Marathon Des Sables 2021 - Desert Dad Diary Day 1
The adventure begins …
It’s very early in the morning and we are ready to leave home on what will prove to be an extraordinary and life changing journey, i’ll be photographing my first ever Marathon Des Sables.
My two colleagues looking fresh faced and full of enthusiasm, we head to the airport.
Following a very rocky flight where I genuinely thought the competitor next to me was going to pass away with fear, we landed at a bleak little airport in Erachidea, Morocco. The heat struck us all as we left the plane which was surprisingly comfortable.
The transfer from plane to arrivals was hardly arduous as we were approximately 30 yards away from the terminal and were ushered into Passport Control. This was where the paperwork nightmare started. Trying to convince a Border Control Officer that photography was actually a genuine job and that I wasn't a journalist on a spying mission, seemed to take longer than the queue laden with fireman, servicemen and women, doctors and GP’s. I seriously thought for a moment that I should have studied harder and become a vet for example. The thought lasted a brief moment as the officer who spoke no English stamped my passport like an executioner! ‘Nearly there’ passed through my thoughts as I was then greeted by a Moroccan band consisting of strange looking instruments reminiscent of my last visit to St Mary’s Stadium.
Eventually we were invited to join the bus that was to take us a few miles into the desert. This caused its own issue as my bag was thrown into the hold of said bus and I climbed aboard the vehicle to nowhere. My ride was brief on this bus as apparently I had sat in the Second in Command’s seat and therefore was ejected and placed on the bus behind who’s internal temperature reminded me of the last time I went into a sauna. Having waited what seemed an eternity and having lost a good litre of water in sweat, we were eventually on our way. Still little breeze but vaguely bearable.
45 minutes later we arrive at our destination with no sign of my bag. I am greeted by a wonderful team of French speaking individuals who track down my bag and show me to my temporary home. At this moment I realise that my trip to Centreparcs will never compare to what I will be experiencing in the coming days.
I am briefed by the team and then go to find my abandoned bag and a tent that I have been assigned. I find that I am to share with another English photographer who fortunately is very knowledgeable. We are assigned a driver Sayed, who at the outset appears shy and unassuming. He is to become a friend over the coming days who can be relied on for professionalism and knowledge of the desert which is essential.
After many briefings, which are in French with a translator to English, we head for the food tent for our first meal. Supper is a typical Moroccan experience of locally sourced chickens and then my favourite, Spaghetti Bolognese. With supper finished, I get my kit ready and finally get to sleep. It is piping hot in the tent but reasonably comfortable. A head torch suddenly becomes an essential item when trying to find anything. The next thing to strike me is where do I go for a pee? It’s all looking bleak in the Desert.
