ALGERIA is CALLING // Ride into the unknown

[English below] For a long time, southern Algeria had been calling to me – not loudly, but more like a whisper from endless dunes and ancient rocks. In 2025, I decided to follow this call. At the end of February, I left the snow-covered Garmisch-Partenkirchen. While the Alps sparkled in their winter glory behind me, I drove south, over the Brenner Pass, ever closer to the Mediterranean. The cold slowly gave way to milder air until I finally reached the coast near Salerno. The ferry took me across the night sea to Tunis. As I set foot on African soil, I felt: Now the real adventure began. From there, my journey led me through the north to Algeria – to a land full of vastness, secrets, and questions. For weeks, I had tried to find out if it was permissible to travel to the far south without a guide. Conflicting information, silence, shrugs. Uncertainty was my constant companion. And that was precisely what made it so appealing. It wasn't a journey from A to B – it was a step into the unknown. In Africa, Ramadan awaited me. Closed cafes, sleepy cities, little movement on the roads during the day. And finally, the sobering news: I couldn't continue alone. Instead, I was escorted by the police – kilometer after kilometer – to the edge of the vast Sahara. There, the escort ended, there, my freedom began. Ahead of me lay 2,000 kilometers to Djanet. The road cut like a black ribbon through stony deserts, past shimmering horizons. Only wind, vastness, and the feeling of being tiny – and at the same time infinitely alive. When I finally reached Djanet, the gateway to another world opened. I spent four days in the Tadrart region. There, sand dunes rose like frozen waves of a golden ocean. The dunes south of Djanet glowed like fire in the sunset, while the night sky overflowed with stars – clearer than I had ever seen it. Every step in the sand left traces that the wind would later erase. It was a world without noise, without haste, without distractions – just pure being. What began as a journey full of question marks became another of the most intense experiences of my life. Southern Algeria had called to me and ultimately rewarded me. And somewhere between rock and dune, I knew. Some adventures don't begin with certainty, but with doing. ------------------------------------ Guide Contact Djanet at Hotel Zeriba Contact: Silam WhatsApp +43 698 55 56 66 Instagram @sable_tour_djanet Email: [email protected] __________________________________ Southern Algeria had been calling to me for a long time – not loudly, but more like a whisper from endless dunes and ancient rocks. In 2025, I decided to follow that call. At the end of February, I left the snow-covered Garmisch-Partenkirchen. While the Alps sparkled in their winter glory behind me, I drove south, over the Brenner Pass, ever closer to the Mediterranean. The cold, the slowly milder air, until I finally reached the coast near Salerno. The ferry took me across the next sea to Tunis. As I set foot on African soil, I felt it: Now the real adventure began. From there, my journey led through the north to Algeria – to a land full of vastness, secrets, and questions. For weeks, I had tried to find out if it was permissible to travel to the far south without a guide. Conflicting information, silence, shrugs. Uncertainty was my constant companion. And that was precisely what made it so appealing. It wasn't a trip from A to B – it was a step into the unknown. In Africa, Ramadan awaited me. Closed cafes, sleepy cities, little movement on the roads during the day. And finally, the sobering news: I wasn't allowed to continue alone. Instead, I was escorted by the police – kilometer after kilometer – to the edge of the vast Sahara. There, the escort ended, there, my freedom began. Ahead of me lay 2,000 kilometers to Djanet. The road cut like a black ribbon through stony deserts, past shimmering horizons. Only wind, vastness, and the feeling of being tiny – and at the same time infinitely alive. When I finally reached Djanet, the gateway to another world opened. I spent four days in the Tadrart region. There, sand dunes rose like the first waves of a golden ocean. The dunes south of Djanet glowed like fire in the sunset, while at night the sky overflowed with stars – clearer than I had ever seen it. Every step in the sand left traces that the wind then erased. It was a world without noise, without haste, without distractions—just pure being. What began as a journey full of question marks became another of the most intense experiences of my life. Southern Algeria had called to me and ultimately rewarded me. And somewhere between rock and dune, I knew: Some adventures don't begin with certainty, but with doing.