To the King. Probably not this desert, but very imaginable when in this desert.
With the freshness of dawn approaching, we mounted our camels and rode again.
Sure footed and steady, they plodded in their train another hour until the light behind us became the sun and not the crescent moon.
Dunes turned yellow, orange, red. Shadows formed and firmed.
Tiny tracks told nighttime stories. A mouse, a lizard, a something else.
Another hour and daytime claimed the land and felt like noon.
The aches and newfound body bits erased the Hollywood set and murmurings were heard.
The breakfast awaiting promise true, but still no room or shower. So dirty, red and dusty bodies climbed off the doe-eyed camels and grabbed the bags and packed back into buses.
Twelve hours, uncertain hours for us. Drove for hours away from the desert and the camels and the wonder and delight.
The stars still shine, but cannot be seen so brightly. The sand is there, but no so red and pure. The land is there but not so special now. The night is gone but daylight will not dim the memory.
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