As you can see from the first picture, I was on my way quite early. Above Zagora there was still fog, and it wasn’t very warm—actually it was just around 0 °C. The night in the hotel hadn’t been particularly pleasant, as my room once again had gaps through which cold air came in, and there was no heating.
I had briefly considered buying a small fan heater for about €10, but it didn’t make much sense. Most of the rooms didn’t have reliable electricity anyway, and I would have had to get rid of the heater again afterward.
Besides, there weren’t any heaters to begin with—and I hadn’t even looked for them. Even if there had been, the next problem would have been the unreliable wiring, which could easily have caused a fire. In any case, from this point on the rooms became quite cold every night. That’s something you really need to consider beforehand: whether it’s better to pay more for accommodation with heating. Even warm water is not guaranteed in the lower price ranges, and you should always check three things in advance:
- whether it exists,
- whether it actually works, and
- whether it still works after ten minutes.
I had made several bad experiences with hot water in this price category—usually there was none, or only briefly. For around €20 you might get a TV, air conditioning with heating, and a private bathroom; at €10 things usually look quite bleak.
This time the route led back along the N9 toward Marrakech. I planned to turn right at Ichehihen toward Rissani to see the landscape and the dunes. Once again I drove back through the impressive Draa Valley before turning right in the small village. A policeman stood at the crossroads. I was unsure whether he wanted something from me, so to be safe I pulled over, waved my passport, and said I wanted to go to Rissani. He was extremely friendly, thanked me, and I did the same before driving on.
After that I had the brilliant idea of putting on some stoner rock and coaxing a few decent sounds out of the car radio. I stopped briefly near an internet café and took my netbook with me. CDs were available, and I burned some Kyuss MP3s. Unfortunately, the stupid car radio didn’t work at all. That was a real disappointment, as it had worked fine before. While driving on, I kept trying, but since no radio station worked either, I eventually gave up and cursed the damn thing. That reminded me once again of point number two from the hotel checklist: check whether it actually works.
Immediately after leaving the village, the road climbed gently out of the Draa Valley into another vast valley, which, as far as I remember, stretched almost all the way to Rissani. On one side were sharp, rugged hills I would have loved to explore more closely; on the other, a wadi; and far in the distance, the Atlas Mountains.
Here I encountered my first real stone desert. Without the road, it would have been impossible to cross. On both sides, meter-high sharp-edged rocks lay scattered across the landscape. On the roadside there seemed to be the remains of a rest stop. Villages were now rare—unlike the densely settled Draa Valley, here there was nothing for 10 to 30 kilometers at a time. Only a few low plants grew; otherwise everything was dust and stones. At one point I saw three rather sturdy women walking through the desert with their luggage, with the next settlement 20 kilometers away. After my earlier experiences, I didn’t want to take anyone with me—and in any case, they wouldn’t have fit into the car.
From time to time I stopped right in the middle of the road, because there was absolutely no traffic. The road itself was fine, but there were no vehicles anywhere. It was perfect for relaxed driving—or simply stopping to take photos. Occasionally dust devils swept across the plain. At one point I stopped again because dozens of them were visible about two kilometers away: small whirlwinds, one to five meters wide and several meters high, moving across the dusty surface in the sunshine. Some disappeared, others formed anew.
Near a small village I stopped once more. Civilization had become sparse. The village had electricity and a few lamps, but probably no running water—many women were gathered at the well, washing clothes. A bit farther on, the landscape became savannah-like. A few trees stood on a flat, dusty plain, tempting me to leave the asphalt and drive onto a dirt track. Before long, the road had disappeared completely. Here I encountered corrugated tracks for the first time: if you drive too slowly, the whole car vibrates violently; at around 30–50 km/h it becomes tolerable.
I stopped briefly under a tree to look around. Even in January, the sun was already oppressively strong. I couldn’t imagine what this would feel like at temperatures 10–20 degrees higher. Eventually I continued toward Rissani.
After passing several more scattered villages and impressive landscapes, I reached Rissani. It was noticeably larger than the settlements before, and traffic was much heavier. I stopped at a kiosk to buy drinks and cigarettes. In front of me, a young woman exchanged a plastic bag full of white powder—probably flour—for a few coins. Poverty here was just as visible as in the villages along the way.
From Rissani I followed the N12 and then the P21 toward Merzouga. The landscape became flatter and flatter. Behind me were the last foothills of the Atlas; ahead lay the increasingly harsh Sahara. Shortly before Merzouga, enormous yellow-orange sand dunes appeared on the left. In front of them, houses were scattered everywhere. I couldn’t find a way to drive directly to the dunes—either tracks were missing or visibility was poor. Later, looking at a map, I realized that the northern part of the dune field is undeveloped and accessible, but at the time I drove only as far as the buildings.
The tracks were terrible: corrugated surfaces mixed with loose stones, and near the houses even patches of sand that threatened to bog the car down. The underbody took quite a beating. I tried to maneuver through the kasbahs, but it was difficult and the area felt deserted. Looking at the time, I decided to turn back—the sun was already threatening to set. I hadn’t even covered half the return distance to Ouarzazate yet, despite having driven almost continuously since 10:00 a.m.
I had to make a decision, as the car had to be returned the next day. The plan was to go back via Rissani, then Errachidia, and finally the parallel road through Goulmima and Boumalne back to Ouarzazate—more than 300 kilometers, and it was already after 16:00. So I drove back to Rissani as quickly as possible.
From Rissani onward the landscape became greener again, thanks to underground water. Near Errachidia I saw hills in the desert with entrances carved into them. Curious, I stopped briefly. Two men immediately approached and tried to explain something about water, inviting me to come along—but I didn’t have the time. I took a quick photo and moved on.
In Tinejdad, the sun shone directly into my face as I drove through the town. I had been driving fast most of the day, almost racing. Now dusk approached, and Boumalne was still some distance away. I planned to find a hotel there and continue the next day.
Driving in the dark was again unpleasant. This time there were more vehicles, which didn’t make it easier. People or animals suddenly appeared on the road, forcing me to slow down constantly. Once it was fully dark, I pulled off the road and drove a few hundred meters onto a dirt track. I got out and stood for a while under an incredibly clear, star-filled sky. At that point there was no more need to rush—it was already too late.
Eventually I reached Boumalne, relieved that I hadn’t run anyone over. It took more than half an hour to find a hotel. The first one, right at the main intersection, had no warm water. About 100 meters farther on, another hotel claimed to have it. The room cost around 120 dirhams, though the furnishings were basic. I checked the water and the sockets, then later went to a nearby internet café.
Only afterward did I realize I had forgotten the third rule again: the hot water lasted only about five minutes before running out. Once again, no proper hot shower—and the night turned cold again, east of the Atlas.