Road to the Sahara

The High Atlas Mountains, Morocco.

Public transport in Morocco is by and large reasonably-priced, but it can be a challenge to get from one city to another. Although there is a train service in between Fes and Marrakech, there are towns farther out that are considerably harder to reach. The two main bus companies are CTM buses and Supratours, and journeys can be as long as 12 or 13 hours.

On the east edge of Morocco, near the border with Algeria, the Sahara desert begins. Of all the towns and villages on the edge of the Sahara, Merzouga is perhaps the best known - it's the closest to Morocco's biggest sand dune, Erg Chebbi. From Merzouga, there are several tour companies that take you to spend nights in the desert.

Merzouga and Marrakech are 12 hours apart.

I hate bus rides. I avoid travelling by bus at all costs - I don't mind them if they're under 4 hours long or if it's a mini-bus, but other than that I'd rather pay more for a train or plane than spend that amount of time cramped up on an uncomfortable vehicle with barely any leg room.

As you might imagine, I was not at all looking forward to spending 12 hours on this bus. But I really, really wanted to go to the Sahara desert, so I decided to suck it up and get on a bus. I was used to being able to buy tickets on the bus, so I didn't think it would be a problem to just appear at the station with my bags and enough money for the bus.

Turns out I was wrong.

I arrived at the Supratours station at 7.45AM, taking care to be extra-early. I don't think anything could have prepared me for the panic I felt when the people at the bus station told me that the one and only bus from Marrakech to Merzouga that day had been fully booked.

"Okay, breathe, think. You're in Morocco, north of bloody Africa, your French isn't all that brilliant, and the bus you need to take today is full. Fuck."

I suppose the desperation must have showed, because after practically begging them to tell me how else I could get to Merzouga, the people at the counter (albeit somewhat reluctantly) pointed me to another bus station about ten minutes down the road at Dob Doukhal. As soon as the shutters opened I was at the counter - and honestly, I could have danced for joy when I found that this bus had an available seat.

So I waited for the bus to arrive at the station. Imagine my surprise when I realised that the bus I was going to be on was the exact same bus that had departed from the previous station. The same bus that they had told me was fully booked and that I could not get a seat on. What?!

I was pretty frustrated at this point - it didn't make any sense to me that one station would have seats sold out and the next would have seats available, when both were to be on the same bus. It felt like the first station was pushing people away, for whatever reason who knows, but it was completely bizarre and felt rude. In the end I thought 'Whatever,' and because I was still pretty tired, decided to just go to sleep and not think about the utter weirdness of the whole situation.

About three hours into the journey, I woke up and saw this outside the window:

The bus was driving through the High Atlas mountains in Morocco, and although the mountains weren't on my itinerary for this trip, I was so glad that I at least got a chance to see them even if only from the window of a bus. The lush green contrasting with the rest of the Moroccan desert, driving by waterfalls and rivers.

About a quarter of the way through the journey, we did a comfort stop. Everyone got out to stretch their legs and grab a quick lunch. I decided to grab some orange juice.

Orange juice was probably one of my favourite things about Morocco. It's remarkable, really - it's such a simple thing, but in Morocco it is just unbelievably fresh. It is literally freshly squeezed orange juice - in some places, you can see the oranges being cut up and pressed right in front of you.

These were literally the most delicious oranges I've ever tasted in my life.

This is the freshest orange juice you will ever taste.

And then in to the bus it was for another eight hours. We drove through Ouarzazate, which has become known as a filming location - Gladiator was filmed here, and it was also used for scenes in Qarth for Game of Thrones.

We drove through lots of little towns and villages, picking up and dropping off passengers along the way. I tried my darndest to go to sleep and hope that by the time I woke up I would already be in Merzouga. It turns out that sleeping for eight hours on a bus isn't the easiest thing in the world.

Still though, I made it to Merzouga in the end. As I got off the bus, I was immediately accosted by people who were trying to 'help' me find my hotel for the night (protip: they always expect a generous tip at the end, so always firmly decline!) Thankfully I had a pick up waiting for me, so I managed to escape that pretty quickly.

The hotel that I was staying at for the night was called Auberge Le Petit Prince (such a cute name!) and although basic, I was impressed at how thoughtful it all seemed - clean white bedding and mud walls that made the room look almost rustic chic. There were even insect nets over the windows to prevent bugs from coming into the room when the windows were open!

First night at Auberge Le Petit Prince, Merzouga.

In the morning, I checked out some of the village of Merzouga. It turns out there isn't very much of it at all - Merzouga is tiny, literally so small that you probably wouldn't even need a bike to get around. Walking is enough to go pretty much everywhere!

Each family even has their own little plot of land to grow plants in a communal garden. There's a very basic watering system for the plants - one central drain, and each plot gets watered three hours a week by having the drain water diverted to it. For a desert, I was impressed by how much green there was - and on the edge of the Sahara, too!