The High Atlas
‘And all around is the desert; a corner of the mournful kingdom of sand’. – Pierre Loti.
In the
second part of my three part series about my trip to Morocco in June 2014,
I’m going to write about
half of the trip H and I took during our stay there. To put it in a bit of context, we went to
Morocco for seven nights in all and spent five nights in Marrakech, which I
wrote about in part one of this series.
****************
It takes an hour and a half or so to reach the foothills of
the Atlas Mountains from Marrakech. We have seen the mountains for two days from
our riad rooftop, blue in the distance and shrouded by the sun or the dust in
the atmosphere, or both. And then, suddenly, there we are among them, the
Atlas Mountains, and they are as beautiful as I imagined they would be.
the Atlas Mountains from Marrakech. We have seen the mountains for two days from
our riad rooftop, blue in the distance and shrouded by the sun or the dust in
the atmosphere, or both. And then, suddenly, there we are among them, the
Atlas Mountains, and they are as beautiful as I imagined they would be.
The road clings to the sides of the mountains, twisting
around the feet of them, roughly follow an almost dry river bed. H and I sit
quiet for the majority of the first few hours, taking it all in. The splendor
and majesty of the peaks, some still with snow at the top, stark white against
the orange brown stone.
around the feet of them, roughly follow an almost dry river bed. H and I sit
quiet for the majority of the first few hours, taking it all in. The splendor
and majesty of the peaks, some still with snow at the top, stark white against
the orange brown stone.
From the road, we see small Berber villages set into the
hillsides, flat roofs breaking the slopes. I wonder how they eke out an
existence here in the dry and dusty landscape. When we stop at a small roadside
café, my question is answered by the two Abdul’s who are our guide and our
driver. They’re both young and clearly passionate about their country. Guide
Abdul explains that this is the driest time of year, summer, and that in the
winter there can be a lot of snow on the mountains. In spring, when the snow
melts, the rivers run with floodwater and the countryside turns green. That’s
when the crops are sown – it is now, at this time of year, that they will be
harvested.
hillsides, flat roofs breaking the slopes. I wonder how they eke out an
existence here in the dry and dusty landscape. When we stop at a small roadside
café, my question is answered by the two Abdul’s who are our guide and our
driver. They’re both young and clearly passionate about their country. Guide
Abdul explains that this is the driest time of year, summer, and that in the
winter there can be a lot of snow on the mountains. In spring, when the snow
melts, the rivers run with floodwater and the countryside turns green. That’s
when the crops are sown – it is now, at this time of year, that they will be
harvested.
Above: Berber villages set into the hillside
As we progress deeper into the mountain range, the sun
glares down on the unforgiving red rocks. It is hard to imagine snow here – the
air is hot and dry, the soil turning to dust. Hardy shrubs and small trees
provide the only splashes of tired green.
glares down on the unforgiving red rocks. It is hard to imagine snow here – the
air is hot and dry, the soil turning to dust. Hardy shrubs and small trees
provide the only splashes of tired green.
Our road is well trodden by tourists but as we inch through
the valleys and passes, just the four of us in our minivan, we feel like the
only ones passing through. A vista opens up, vast and splendid. Below, a steam
flows through the valley, sparkling in the relentless sunshine. On the banks,
farmers in straw hats rake and hoe the dry soil and plant crops. They grow
wheat and maize, heavy and ripe for harvesting. I realise that these valleys,
somewhat shaded from the sun and where what little water there is flows, are
the beating heart of the mountains, the vibrant arteries, with bushes flowering
pink here and there along the banks, the small fields of crops a riot of gold
and pink and green and brown and yellow. Above these pockets, the landscape
quickly becomes barren and alien, a wasteland.
the valleys and passes, just the four of us in our minivan, we feel like the
only ones passing through. A vista opens up, vast and splendid. Below, a steam
flows through the valley, sparkling in the relentless sunshine. On the banks,
farmers in straw hats rake and hoe the dry soil and plant crops. They grow
wheat and maize, heavy and ripe for harvesting. I realise that these valleys,
somewhat shaded from the sun and where what little water there is flows, are
the beating heart of the mountains, the vibrant arteries, with bushes flowering
pink here and there along the banks, the small fields of crops a riot of gold
and pink and green and brown and yellow. Above these pockets, the landscape
quickly becomes barren and alien, a wasteland.
We pass shabby looking donkeys flicking their tails
miserably in the shade of trees, beating off the ceaseless flies. They are
patient, tireless and hardy. They carry the heavy loads the farmers are
incapable of managing and all without any complaint. Shepherd’s harry their
flocks of gaunt sheep along the road, waving their arms. I smile to myself.
Wherever you go in the world, there’s always something that will remind you of
home.
miserably in the shade of trees, beating off the ceaseless flies. They are
patient, tireless and hardy. They carry the heavy loads the farmers are
incapable of managing and all without any complaint. Shepherd’s harry their
flocks of gaunt sheep along the road, waving their arms. I smile to myself.
Wherever you go in the world, there’s always something that will remind you of
home.
Our minivan climbs higher and higher until we reach the
highest point of the road, where we pause to admire the views and take
photographs. There are stalls selling a variety of knick knacks, tat for the
tourists, like us. We are harassed by vendors eager to sell their wares. We
decline and Driver Abdul urges us back into the vehicle. It’s time to move on.
highest point of the road, where we pause to admire the views and take
photographs. There are stalls selling a variety of knick knacks, tat for the
tourists, like us. We are harassed by vendors eager to sell their wares. We
decline and Driver Abdul urges us back into the vehicle. It’s time to move on.
We descend from the high Atlas towards Ait Benhaddou. Guide
Abdul explains that this is an old fortified city along a former caravan route
between the Sahara and Marrakech. We arrive in time for lunch and eat on a
terrace looking out towards the city, which rises up out of the desert steeply.
It’s boiling hot. We slap on sunscreen, grab water that is getting warm in the
sunshine and join Guide Abdul on a walk into the city. It must be about thirty
two degrees. If the heat wasn’t so dry, this walk up the steep hill would be
utterly tortuous. It’s hard as it is – we keep to the deep shade against the
side of houses as much as possible and down water in an effort to keep cool. 
Abdul explains that this is an old fortified city along a former caravan route
between the Sahara and Marrakech. We arrive in time for lunch and eat on a
terrace looking out towards the city, which rises up out of the desert steeply.
It’s boiling hot. We slap on sunscreen, grab water that is getting warm in the
sunshine and join Guide Abdul on a walk into the city. It must be about thirty
two degrees. If the heat wasn’t so dry, this walk up the steep hill would be
utterly tortuous. It’s hard as it is – we keep to the deep shade against the
side of houses as much as possible and down water in an effort to keep cool.
The view from
the top is worth the effort and we sit awhile, enjoying our vantage point of
the shimmering desert and catching our breath. Fifteen minutes later, we begin
the descent back to the minivan, pausing to buy beautiful paintings that are
done before our very eyes. The man we buy them from is different to the other
hawkers and does not hassle us. He has a quiet manner.
On the road
again. Industrial electricity pylons are the only things to break the
red-brown-grey-yellow land, a moonscape of dust, rubble and boulders. The heat
haze shimmers along the horizon. Here and there, dry river beds snake through
the landscape. It is not beautiful, but it’s not completely ugly either – a strange
half-land, not what one imagines a desert to look like (I always imagine
rolling red sand dunes) but it is impossible to call it anything other than
desert. Little life exists and what does survive the harsh environment hangs on
by the skin of its teeth in a brittle, unforgiving world.
again. Industrial electricity pylons are the only things to break the
red-brown-grey-yellow land, a moonscape of dust, rubble and boulders. The heat
haze shimmers along the horizon. Here and there, dry river beds snake through
the landscape. It is not beautiful, but it’s not completely ugly either – a strange
half-land, not what one imagines a desert to look like (I always imagine
rolling red sand dunes) but it is impossible to call it anything other than
desert. Little life exists and what does survive the harsh environment hangs on
by the skin of its teeth in a brittle, unforgiving world.
As evening falls,
we arrive at our accommodation for the night, a small family-run B&B in
Dades Gorge. We are welcomed with traditional mint tea. The house is
beautifully decorated, bright colours and patterns everywhere. Aside from a
French couple that speak little English, we are the only ones there. I test out
my rusty French on the couple and we manage to have a rather halting
conversation. They are travelling back to Marrakech from Merzouga and have
already done the camel trek. They inform us that the trek was wonderful. Our
excitement for the following day grows.
we arrive at our accommodation for the night, a small family-run B&B in
Dades Gorge. We are welcomed with traditional mint tea. The house is
beautifully decorated, bright colours and patterns everywhere. Aside from a
French couple that speak little English, we are the only ones there. I test out
my rusty French on the couple and we manage to have a rather halting
conversation. They are travelling back to Marrakech from Merzouga and have
already done the camel trek. They inform us that the trek was wonderful. Our
excitement for the following day grows.
Our evening
meal is perhaps the best meal we eat in Morocco. The food is traditional and
delicious – simple salads, a Moroccan soup with chickpeas and fresh fruit for
dessert. We try everything, it is all fantastic. Full to the brim, we go to bed
early, weary after the long day of travelling and excited for the adventures
that still lie ahead of us.
meal is perhaps the best meal we eat in Morocco. The food is traditional and
delicious – simple salads, a Moroccan soup with chickpeas and fresh fruit for
dessert. We try everything, it is all fantastic. Full to the brim, we go to bed
early, weary after the long day of travelling and excited for the adventures
that still lie ahead of us.
An early
start. We eat pancakes and drink tea for breakfast and are on our way. We are
making for the Todgha Gorge – a canyon in the eastern part of the High Atlas
Mountains which is world-famous for its excellent rock climbing opportunities.
H and I know it having watched Tom Daly’s show on ITV1, where he traveled
around the world with a friend and in Morocco, came to the gorge to try out the
climbing.
start. We eat pancakes and drink tea for breakfast and are on our way. We are
making for the Todgha Gorge – a canyon in the eastern part of the High Atlas
Mountains which is world-famous for its excellent rock climbing opportunities.
H and I know it having watched Tom Daly’s show on ITV1, where he traveled
around the world with a friend and in Morocco, came to the gorge to try out the
climbing.
We stop before
the gorge and Guide Abdul takes us on a guided walk through some farmland, deep
in the heart of the valley. It is peaceful and shaded – fig and olive trees
block out the sun overhead. We cross narrow irrigation streams and skirt small
fields sown with a variety of crops. Guide Abdul explains some of the Berber
culture to us, tells us about their farming methods. It is quiet and the air is
hot and heavy with the scent of flowers and fruit. We stroll amongst a small
village built entirely of mud and straw and are taken to meet a Berber family
who sell bright, patterned traditional rugs and carpets. They’re beautiful,
each and every one, and if I had more money I’d buy several. Unfortunately, we’re
on a tight budget and can’t afford to splash out. Regretfully, we leave the
carpets behind and head back to the minivan to drive the last few miles into
the gorge proper. 
the gorge and Guide Abdul takes us on a guided walk through some farmland, deep
in the heart of the valley. It is peaceful and shaded – fig and olive trees
block out the sun overhead. We cross narrow irrigation streams and skirt small
fields sown with a variety of crops. Guide Abdul explains some of the Berber
culture to us, tells us about their farming methods. It is quiet and the air is
hot and heavy with the scent of flowers and fruit. We stroll amongst a small
village built entirely of mud and straw and are taken to meet a Berber family
who sell bright, patterned traditional rugs and carpets. They’re beautiful,
each and every one, and if I had more money I’d buy several. Unfortunately, we’re
on a tight budget and can’t afford to splash out. Regretfully, we leave the
carpets behind and head back to the minivan to drive the last few miles into
the gorge proper.
We don’t spend
long there. A few photo opportunities and I take my shoes off to paddle in the
river, but we are soon on our way again. It is crowded and hot and Guide Abdul
wants to ensure we make it to Merzouga in time to climb aboard our camels and
set off into the sand dunes for sunset. We still have a long drive ahead of us –
we stop several times to refresh ourselves and we buy a scarves to cover our heads
and faces at one stop, as advised by the two Abdul’s. If the wind gets up
whilst we’re riding the camels, the sand will blow in our faces and the scarves
will protect us.
Finally, we
are on the last leg of our journey to Merzouga. Our excitement is mounting. It
won’t be long until we’re riding our camels into the sand dunes to spend a
night under the starry Saharan sky. It’s going to be an amazing adventure,
something I’ll never forget, I can already tell. I know H feels the same. I’m
glad I’m travelling with her and that we’ll share this experience. Finally, the
minivan slows. We have arrived…
are on the last leg of our journey to Merzouga. Our excitement is mounting. It
won’t be long until we’re riding our camels into the sand dunes to spend a
night under the starry Saharan sky. It’s going to be an amazing adventure,
something I’ll never forget, I can already tell. I know H feels the same. I’m
glad I’m travelling with her and that we’ll share this experience. Finally, the
minivan slows. We have arrived…
Look out for my next Throwback Thursday blog
post (#tbt) which will conclude this three part series about my trip to Morocco
and include the story of our night camping in the middle of the Sahara desert.
post (#tbt) which will conclude this three part series about my trip to Morocco
and include the story of our night camping in the middle of the Sahara desert.
The Logistics
We booked a
popular 2 night, 3 day trip from Marrakech to Merzouga / Erg Chebbi and back
through a company called Camel Trekking. The price (approximately two
hundred pounds per person, I seem to remember) included two breakfasts, two
dinners, our accommodation for two nights, the camel trek, all our
transportation and the side trips taken to Dades Gorge, Todgha Gorge and Ait
Benhaddou, among other stops.
popular 2 night, 3 day trip from Marrakech to Merzouga / Erg Chebbi and back
through a company called Camel Trekking. The price (approximately two
hundred pounds per person, I seem to remember) included two breakfasts, two
dinners, our accommodation for two nights, the camel trek, all our
transportation and the side trips taken to Dades Gorge, Todgha Gorge and Ait
Benhaddou, among other stops.
We were always treated courteously and professionally, both
by our guide and driver, as well as the manager whom we emailed to book our
trip. Both Abdul’s were very knowledgeable about Morocco and they really helped
make our trip truly fantastic. I highly recommend this company to anyone who is
considering visiting Morocco and would like an organised tour to see some of
the main attractions of this beautiful country. As well as the trip we took,
there are other options available and I believe they also tailor make some
trips to fit into people’s itineraries.
by our guide and driver, as well as the manager whom we emailed to book our
trip. Both Abdul’s were very knowledgeable about Morocco and they really helped
make our trip truly fantastic. I highly recommend this company to anyone who is
considering visiting Morocco and would like an organised tour to see some of
the main attractions of this beautiful country. As well as the trip we took,
there are other options available and I believe they also tailor make some
trips to fit into people’s itineraries.
We were picked up from our accommodation in Marrakech on our
departure day and Guide Abdul even came with us to help us find our new
accommodation when we arrived back in Marrakech (it was out of the way and we
would never have found it by ourselves!).
departure day and Guide Abdul even came with us to help us find our new
accommodation when we arrived back in Marrakech (it was out of the way and we
would never have found it by ourselves!).
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