10 Mar Tassili N'Ajjer: the stone island in the sandy sea

They say that in the heart of the Sahara lies one of the most incredible and mysterious places in the world. They say that the place is inaccessible, that only the wind can reach it, hidden as it is behind the Air, Hoggar and Tibesti mountains and surrounded by the immensity of the Tanezrouft, Tamesna and Ténéré deserts. And they also say that it has always been a dangerous place, so close to the fearsome meeting of Algeria's borders with Libya and Niger, an obligatory crossing point for enigmatic Tuareg and bellicose Tubus, always insubordinate, always at war. So they say...

I also heard that Tin-Hinan, the giant woman of the Sahara, reigned there many years ago and that after her death, the evil spirits of the desert, the terrible djinns, took possession of the place forever. And so it was forgotten and lost, sleeping a strange sleep for centuries, oblivious to everything, and that the first explorers who dared to explore it lost their minds with what they discovered inside.

It is said that inside, among a labyrinth of spires emerging over huge pink sand dunes, one of those mad explorers, Henri Lothe, discovered the lost city of Sefar, the most secret gift of the Sahara. And they also say that there lie the very remains of Atlantis and that within its walls are ancient paintings depicting giants, strange figures, unknown animals and otherworldly beings. Yes, so they say...

And they said that to enter there, in the Tassili N'ajjer, was to enter an unreal world, with volcanic mountains, deep gorges and a landscape tormented by a relentless wind that drags the sand of the soft and curved dunes of Moul N'agga or the pink ones of Tin Merzouga, producing a permanent and capricious erosion when it hits against the strange formations of Tamezguida. Sometimes it is obligatory to pass through the small door of the Imaginarium to find a world of fantasy.

So many things were said... that we had no choice but to go and see it with our own eyes, I don't even know how we had been able to hold out for so long. So, taking advantage of the fact that the area is safe (because even if it seems so, we are not unconscious), we flew to Djanet, that oasis adrift on the threshold of mystery and accompanied by Mohamed and his little "Katiba" we started the adventure crossing the great Erg D'admer ready to conquer this dream.

These were days of harmattan, the red desert wind, always violent, which lifted the sand and gave the sky a leaden hue. Visibility was poor but it didn't stop Mohamed from showing us part of that infinite number of hidden treasures. He showed us that there was a time when that land was an orchard, with antelopes, giraffes, elephants and leopards running through it; with rivers infested with crocodiles and hippopotamuses. That the stones say so.

Other paintings depict Neolithic daily life, and we even saw the most likely first pornography in history, which I do not reproduce here out of modesty, but which made me realise that we are still as immature as we were 8000 years ago.

The sunset is even more spectacular than the day, when silence reigns and only the singing of the dunes can be heard. There is nothing like feeling the cold of the night, with the infinite sky as a ceiling and the cold earth as the only bed, and waiting for the sunrise, watching in silence while the aroma of the acacia embers arrives. It is when I really feel that of my double existence, the desert has triumphed, always adventurous, and encloses for a few days the calm of the responsible man that I am.

Always laughing, we travelled through every corner of the Tassili and slept every night sheltered from the wind, devouring Mohamed's food by the fire, listening to Issa's snoring (and some others who deny it) and Mousa's songs (especially one that took me to other arms far away), until we had no choice but to return to Djanet, on our way home.

I made other trips, I had other dreams and I knew the magic of other deserts, harder and more distant, but this one...this one will force me to return many more times, I know. (Pedro, now is when I say that Desertando will take you there next October..., that's it).