Tempting Sports in the Middle of the Desert
The odometer ticked past mile two‑hundred when the first rust‑red mesas rose against the cobalt sky. From Fez to Merzouga is a long, cinematic haul—hours of asphalt, Atlas switchbacks, and sudden quiet. Yet with every curve, Morocco revealed another temptation: climbing crags, trout‑filled lakes, and eventually the Sahara’s ocean of dunes.
From Courts to Cliffs: A Journey of Layers
We left Fez before dawn, racquets stowed and playlists humming. By mid‑morning we were in Midelt, a high‑altitude market town where apple orchards meet snow‑dusted peaks. Over steaming tagines we stretched road‑tight limbs and gazed toward the Eastern High Atlas. Lamyaa, our resident yoga sage, promised a sunrise class once we reached the sand. We believed her.
Back on the road, the landscape folded into Ziz Gorge—limestone walls streaked copper and rose. Some hiked a portion of trail from Amsed to Tadighoust, others opted for a short mule ride, ears flicking at canyon swifts. Mo joked, “Next Tennis Destination event: serves between the cliffs.” No one doubted him.
Internal Link: See how our Morocco Desert Itinerary balances sport, culture, and soul.
Arrival at Erg Chebbi: Sand Meets Starlight
Mint tea awaited at camp—a fragrant welcome poured high so the sugar frothed. We dropped duffels into luxury tents, took a thirty‑minute breather, then mounted camels for a sunset trek. Mo, ever on brand, carried a Tennis Destination racquet for photos. The dunes ignited in saffron and ruby; silence tasted electric. Even seasoned travelers gasped.
Dinner was a sprawling buffet—couscous, grilled lamb, and the famous Rissani meat pizza. When the bonfire lit, Gnawa musicians drummed hypnotic rhythms. Bendirs, krakebs, flutes—then a surprise cover of Shakira that had the whole camp laughing under Orion.
External Link: Learn about the heritage rhythms of Gnawa Music.
Dawn, Dunes, and Downward‑Dog
At first light we ascended a ridge of Erg Chebbi. One dune seemed to outdo the next in grace. Lamyaa unrolled mats on the cool sand. “Inhale the horizon,” she whispered. Sunrise painted our poses in gold.
Breakfast followed—Berber bread, honey, and coffee—and soon we were off to Rissani souk for a swirl of spices, silver, and storytelling. After bargaining for leather and dates, we returned to an oasis hotel where a sapphire pool waited. Adult beverages appeared like mirage turned real. The owner welcomed us personally; Moroccan hospitality, signed and sealed.
That night another bonfire crackled. Harder now to imagine leaving.
Play Beyond the Baseline
For adrenaline seekers, the desert offered more:
- Sand‑skiing at sundown
- Quad biking across Erg Znigui’s whispering flats
- 4×4 climbs up the wilder Erg Moulay Omar
- Fly‑casting for pike and barbel on the mirror‑still Lakes Tislit and Isli, born of a legend of star‑crossed lovers
Every activity felt like an echo of tennis—balance, breath, and boldness.
Mo summed it up beside the dying coals: “We come for rallies but stay for resonance.”
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Ready to trade baseline lines for dune horizons? Join Tennis Destination in the Sahara—where matches end, but the movement never stops.
