In the heart of Covid-19 lockdown, everyone was looking for a way to shatter the crippling isolation and return to something resembling normal, real life. It was a time when one was forced to reevaluate things and find pleasure in small, humble, everyday activities such as driving 1,400km (870 miles) through the empty wastelands of the Sahara desert. When the streets were empty anyway, it seemed like the logical place to go.

It is always with a sense of excitement and apprehension that one takes the road south from Marrakech – the majority of Morocco’s urban centers lie to the north, with the vibrant, modern cities of Casablanca, Rabat, and Tangier, lining the coast of Africa’s top-left corner. South means the Atlas Mountains and the desert. It means slipping back, mile by mile, into the past. If Marrakech itself has a dreamlike quality, to travel south from the city is to voyage into the unreal.

Part V: Dakhla

Dakhla is a strange and paradoxical place. At the same time a Mecca for kite surfers and oyster-lovers and a forgotten outcrop in the middle of nowhere, here one is just as likely to encounter a sparkling, five-star resort as a crumbling, abandoned lighthouse. The peninsula is branded as the proverbial oasis that weary and enchanted wanderers stumble upon in the desert, a vibrant paradise amid a sea of nothing. In truth however, Dakhla is almost as dry and featureless as the surrounding desert.

The shape of the Dakhla peninsula makes it the only place on Morocco’s territory where one can watch the sun rise over the sea. This view has a certain jarring quality – Morocco in Arabic (Al Maghreb) means sunset as, due to its western location, it is the place where the sun sets on the Arab world. The new US consulate fits in neatly with Dakhla’s disjointed weirdness. Following Washington’s recognition of Moroccan sovereignty over the territory the UN calls Western Sahara, the Trump administration snubbed the traditional capital of Laayoune for the consulate’s location in favor of Dakhla, despite there being zero US citizens among the town’s official residents. The sense of lifelessness that dominated the atmosphere during our stay was no doubt accentuated by the Covid-19 pandemic, with its devastating effect on the tourist industry. Our less than authentic visit to a berber village, for instance, was typical of the week’s activities in its having been transparently cobbled together at the last minute. 

On the other hand, Dakhla really is a safe haven of sorts. Unlike the town’s surroundings, here at least there are people and things to do. The seafood in the famed oyster-market is spectacular and special mention should also go to the unassuming “French Burgers” restaurant, which, like Dakhla, stands out like an oasis amid an otherwise barren and overpriced culinary landscape.

Dakhla’s visitors are treated to a smorgasbord of bizarre activities, of which surfing while strapped to a kite is about the least peculiar. One of the highlights is an idyllic day-trip on a catamaran to visit L’île du Dragon. As its name suggests, this island in the bay at the north of the peninsula resembles a dragon either sleeping or lying in wait in the shallows. Scaling the dragon’s ridged back and slumbering head reveals magnificent views of the peninsula, the mainland, and the swirling currents of the strait between. The sense of isolation that Dakhla exudes is nowhere more palpable than from this vantage point.

Dragon island boasts a significant flamingo population which, despite their majesty, smell particularly foul close at hand. To their credit though, they tend to take off before one gets close enough for the nostrils to suffer the full effect. 

Dakhla’s main attraction is the Dune Blanche. Like Dragon Island, this place makes up for in beauty what its name lacks in inventiveness. This vast, crescent-shaped, ivory sandbank that seems to glint like ocean, embodies the peaceful nothingness of Dakhla. As we stood atop the dune, a solitary figure in a crimson djellaba (a traditional North African robe) meandered peacefully down its slopes against the desolate backdrop. As so often in North Africa, the idyllic and subtle contrast of the image seemed almost unbelievable, as if it had been choreographed for our eyes only.

• A solitary, robed figure makes his way down the face of the White Dune, Dakhla

On our way back from the White Dune, we stopped amid the endless sand to visit the Hasna Source, which was by all accounts a relaxing and exfoliating natural hot-spring experience. What we got was being blasted with a hose. The exceptionally powerful jet of water is tapped directly from the natural spring beneath and the smell of sulfur lingered around our admittedly softened skin for hours afterwards. Indeed, the force of the water has the effect of massaging one’s muscles, leaving them feeling as supple as after a traditional spa visit. (Unlike a traditional spa experience, men are advised to protect their sensitive body parts due to the ferocity of the spray).

• The Hasna Source – One of the strangest tourist attractions on Earth

Something about the intensity and novelty of the experience had us roaring with laughter and the memory stands out clearly from the otherwise dream-like blur that was our fortnight in the Sahara. It seemed to encapsulate perfectly the unexpected, disorientating nature of this peculiar, all but empty corner of the world.