Page 178 - WDT MAGAZINE PORTUGAL

He soon had us zigzagging off the narrow ribbon of
asphalt to race his colleagues across the chaotic
landscape — the floor of an ocean dating back 350
million years. The area is a paleontologist’s dream where
local quarries abound in prehistoric sea creatures. When
I was younger, I too picked them off the desert floor, and
helped myself to petrified cephalopods, ammonites, or
trilobites. Indeed, professional digs not far from Erfoud
yielded the entire skeleton of Spinosaurus, a giant of the
Cretaceous. Nowadays, only certified establishments
such as Manar Marble fossil and stone factory in Erfoud,
are licensed to commercialize the black marble slabs
studded with fossils.
Local drivers, though equipped with GPSs, often
navigate the vast emptiness by intuition. We raced past
recently erected hamlets, most of them built to
accommodate the hundreds of employees who cater to
the multitudes eager to spend a night or two under goat-
haired Bedouin tents. The long drive concluded at a
sight forever stamped in my memory: Erg Chebbi’s wave
upon wave of towering, marmalade-colored dunes
looming above the infinity of the desert.
A gathering of giant black moths hugged the ground
like a mirage on the horizon. What looked like a wainscot
of gargantuan Lepidoptera — upon closer inspection
turned into a dozen goat-haired tents. A small herd of
tethered camels (technically one-humped dromedaries)
crouched on the sand, each mount awaiting a rider.
Individual handlers helped us climb atop a recalcitrant
beast who reacted with a grunt, as though reluctant to
unfold its front legs, then the rear.
The handler, dressed in the blue gandoura (long,
sleeveless garment) of a Tuareg, clucked sweet nothings
in the beast’s ear while I clamped on for dear life. The
man made sure I was safely astride the animal’s neck
before our threesome fell into step with the “caravan”
that plodded up a steep dune. More disgruntled sounds
from the camel reached me a few yards of the peak. I
dismounted with a jerk, and sank knee deep in the sand.
A slow ascent up the sandy incline brought me to the top
just in time to catch the sun melt over the desert.
The beauty of the scene left me teary-eyed.
Whispers reverberated among the sandy hillocks like
echoes from a deep well. Conversation ceased as we
witnessed the sun’s multi-colored descent. I had to dab
at my eyes to watch a small lizard-like creature
disappear with a soft swish in the sand. No wonder
Merzouga is today one of the country’s most sought-out
destinations.
The camel ride had left me wobbly-kneed. I
staggered to my tented room, an extension of the Xaluca
hotel chain. Thankfully, each tent came equipped with a
hot shower and an individual toilet. Refreshed in body
and spirit, I followed the kilim-lined path to reach the
dining area, to savor a bowl of steaming harira, cumin-

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