The spirit of the great journey

Your last trek across the edges of a Moroccan erg left you with the feeling you'd merely skimmed the surface of the great desert? In a 4X4 you found yourself wondering what lay "between" the sites? You long to travel further, to taste the vast expanses, the silence, the life of a caravan? Follow the guide to unlock the secrets of the great journey. How does one travel the Sahara in the 21st century? Rather quickly and within well-defined areas. And given the number of visitors and the Sahara's dimensions, travel there remains remarkably sparse. Let's start from the beginning and try this test: Spread out on a (large) table those classic red-covered Michelin maps (nos. 741 and 745). The scale reads: 1/4,000,000—one centimeter for forty kilometers. Vertigo should grip you: the Sahara stretches 6,000 kilometers long and 2,000 wide, with few roads, minimal population, dozens of mountain ranges. And on these maps, what becomes of travel zones? Tiny dots, separated by enormous expanses you've likely never heard of. The Sahara, broadly speaking, remains vastly unexplored. Most of these unknown (or barely known) zones are actually accessible. All that's needed is a bit of audacity, the right conditions, and substantial logistical coordination to reach them.

A competitive sport?

The Sahara is not a place for competition. Here, no passes to conquer, no particular athletic feats required. You simply need to know how to walk—sometimes for long stretches, but always at your own pace. No athleticism, then, but rather asceticism: traversing 500 or 600 kilometers of desert is a school of simplicity. Days fall into ritual patterns; organization follows the unchanging ways of the Saharan nomad. Forget tourism and embrace nomadism. Look this desert straight in the eye, understand the fragility of life, tourism's impact, the reality of migrants and smugglers, species extinction, population shifts, natural phenomena—both the eternal and the ephemeral.

Behind the scenes of organization

Everything begins with feasibility. You must know precisely what conditions exist on the ground. Geography changes little (maps still date from the French colonial era), but conditions constantly evolve: the state of wells and pastures, the tracks used by smugglers, tensions between ethnic groups—these are some of the variables you must anticipate. Conditions shift, and when they align favorably, you can finally realize a journey that's been in the works for years. Conditions are right? Now you simply trace a bold line across a map. A line that virtually resurrects an ancient caravan route or charts a never-before-attempted connection. The idea is launched.

Which vehicle?

Toyota or camel? The difference is fundamental. The Japanese 4X4 has proven itself; it goes (almost) everywhere... but it sorely lacks charm. The dromedary—called a "camel" in the Sahara—is slow, sometimes temperamental, and dependent on pastures. But it is the foundation of that magnificent Saharan vessel known as a "caravan," which has crossed deserts for 2,000 years. Therein lies the distinction: you don't make a grand traverse with camels alone; you make it in caravan—a complex and cohesive organism in which camels, camel drivers, guides, and travelers are bound together. Camel trekking is the art of traveling by camel. In practice, the traveler alternates walking and riding. Each person has their own camel, learns to saddle and unsaddle it... your connection with the animal and with the daily gestures of nomadic life are all part of the journey. Let's dispel some myths: in the saddle, no seasickness. Relative comfort, an admittedly impressive situation the first few days, but quickly becomes pleasant. Once accustomed to your camel, the vantage point you enjoy in the saddle offers enormous advantages: you rest, you contemplate without watching your feet, you cover long stages. And if fatigue, wind, or heat sets in, the caravan continues at its slow but inexorable pace.

Tourism and nomadism

What has become of nomadism in the Sahara as of 2018? While some nomadic populations still perpetuate a pastoral lifestyle, nomadic movement now concerns only livestock migrations. The great caravans—those that once traded gold, salt, dates, and millet—have vanished. Independence created borders, trucks killed local commerce, rice replaced millet. And so the caravan culture, knowledge of the routes, and the expertise of guides is evaporating. Young generations turn toward cities, use mobile phones, and drive Toyotas. In this context, large-scale camel-trekking expeditions preserve knowledge of the routes, provide work for experienced camel drivers, and most importantly, allow nomads to be paid for the labor of their camels (as an example, on the Tamanrasset to Djanet trek, 60% of the journey's cost—excluding flights—flows back locally into the Hoggar region). A camel trek mobilizes thirty to thirty-five camels. They are rented from nomads for the outbound and return journeys (empty on return). The Toyota typically belongs to an agency. Today, major camel treks are one of the principal means of preserving nomadic culture across the Sahara.

The spices of travel

Two rare spices of travel still exist in the Sahara: First, the unknown. Here, few certainties, but countless perspectives. We give ourselves the illusion of technical control: maps, GPS, and satellite phones are precious tools but not absolute. The GPS pinpoints a well, but what does it know of water quality? The human element remains fundamental: the guide's experience and judgment, travelers' adaptability and good humor are key to success. Second spice: freedom. On a great crossing, no marked path but a network of possible tracks, no barriers, only distances and mandatory waypoints. The exhilarating sensation of self-sufficiency across hundreds of kilometers, answerable to no one. A freedom that comes with a price, however: meticulous planning and effective support should problems arise.

Preparing for the great journey

Let us repeat: a major crossing is not an athletic test and cannot be compared to a high-altitude trek. The efforts required are rarely intense. Everything comes down to endurance. And at this game, one must acknowledge that older travelers often have more stamina than younger ones: it's all in the mind.

Physical preparation

The primary condition for undertaking a long journey is to be in good health. Plainly put: don't leave with a sprain or if you're convalescing. Have a cardiac exam if you're over fifty, and visit your dentist for a checkup. The Sahara is healthy and relatively safe, but rescue and medical facilities are nonexistent. In case of accident, your guide triggers a rescue operation with available means—namely, a 4X4. The few hospitals that exist are empty shells.

Psychological preparation

Prepare yourself for a great human adventure, individual and collective. Isolation is a source of satisfaction that you seek in this type of journey. Accept it and make the most of it. Communal living is equally unavoidable: once departed, your entire group will live in isolation for weeks. Learn to avoid creating a toxic atmosphere and to manage the potential weaknesses of others, because no matter what happens, the whole caravan is condemned to live together. Essential gear (and what to forget) The longer the journey, the lighter the Saharan traveler's pack. Airport weigh-ins often reveal luggage of 9 to 12 kilograms for three-week expeditions. But how do they do it? These Saharans have learned to do without the cumbersome, systematically eliminating the "just in case." Here's a detailed breakdown:

clothing:

• one or two pairs of trousers

• an ample shirt

• a pair of good sandals

• a cap for windy evenings

• a light wool layer that can double as a saddle pad

• a windproof fleece jacket

• a long tagelmust (head wrap)

equipment:

• a soft, robust bag

• a sleeping bag

• a lamp and batteries

• a small toiletry kit with soap

• a small day pack and water bottles

• water purification tablets

• basic reporter's kit (camera, notebook...)

• batteries for devices (optional)

• good books

Everything else falls into the category of "just in case" items that might be useful but will certainly burden you. For further guidance, revisit Théodore Monod's advice in "Méharées."

The great travelers who came before us

Aridity is barely more than five thousand years old. Yet it long cut off the roads between peoples. What was missing was the Sahara's engine: the camel. Arriving some 2,000 years ago, accompanied by the date palm, it enabled humans to travel long distances and transport goods: the era of great caravan trade was born. Everything moved by camel: salt, millet, dates, gold, weapons, slaves... Europe and the Middle East sourced African gold through massive caravans until the "discovery" of the Americas. The fastest journeys were pillaging raids: rezzou and counter-rezzou. In the 19th century, a new traveler appeared: the European. For motivations ranging from noble to questionable—military expeditions, geographic surveys, espionage, commerce—they set out, not to uncover the great desert's secrets, but to reach Timbuktu and Lake Chad. Whether in large parties or alone, this became the era of hardy and courageous "explorers." They used the great caravan routes. Some managed to return home where they received medals. Since 1930, colonial troops have dominated the desert; audacious military reconnaissance refined geographic knowledge. With peace came scientists. One in particular would maintain an intimate relationship with the Sahara: Théodore Monod, who devoted nearly eighty years of his life to crossing and studying it with great acuity. Since independence, the caravan routes have been cut off. Grand nomadic journeys have become rare for economic and political reasons. We had to wait until the late 1960s for a high-altitude guide to (re)discover the Sahara and caravans: Jean-Louis Bernezat founded "Hommes et Montagnes," and Saharan tourism was born.