M'Hamid...The end of Stage One

Five thousand kilometres later, after five countries, seven boot re-soles, and exactly one year to the day from when we left London – on the first of August, 2005, we walked into M’Hamid.

We have finished the first stage of our walk.

I am writing it; but I still can’t believe it. We’ve done it! WOOO HOOO!

In true walking fashion, it really wasn’t over until it was over; the three day stretch from Zagora was one

of the toughest we have done, through some of the most barren and lonely country in Morocco. This is, after all, where the Sahara begins.

For those of you not familiar with the history behind our walk, M’Hamid is where Habib Naamani runs his camel trekking business from (at the Hotel Sahara). He is the man we have been talking to over the last few years about the Trans-Sahara stage of the walk, and hence M’Hamid, which is where the road south stops, has been our
destination. Unfortunately (or not, if I am honest) Habib is in Zagora this week – which meant that minutes after arriving in M’Hamid, Gary and I jumped on a minibus and zoomed straight back up the road over the last 100km we had just laboured through, to comfortably ensconce ourselves in the sheer indolent luxury of a hotel room with a pool. Unbelievably wonderful after three days seriously hard walking. Habib is as incredibly hospitable as ever, and we are being escorted all over town and dined at the home of his wife’s family – although frankly at the moment we are so happy with ourselves that we are a bit oblivious to anything else.

The road out from Zagora winds around palmeraies, across a couple of quite impressive mountain
passes – impressive if you don’t have to walk over them – and down into the beginning of the sand dunes. There isn’t much around, on this road. Just hamada, sand, and the kilometre markers, going down terribly, achingly, slowly. One year of walking and I still wish they would hurry up.

We had the usual problems of heat and water shortages; this time those problems were a little exacerbated by the afternoon dust storms, which blow up daily from the desert. It is pretty tough walking through swirling sand driven by hard winds. I am still washing sand from places I didn’t know it could get to.

On the second day we had over forty kilometres to walk, and our water supplies were looking a little precarious. We saw a village over in the distance after about twenty kilometres, and rather fortuitously a young boy rode past us on his bicycle at about the same time. We waved our water bottles at him hopefully, and sure enough, he immediately dashed off on his bike and returned with full bottles of cold water, which we happily paid for. Even better, he told us there was a well in a further twelve kilometres, over the mountain pass.

By the time we crossed the pass in the heat of the day, that well was number one priority on both of our minds. There is nothing – and I really do mean nothing – better than suddenly coming across a seemingly endless supply of cool, fresh water, when you are down to your last mouthful and the heat is
right up. I think of all the things in my life that have ever seemed wonderfully luxurious and welcome - and I think none of them can possibly compare to how we both felt when we saw that well.

So, we walked, and camped, and rested in the minute shade of thorny trees on hot sand, and the kilometres kept going down – we have photos of nearly every marker from about sixty down, I think,
although I shan’t bore you – and all the while I kept wondering how I felt about getting to the end of this first stage.

But I couldn’t really work it out, because whilst we were actually walking, it simply wasn’t finished. Whilst our feet were melting on the hot tarmac, and we were worrying about water, and the packs were heavy on the shoulders and the wind was scratching our faces – it just wasn’t over. It wasn’t over when we got to just over one kilometre from town and had to go through the usual Moroccan bureaucracy of armed guards nosing through our passports, it wasn’t over when we walked through the gates into town and the local kids ran up begging for money, pens, and chocolates, and it wasn’t over when we had to spend an hour explaining who we were to the very bemused people at the Hotel Sahara. (Although it must immediately be added that once we were understood, they swung into action with overwhelming generosity and hospitality – and we were certainly not at our most coherent when we arrived.)

In fact, I think the first time that we realised that we had really done it was when we sat on the mini-bus and travelled back up the long, narrow, desert road toward Zagora, looking out the window at the shimmering heat and dust, and marvelling that we could actually have walked through such a harsh landscape. It is incredibly strange how a place which has such personality when you walk through it, can appear so dead and featureless from a car window; the well seemed so insignificant, the dried up wadis no more than a dip in the road, whereas when we walked the wadis were our shade stops, and the well a miracle. And the land itself seemed so inhospitable from the bus; it seemed inconceivable that anyone could ever just walk across it, the distances between towns taking forever.

But it wasn’t like that at the time. We just did it. And although it was the hardest thing I think either of us have ever done, we really did it; we made it. And now we are facing the Sahara, and months in the desert (after we have a little holiday, of course!) and even though we are tired, and need a break, both of us feel so excited to be at the edge of a new, amazing adventure – a whole new stage.

We are going to have a little rest in Zagora – “make a little fiesta!” – as Habib put it. Then we are both returning to the UK for a short time to re-equip and have full medical checks, and we plan to be back here in early September. But for now we are taking it easy, just sitting a lot and thinking about the fact that just over a year ago, we were in Trafalgar Square, hoping that we would make it as far as Dover.

Thanks to all of you who have followed the web-log this far, and thanks in particular to those who have taken the time, particularly during these last few truly hard weeks, to email us and send messages of support. It means more to us than I can say, and there has been more than one occasion when I have sat in internet cafes with tears pouring down my cheeks, grateful beyond belief for the kindness of friends and strangers who have written us a line or two encouraging us to carry on. Sometimes it is those little things that really have made the difference.

I will carry on updating the site whilst we organise the next stage – at this point we are planning to commence the desert crossing at the beginning of October, when the weather has cooled slightly.

And you know what the good news is?

For the next few thousand kilometres, it will be camels carrying those bloody packs – not us.

Man, that is going to be good.

I am off for a swim. And then I plan to just….sit.

Comments

[Lee LeFever]

Wow, I am so impressed. My wife and I will be trekking around the globe via all sorts of conveyances in 2006 and your story so far has inspired us to think about what is possible.

I loved reading about the desert road that changed when viewed from a vehicle- a beautiful insight. I'm excited to read more about your trip to the Sahara- best of luck!

[David]

Well done both of you, I´d find the freezing meseta walking much easier than the roasting Saharan type. I´ve been enjoying the log a lot so keep it up! Meanwhile Elsbeth and I will keep pedaling.....

[jodie]

Well done to you both. You must be very proud. I am, just knowing the both of you. Enjoy you rest.
I wont be back in the UK until the end of september now so i wont get to see you. That means i will just have to come and find you both with a couple of cold beers...
all the best
you are in my thoughts
love
Jodie M

[Lisa G]

Hi my darlings - was thinking of you on the 1st - what an enormous achievement, you 2 are so amazing. You both look fantastic, Dad mentioned you'd be in the UK for a bit, if we win tatts this week, I'll fly over & see you!!!! Love you both SO much - take care. Lisa, Wes, Kate & Emma.

[Donald Lovegrove]

Congratulations Paula and Gary, what a monumental achievement! I've followed your progress since France, and wonder what your supporters are going to do for the next 2 months. Poor us, life will seem so empty! I can't wait for you to resume your travels. Enjoy your rest, and good luck with your camel planning. Don, Victoria, BC, Canada.

[Lynne]

Congratulations, Paula and Gary! Enjoy your well-earned rest. I can't wait to follow along again across the Sahara!

[troy bowie]

Congratulations guys!

I have been following your progress as often as I can, Paula your diary entries have keep me very entertained.

Im looking foward to following the next stage.

Enjoy the rest, you both deserve it.

Thinking of you both
Troy

[joanne]

well done!
i hope your rest days are simply blissful.
bless you both.
paula you must now have buns of steel!
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