Sunday (Fes to Merzouga)…

Filled with optimism that good things come from perseverance, we re-packed our bags, re-nourished our bodies with a final breakfast at the Palais Amani, and said hello to Youssef…our driver and guide for the next four days. Our destination lay some 500+ kilometers away on the edge of the desert.


In spite of a sniffly cold, Youssef was charming and eager to help turn our drive into a lesson about the wonders of his country. (Youssef works for a tiny family-run tour company called Ligne d’Aventure Maroc.)


We quickly left the medina and its medieval chaos behind for the natural beauty of the countryside.


In short order, the low fields of olives and almonds surrounding Fès transitioned to rocky plains and green(er) fields of the foothills. Clearly a lot more water up here. Apple trees line the roads.


Stopped in Ifrain, with its clear French influence. Buildings have Alpine chalet design with pitched roofs (as opposed to the typical Moroccan building, which is flat-roofed with a terrace on top.) This area is popular in the winter for its skiing and summer for its more moderate temperatures. Manicured public squares, fountains, and quiet pedestrian traffic stood in sharp contrast with Fes.


Continuing on, the trees turned to cedar and cork. Beautiful vistas of rolling livestock-trimmed green grass broken up by patches of rich orange-brown soil.


Drove thru a national park of tall cedars. Stopped in a grove popular with small, pink-faced monkeys. These guys were adorable, and they knew it. Youssef bought us a bag of tiny pears to feed the monkeys. Sometimes it felt that they were hiding their pears in one hand and extending the empty hand with a face that said “Oh me? I haven’t gotten one yet. I let my friends go first, of course.” But who could resist those adorable mugs. Nearby, children led decked-out donkeys up to us offering rides for a fee: “No merci.” (I don’t know how to say, “Are you nuts?”). Winding up through the forest, we passed the silvery bare trunk of an 850 year-old cedar.


Exiting the forest, we came to the rocky plains between the mid-Atlas and high-Atlas mountain ranges. Sheep, donkeys, and the occasional cow fed on the low grass. Our ears popped from the dramatic shift in altitude from Fes, far behind and below. Make-shift dams created wide pools in shallow streams for washing clothes. Tiny wood and clay huts dotted the valleys between rolling foothills. Occasionally a small tent served as a house.


We stopped for a brief lunch at one of the hotels along the highway that catered to tour groups…the Hotel Taddart. A simple buffet allowed us to nibble on salads and couscous and various meats. A couple of Moroccan beers washed it all down.


Rain clouds turned to downpours as we headed for a pass in the High Atlas. We followed the Ziz River as it carved its way through the mountains, eventually winding our way down from the mountains through the Ziz Valley. Stepped brown and orange ridges on either side of us. The twisting rocky river bed was lined with date palm trees and lush grasses.


The sun returned, as the clouds left their droplets in the mountains behind us (mostly). We made our way towards Merzouga, following a low, lush oasis crowded with date Palm trees. Hundreds of mud-walled houses hugged the edges of the oasis.


Temperatures rose steadily as we neared the desert…near 30 degrees Celsius versus 17’C as we crossed the Atlas. The sun set quickly, and the blue dusk was very brief. We spent the final hour of our drive in darkness, which is an interesting time along rural Moroccan roads. Darkness doesn’t slow down pedestrians, donkeys, carts, or bikes…none of which are lit until headlights cross them suddenly. And yet, Youssef never missed a beat and adeptly wove around all obstacles with barely a courteous tap on the horn.


We arrived at our hotel for the night…the Nomad Palace…a two story mud-walled structure with a generous courtyard. Our room was spacious and comfortably appointed. Certainly a far cry from the Palais Amani, but the desert charm of this place is definitely inviting. A group of local Berber performers drummed, chanted, and danced in the courtyard before dinner…and then led guests into the dining room.


Dinner was hearty and filling. Authentic enough for our tastes. A hearty vegetable noodle soup. A beef and vegetable tangine. Bread and fruit. A couple of sweet coffees made the perfect end to the meal. A friendly cat meowed quietly for scraps…which of course we couldn’t resist sharing.


After dinner, we sat outside to enjoy the warm desert breeze. Bats whizzed by our ears, snacking on desert moths and other morsels. The local musicians continued to entertain inside, but the throbbing drumbeat and rhythmic chants filled the courtyard.