The Remoteness of the Sahara Desert

By Erin Deborah Waks

The thing I wasn’t expecting to feel in the Sahara desert? Claustrophobic. It’s a massive space that expands for miles, yet I’ve never felt more trapped.

A lethal combination of mild heatstroke, dehydration, and 45 degree heat meant I was not feeling my best. Add in a camel ride which caused significantly worse chafing than I could’ve imagined, exhaustion from the motion sickness pills I took to survive the 2-day drive, and limited water intake to try to reduce my need for bathroom breaks, and you have a real recipe for disaster. You can imagine my delight when our youth hostel on the way home had a swimming pool…

Being in such a vaste, open space, miles from any big city or convenient public transport, hit me harder than I could’ve expected. I didn’t anticipate feeling so lost, trapped, and far from civilisation. I won’t sugar coat it, it has been some of my most stressful days since I’ve moved to Morocco.

But it’s also magical. The pictures speak for themselves. It’s crazy to be able to walk on the sand, stare up at the sky with no pollution or lights around, watch the sunrise over bright orange dunes. A real once in a lifetime opportunity that I don’t, for one second, regret.

I like to think of myself as easygoing as a traveller, but this experience has firmly cemented me within the category of pathetic English Rose, the princess who must be kept under the shade, air conditioning and with constant cold beverages on hand. It also showed me how much I rely on connection, to people and places, to feel sane. I’m not myself when I can’t easily get the small comforts, which for me (apparently) is the ease and convenience of a big city. Many people detest the business and chaos of cities like Casablanca and Marrakech, but for me they’re a slice of heaven. To know you are not far from a train station, a coffee shop, a pharmacy and, in some cases, a nail salon, is the most reassuring and peaceful thing for me.

Put me in the middle of nature, however magnificent it may be, and I’ll feel completely overwhelmed.

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48 Hours in the Sahara

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Remembrance of Things Past