We set out two hours before sunset. By the time we reach the camp the light has already changed: it lengthens, softens, gilds the sand and the rock. This is the hour when the coast empties out.
The camp is simple. A Berber tent, a fire, somewhere to sit. Dinner is made while the day finishes falling — a tagine, bread, tea. We eat outside, in no hurry.
Then night comes. Far from the lights of town, the sky fills up. We recognise a few constellations and invent a few more. Sound carries differently out here: the surf below, a dog far off, the wind.
The outing runs five to six hours. It asks for no particular fitness — only the wish to spend an evening outdoors, differently.
