Towards the border with Morocco

From Ain Ouarka to Taghit

We leave Ain Ouarka by retracing yesterday's road and admiring the sun stretching its rays over a particularly beautiful oued. Some palms emerge from the arid ground and offer a little green, while the background simultaneously presents a grey-stone scene and one tending towards ochre. It is a magnificent view that last night we did not fully enjoy because the sun had already set. Unfortunately we notice that the road taken is not the one leading to Ain Sefra, which was supposed to be visited today. Some rather childish excuses about the journey being longer and less easy are not convincing: one only needs to open Maps to see that the N6 state road passes just a couple of kilometres from the Moroccan border and is in fact discouraged, or at least that tourists are not welcome there in order to avoid unwelcome curiosity. The N6B reaches Taghit by skirting the border further south; given the context of cold war between the two states, it cannot be ruled out that the road was built relatively recently for this purpose. The reason is not so much the latent conflict with the neighbouring kingdom as the need to avoid interference in a sensitive area. After about an hour and a half on the road we stop in a village. The bar where we should have coffee does not seem particularly reliable in terms of hygiene, so we choose a cold drink. The first tank of the Land Rover is now empty; the second remains and will allow us to reach the destination. In this respect it should be noted that in some places service stations consist of mobile containers, replaced when empty. Along the roadside we will also see improvised fuel sellers offering petrol in jerrycans, filled from small tanks placed a few hundred metres from the asphalt strip. The desert immediately becomes master of the road again, sometimes even invading it as the wind moves the sand; on one occasion a grader is at work moving a small dune that has formed on the asphalt. Dromedaries are not lacking, wild herds grazing on the little the land offers, their coats blending with the colours of the landscape. Unfortunately at one point we see one lying by the roadside, probably killed by one of the few vehicles that pass there. The desert becomes entirely flat, without dunes or rocky roughness, a linear expanse as far as the eye can see. Low, sparse bushes provide a faint patch of green, trying in vain to break a monotony that in reality never truly is such. The road, needless to say, is a straight line inviting speed. About forty kilometres from today's destination we experience two punctures within a few minutes, promptly repaired by replacing the tyre, each vehicle carrying two spares. At 1:20 p.m. we reach Taghit, among classic desert dunes of the kind shown in travel-agency catalogues. The town would like to be a tourist centre and has the natural basis for it, but we continue to see only scattered groups of Algerians on holiday.

Taghit and the oasis

Lunch is eaten under a tent that barely protects us from the heat, sitting on the ground or on low cushions, not exactly an example of comfort for our no-longer-young limbs. Once again we taste the same dishes, but once again of good quality. A simple chicken, daily companion under our molars, is cooked with slightly different recipes and above all has unmatched tenderness. Although nothing makes the place resemble a restaurant, the attention to ensuring nothing is missing is commendable, as are the timing and the manager's friendliness. He shows us the garden in front, which he tends carefully, where orange trees, olive trees, lemon trees and other plants grow, healthy but struggling. Water is not lacking, yet the scorching summer sun probably prevents their full development. He has been creating this almost green space for six years and is proud of it; he also shows us the well, at the bottom of which, just one and a half metres down, is the water source. There are many around, for domestic use or irrigation: an electric pump is enough to raise it and the desert flowers.

It is enough to cross the road to find ourselves before a small lake edged with palms, this truly in the image and likeness of the oasis stereotype, where water rises spontaneously from underground. One could turn it into a paradise garden, but it is pleasant as it is. On our way back, the drivers help a group of four girls on holiday alone, a strange case, who have got stuck in the sand of the little road beside the so-called restaurant; without a four-wheel drive one must be very careful.

Sunset among the dunes of Taghit

We go to see a nearby group of petroglyphs, partly defaced by some vandal descended from the invaders of the fifth century. In the late afternoon we move among the dunes to do a little jeep-crossing on the sand and watch the sunset from a panoramic point. One of the off-road vehicles gets stuck in the sand, it happens to us too; while trying to pull it out, another suffers the same fate as the first regains freedom of movement. In the attempt to get free, the radiator of the second 4x4 comes off worst. We return in the bed of a pickup while the broken-down vehicle is towed behind. Once reunited at the hotel, the drivers find a suitable glue and repair the heat exchanger with methods as primitive as they are effective, so much so that tomorrow morning we will have no problem leaving as planned. The hotel in Taghit is beautiful and we will have all the spaces available, since we see no other guests, all enlivened by a well-organised outdoor dinner, and therefore under the stars.