The Draa Valley is a ribbon of green, in many places no more than 25 meters wide, that meanders through the desert, with the Anti Atlas Mountains on one side and the Sahara on the other. But for the palm trees, small farms and the trickle of water, it is a dry, dusty and desolate place, though beautiful in its austerity and solitude. Berber farmers in long robes tend their gardens with hand tools, and donkeys and mopeds carry the heavy burdens along the dusty road. It feels far removed from our fast-paced life of under appreciated abundance back home. It’s a reminder, also, of the strong connection we all have to our places on earth. Why wouldn’t these people move to a place that might offer an easier life? I suppose because it is home.

Our bikes and bodies are holding up well, but we realize that to see everything we hope to, we need a little assist. So it is that Ibrahim, our man in Zagora, finds us a “Lodgy” taxi willing to make a one-way run to Tissint. We pile the Bike Fridays on top, say adieu to Ibrahim (who sends us on our way with a two kilo brick of dates) and zip down the road. In dusty little Tissint, after a couple of espressos and a deliciously spicy Berber omelette, we hit the road. Accompanied by herds of camels grazing in the wide open spaces, we make our way to Tata, where after much confusion and hand-waving inquiry we eventually find the Hotel Tata, whose sign says Hotel Relais de Sable but is known by locals as Hotel Holiday.