From Camp Chebbi to Skoura

The last sunset

 

Monday, March 16, 2026

 

We got up early and walked up the hill to watch a Saharan sunrise. Milica joined us, and, thinking it a good idea to stand on a chair set into the sand, took a tumble that actually hurt her. We didn't know she was hurt, and we weren't about to drop our mission to catch sunrise on time lapse. I mean, priorities! She's fine, but I do feel bad.

 We were not alone, seeking sunrise:

 

 

 

Given a choice, I would spend another day in the desert. It was hard to say goodbye after just one beautiful, intense night. The worker/drummers felt like our friends. The camels felt like our friends. Pretty sure we'd be fast forgotten by the guys who'd be welcoming another bunch later today, and the camels ... well.

 

Good bye to Camp Chebbi and the comfort of our "tent"

Goodbye to one of our new best friends

Our 4x4 drivers whipped us back across the desert from Camp Chebbi to Riad Chebbi, where we and our bags were transferred back to our deluxe van. It would be another very long (6-7 hours) day of driving. The long distances are one very big downside to this tour, but I can’t really suggest a better way of doing it. We are moving from one place-worth-spending-time to the next place-worth-spending-time, and there’s not much in between in this rather large country. I’m just glad it’s not me doing the driving. Amal is tireless.

We were backtracking now, past the reed barriers, past the date cooperative, where owners or workers rushed out to chat with Mariam. Mariam, known and loved throughout Morocco. It didn't seem to be a problem to stop the van in the middle of traffic. People waited patiently for the conversation to be done. 

 

I think I previously posted an image of these structures, but this is clearer: reed barriers, keeping sand from blowing across the road

The Alansari Date Cooperative, which is apparently a popular stop on the tourist trail.

We made a roadside stop to learn more about the 12th century irrigation system, the Khettaras, that serves, or did serve, the desert with sweet water from the Atlas Mountains. We descended into the original underground aqueduct where apparently a scene from The Mummy was filmed. Now I have to watch that movie when I get home, I guess. 

Mariam explains the system

Setting for a scene from "The Mummy" 

Basket for hauling up water

At the top of the shaft

Access shafts across the desert as far as the eye can see

We made a coffee/pee/shopping stop at the Touroug Café. Pretty spot. I bought bookmarks for grandchildren. I got change in Euros. What does that say?

A good spot for a bathroom break

 

We stopped for lunch in the town of Tinghir, at a restaurant set up for tour buses, of which several were there. I imagine there are few tourist-appropriate places, meaning with European-acceptable food and clean toilets, actual toilets, this far out in the sticks. Our meal was ready for us, thanks again to Mariam, an egg tagine, my favourite, served to us in a leafy patio.

Tinghir and its oasis. In the mid-foreground, you can see a concrete block house being built, replacing traditional construction after the devastating earthquake of 2023.

Nearby, we took a short walk in Todra Gorge, a popular climbing destination. The trinket/scarf/kaftan sellers were out en mass. One of them taught me how to say “no thank you” in the Amazigh (Berber) language, after I’d said it in Arabic. (It’s about the only Arabic I know, by the way). We saw young Europeans trudging out with their ropes, ready to conquer the cliffs. 

Climbers ready to tackle the cliffs

Cliffs, donkeys, souvenir shop

Further along our way, we stopped at the Aromes du Sud Cooperative in M’Gouna, an area known for rose oil from the Damask roses that originated here. We were feverish for shopping, and some of us bought plenty of oils, perfumes, lotions, and serums. I learned that oil distilled from fresh roses smells different from that distilled from dried.

Still and dried rose petals. April is harvest time. 

Eventually, we arrived at Skoura, where we’d be spending two nights. To get to the Ecolodge that would host us, we wound through the narrowest and winding-est of dirt roads, past women doing their wash, children riding bikes, men with donkey carts. Even Amal was asking, “Where are you taking me?” as she manoeuvred brilliantly, impossibly. I believe we navigated by arrows pointed on the walls at intersections. I don’t know what would have happened had we met a car coming the other way. 

Sawadi Ecolodge is astounding, there in the middle of a warren of red mud houses. Through the gate, there's a tropical bit of paradise. A pool reflecting palm trees, surrounded by patios for lounging. This is a working farm, with fruit trees, garden fields, and animals. We were greeted with the obligatory round of tea, and shown to our rooms, spread out through the compound. 

Welcome to Sawadi Ecolodge

Waiting on the patio for our welcome tea

 

The door to our abode, one-way glass. There is a wooden outer door as well, which we could latch.

Before dinner, we met up in one of several lounges, cozy by an open fire. We could have ordered drinks, had we wanted them. Dinner was another tagine. Still not sick of them.

Waiting for dinner in a cozy lounge.

Bettyanne and I settled into our rustic room — well, not so rustic, but simple -- comfortably heated and well equipped.

 

Plenty of room to spread out. That door leads to Vicki's room, which was comforting to her. 

 

 

Pretty sink, typical of where we stayed throughout. 

 Settling in for the night, we were looking forward to cycling through the oasis in the morning.