The Sahara is Full of Sand

There is a grand distinction between the desert and the Saharan desert. We began to descend from the mountain range that we had been driving through for several days. The mountain range would be considered desert by any standard, hot and arid. As we began to drive further the landscape began to change dramatically. It became less rocky and seemingly hospitable in every way possible. Great mounds of earth were seen on the sides of the road, almost as far as eye to could see in great rows. We asked what they were and we were told they were wells. Each well was about 60 feet deep and each row of wells was owned by a different family in the desert. The number of wells in a row was innumerable; water seemed to be the most valuable commodity there.

Great mountains began to appear over the barren landscape, upon closer proximity we realized we were upon the great sand dunes of the Sahara. They loomed over the black rocky soil, glowing a magnificent golden color against the crisp blue sky.

Leaving the main road and head toward what seemed to be an oasis on the boarder of the dunes. The car parked next to an unmarked building, we were told to bring plenty of water and only what we could carry on our backs and to head around back of the building. In the back were rows of disheveled and sickly looking camels waiting to be lead again into the Sahara for the sake of tourism. We hopped on the camels and made off into the desert; lead by a small Berber tribesman.

We watched the sun set over the dunes on the way to our camp. After arriving in the Taureg camp we were fed a traditional dinner of couscous and chicken tajine. The Berber men went about the camp uttering the few words they knew in foreign languages to us, they seemed to especially relish the Italian words and impressively, these little men knew much more Japanese than you might expect from a nomadic desert dweller.

The tribesmen went on to bang drums and sing traditional songs well into the night, while the stars lighted the dunes as eerie ghostlike mountains. Old woolen blankets were our beds that night as we went to sleep in the open expanse of desert, covered in a blanket of stars.

Awoken before dawn we packed up our camp and mounted the tired, grumpy camels again. The sun rose over the Sahara that morning majestically as it does every morning there. However, this time we savored it as if it had made a special appearance just for us. That morning the grandeur of the Sahara was ours.