This Bare-Bones Hotel in Morocco Faces Nothing But Endless Dunes

At the edge of the Sahara, in a part of southeastern Morocco where the villages thin out and the roads fall quiet, you’ll find Kanz Erremal Hotel.

There is not much in the way of greenery, save for a few palm trees planted in front of the building, and beyond them, nothing. Just sand. The land rises and falls in slow, deliberate shapes until it turns into the dunes of Erg Chebbi—some as high as five hundred feet—ridges and valleys of orange-coloured sand, dry as bone and marked only by the wind.

The hotel is built in the local style, low and square, its walls the colour of dust. All twenty-two rooms face the dunes. From the windows, there is nothing to see but the desert. No fences, no roads, no signs of town. The air out here is quiet and dry. In the afternoons, it holds the heat like stone. At night, the wind picks up and moves across the flats, carrying with it a fine layer of sand that settles on everything.

There is a pool at the hotel, a wide sprawl of water set in the courtyard. There are chairs near the edge, mostly in the shade. In the middle of the day, it is the only cool place around. Most people sit there without speaking, drying slowly in the sun.

Most of the day is spent elsewhere—on camel rides through the dunes, walking, sledding, sandboarding, riding horseback. Some try a sand bath—a desert treatment where the body is buried neck-deep in hot sand. Others spend a night or two in a desert camp, where there are tents and fire pits and the type of silence that stretches for miles.

The dunes themselves are the main attraction. Erg Chebbi sits near the town of Merzouga. The sand is bright and fine and tends to glow in the evening when the sun hits it low. Travellers come from far places to walk here. The paths are not marked, but they don’t need to be. The land is open, and the direction is always the same—forward, then back.

Those who stay for three nights or more are given a camel ride into the dunes to watch the sunset. The hotel does not announce this. It is mentioned plainly, with no fanfare. The ride is slow. The sun goes down behind the dunes in a way that feels rehearsed. The light moves up the sand and disappears. Then it is dark.

There is no noise at Kanz Erremal. No television, no street traffic, no hum of nearby life. The desert presses close on all sides. And yet it does not feel remote. It feels like a place waiting for something. Guests leave their windows open at night. The wind comes in, soft and steady. The sand follows.