Day 8: Trekking

Footprints in the sand dunes
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Resting over, we were back to our familiar routine today.  We bade a slightly reluctant farewell to the luxuries of the auberge - the ladies all making one last dash to a proper loo - and set off towards the mountains.  Crossing the pass between the 2 ranges, the views opened up to reveal a wide plain of low sand dunes, and a wind-sculpted mountain in the distance.  Mostafa reluctantly permitted us a photo-stop.

Descending to the plain, we crossed a dried-out river bed, with fabulous patterns carved out in the stones.  Believing this to be part of the Sahara's ancient watery past, we later asked Mostafa how long it was since the river had contained water.  He nonchalantly advised "November". Ah.

Mountain view at dusk
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Our pre-lunch exercise was a rollercoaster of sand dunes.  Fabulous to walk across, but hell on your legs!  One step may be onto firm sand, the next step your foot sinks straight in. The great bit about these low dunes is that you walk up on the sloping side, then allow yourself to slide down the almost vertical far side.  Our walk was puncuated with cries of "Wheeeeee!" as someone slid down a dune.

Somehow we and the lunch party managed to congregate under the same tree at lunchtime. How these guys navigate their way across the desert with no maps or compasses never ceases to amaze me! The tree gave us some much welcome shade for a couple of hours while we devoured a huge plate of salad.

After more sand through the afternoon, we came to a beautiful, empty oasis.  This was out camp for the night, and, Mostafa advised us, "completely uninhabited".  We pitched camp by a large tree, with a view of the hills from our front door.  With a well nearby, Sharon and I decided to wash away the worst of the sand that we'd gathered through the day.  The same type of winch, the same leaky buckets, so the same race to get some of the water into our own buckets before it all leaked away!  Making the most of our deserted location, we retreated behind a distant bush for a 'bath', hidden from sight of the camp.  Sharon was going mad; she kept saying she could hear voices. Must have been all that sun today.  Just as we were tipping our water away, two men appeared from the side of the neighbouring hill, heading for the well.  That's the last time we would take Mostafa's word that our campsite was deserted. His defence was that they lived some distance away......

But they were the only other people we saw that evening.  As we went to bed we were treated to a spectacular sunset over the hills, knowing that we were the only ones able to see this.  Isolation can be a splendid thing.