Traverse 06 - Page 79

promised to be just what I was look- ing for. We would stay in permanent- ly erected ‘genuine’ Bedouin tents, eat typical Moroccan food and have a sing-song round the fire. It was unexpectedly serene and beautiful. We set off just before a mag- ical dusk, plodding through the Erg Chebbi dunes atop our camels. The only sound was the enchanting sing- ing of the Moroccan mother on the camel in front as she and the animal’s rhythmic gait lulled her baby to sleep. At dusk, amazingly clear stars ap- peared and this ‘just for a laugh’ over- night tour became something else for the five kilometre wander through the hills and vales of the dunes. At the Bedouin camp we ate freshly made lamb tagine, drank my wine and joined in the singing before settling down on our comfy bedding inside a big brown tent. Next morning, they sang “Happy Birthday” to me. I tried climbing to the top of what looked like a small dune but which seemed to get bigger the higher up I went. I didn’t reach the top before being called down to mount my steed and return Y\YH\HHۛH\[™[ۈ\\ܘ[HZXH[Z[XK]\H[[H\š\KHX[HوH\\\[]\YH ZX\[[܂Z\X[X]H[\ˈBUTBM