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INTRODUCTION

Morocco’s Atlas Mountains form an extensive series of ranges across the north-west corner of Africa – very much a barrier against the interior desert, yet influenced by Atlantic and Mediterranean weather. At Heathrow airport I once had quite a job convincing the girl at the check-in desk that I did want my skis flown to Marrakech. The glory of that red city, with its ramparts and palms, is the seasonal view south to glittering snow-covered mountains that stretch and dip beyond the horizons east and west. When Sir Francis Drake gathered his ships off the Moroccan coast before his round-the-world voyage he saw snowy mountains inland; he wasn’t believed either.

The Western Atlas from Marrakech (Route 35)

The snows are vital to the Atlas and neighbouring plains. Marrakech is built at a specific distance from the mountains – at the point to which water will run along irrigation channels by gravity. The mountains may be a geological wreckage, but the valleys are highly populated by Berber tribes, the indigenous people who have been there for thousands of years. (The Arabs arrived only in the seventh century.) The closest country in Africa to Europe, Morocco was the last to be taken over by a European imperial power, in 1912. (The carve-up arrangement was that France got Morocco and Britain got Egypt.) Like many fiercely independent people the Berbers are tough but marvellously hospitable, and wanderings in the Atlas gains immeasurably from this background.

I originally went to Morocco to climb, but even in the early years discovered the greatest pleasure was wandering off, pack on back, and exploring on and on, seeing an alluring distant summit, heading for it, and from its summit seeing others, on and on … The ultimate experience of this came in 1995 when a quartet of us trekked from one end of the Atlas to the other over 96 days. (The route, nicknamed GTAM95 (Great Traverse of the Atlas Mountains 1995) is described in my book The Mountains Look on Marrakech (see Appendix B), referred to as ‘HB’ in this book). And that simply showed us dozens of new possible trips, making the subsequent years the best of all. We also, early on in our exploration of the Atlas, discovered that mules were available to hire and carry rucksacks, food and camping gear. This lifts trekking in the Atlas to a unique level of pleasure. It’s a pity that the system doesn’t operate to the CIC hut on Ben Nevis.

The Isli camping spot below Jbel Msadrid, Fazaz distant (Route 5)

Perhaps surprisingly, the early travellers in the Atlas were British, and following their exploits became one of my interests (I hope to write a book about them), while, as a mountaineer, the lure of a summit was always present. A system evolved – meeting mules at some chosen spot reached by minibus, camionette (pick-up) or Land Rover and heading off for some distant objective. With nothing in the way of route descriptions, success did not always come at a first attempt, but the exploratory element was part of the fun, as was travelling with the Berbers and being so hospitably welcomed in the remotest villages, and enjoying the wildlife, the good food and the blessed sun.

So what you have in this book is a mix of reminiscence and description, much of the latter being provided by reading between the lines of the former. Where I’ve been up a summit more than once, the first visit may be described if more instructive – experience is the sum of our misadventures after all. I’ve given the date of any visit described, the month being the important reference for the weather and conditions encountered. But seasons can vary by a month, as botanists frequently note. It is somewhat frustrating to journey for a week to see some rare flower only to find the season so late it is not even in bud. If I seem to be using the regal ‘we’, this is to save giving endless names of any particular party. If there’s only me involved it will be obvious.

Geography and climate of the High Atlas

In simplistic geographic terms the Atlas ranges are the wrinkles from Africa’s tectonic plate bumping into Europe’s. The High Atlas, as a result, has endless tops over 3000m and a handful over 4000m (13,200ft). Quite a few of the really big hills stand in islanded isolation, to such an extent that they have their own distinctive floras, but the variety of form is endless. The centre and east has much that is sedimentary, with high plateaux, river gorges, long escarpments and contorted strata (Ighil Mgoun, 4068m, has fossil shells on its summit cone), while other areas such as the Toubkal massif, with a clutch of 4000ers, are volcanic in origin. Jbel Toubkal, at 4167m, is the highest summit in all North Africa – hence, I suppose, its Ben Nevis, Snowdon, Mont Blanc, Kilimanjaro allure. And of course, just as there is more to Scotland than Ben Nevis, there is more to Morocco than Toubkal.

Jbel Toubkal, highest summit in North Africa (4167m), from Imlil

The mountains vary enormously, and a rolling plateau bump can entail as much of a challenge as some obviously rocky spire (like Cairngorms and Cuillin). There is a stark, barren look to the summer Atlas and it can be ferociously hot then, with periodic severe storms and water not always easy to find. I’ve always finished any year’s ploys by the end of June and often earlier. It is perfectly possible to trek in winter if one has winter climbing skills. The weather can often be sparklingly cold and clear, with periodic three-day depressions blasting through. We trekked every February for seven years with not a drop of precipitation. In the following year we were notably washed out again and again and, believe me, when it decides to be wet you will enjoy tropical thoroughness. The hard ground can’t absorb this assault, so the result is spate and flood and a thorough testing of survival skills. (A few examples are given in the subsequent chapters.) Memorable, of course! The sunny normal is so accepted that when old Atlas hands get together the reminiscences tend to be about flash flood and other encounters of a wetting kind. One friend made five annual visits of 2–3 weeks before he had rain.

I know of people who have refused to visit the Atlas ‘because it is all so barren’. The summits indeed can be, but trekking, camping, village life and cultivation takes place or exists in the valleys, and they are intensely green or ablaze with blossom in spring – and it is that we happily recall. At the end of our big 96-day trek, against the list of our camps I put a symbol to mark the more memorable spots. I found I’d marked nearly all the sites. Being there and travelling through was every bit as important as success on any mountain. You can, of course, trek happily through the Atlas without going up any mountain – you may prefer this after reading some of the escapades described in this book!

The Tichka Plateau, with Imaradene top right (Route 44)

If you can cope with snow climbs, winter into spring is a good time to visit. I’d much rather plod up Toubkal on skis or using crampons than fight its summer waste of scree. Spring is the perfection, with blossom and life awakening, and as late as June alpine flowers will still be colouring high ground. By July the temperature is soaring and tends to stay so until the autumn equinox. Autumn has its attractions too – it is harvest time, and storms are less likely, but you’ll find a burnt-up landscape. November, December and January are the least good months, yet Christmas–Hogmanay in the Anti-Atlas or Jbel Sarho can be attractive. All the same, I’ve sat at a table in the Todra gorge with disconsolate climbers, looking out at the snow piling up on the palm trees. The weather seems to have become as erratic in Morocco as everywhere else. For years, early on, we did things on snow slopes (afoot or on skis) which we would never have done in the Alps. There were never any avalanches – until one year there was nothing else. Likewise, we never saw a flash flood – then, in the last years of the past century, they occurred again and again. Sensitivity to risk is vital, and is another reason for having locals along. Meld with the mountains and they mostly bless us.

Trekking routine

Our routine for trekking is worth describing. We tend to rise early. This always pays off. Uphills are done in the cool, in winter the snow is firm, and there’s always time to change or retreat. As the mules travel at a faster pace than walkers, we set off first. The mule team usually passes at some stage, perhaps shares a noon grub stop, then goes on and has a big tent pitched in which they cook and sleep and which acts as mess tent as well. The rest of us bring our own tents for sleeping in. Early to bed is not difficult – well fed, logs written up, the morrow planned, eyes begin to droop.

Welcome tea on reaching the next camp spot (Route 36)

In some circumstances a peak may be done from a bivouac, in which case we backpack and so cut down on all the weight possible. We take no tent, but possibly a breathable bivvy bag, or just sleep under the stars. Accommodation in village houses (gîtes), especially when the heavens open, is also a growing possibility as tourism increases. My fondest memories, however, are of the great hospitality offered in villages so remote that no European has ever been there. Again, it is a matter of bending to circumstances and staying safe and happy even in the event of the shocks that mountains can land on puny humans.

That this is a peopled landscape is astonishing. Centuries of terracing and a web of communicating mule tracks testify to the dedication of generations who have made a life in such a challenging environment. Not that this world is without sin; in the same way that much of the Scottish Highlands is wet desert and sterile from overgrazing and forest destruction, so the High Atlas has seen the same misuse with the same results. Make sure any party treats the landscape gently. Leave no litter, and burn and bury human waste well away from water – and see that muleteers are also clearly instructed.

Planning your trip

It is difficult to select the ‘best peaks’ or the ‘highlights’ to recommend for a trip to the High Atlas. At some stage I made a list of the highest summits of the Atlas, taking ‘over 3500m’ as the mark. There proved to be nearly 40 of these, and I was astonished to find that I’d been on all of them at some time or other. Why not describe them? But just as Scotland’s Stac Polly falls way below Munro level, yet is every bit a superior hill, so there are endless good summits in Morocco below the 3500m or 3000m level.

Making a selection of ‘the biggest and best’ seemed appropriate for this book (Appendix D lists the highest). But imagine the task if trying to pick out and detail 50 peaks in the Alps. As detail deadens rather than inspires, it was decided to describe the peaks from a personal perspective – to give first-hand accounts of their challenges – and to present them not as a tick-list but within the context of rewarding treks. I want to tell it as it was, to beguile others into emulation, and I have something of a moral obligation to do so, because nobody else can. Some peaks are most easily described in pairs or groups, so I’ve sneaked past the original concept of a neat 50.

The escape climb out of the Wandras gorge (Route 16)

My own wanderings have never been systematic. Time and again we would finish one trek/peak with most of the group demanding a return for some attractive continuation, while, at the same time, there was the lure of exploring completely new places. But isn’t this just what happens on the hills of home? Whoever did the Munros systematically?

The mountains are described in this book from north-east to south-west, as the general line of the mountains run, with a brief note on the southern ranges and Rif at the end. The southern ranges (the Anti Atlas, Jbel Sarho and Sirwa) do have adequate guidebook descriptions elsewhere.

I don’t know how often people ask me to give them ideas for a two-week Morocco visit. Of course they want to trek a bit, climb Toubkal, see the desert, ski, swim in warm seas and visit the cities of Fes and Marrakech. It is equivalent, I suppose, to someone wanting to visit the UK and see English cathedral cities, climb Ben Nevis, and see St Kilda, London, Shetland and the Irish islands, all in two weeks. Relax! And don’t even consider heading off for Toubkal the day after you fly in to Marrakech. Morocco can be such a tonic because, besides the exotic and the excitement, there is also a gentle timeless quality to life still. Westerners don’t realise how much of a pressure-cooker existence they endure. By operating as described, I watch group after group slowly relax and get in touch with reality again.

Two weeks? Then do one of the peaks or trips described in this book, then fit in Toubkal quickly (you’ll be fit by then) and end with two days at Essaouira. You’ll be back for more. Starting with Toubkal and ending up lying at the hut in the misery of altitude sickness is a very poor alternative – but I see it all the time. Taking time to reach and climb any of the big mountains allows one to become acclimatised, both to altitude and the heat and effort required in the Atlas. I don’t know why, but people who would never dream of attempting a 4000m summit in the Alps as soon as they arrive think it perfectly OK to do so in Morocco. The result is often distressing and, of course, potentially dangerous. Both altitude sickness and heatstroke are worth avoiding.

With the big push to get pistes (dirt tracks) or goudrons (surfaced/tarmac roads) and electricity into as many mountain villages as possible many pleasant old mule tracks are being destroyed. Most valleys, however, will have mule tracks or paths on both flanks, so one can walk on the friendlier side. Resist walking on pistes – they are hard and hot on the feet and enervating for the soul. It isn’t possible to keep tabs on all such recent developments, so this is a general warning.

Getting there and getting around

One blessing of the last few years is the availability of cheap flights. The national line Royal Air Maroc has their own cheaper version in Atlas Blue, and firms like Easyjet, Ryanair and Thompson operate out of Gatwick, Heathrow or Luton and elsewhere in the UK. Marrakech is the main destination (and the best for the Atlas), and some flights go to Agadir. In Morocco there’s a good rail system, and where it ends railway-run express buses take over (Supratours). There are plenty of inter-town bus services, and when the tarmac (goudron) runs out there are camions (lorries) and camionettes (pick-ups), which we have often used. Hiring Land Rovers is very expensive in comparison, but may be worth paying for to make certain of a remote rendezvous.

Village transport, Atlas style

Once you learn the ropes you’ll find the travel system in Morocco surprisingly efficient. For example, you could leave Essaouira on the coast, catch the morning train from Marrakech, be in Tangier by evening and cross the Straits to sleep in Spain the same night. (I doubt if in the UK it would be possible to leave Kinlochbervie and make Calais in one day by public transport overland.)

Nationals from the UK, the EU and most Commonwealth countries do not require a visa (others should check). As a tourist you are allowed a three-month stay (it’s in the small print usually, so most people don’t realise this, but few are staying for so long anyway). Stay longer and you’ll find yourself in the coils of the bureaucratic monster, the first requirement being seven passport photographs.

Bureaucracy

Morocco loves its bureaucracy – after all, they were French taught (when the French left Morocco they had four times as many civil servants for the country as the British had for India). In remote areas local headmen may want your particulars, occasionally the police may too, and, of course, hotels require them for the dreaded registration fiche, which must be completed for every member of the party on arrival at each hotel. So prepare a sheet with each person’s name, address, home telephone number, e-mail, passport number and date of issue and expiry, place and date of birth, date of entering Morocco, profession, next of kin’s name, relationship, address and telephone number, and leave room for the number stamped in passports on arrival! You can hand it over at hotels and tell them to fill in the fiche. If you are in a group this form is also a useful contacting sheet. Next of kin details wil not be needed with luck, but one commercial outfit was rightly criticised when one trekker had a serious accident and the organiser did not know who to get in touch with.

Local guides

I have found local guides to be invaluable in my wanderings in the Atlas. In fact, this book is dedicated to El Aouad Ali, a remarkable Berber from the Western Atlas who has been the kingpin in almost all my major ventures – and on the often-mentioned GTAM95 – which would not have been contemplated without his skills. The great thing, too, is that he speaks English as well as French, Arabic and the Atlas Berber languages.

Aït Idir Mohammed and El Aouad Ali, the author’s most constant helpers

Many years ago I spent some time looking for ways up the Jbel Kest in the Anti Atlas because the first trekking company going into the area wanted to make an ascent part of their programme. Everyone had assumed the Kest to have the highest summit in the Anti Atlas. Later I realised Aklim was higher and I mentioned to Ali that some of us would head for it next spring. In the months before we came, he explored the area, found camp sites, local facilities and a route up the mountain. He is that sort of Atlas enthusiast – and a delightful person – and an expert organiser. I really do recommend getting in touch with him and making use of his experience to organise transport, mules and anything else. Take all the worries out of the enjoyment!

In any description in this book I have mentioned the local help we used, and more on this can be gleaned from Appendix E. All the best professional guides maintain a network of contacts everywhere. Naturally I’ve used the same people again and again, so don’t hesitate to mention these tried and tested guides. Through their training schemes there are now hundreds of trained, certificated guides (beware of ‘faux guides’), with offices in major places including Imlil, Ouarzazate, the Bou Guemez, Tinerhir and Boumalne des Dadès.

Local language and culture

I deeply regret not learning more Arabic or Tamazight and Tashelhait, the main Berber languages of the Atlas. I shouldn’t say ‘Berber’ really. The word is of the Roman period. The people prefer ‘Amazigh’, the free people. French is the main European language spoken/understood, with English a poor second. Some Berber and many French words are universally used for practical communication, regardless of speakers’ nationalities. These are fully listed in Appendix A. They may be translated on their first appearance in the book, but are not given italics.

The walls of Taroudant

Names of all types are inseperable from local lore and culture. As with Gaelic, many names translate interestingly, while others are so murdered in translation as to be beyond recognition. Having our regular guide Ali along, we often gain fascinating background information. As one wanders more extensively other aspects catch the imagination. People’s clothing, for instance, has local and tribal variations, and the architecture, always impressive, can also have noticeable differences.

Village girls in the Western Atlas

But, if nothing else, it is the people who will lure me back (as long as possible), for they are hardy, brave, ingenious, friendly and openly hospitable. Family life is strong, their culture and traditions are maintained, and values are held which we have lost in the greedy West, whose polluting ways will yet contaminate this bastion of free people.

Health and safety

The Atlas is one of the healthiest of mountain ranges. There aren’t as many microscopic or creepy-crawly nasties as in some other ranges. Take elementary precautions and you’d be unlucky to pick up anything really bad. At habitation level don’t drink stream water; giardia is possible. In the south avoid contact with still waters; bilharzia is possible. High sources (springs) are clean, and in habited areas you can buy bottled water or consume drinks made with boiling water. Over the years we’ve all drunk mint teas offered, sometimes in pretty unhygienic places, without coming to harm – and the food offered, such as tagine, is long cooked and usually safe.

Shopping at Talat-n-Yacoub souk (Route 34)

I’ve seen a whole season of various groups trekking for three months with no upset tummy. And when they do get it, it is often in some city or hotel setting, not sprawled in a mess tent in the wilds. One thing I do insist on is that everyone uses Wet Wipes, or some such, on their hands before meals. An upset tummy can feel pretty awful, a night of the runs and vomiting is no joy, but 24 hours later all is well again and, oddly I always feel, it is often only one person in a group who is hit. There never seems to be a common cause. Well before departing for Morocco check with your doctor about whatever precautionary injections are recommended.

On bottled water, can I make an appeal to buy only those labelled ‘natural spring water’ – look out for names like Sidi Ali, Sidi Harazen and Aïn Saïss (Aïn means ‘spring’ and Sidi suggests a sacred site, which might well be a source). I emphasise this because the Coca Cola Company is selling bottled Casablanca water and undercutting the price of everyone else – which is morally abhorrent. I’ve seen the Sidi Ali site (which is also the source of Oulmès, the sparkling spring water), which employs and has created a whole village of families (600 people) in the middle of nowhere. I don’t want to see them destroyed. So avoid Ciel and any other bottled waters that betray their origins with the label ‘Table Water’ (Eau de Table).

The Imejdag gorge approach to Jbel Tigounatine (Route 13)

There are no midges in the Atlas, and I’ve had far worse encounters with flies in the North Pennines. Snakes and scorpions there are, but many trekkers never see any. Snakes take off at the approach of humans, and scorpions, like snakes, tend to be localised. Some areas have them; most don’t. (Nobody really knows why.) If an area is prone to these I mention the fact. Being observant should be a habit – don’t put fingers under boulders, look before you sit (most vegetation is prickly), clear the ground round the tent, zip the door at night, and check inside boots before putting them on. In over 40 years of Atlas expeditions involving over a thousand people nobody has been stung by scorpion or struck by snake. So they’re not a big deal.

There is no regular mountain rescue service, as there is in Europe. In extreme cases a military helicopter might be called in to help, but it could take some time to get word out – this is less of a problem now, as even in the Atlas mobile phones usually work. In emergency situations the authorities at all levels will do their best to help. But, because the Atlas is so wild and rough, often remote and challenging, people seem consciously or unconsciously to take extra care. It is important to have some effective insurance cover, such as that on offer through the British Mountaineering Council.

Titoula’s terraces below the Tastwiyt peaks (Route 22)

As there is so much in the news about trouble spots these days, I am frequently asked about safety in the Atlas, and try to allay any fears along those lines. Even in Marrakech the women in our party wander off into the alleys and souks without giving it a thought. Of course they are dressed and behave appropriately. Neither men nor women should go out in shorts and T-shirts, as it is offensive to local people. The British have a strange thing about taking off clothes in the sun. This might do in hot, sticky climates, but in dry heat one covers up (notes about gear and equipment are in Appendix C). The Tuaregs in the desert are enveloped in flowing robes, with only their eyes showing. And as for terrorist bombs, you are much more at risk in the UK.

Maps

Maps are a problem. The Atlas ranges are all covered at a scale of 1:100,000 (maps at this scale are referenced as ‘100’ in this book, with the sheet name, see Appendix B) and some are covered at 1:50,000 (referenced as ‘50’ plus the sheet name), but the mapping is very old. This may not matter for the delineation of the landscape, but all human infrastructure is woefully out of date. These maps are very hard to purchase (but see Appendix B, for possible suppliers). Obtain what you can, but go regardless.

Jbel Oukaïmeden, the skiing mountain next to Angour (Route 31)

Maps may not be as vital as one might presume. Working from a good map of the country (Michelin, Hallwag, World Map/Geo Center, Freytag & Berndt, Rough Guide, etc), the vital Mgoun Massif West Col map (referenced as ‘MM’ in this book), the more available Toubkal area maps, plus map sketches in Peyron or Fougerolles (see Appendix B), and closely reading texts (including this book), means one can manage quite happily.

As well as any maps, the wise will have a knowledgeable local along (see Appendix E) and/or glean information from muleteers and locals. In addition, good visibility (usually!) makes life much easier – allowing hill sense to make the obvious correct decisions – and is essential for those going into the mountains without a map at all. In all my years in the Atlas I’ve used a compass only twice. (If it is bad enough to need one, you’re just not going anywhere!)

The spelling on maps can vary, as can the heights, so any inconsistencies between this book and published maps is unavoidable. (In the text, the height given for any peak may be followed by a second height in brackets, which is an alternative figure fairly often encountered, so may help to pinpoint the peak.) As long as a mountain name is near enough and recognisable, go with it – Zawyat Ahancal, Zaouie Ahansal and Zawit Ahansal is one example of this type of variation. A height can be different on the 100,000 and 1:50,000 scale maps and in books consulted. The 100,000 and 1:50,000 maps also tend to show a differing selection of paths – and are decades behind changes to such. Ah, for the good old Ordnance Survey and the simplicity of Gaelic nomenclature!

This book uses metres and kilometres throughout (as that is what is used on the maps) and, to aid navigation, key places and features shown on the sketch maps are highlighted in bold in the narrative.

The Nfis gorges below Oumzra (Route 37)

Using this guide

While much of what follows is narrative, at the end of each section is a box summarising practical route information and giving any other source of information on a particular peak, including useful descriptions in other books. Titles of maps and texts are given as an abbreviation, which can be checked in Appendix B. There are frequent references to the English translation of a work by Michael Peyron, who has roamed the Atlas like few others and gathered together information under the title La Grande Traversee de l’Atlas Maroccain (GTAM; translated as ‘The Great Atlas Traverse Morocco’). The two volumes of this in English, referred to as MP1 and MP2, are indispensable.

Most English guidebooks have concentrated on Toubkal and some of the set-piece commercial treks. The authors are often trek leaders who are repeating treks and, after a few years, move on. There are naturally fewer references in this book to such guidebooks. Of the general guidebooks I’ve mostly used the Rough Guide to Morocco (and have written the sections on the Atlas Mountains), as it is full of useful and interesting background information. In Appendix B are also listed a few general works which anyone fascinated by Morocco would find a good read. This is, after all, the nearest truly exotic land to Europe.

Another Cicerone title, Mountaineering in the Moroccan High Atlas by Des Clark, details many routes, including winter climbs, covering areas in the Western Atlas, Toubkal massif and further east. With comprehensive coverage of certain areas, as against this book’s wider, narrative coverage, it is highly recommended as a companion volume, alongside Cicerone’s Trekking in the Atlas by Karl Smith, which describes some of the more popular trekking routes.

I was just lucky that Kipling’s ‘everlasting whisper’ came to me. ‘Go and look behind the Ranges – something lost behind the ranges. Lost and waiting for you. Go!’ The whisper is always there; its imperative is still ours to accept. Morocco is simply one of the world’s most rewarding lands for mountain activities. My hope is that these tales will set other feet searching for the magic of the High Atlas.