Rissani to Zagora

This was our first trip out into the desert proper with the cars. Real desert is not like the sand dunes of film sets. It is much more desolate. Rocks, dust, sand, barren hills. Technically, we are not quite in the Sahara desert but an area of semi-arid Pre-Saharan Steppes. However, any local will definitively assert that this is genuinely the Sahara and they can sell you a very modestly priced souvenir to prove it.

Our route followed some well-travelled pistes. Dotted along the way were several “auberge”, desert hotels where you can sleep and eat. We mostly passed these by, but late afternoon were waved down at one and told some horror stories of bad roads ahead. Next to impassable by all accounts but fortunately there was a guide on hand. For a modest fee, he could show us the way round. We chose to go look for ourselves. An hour or so later were looking at a steep climb out of a river bed. Fortunately, we had the right vehicles for the job so this turned out to be a bit of fun rather than a serious challenge.

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Next day we crossed a vast dusty plain and camped right in the middle of nowhere. I mean really nowhere. No lights, houses, fields, piles of rocks, nothing. Just some very spikey bushes. In the evening a woman and child appeared and watched us quietly for a while. She left a set of tracks up a small dune and vanished. In the morning, we checked to see where she had gone. There was no village or settlement of any kind in the direction of her tracks.  

Last day to Zagora took us over a small mountain range with some interesting tracks and down into a very empty valley. Here we delighted in finding a well and pumping water out of it. Lars and Inge (directly descended from Vikings) both had a shower in the cold well water. A small boy turned up on a bike. We had no idea where he had come from either.

Finally, we arrived at Zagora and checked into a nice campsite. Nestled in the lush palms of the Draa Valley, Zagora is traditionally a gateway to the Sahara. An important stopping place for the great camel trains plying their trade. A sign at the edge of town declares that it is 52 days (by camel) to Timbouctou. My father used to threaten to send me to Timbouctou when I was naughty. These days the way is blocked by closed borders, minefield, bandits and terrorists. Does this make it a more or less effective as a deterrent for small children?

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