ATVing in Erg Chigaga

Location:
Morocco

Morocco, desert, ATV

By Lander Burr

The desert filled me with aching sadness. I was in Erg Chigaga, a region of giant dunes in Morocco's southern Sahara, near the Algerian border. The windswept, snaking sands reached heights of three hundred feet, changing color from purplish chocolate to red ochre as the sun rose. When night fell, the stars appeared so close that their shimmering seemed to reflect the desert´s own radiance. I attributed my melancholy to sojourning alone, to not being able to share my sense of awe. Soon however, my emotion would assume a different form.

On my second day, Abdoul, my guide, asked if I wanted to ride an ATV (all-terrain vehicle). While not part of my package deal, this would be a novel experience, and I agreed with both excitement and nervousness.

We drove to a small encampment of low mud-brick buildings, one of which had the incongruous sign "Hammam", or steam bath. The ATV owner greeted us, a rail-thin desert nomad with a wispy black goatee and big, skewed teeth. Abdoul negotiated the price while I drank tea, and soon they returned with two bright red ATVs.

My heart pounded as I was instructed how to operate the vehicle. I knew ATVs were dangerous and often flipped, and my mind was running. But before I could back out, the nomad took off, roaring across the dunes, and I instinctively squeezed the throttle to catch up.

We rode close to the dunes' spines before crossing over them, and I awkwardly counterbalanced, leaning away from gravity. The vehicle always felt close to tipping. Eventually, I felt comfortable enough to admire the graceful sweeping turns my guide made, calligraphy in the sand.

Ten minutes later I saw the crash perfectly. My guide looked back at me, and his ATV started to tilt. He fell off, sprawling prostrate on the slope, and a second later the ATV rolled onto him and continued flipping before landing right-side up at the dune´s base. The scene seemed lifted from a slapstick comedy, and I chuckled. But my guide remained still, and then suddenly he got up, holding his back in a contorted position and grimacing. He then collapsed again.

I carefully drove my ATV to where he lay. He was alert but in agony, and occasionally he wailed softly. I felt fearful and useless as I offered water and Tylenol from my emergency supply. He first accepted neither, since it was Ramadan, but eventually he did take two pills and a sip of water, praying beforehand. I wet my turban and placed it on his back. We had been communicating in halting Spanish given his lack of English and my nonexistent French, and I told him softly to rest: "Descansa."

He lay for ten more minutes in the ATV´s minuscule shade before mustering enough strength to remount the vehicle. We slowly drove to the camp, and I winced each time he bounced over the sand. Abdoul greeted us, chuckling as he learned of the fall. I took Abdoul aside, thinking he did not understand the gravity of the accident. I said the man needed medical attention and that we could drive him to the nearest town.

Abdoul did not respond, and when we entered the building, the gentle derision continued from Abdoul and the other men now inside. The nomad also laughed, gesturing how he had looked over his shoulder at me before falling. I didn't understand the language nor the nomad´s newfound bravado, although Abdoul once said "hammam". I now felt frustrated and exhausted, and my stomach hurt. I told Abdoul how much pain the guide had experienced, to which he replied, "If he had broken something, he would not walk". I once more told the nomad that we could take him to a doctor, but I realized that no one else shared my concern, not even the nomad himself. Finally, Abdoul said that if the man did not feel better after resting, we would take him into town, and we began to leave. The nomad gingerly walked us outside, and I put the rest of my Tylenol in his hand along with my tip. At this moment, these people filled me with sadness.

Further Information

Other helpful information: I would highly recommend visiting Erg Chigaga and not Erg Chebbi. Although I have not been to Erg Chebbi, I have heard and read that it is much more touristy and that visitors can expect to be hassled.

Must see/do at this place: Get to the highest dune you can to watch spectacular sunsets and sunrises.

You should avoid here: ATVing, as the article describes, is potentially very dangerous. I would urge great caution and common sense to those who try it.