Attack of the "Barbary Ips"

Trip Start Nov 01, 2006
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Trip End Nov 21, 2006


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Flag of Morocco  ,
Thursday, November 9, 2006

After the Imperial Cities we headed off on a daylong drive to the Sahara Desert in the south. We spent a lot of time on our trusty van that ferried us around Morocco. We have a practiced knack of falling asleep once we are in motion in any vehicle. Since we were on the road a lot, we got an inordinate amount of sleep during this trip. Our traveling companions marveled at our bizarre ability to fall into unconsciousness the moment the van started. Our long bouts of unconsciousness were broken up by the occasional stops at road side cafes to get some liquid refreshment and tinkle. Probably due to the French influence, the Moroccans are enamored with the café culture. There are cafés everywhere and they all serve the traditional standbys: café au lait; mint tea and orange juice. Mint tea is the Moroccan signature drink. Mel got a taste for it; Paul thought it tasted like liquid toothpaste.

Hamid, our guide, taught himself excellent English Barbary Ape
Barbary Ape
 . However, his pronunciation was suspect at times. As a special break during this particularly long trip, Hamid promised that we would get a chance to see the famous "Barbary Ips". Mel had studied the itinerary so knew what to expect. Paul had not been so studious and in between his bouts of unconsciousness began to get excited about seeing midget pirates. Somewhere in the Middle Atlas, the driver pulled to the side of the road and Hamid announced that he had spotted a group of Barbary Ips. Paul sleepily prepared to take on the little rogue ankle bitters. Upon disembarking from the bus we encountered a large group of Barbary Apes. The disappointment was palpable-there wasn't an eye patch in sight.

Hamid's hometown was along the route to the desert so he thoughtfully made a pit stop to pick up some delicious handmade Moroccan sweets prepared for us by his mother and sister. At one of our numerous café stops that day, we enjoyed the delectable treats with our mint teas and café au laits.

Our final destination that day was Merzouga, a tiny scruffy village that sits right on the edge of the great sand sea. It was dark by the time we hit a traffic standstill about an hour outside of Merzouga. We sat in the darkness thinking that we had been unfortunate enough to hit desert rush hour. Hamid spoke in hushed Arabic with the other drivers who were beginning to gather around their stopped vehicles. We eventually found out that the road ahead had been flooded by a massive rainstorm that hit the area the day before. The one metre of standing water made the route impassable. The alternative was to turn back to the nearest town, Erfoud, to rent Land Rovers and go off roading to reach Merzouga-an unexpected treat. We piled into a couple of rough looking 4 by 4s with our backpacks tied to the roof and rattled off into the darkness. A few brain shaking hours later, we arrived at our basic auberge (i.e. camp) built in the shadow of the dunes.
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