Word Of Mouse

On arrival in Essaouira we took a taxi out to La Maison du Chameau, a guesthouse recommended by the Lonely Planet guide some 8km out of Essaouira down a rough dusty track. We stayed there three nights, captivated and entranced by the place. A more intense contrast with the dust and noise of Marrakech could not exist.

It feels very remote, surrounded by low hills of stony sand studded with olive and argan trees. It is run by a very friendly and primarily French-speaking couple. They have only four bedrooms, built in a traditional manner of mud and timber around a courtyard, and painted mainly in white. There is no mains electricity, so candlelight is a feature of the evenings, and outside the starry sky arches overhead in nightly splendour. All their water heating is done by wood fire. For much of the time we seemed to be the only guests. The meals were fantastic, truly something out of the ordinary. One of the things that struck me most forcefully was the nature of the silence of the desert surrounding and pervading the house - it seemed not just a negative thing, an absence of sound, but almost like a positive presence, something that could almost be heard in its own right and that resisted being broken. We found ourselves speaking in hushed whispers. There was no need for more.

The reason for going there was to ride camels: not just any old camel mind you, but white Sudanese racing camels. We had no intention of racing, of course. The day after we arrived, we were shown to our camels by Brahim, the camel handler, who first showed us how to steer left and right, and to stop. This was all done by pulling on a pair of ropes and looked reassuringly simple. We gingerly approached our camels and climbed into the saddle. It is very disconcerting when they first stand up with a great groan and a startling lurch forward onto their front knees, but once up we were fine and off we went. Ali's camel took the lead closely (sometimes very closely) followed by mine, with Brahim bringing up the rear. I was initially quite happy to see that my camel seemed to know the way and decided to let it choose the path itself as far as possible. This turned out to be a small mistake: camels, left to their own devices, will quite happily saunter along in a dream, passing beneath low hanging branches and through bushes with little thought for their riders. After a couple of close encounters with the local vegetation (mostly characterised by being very thorny) we realised we had to be more assertive...