Calm and a peace in the High Atlas Mountains, with a few more hikes for good measure

Today we drove to the Imlil Valley in the High Atlas Mountains. There is no direct route to the valley, so we had to take a slightly circuitous route. We started by curving our way up the narrow lanes of the Tizi n'Tichka Pass (2260 metres above sea level) to the top for a quick coffee and photo break. On a small man made outcrop we enjoyed a view of the entire valley below while trying not to get blown off the mountain top from the strong winds. Then a small local man insisted that we leave the viewpoint and head to the coffee shop. I’m still not sure if he wanted us to buy coffee in order to stand on the outcropping or just didn’t want us not to fly away. 

Back in the car and down the other side, past the valley of Roses (which is full of its namesake in March), and to the turn off for Marrakesh, before  hooking in and back south to start going up the Atlas Mountains. Before our final ascent for the day, we stopped at the home of an ex-driver for Intrepid whose family hosted us for lunch. Khalid had arranged for the family to make us Rfissa. Rfissa is a dish comprised of stewed chicken, lentils, and onions served on a bed of shredded msemen, trid pastry or bread. A fragrantly seasoned broth is poured over all and its served in a large tangine. Like most other meals we’ve had here, it’s delicious and there is way too much of it. I think the five of us barely ate a third of what was made. But in Moroccan culture, food is never wasted, so the family probably purposely made extra so they could eat it after we’d left.

We arrived in Imlil Valley in the mid afternoon and were greeted by our host for the evening. He was riding a cute pack mule and graciously took our small overnight bags while we commenced with a nice little jaunt uphill for an hour plus to reach his home. The walk takes you first through the shaded lower Imlil village, before leading you into a sun filled series of switchbacks and stairs that lead to a plateau on Toubkal Mountain. This plateau used to be a lake thousands of years ago, when Toubkal Mountain was still a glacier. Now it houses the town of Aroumd, the largest of the three villages in Imlil valley, with a population of about 1000.

Mary, having skipped out on the hike in Todra Gorge, had decided to climb this small part of a mountain and probably hated her decision the whole time. Later in the day, we found out that our van actually was going to drive up to our gite (Berber homestay) (which hadn’t been a guarantee initially) or she could have rented a donkey or taken a cab. Regardless of her thinking she couldn’t do it, she was amazing and accomplished the task. Her reward, another 20 minutes of walking (but flat) at the top and then some stairs to get into the guesthouse (she loathes stairs). Em also hated the extra climb so soon after me “forcing her to hike in Todra Gorge, but she also survived.

Like many of the other towns that we’ve seen and visited during this trip, Aroumd is built up a mountain side, so each street is higher than the last and you have to get your exercise by walking stairs or climbing pretty steep roads to get from one level to the next. Our host recently got married and decided that he was going to strike out on his own, so instead of living on the mountainside, he’s on the outskirts of the dried lake bed, about half a mile away from the main town. Khalid said that’s where all the new families are moving and I joked that they’re “out in the suburbs.” 

It was nearing early evening when we finally reached the gite, so after a quick welcome tea and wash of the face; Nathan, Brian, Em, and I left Mary to recuperate from the taxing journey up the mountain, while I dragged everyone else exploring up the many levels of Aroumd (the real town and not the suburbs). The town is mostly homes, with just a few market shops scattered here and there. The locals will walk up and down the switchback path to the lower town if they want shops or restaurants. For them the arduous journey is a simple half hour jaunt and they do it so often they probably don’t even break a sweat.

We returned from our second hike of the day (climbing to the top of the town for us out of shape people was like a second hike), to another amazing home cooked meal. While the meals tend to revolve around the same types of foods, they’re always just a little different. Tonight we had another tangine (with turkey this time) and some soup. The soups are my favorite because they’re always made from a mix of fresh vegetables and spices; usually blended or grated until smooth. Tonight’s had a little milk as well, so it was smooth and creamy and super flavorful.

From our host’s balcony we watched the younger locals enjoy the cooler evening by playing soccer on the dirt field created in the middle of the dry lake bed, while the older kids conversed in packs and tried to hitch rides down the mountain with their heavy harvest of cherries. All the while, the older women (we’re taking grandmothers) finished gathering some sort of grassy crop. They made bundles of the crop and tied it to their backs and moved through the fields toward the village. As the sun set and it became darker, these women looked like grass creatures from a fairytale or “Where the Wild Things Are.”

The next morning we rose early to began our third hike in as many days. Toubkal Mountain contains the highest peak in North Africa and is a huge tourist attraction for avid hikers, rock climbers, and those that love nature and beautiful scenery. To get to the peak takes two days on average, with a five hour journey uphill on the first day to reach the base camp, and then another four hour journey in the wee hours of the second day to reach the peak. You also need to then hike back down the entire path on the second day (or I guess you could return to base camp for an additional night). While I think it’d be a long, hard, strenuous, but totally worth it feat, and I’d love to come back and trek to the peak sometime; today we only ventured about an hour and a half up the mountain to visit the small settlement of Chamharouch, where there is an Islamic shrine and mosque. There were dozens of other trekkers that we passed on the way that were going to the top (I saw more foreigners than in all the rest of this trip combined).

The Shrine is believed by some to help cure illnesses and solve problems when the devotees pray to Allah and then sacrifice some animal. Here in lies the contradiction, as Islamic religious does not allow for shrines or prays with sacrifice. Some other locals erected a small mosque next to the shrine; perhaps to somehow mitigate this contradiction. Regardless of the illogic of the place, the scenery is breathtaking, and well worth the climb. 

Em and Mary opted for donkey transportation to get themselves to the top. Their donkeys were led by our host, his son, and an older gentleman who I think was his father. Em and Mary decided to walk down the mountain on the return trip, which was probably safer because neither seemed to be super comfortable on the little donkeys. When we got to the flat area of the dry lake, I jumped on so I could say I got my horse ride in and then I wouldn’t feel like I needed to spend money on it in another town. The journey down was accompanied by the singling of our guides in Berber; which was off key, but melodic and filled with good natured rubbing from the three participants. 

I really liked the feel of this area and town, but after a light lunch (Berber omelet this time), we said goodbye to this like oasis of peace and tranquillity and set out for Essaouira.