‘The rain has caused a landslide.. we’ll have to try and
drive over the rocks.. ‘
‘Can’t we take another road?’
‘This is the only road’
No one wants a conversation like this, least of all when
you’re in a jeep somewhere between the Sahara Desert and the Atlas Mountains. We were on route north back to Marrakech when these complications occurred, but our
journey south into the desert was straightforward enough.
Gentle sunshine lit up the surprisingly verdant hillsides on our way south from Marrakech before the gradual ascent into the barren mountains. ‘Sometime the road is closed because of snow’ explained our guide Omar, gesturing at a raised barrier as I used my rusty knowledge of French to process his explanation.
Gentle sunshine lit up the surprisingly verdant hillsides on our way south from Marrakech before the gradual ascent into the barren mountains. ‘Sometime the road is closed because of snow’ explained our guide Omar, gesturing at a raised barrier as I used my rusty knowledge of French to process his explanation.
 |
| The mountains, in sunnier times |
 |
| Spot the tourists |
The open desert plains began
to merge into small dunes, and as the sun began to set, we swapped
4×4 for camel to make our way to our camp for the night. Rather than the
relaxing experience I was expecting, every downward turn had me bracing myself
for impending castration, with a metal bar terrifyingly close to somewhere very
important. We reached our camp with everybody (and everything) still intact,
and after a traditional Morrocan meal of Tagine-cooked lamb and rice, we
enjoyed some spectacular star gazing with not a neon light for a hundred miles.
It was only the following day
that the weather began to cause problems. Overnight,
a ferocious wind had appeared and a full-blown sandstorm was sweeping across
the camp – the worst for 13 years according to Omar. We shielded out eyes and
made a run for the vague shape of the 4x4; the sand hitting my legs was like being
flicked by hundreds of rubber bands. Once safely inside, we passed through
several small villages where people lived in basic conditions; single tier
houses made from clay. Some families were fortunate enough to have a son
working in Marrakech sending money home.
 |
| A small village in the Northern Sahara |
We started drifting off to sleep when we awoke to the aforementioned
landslide. A previous incident had left the desert to mountain pass partially
blocked. With water levels rising to almost road-level on the bridge just in
front, waiting for the rocks to be cleared wasn’t an option. We began to put
the 4x4 to the test by painstakingly driving over the mess of small boulders.
Every clunk and scrape of rock against undercarriage sounded like a fatal blow
to our trusty jeep. Slowly but surely however we clattered over the debris and
over the burgeoning river before the bridge disappeared from view under the murky
water.
 |
| The river about to take over the road |
Panic over, sleep once again took hold of us. An hour or so passed
before we were woken by an excitable Omar; it seemed the weather had one last
surprise in store. Opening my eyes slowly, I almost recoiled in shock at the
blanket of blinding white snow all around. An overnight blizzard had
transformed the mountains into a scene more at home in the Alps than North
Africa. Our thoughts turned to the snow barrier we had seen the previous morning,
but this time we were in luck. The barrier remained open – no more off-roading necessary.
 |
| Unexpected snow in the mountains |
