Exploring the Algerian Sahara
Who thought deserts were just sand dunes?
Five days and five different landscapes, our trip around the Tassil-N’Ajjer National Park north of Djanet, in the very south of Algeria, was a lot more than just sand dunes.
Dunes on the left stretching over 100km, dark grey rocky mountains to the right and a beautifully smooth, empty streak of black tarmac down the middle.
Off road and the sand turned to a grey pebbly blanket, crunching under the tyres, faint bare sand tracks leading the way across the barren expanse towards an outcrop of dark mountains at the foot of which were three tiny round thatched huts. As we drew closer, we could see the small piles of rocks marking the car park for the rock art at Tin-Taghirt.
Over 14,000 years old, the art stretched out across the smooth sandstone rocks, stunning with the late afternoon sun at just the right angle to illuminate the carvings. Etched into the sandstone when it was still soft, outlines made deep and smooth like running your finger through wet sand. Cows, rhino, a running ostrich, giraffe reaching up to pluck leaves from a sandstone tree, more cows, gazelle and Tuareg words scribed into the surface ‘I was passing through’.
We camped nearby, a 270 degree view over flat sand, mountains behind us and the odd camel wandering in the distance as the sun dropped quickly and the stars came out. A very big sky.
Another day, another landscape. Deep canyons gauged by the constant thundering of water many years ago, the lines of water levels clear on the sides. At the bottom, the wide flood-plain was green with date palms, bright and lush against the grey rocks. The waters ran between rocks, worked smooth and pale, the hot sun filtering through the palms and high grasses, small pink blossoms wafting in the breeze. The water was lovely and cool.
Heading out of the gorge the scenery changed again, large rock formations emerging from the flat sandy plains and sculptured by the winds into towers and arches 20 metres high. The pale, smooth walls beneath a large overhang were covered in red and black paintings over 8000 years old. Some simple, crude daubs, child-like depictions of camels, others very artistic. More cows and giraffe, people, chariots with reined horses, figures with bows and arrows. Layer upon layer of paintings added to over centuries.
Our second camp was in a fabulous position up a sandy hill and surrounded by wind hewn grey rocks that morphed into shapes in the dusk. A man with a pointy beard and ruff, a giant monkey face, a huge chocolate swiss roll, sliced smooth by a giant knife. Beautiful.
We were less enamored with the wolf that visited in the night. We hadn’t heard it, but woke to find paw prints all around the tent. Good job I hadn’t needed the toilet during the night!
Sand dunes, that’s what you expect in a desert. And these were pretty big and just had to be climbed. They looked quite solid at the bottom but looks were deceiving as each step dislodged more sand into my boots and one step forward was half a step slipped back down. But we made it to the top in time for sunset, which happens very quickly here, the golden warm sands growing cool and dark beneath us, the car a tiny white speck below. Getting back down was so much easier.
We had semolina bread baked the traditional way in the fire-heated sand. Buried beneath with hot ashes on top, it came out crusty and black and had to be washed before eating. Delicious, soft and dense inside, very tasty. It was broken up and made into a stew with carrots and lamb.
Lower undulating dunes with dark stone monoliths erupting from the sand replaced the huge sandy dunes of the camp. Giant walls with horizontal bands like bricks and full of caves and hollows. Shadowed, cool overhangs hid painted rock art of dancers with arms aloft and warriors ready to throw spears.
Everywhere the rocks formed shapes. A battleship emerged from a sandy sea; an elephant’s trunk formed by a narrow arch of rock hollowed out from its body through which a huge golden sand dune rose. An isolated giant mushroom, or was it a face with jagged stone teeth or an hour-glass? A six metre high chicken in wellies, like something from Wallace and Gromit.
We crested a sand dune to see a wide valley below, the sides edged with dark rock that looked like a set of giant teeth. The afternoon light turned the sand more golden and the heat haze cast a soft sheen to the rocks looking like giant reptiles stranded in the sea of sand. It was a view that just couldn’t be rushed.
Our last camp on a high sandy plateau had 360 degree views from the top of a small rocky escarpment that provided sheltered bays for our tents. Wonderfully peaceful. No sound, no wind and lovely and warm. Our tyre tracks the only ones marking the smooth golden dunes.
We headed back to Djanet on the final morning, down past large pale dunes, sliding through the sand towards the plateau below, the slopes beneath the rocks like mounds of caramel ice-cream covered with chocolate sprinkles where the rocks had broken and collapsed.
Nearing Djanet, the landscape became flatter with scrubby trees, only occasional high rocks, one of which contained the famous rock art of the crying cows. Six cows with large horns and tears dripping from their eyes. A beautifully carved, moving depiction of the dangers and impact of drought.
After that it was back to Djanet, people and reality. My hair looked like a fright-wig and there was sand everywhere but it was definitely worth it for the landscapes and the peace.
Thanks to Fancy Yellow and especially Tayeb, Brahim and Akmed for a fabulous trip.
Helen (19th April 2024)
This is so beautifully described!!
Thank you Zoe – it’s a truly amazing place