
10 Days
Sahara to Sea
Start where the sand begins, end where it meets the Atlantic. You'll cross every Morocco in between: desert, mountains, plains, coast. The country's full spectrum in ten days.
Your Route

Day 1
Merzouga
A day without roads. The dunes shift color as the sun moves—pink at dawn, gold at noon, orange by evening. You can walk to nomad tents where tea is poured without ceremony. Or drive to Khamlia where Gnawa music rises from the sand. Or do nothing. The desert doesn't require your participation. It just asks that you notice.

Day 2
Merzouga → Dades
West from the dunes. The sand releases you slowly. Todra's gorge appears—walls rising vertical, light slicing through. Then the road opens into the Dades, where rock twists into shapes that shouldn't exist. You sleep in a valley that glows copper at sunset.

Day 3
Dades → Ouarzazate
West through the valley they call the Road of a Thousand Kasbahs. Skoura's palms stretch for seventeen kilometers—date groves hiding crumbling towers. In spring the Rose Valley blooms pink. The air sweetens. Ouarzazate waits at the crossroads. Gateway to somewhere. Threshold to everywhere.

Day 4
Ouarzazate → Marrakech
The crossing in reverse. Ait Benhaddou in morning light—the clay glows different at this hour. Then the climb. Tizi n'Tichka at 2,260 meters. The pass holds its breath. The descent reveals the Haouz plain—flat, green, impossibly different. Marrakech appears under the Atlas like an afterthought. But you know better now.

Day 5
Marrakech
The souks spiral inward by specialty—leather, brass, carpets, spices. Each turn narrows. Bahia Palace holds its painted ceilings in afternoon shadow. The hammam strips you down to quiet. By evening, Jemaa el-Fna transforms. Smoke rises from a hundred grills. Storytellers gather crowds. The square has done this for centuries. It doesn't need your permission.

Day 6
Marrakech
The souks spiral inward by specialty—leather, brass, carpets, spices. Each turn narrows. Bahia Palace holds its painted ceilings in afternoon shadow. The hammam strips you down to quiet. By evening, Jemaa el-Fna transforms. Smoke rises from a hundred grills. Storytellers gather crowds. The square has done this for centuries. It doesn't need your permission.

Day 7
Marrakech → Essaouira
West toward water. The road flattens through argan groves where goats climb trees like punctuation marks. The air changes before you see the sea—salt, wind, something loosening. Essaouira appears white against blue. The port smells of fish and freedom. Shutters rattle. The city doesn't try to impress. She's busy being.

Day 8
Essaouira
The wind never stops. That's the first thing. Essaouira moves at a different speed—artists in studios, fishermen mending nets, cats watching from ramparts. The port smells of sardines and salt. The beach stretches south toward nothing. By sunset, the walls glow gold. The Atlantic doesn't sparkle here. She pulls.

Day 9
Essaouira
The wind never stops. That's the first thing. Essaouira moves at a different speed—artists in studios, fishermen mending nets, cats watching from ramparts. The port smells of sardines and salt. The beach stretches south toward nothing. By sunset, the walls glow gold. The Atlantic doesn't sparkle here. She pulls.

Day 10
Essaouira → Marrakech
The coast releases you slowly. Fishing boats shrink in the mirror as the road turns inland, climbing through argan groves where goats still perch in trees—not for tourists, just because they always have. The plain opens, heat rising, until Marrakech appears as a shimmer before it becomes real. You've closed the circle.
This journey is a starting point.
These itineraries aren't fixed. They're designed to bend. Add a day in the desert. Skip the city. Stay longer where something pulls you. This is your journey—we shape it around what matters to you.
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