I know it comes to a shock to everyone reading this, but back in August 2024, I suckered my friend, Lexi, into booking a trip to Morocco bound for the high the High Atlas Mountains, and specifically… Mount Toubkal. On a whim. Again. Sorry, not sorry… this is how I bring joy to my life. The tour we settled on while I was 30,000 feet above the Earth flying home from yet another trip was a hiking trip to northwestern Africa. It meant trekking up the rocky slopes through traditional Amazigh communities in Morocco’s interior. Beginning in Marrakech, we would be hiking from mountain gîte to mountain gîte on our way to the summit on Mount (Jebel) Toubkal at 13,671 feet.
This was by far the most stressed I had ever been prior to departing on yet another international adventure. That even includes my three week exploration of India when the evening before the flight I forgot I needed an almost impossible to obtain Visa. Oops, that one was on me! Or the sleepless night I spent praying our COVID results would come back in time for the husband and I to travel to the Galapgos, which I detailed in Travel Stresses… A Delirious & Dejected Rant in the Middle of the Night after Two Hours of Sleep in the Last 48 Hours. Three hours prior to our flights taking off for Marrakech, I was still at work unsure if I would even be able to embark on this trek. After climbing obstacle after obstacle tossed in front of me by my vindictive boss, I finally secured the leave he had been denying me. Off we go!
When Lexi and I landed in Morocco, her international travel cherry was unceremoniously popped as we were blasted in the face with one-hundred-and-thirteen degree temperatures. Marrakech’s summer heat felt like an elephant with a high grade fever had just collapsed on my chest. After swatting the hypothetical beast’s ear off my face, I breathed in the suffocating air and trudged forward to the (hopefully) air conditioned terminal. Thankfully, the airport welcomed us with outstretched arms with cold air conditioning. What have I gotten myself into hiking in this weather? Sometimes my impulse bookings bite me in the ass since it removes any time to research the destinations and weather. Time to make the most of it!
Again, I had elected to travel with G Adventures, and thus introducing Lexi to the company’s tour styling. Our group was on the smaller side, which I always prefer. We all met up later that first day to meet our guide, Jaouad. He gave us a general understanding of what was to come over the next several days, and we all headed out for a group dinner before retiring to our rooms. Our strange, and colorful, hotel was only home for a night. We took it for granted not knowing what the next accommodation would bring. I can’t say I knew what a gîte really entailed until I entered one – the words “mountain hut” varies a lot over worldwide cultures. Before I get into the hike, Jaouad provided us with a glimpse into Moroccan culture.
Marrakech is considered the “Land of God,” along with being called the Red City due to the color of the majority of the buildings. As one might guess, they are made of red sandstone. The city is not lacking of wealth, comprised of large homes, twelve golf courses, and beautiful gardens throughout. Marrakech is a Muslim city, but it still boasts night clubs and bars. However, these establishments are generally for tourists, some even sporting “Not for Muslim” signs. Locals can get arrested for drinking at those places, but they typically only get caught by doing something else illegal after partaking in an adult beverage. Morocco as a whole has embraced tourism more than many other Islamic countries. In fact, many movies have been filmed in the country, even those based on Egyptian people, as Egypt has far more restrictions than Morocco. The wonders of CGI and AI have allowed film makers to add pyramids after the fact. Mission Impossible Five was filmed on the road from Casablanca to Marrakech.
Originally, Marrakech and Fez were the only two cities in Morocco. The area between the two, The Land of Disorder, was home to tribal communities that constantly fought one another. We didn’t stay in the cities for most of this trip, instead venturing farther inland to the Atlas Mountains to the nomad-created communities. They began living in caves high up for protection. Once more families moved in, the dwellings expanded into the hillside villages we passed through during the trek. Where there was a mosque, we learned there was a village.
The first day of the hike started midmorning and was in full sun along a dirt road and track. Every now and then a gnarled tree would provide a meager bit of shade. Each pull from my hydration pack resulted in hot water hitting my throat. I would have given a body part for icy cold water that day. And not even a pinky toe, or some other mostly useless appendage, but a hand or foot! Jaouad was not a fast hiker, but he allowed Sonia, one of the other over forty group members, and me trek ahead. We arrived at the first pass exhausted from the heat. What I would have sworn was a mirage resting under the shade of a large tree was, in fact, a bed of blankets and pillows nestled beneath the leaves. That fabulous foliage protected us from the unrelenting sun beating down. Sonia and I trudged up and collapsed there, where we proceeded to nap for forty minutes before the first mule toting a fellow hiker arrived at our blissful paradise.
Our sublime guides then put us in a dangerous food coma with a freshly prepared lunch of lentils, pasta, bread, sardines, chopped veggies and fruits with a side of green tea. While I wished the tea was cold as opposed to piping hot, I still drank it for a bit of caffeine post-nap. Okay Jaouad, you are forgiven for the late start during the height of the day’s heat. This much needed stop revived all of us for the push to our first gîte.
Never fear! We still had a few miles of desert mountain hiking to go, along with weaving and bobbing through more villages. I can’t forget taking dozens of videos and photos of the adorable bouncy mountain goats cutting across our path. No sadly, this is not another edition of what animal will I larcen. Jaouad already reprimanded me that I was not to take a goat home.
The accommodation for that first evening, Gîte Tadarin, was as basic as basic gets (besides camping). Shared rooms with “mattresses” (aka. a lumpy pad on top of plywood) with a single window with no screen to keep bugs out. Shared water closets and showers, complete with both western toilets and squatty potties, though. The doors to the room had to be left open to help for circulation to combat the heat. Several people ended up sleeping out on the patio since it did cool off at night. Five star hotels are not exactly abundant in this region of Morocco, and we made due! If you are looking for luxury, this is not the tour for you.
Our dinner that evening was an appetizer of homemade soup with bread. I did the husband proud and even added hot sauce to mine! Not a common a occurrence. Next came the delectable sautéed potatoes, zucchini, carrots and olives drowning in oil. After that was beef sautéed with MORE oil on a bed of chopped tomatoes, carrots and onion (also prepared in a sauce of oil). While it was a delicious home cooked meal by our splendid hosts, my stomach was certainly not that accustomed to that much oil. Thankfully, fresh melon and mint vervino tea were in store for dessert. We all definitely needed the sustenance after that hike. As Lexi and I stalked off to bed, I felt like I needed to be wheelbarrowed to the room and forklifted onto the sleeping platform.
The second day of the expedition got interesting a few times. Again, Jaouad permitted me, and my new forty-something’s girl gang/the mountain goats, to speed off ahead. As a precaution, he showed me the route on Google maps, along with the explanation of the incline being up to the pass, down to the road, and flat to the village. Armed with screen shots of the terrain, cell service, and Jaouad’s description of “when you see the tree, turn left and go up” (nothing could go wrong there), I strutted off in search of the second pass! Alone at the beginning, which also happened to be where most of the splits and turns were, I got a tad concerned a few times. Two of those instances involved scratching my head speculating if I had picked the correct tree to turn at right when I lost cell service. The other was when I passed a toddler clutching a mini AK47… should I have been concerned there were child terrorists being bred over here? My instincts prevailed, and the Girl Gang successfully made it to the pass.
We then continued on after the remainder of the group caught up, and finally landed at the village a hour ahead of everyone else. The three of us were quite thankful that the water in the stream surrounding hillside town was gloriously cold. We basked in the shade along the rocky shores with our feet dangling in the chilled water. Jaouad, we were also thankful you are a slow hiker, otherwise, we would not have gotten to stick our tired dogs in the cold drink.
Sack lunches are quite common with G Adventures trekking tours. Generally included meals, the groceries are purchased, and everyone builds a sandwich, takes some fruit, and perhaps a light snack. This particular one was another head scratcher. In close to 115 degree temperatures, we were provided tuna, a piece of bread, a tomato, and a hard boiled egg. My concerns were two-fold… first, it was bound to start stinking, and second, salmonella was not one of my aspirations for this trip. I am pleased to report that I did not contract the bacteria, of which the symptoms are gastrointestinal distress, including diarrhea (sometimes bloody), fever, stomach cramps, and vomiting.
Seeing that this post is on the long side, I shall conclude the hiking trip in a second post… when we hike from Armed to the Refuge and then the peak!
August 2024