Traversing the South: Tinejdad, Tinghir, and the Todra Gorge

It's amazing how even within the same country just 8 or so hours away from my site that the surroundings can be so remarkably different.  In some places you feel as if you were walking on the Red Planet.  The people also dress a little differently and speak a completely different language.  It almost felt like I was starting my Peace Corps tour all over again.


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After the camel ride to the desert and back, I continued my journey by grand taxi from Errachidia going east to Tinejdad, another oasis village with a stunning mud ksar, lots of small vegetable, fruit, and wheat and corn plots, and palm trees all bordering the winter rain stream that snakes through town.  The mud ksar is like a little mud piste fortress castle with corner towers with beautiful overlooks molded in classical Amazigh form.  Like the mud piste castle out in the middle of the desert, this ksar was also a good 20 degrees cooler.

Tinejdad Laizars

Tinejdad is not shy about its Berber/Amazigh history.  As I walked up to and through the ksar, the free-man Amazigh insignia was proudly displayed on the ksar walls.  The Amazigh pride symbols could also be seen in the laizars that the women wore.  These thin sheets of fabric that women wrap around themselves on top of their djellaba or niqab had all sorts Amazigh designs in bright neon threading over usually a black cloth.  As far as language, about 45 or so minutes before I arrived in Tinejdad, I was speaking Darija with folks in Errachidia, but in Tinejdad, you best be ready to bust out some Tashelheit - another Amazigh/Berber dialect.  Darija is spoken, but I got the feeling that it's mainly done to appease the passersby.   Right next to the ksar, I saw some signs for some swanky looking maison d'hôtes and there were plenty of restaurants on the main road.  I think if I was looking for a nice pit stop before heading to the desert, Tinejdad would be at the top of my list.

Tinghir Kasbah

From Tinejdad, the next stop was Tinghir and the magnificent Todra Gorge.  The sight of mud villages on the fringes of the palmeries sprouting from the Todra River against the backdrop of a dry, barren, and rocky mountainside is something that is indelibly imprinted in my mind.

It is so different from anything I had ever seen.
From Tinghir, we took a grand taxi to the Todra Gorge.  We walked around a bit, hiked up the road some, and then headed back.  The Todra Gorge is essentially a narrow passageway carved out of a mountain plateau by the Todra River over a millenia.

Todra Gorge Entrance

It's another one of those natural wonders where the sheer size of it makes one feel like an insignificant blip in the space of time.  I like this feeling.  As I stare at layer upon layer of rock and sediment dating back to who knows when, my preoccupations of daily life seem to wither away and I think to myself how silly it is to be worrying about leaving a legacy or something for people to remember me by.

I was encouraged by the bit of farming at the base of the gorge.  The green stood out in such contrast to everything around it.  I also found an interesting flower that I think depicts the area well.  This spiny, thorny flower is not really inviting; in fact, it's a little harsh and hostile, but nonetheless it's beautiful to look at.

More pictures and stories about the rest of the trip on the next blog.

Trip Essentials:

Lodging
We camped out the night at the Todra River Valley amongst the palm trees in a campsite right on the edge of the river stream.  We stayed at the Camping l'Auberge Atlas (ph: 212-524-89-50-46).  It was 100DH for their basic room.  They also had ponjs out in the terrace for 30DH.

Food
Dinner can be expensive.  Clarify the pricing before ordering especially if you order the tagine special.  We ordered the special thinking that the 60DH covered the entire tagine; when in fact, it was 60DH per person. Ouch!  The place was no hole in the wall.  The food was delicious and had a cool ambiance.  The whole road from Tinghir to the Todra Gorge is replete with hotels and restaurants catering to foreign tourists.  You have a lot of choice so use it to your advantage when bargaining.

Transpo:

Once again, CTM bus service is available leaving out of Errachidia, Marrakech, Ouarzazate, and other locations.  By grand taxi, I think I averaged about 25DH per leg from one town to another.

Traversing Morocco's South: Into the Desert

Last Spring, I had the chance to take a week-long excursion through the south of Morocco.  When you visit the south, you get the sense that you're finally in Morocco.  When I left my hometown in April, the temperature was hovering just above 50F.  After a nine hour CTM bus ride from Fes, I arrived in Erfoud early in the morning and immediately began shedding my many layers of clothes to enjoy the balmy 80F weather.  By the time the desert trekking company picked us up around noon, it was well over 90F and by the time we got to the edge of the Sahara, it was easily over 100F, but the heat was not suffocating.  If you stood out in the sun, you'd toast in no time, but as soon as you got under some shade, it was bearable.

I'll never forget one winter in Indiana when we had a massive blizzard followed by some sub-zero temperatures.  The air was so cold then that every time I'd breathe it'd feel as if my little hairs in my nostrils turned into little tiny icicles and then defrost as soon as I'd breathe out.  Well, here in the desert the air was so dry that it felt like every bit of moisture in my nostrils was being sucked out turning that dense jungle of hair and mucus into a parched river bed, but then replenished as soon as I'd breathe out.  (Sorry if my imagery is slightly disturbing)

After a 30-minute 4x4 ride through the rocky, Red Planet-like desert wilderness on the way to the Erg Chebbi dunes, we arrived at a mud piste auberge where we all went into hiding from the blinding and unforgiving sun.  The mud-kasbah was amazingly cool.  We decided to order lunch.  The kasbah had about everything one could find in your typical Moroccan restaurant.  The server told us that they had some of the best Kalia in the region.  I'm not even going to attempt to describe it so I'll just borrow from others.  According to Morocco.com, it describes Kalia as "...a mutton or kid stew flavored with over 40 spices served with egg, vegetables and parsley" (http://www.morocco.com/meknes-tafilalet/erfoud/).   Andrew Zimmern of Bizarre Foods also got a taste and had this to say about it:

I supposedly had Kalia in Erfoud, but my experience was not as unpleasant as Andrew's.  I do remember thinking that the meat was extremely tender and bursting with flavor.  The server told us that the meat had over 40 different spices; he did not say anything about the meat being a mystery meat, marinated in animal fat, or that it was putrid.  In retrospect, I'm glad he left the details out.  

Shortly after lunch, we took a nap.  Most of us had traveled overnight on a bus for about 8 hours or more, so it was nice to rest on a flat surface.  Our guides told us that we had to wait a few more hours for other tour groups to arrive and for the sun to come down a bit.  

After our nap, we went out of the auberge and walked a few hundred meters into the fringe of the desert dunes.  The sky was mostly overcast with just a few rays of the evening sun sneaking through the clouds .  The color of the dunes, mostly a pale beige hue at the height of the day, was now displaying a full range of rich orange shades.  I felt like a little kid walking through this vast sea of sand.  It was such a contrast to anything I had seen: the ripples in the sand, the sand hills and mountains, and the patches of desert grass at the base of these hills.  The sand was slightly coarse, but soothing to walk on.

While we wandered out, our guides began assembling our camels.  The camels grunted all the way to the mounting area.  We had two guides assigned to our group so they formed two caravan lines.  Once everyone was mounted, the guides tugged on the rope and began walking ahead of the leading camels, and just like that, our journey into the Sahara had begun.  

The hour and a half camel ride to our desert oasis was memorable in a number of ways.  The slow pace of the caravan allowed us to take in the surroundings, the changing hues of the desert landscape, the towering sand mountains, their shadows, and the rolling hills of sand going as far as the eye could see, but the pace also made the camel trek seem like it was a never-ending ordeal especially for my groin region.

That's me, second from the top

Going uphill on the camel was no problem, but going downhill put the pressure right smack on the gonads.  Ouch!  It was a relief finally to get off the camel, but just as I loosened up my boxers and pants to give my boys some room to recuperate, I couldn't help but think of our one and a half hour trek back.  The camel ride at the break of dawn with the sun rising over the horizon no longer had the same mystical allure that I had once imagined.

At campsite, there were already a number of other groups in other tents.  We saw a number of people climbing onto what looked like the knife-edge of a tall sand mountain overlooking base camp.  I climbed up to catch a glimpse of the sunset and to get a few shots of the sea of sand that extended to the horizon.  All the while, our guides were busy cooking up dinner.  They served up a number of tagines and put on a full table spread with plates and silverware.  Our group, already used to eating Moroccan-style, grabbed the xubz (bread) and began to chow using bits and pieces of bread with surgical precision to take apart the meat and grab the veggies that had, perhaps by God's will, fallen within our respective triangles of the tagine.

Once dinner was served, our guides and guides from other groups came by to put on a little drum and chant session to cap the night.  The setting was definitely magical.  The sky was pitch black, the stars were brighter than ever, the desert air was cool, and the moon provided the only light in this remote landscape.  Just as my mind was beginning to drift into the desert night, I was hurled back down when a fellow volunteer asked our guide if there was a restroom or designated place to take care of personal needs to which he responded with arms open wide and a strong roll of the 'r', "The rrrestrrroom is everrrywherrre!"

The plan was to catch a few ZZZs and then get up before dawn to catch the sunrise.  Our entire group of 11 slept in one tent.  We spoke for a bit, but then crashed for the night.  At around 5AM, our guides began banging their pots and pans to wake us up.  A few of us got up and climbed the sand mountain once again.  It was a bit chilly and windy, but the views were quite astounding.  I got to catch a glimpse of the sun as it rose over another tall sand ridge.  The sun was almost completely white.  It was beautiful.  I don't think I had ever seen the sun this clear.  I took a few shots and then scooted down the sand mountain to get a bit of breakfast--this time served inside our tent.

Soon thereafter, I reluctantly mounted another camel and just tried to focus my attention away from the ride and onto the beautiful scenery of changing orange and red hues as the sun began its ascent.  After another torturous yet amusing camel trek, I arrived at our kasbah auberge a bit bow-legged, but with all pieces intact, hamdullah (thanks be to God).  Once there, we took turns taking a much needed shower and prepared ourselves for our 4x4 ride back to Erfoud.  

On the way back, I saw a number of camels and herds of goats and some sheep grazing in the distance.  I also noticed quite a few signs advertising all sorts of marine fossils mainly of the trilobite variety.  Our drivers cautioned us that some of the shops rather than excavating in the harsh sun manufacture much of what they sell to unsuspecting tourists.

We arrived in the palm-oasis of Erfoud, most famously known for its annual date festival celebrating the harvest of a wide array of tasty date varieties.  This year the event got a major boost from the government who decided to capitalize on this abundant crop by putting up a highly publicized grand exhibition called SIDATTES 2010.  The drivers dropped us off at the Erfoud bus and taxi station.  From there, a few of us chilled out at a nearby restaurant, tried a little Kalia, and then went on our separate ways thankfully without any major bowel movement disruptions, l-hamdullilah.  

Trip Essentials:

Price

The bigger the group, the better the discount.  A lone trekker normally will pay between 400-450DH.  Our group of 11 managed to get a flat 400DH per head. Bigger groups of volunteers have been able to go as low as 350DH per person.  

What's included? 

From Erfoud, you’ll take a 4x4 ride to the kasbah auberge in Merzouga, camel trek to campsite and back, dinner and breakfast, overnight stay in their tents outfitted with spongy mattresses and plenty of blankets, and use of kasbah facilities (showers and storage).  

Who to call?

Pretty much every volunteer group has used a couple of guys who work with Sahara-Excursions.com.  Our contact is Hamid and can be reached at +212-(0)666-76-63-51.  If you tell them that you were referred by Peace Corps volunteers, volontaires du Corps de la Paix, he should honor the 350-450DH price range that he has extended to us.

How to get to Erfoud?

CTM departs to Erfoud from a number of major cities like Fes, Marrakech, and Casablanca.  Supratours also goes out to Erfoud.  They coordinate their departures based on train arrivals.  For more information, visit www.oncf.ma

BssHa on your travels!  Triq Slama!  

The Shamal Series Honorable Mentions: Volubilis, Oulmes, Mehdia Beach, and Mouley Bousselham

Continuing on with the Shamal Series, I'd like to present a few travel options that I think are worth a stop if you have the time.  I write these entries to let people know about other places other than your well-known tourist-magnet cities like Fez, Marrakesh, or Essaouira, in the hopes that you may have the chance to have as good a time as I had visiting these sites.

1) Volubilis (To Moroccans, Walili)

Actually, this first site is perhaps one of the most popular tourist spots in all of Morocco and draws thousands of people from around the world every year (The next site is out of the beaten path; I promise).  Volubilis is one of the largest ruins of Roman civilization in the Maghreb.  It is set in the middle of a wide open expanse of farmland.  According to my Rough Guide to Morocco, the Romans chopped down the trees in the region to make room for the cultivation of wheat and other grains and for olive trees that to this day border the hillside.  The place is pretty big and you do get the sense that you are in the midst of what used to be a vibrant commercial center.

I think what is cool about the place is how different the architecture and the layout of the city is in comparison to the medieval-esque medinas of Morocco.  The Romans expressed themselves artistically through imagery and exalted their nobles; as such, they created some very elaborate stone-pixel mosaics to enshrine for centuries to come those they admired. A sharp contrast to the Muslim cities where Islam prohibited the construction of statues and mosaics of faces, bodies, or any figure.  In their place, their medieval cities are adorned with intricate geometric kaleidoscope like mosaics and calligraphy.

Mosaic of the Athlete

The mosaics of the various city nobles are also impressive.  I've been told that watching the sunrise or sunset over the ancient city ruins is amazing.  For sure, don't go when I went at the height of the day when the sun is bearing down on you.  There are only a few trees around for shade so plan accordingly.  There is a nice cafe near the entrance with some trees, and across the street you can find a few gift shops and hanuts selling all sorts of snacks and even some ice cream.  

To get there, go to Meknes.  If you're arriving via grand taxi from Rabat or Fes, you'll be dropped off across the street from the bus station (gare routière or maHtta d kiran).  If you arrive at either of the Meknes train stations, take a petit taxi to the gare routière.  Just below the gare routière (not the CTM one), you will find grand taxis that run to Mouley Idriss about 30k north of Meknes.  Fare was 10DH in 2010 for your typical one butt-cheek sitting space.  The grand taxi will drop you off at the city square where you'll find plenty of station wagon taxis with signs to Volubilis charging around 5DH for the 5K ride.  For the return trip, you could tag along with other tour groups back to Meknes.  You could also trek back to Mouley Idriss and from there you can find plenty of taxis heading to Meknes.  A lot of taxis frequent the road picking up passengers on the way back to Meknes.  We boarded one of those taxis and paid the same amount we would have paid had we left from Moulay Idriss.  How do you know if they're in the business of picking up passengers? You can flag them down or just wait to hear a beep, which can mean two things: I have room for you or you're about to get run over.  Just be alert.

2) Oulmes

This little town is the site of one of the finest finds in all of Morocco: the Source Llala Haya, provider of the best tasting effervescent mineral water in all of Morocco.  There are a number of ways to get to Oulmes.  I went by way of Khemisset.  From the main Khemisset grand taxi station, small passenger vans called (transits or stuffits--no kidding and they do stuff them to the brim sometimes) head out to Oulmes.  The ride there is a little bumpy and curvy as the transit winds through the mountain ledges and plows through the hillside.  Once out of Khemisset, all you can see is wheat farms, cows and sheep grazing, and rolling hills and mountains dotted with shrubbery trees.  It took about an hour or so to get there.  We chilled out with some fellow PCVs for the night and then headed out early morning to the source.  We took a small transit that cost 4DH to get to the site of the bottling facility.

From there it was a 3K downhill trek zig-zagging all the way on a paved trail to the source, and on the trail you get to see up close the shrubbery trees dotting the rocky mountainside.  Upon reaching the source, you cross a river to what looks like a small shaded campsite facility.  There are attendants there who welcome you and give you a 2-minute tour of the facility basically showing you where the water is coming from and the room where a couple of bathtub-size pits have been dug in to accommodate those who wish to experience the magical healing powers of the thermal waters of Oulmes.  The water is streaming in and emptying out so it seemed pretty hygienic.

Johnny performing a do-it-yourself baptism at the source

I didn't take a bath, but I did wash my head a bit, which was wonderfully refreshing after the brief hike.  At the site, they got a few picnic tables overlooking the ravine.  Later on, I was about to drink straight out of this water hose by the picnic tables, but the attendant told me that the water at the campsite was unfiltered and was kind enough to give us a couple of Sidi Ali water bottles free-of-charge.  We then hiked up back to the bottling facility and from there we took the transit ride back to Oulmes.  

The bottling company has a hotel offering thermal baths, and my PCV friends said that the restaurant there is also very good.  For more information, see the link below:    

http://www.oulmes.ma/indexfr.htm

3) Mehdia Beach

As a pisces, my connection and attraction to water are stronger than most.  Luckily for me, the ocean is only about a three-hour train ride away.  It's a luxury and one that I indulge in whenever possible.  Every here and then I get the chance to go to Rabat for some official Peace Corps business and on such occasions I make sure a trip to the beach is on the agenda.

Mehdia Beach is the ideal spot if you want to get away from the hustle and bustle of the capital city and relax in the laid-back atmosphere of this beach resort/fishing town.  The beach is fairly long, the water is calm, although the surf can pick up later in the afternoon and onto the evening.  There are plenty of cafés, restaurants serving a range of seafood and fried fish, and hotels and maison d'hôtes for every kind of traveler, and it is not packed with tourist, but mostly locals.  The only downside is that it can get a little trashy from time to time, not people-wise per se, but just lots of litter, so watch your step as you stroll through the beach.

Perhaps the reason why it is not so tourist-heavy is  due to its somewhat remote location, but by no means should it discourage anyone from going there.  It's actually very easy to get there even with public transportation.  From Rabat, take the train to Kenitra Medina Station, the last stop on the urban rail lines that run every half hour from Casablanca.  Upon exiting the station, make a right towards the stairs, climb up the stairs, make a right at the top walking down until you reach an Oil Libya gas station, from there make a left and walk straight past all the hanuts until you reach the end of the block, and then look to your right and some orange grand taxis should be there waiting for passengers.  Normally, once you reach the Oil Libya gas station you should be able to see the taxis, but right now the square where they congregate is under construction.  If anything, just ask the hanut owners for the mahtta d taksiyat d Mehdia and they'll point you in the right direction.  Taxi fare was 5DH.  Train ride from Rabat was 15DH, and all in all, it should take you no more than an hour from the Rabat Ville Station to the sands of Mehdia.

4) Mouley Bousselham

If you still feel like getting even farther away from the city, a trip to Mouley Bousselham can probably soothe the most erratic nerves.  Because it´s a little bit further out, you see even less tourists and certainly more locals.  To the west is the beach and to the south is a beautiful lagoon and marshland called the Merdja Zerga that is frequented by a whole array of migratory birds, egrets, and even some flamingos.

Last time I was there, the beach had some rough waves and strong undercurrents.  It was closely guarded by lifeguards.  I mainly saw some families playing near the edge of the water and a good number of fishermen laying out multiple fishing poles and then chilling back on a lawn chair. The lagoon empties onto the ocean so I imagine that it is safer to swim.

I stayed at Hotel Miramar on the oceanfront, one of the cheaper options in town, but I don't recommend it.  The rooms are big.  They have a bedroom and a salon with ponges ideal for a small family.  They started at 250DH for the night, but we bargained down to 200DH.  One could  probably go a bit further.  The hot water in the public bathrooms never worked morning or night and at night the terrace is used as a pool hall with chabbi music blaring until 1-2AM despite requests to have the music lowered.

It was funny to hear the locals in the other rooms saying that there were foreigners in the hotel.  Mouley Bousselham is one of many sites Moroccans make a pilgrimage to in order to honor their various saints and tribal leaders of the past.  The Marabout of Mouley Bousselham rests prominently next to the grand plaza on the oceanfront.
    
Food-wise, many restaurants are serving all sorts of grilled or fried seafood for reasonable rates.  One piece of advice is to stay near the oceanfront and away from the lagoon side as you get closer to the night.  Just moving out of the ocean breeze for a bit can land you a good number of mosquito bites.  Overall though, a nice, clean, and quiet beach to calm the nerves.

To get there from Rabat, take a train to Kenitra Medina Station and upon exiting make a left and walk towards the grand taxis going to Mouley Bousselham.  The fare was 40DH and about an hour long.  They take the toll road to Tangiers for much of the way. You are dropped off about 1k from the oceanfront. As you get near it, you'll be presented with various maison d'hotes options from various faux guides that may actually be better than the hotel options.

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I think this about wraps up the Shamal Series.  There are still a number of places in northern Morocco that are worthy of individual entries namely Chefchaouen.  I actually went there, but just crashed the place for only one night.  Inchallah, I'll have the opportunity to visit and hike a bit in the Rif Mountains.

I've yet to talk about my trips to the south of the country.  I hope to highlight a few of them such as: the desert trek, the Todra Gorge, the palmeries, and some of the beaches near and around Agadir.  It's been quite an experience to see so much contrast in the landscape from marshlands to a sea of desert dunes, coastal plains to towering mountains, and an oasis of palmeries in the middle of a desert wilderness.  Moroccans are lucky to live in such a country.  I hope everyone has the chance to see what I have seen and to marvel at the beauty that perhaps a deity or the cosmic forces of the universe has created.

BssHa (To your health) on your travels!

Just About On Top of the World: Climbing Mt. Toubkal

This July I embarked on a journey to climb as high as I possibly could in Morocco.  I had already gone to the center of the earth by way of the Grotte Friouato near Taza so it made sense that I would need to do the exact opposite.  I would have attempted to climb Mt.Everest, but it's not in Morocco so I had to settle for the highest peak in North Africa, Mt. Toubkal.

Summiting Mt. Toubkal, one could say, is a PC Morocco must.  It's on the circuit of must-see sites and activities that a lot of volunteers commit to doing before the end of their service.  With only five or so months left for me, I penciled in the journey for mid-July.  Some volunteers had said that the climb was not at all what they expected from the second highest peak in all of Africa.  Some were able to go up and down the mountain in a weekend without feeling much pain.  Others said that it was one of the toughest things they had ever done.  I was hoping that I would fall somewhere in the middle.  Both said, though, that the climb and ultimately summiting was well worth any pain they felt.  I did a little training to prep my self.  Three weeks prior to the climb, I began running 3-4 miles every other day and threw in some hills from time to time.  I felt I was in decent shape to take on the mountain.

The journey began at the Mohammedia train station where the day prior I had visited a couple of camp sites for the upcoming Camp GLOW.  Satisfied with the outlook of the camp, I took off to Marrakech where I would spend the night and then head out to Imlil, the launching point for most trekkers.  My Rough Guide to Morocco and several blogs recommended that trekkers spend the night in Imlil to acclimate to the elevation so I left Marrakech late morning hoping to get into Imlil sometime in the afternoon.

A PCV who had summited the mountain twice already and knows how tight our PC budgets can be suggested a cheap route to Imlil, which was to take a city bus from Marrakech at the Sidi Mimoun bus station to Tahanout (about 45 minutes and 7-8Dh), from Tahanout one could take a grand taxi to Asni (another 30-45 minutes), and then from Asni one could hop on another grand taxi to Imlil for another 30-45 minutes.

In all, I spent 22DH for the entire trip and it wasn't too unpleasant.  The city bus to Tahanout was in good shape and not too packed.  From Tahanout, we asked the locals for directions to the grand taxi Asni pickup spot and walked over there.  We saw grand taxis on the opposite side of the road dropping off passengers, but nothing came our way for about 20 minutes.  With no sign of a grand taxi to come and not wanting to wait for one in the hot sun, I and several others hopped on a semi-truck that was headed that way.  We didn't flag him down.  He honked at the group of people gathered at the spot, which was the driver's way of letting us know that he was in the business of taking passengers along with the rest of his produce.  We actually got the deluxe treatment sitting in the cabin.  I was a little cramped, but it was better than another guy who had his legs open-wide straddling the driver's seat--it looked like a painful 45 minute groin stretch.  Once we reached Asni, the truck driver just asked for the standard fare, which was around 7Dh.  Upon disembarking, I shook my legs a bit to restore them back to life, chilled out a bit at a really shady cafe with some scruffy characters typical of a pit-stop town, and then proceeded to the grand taxis heading to Imlil (8DH).  Finally, the Asni to Imlil stretch was a cool ride as the taxi coasted through the lush river bed of the Ait Mizane Valley.

I spent the night at a gite advertised in the Rough Guide called Chez Mohammed.  There are a lot of lodging options from refuge-like accommodations featuring rows of bunk beds in a general area to simple and luxurious private rooms.  When I asked around for the gite, not a lot of people knew about it, but they knew the landmarks that led to the location. So I walked towards the landmarks and kept asking people who kept saying a not-very-specific "Sir l-hih", go there.  I finally ran into a small sign on a light-post that pointed to the place.  I followed the arrow and then I arrived at another fork on the path divided by your typical Moroccan apartment building.  I didn't think that building was the place because it just looked like someone's home so I went around and asked some guys who were working on an irrigation channel, but they also had no idea where it was.  I went back to the same building, knocked on the door, asked if that was Chez Mohammed and lo and behold it was.

One of the ladies that greeted us who I presumed had to be related to Mohammed took me to the second floor and gave us a Vanna White presentation of the rooms.  They were simple rooms.  At that moment the place was vacant.  The price was better than the bunk-bed dorm accommodation: 50DH per person, per night, for a private room.  The only bad thing was there was no hot water.  They had a hot water heater, but at the time it was out of service.  No biggie, though.  Over the last year or so cold bucket showers have been the norm so I went ahead and used my fine-tuned zen meditation techniques to get through the initial shock.  The place did not feel like a hotel at all.  It literally is Mohammed's pad as its name says.

The next day another PCV and I headed out around 8am.  The ladies at Chez Mohammed held on to a few items that we did not want to take along with us.  We were told to follow this one road and so we did for about 30 minutes until we realized that we were following the wrong river valley.  We walked back and then made a turn onto the east trail toward Amrend.  We followed an irrigation channel until we arrived back at the Ait Mizane Valley.  The east trail is a rockier and steeper climb than the wide-open west trail, but it is ten times cooler under all the trees.  Plus once you begin to emerge from the trees, you walk straight into the small mountain village of Amrend.

Upon reaching Amrend, we crossed the bridge to the west trail.  We stocked up on some more water and snacks.  The Rough Guide advises one to stock up in Imlil or Sidi Chamarouch, but I would only advise people carry what they need for the trek to the refuge and not worry about what they will drink at the refuge.  Granted, the refuge will charge you 15DH as compared to 6DH at Imlil for a bottle of Ain Soltane, but I would gladly pay the extra 9DH (just a little over a dollar) for the convenience.  Every 1.5 liter bottle is a little over 3 pounds.  When one is climbing for 4-6 hours straight, every little pound begins to feel heavier and heavier as one moves along.

Once we passed Amrend, we arrived at a huge dry river bed.  We followed a path that cut across the river bed and led one directly to a welcome sign from Morocco's Ministry of Water and Forests that announced the start of Toubkal National Park.  From there one begins a gradual ascent on the side of a mountain zig-zagging along some steep passages.

There were tons of people moving through the trail, both on the way up and down.  It wasn't just foreign tour groups, but also a good number of Moroccans who were making the pilgrimage to Sidi Chamarouch, a small village painted all in white resting right on a mountain ravine through which flowed to what I assume to be the Ait Mizane river .

One lady who was on her way down was touching different rocks on one side of the mountain trail and with every touch she would say "Allah" (God) to which her daughters following right behind would echo and touch as well.

Lots of mules were passing through with not just trail gear, but huge suitcases.  Apparently some foreigners decided to bring every piece of luggage with them--rather inconsiderate when most hotels and gites will gladly hold onto whatever one doesn't want to take along.  The porters who pulled or pushed the mules along the trail were bookin'.  We tried keeping up at first, but we quickly felt too out of breath to keep up.  The sun was also bearing down on us so I decided to slow it down and save my reserves for the steeper ascent that was to come.

The 2-3 hour trek to Sidi Chamarouch was a little exhausting because of the heat, but it wasn't to tough a climb.  The Rough Guide forewarned us that from Sidi Chamarouch and on, it would be like jumping on a StairMaster for the next three hours.

We picked up some more water for 8Dhs per bottle--only a 2-3 dhs difference from Imlil.  All the soda and water vendors had an interesting way of refrigerating their drinks.  They had all their drinks stacked on a wall with punctured water hoses up top spraying the cold mountain stream water onto them.  It worked not only as a fridge, but also as an AC unit.  The drinks were cold, and sitting next to that wall and feeling that cool mist on our faces was absolutely refreshing.  The soda's were a little expensive, about 10Dh each, which is still not much of a markup (3-4dhs).

After resting our feet a bit, we immediately began the steep climb past the village and onto the trail towards the mountain refuge.  The first half hour was pretty challenging as we zig-zagged up the face of the mountain.  After that rough passage, the StairMaster goes down to a medium grade as you climb gradually while heading south on the face of the mountain walking parallel to the river of the Ait Mizane Valley.

About three hours later following the white marks leading up to the refuge, we finally arrived at base camp.  There were two facilities available: a French Alpine Club refuge and another fancier spot called Refuge Toubkal Les Mouflons.  We checked out the French alpine site and it was packed to the brim with various European tour groups and it was smelly and the price was 90DH per bunk bed, per night.  Les Mouflons offered bunk bed accommodations as well, but it was cleaner, smelled better, less crowded, felt warmer, and the staff was nicer.  Price-wise it was only 30Dhs more, still a bargain in dollar terms and well worth it.

At the crack of dawn (7ish), we began our ascent to the summit.  We got a couple of hiking sticks to steady our journey.  The staffer that gave us the sticks told us to follow the red dots this time.  He pointed to some people that were already on the trail and at first glance I thought that these people must be hugging the mountain because it looked so steep, but then I looked behind them and saw that there was visible trail cut into the mountain.

My only advice to people on the ascent is to follow the red dots like your life depends on it because it literally does.  At one point in the trail, we went off on a bit of a tangent and found ourselves in somewhat of a precarious situation.  We got to an area where there was a number of big boulders and a lot of loose rock.  Because we lost track of the red dots, we got a little scare from a couple of slips we took and had to use our spidey skills stretching our legs and arms to find solid ground to push off from or to grab onto.

At one point during that brief rough stretch, I remembered the heroic moves of Sylvester Stallone on Cliffhanger and let out a grunt like he did as I pushed off from one rock and onto another.  Eventually we made it back to safety, hamdullah.  My heart was pounding so fast mainly because of nerves, but also because of the altitude change.  Lesson learned! From then on, I thought of of nothing but red dots.  

Both the view and the climb were breathtaking.  Every 15 minutes or after going through rough spots, I stopped, took in some deep breaths, and allowed my pounding heart to revert back to a normal rhythm.

In these much-needed pauses, I took in the scenery.

This being my first ever mountain climb, I was taken aback by the magnitude of the mountain ridges that criss-crossed one another, the jagged peaks, the barren terrain, the thorny bushes that somehow had eeked out a living in this hostile environment, the snow that still lingered in the crevices of the the mountains, and the clear blue sky.

As we reached the summit, the trail just got a little more slippery.  People that had already summited were slipping and sliding down the mountain some face first and not for fun either.  I made sure of every step, but with so much loose scree, it felt like you had to take three steps for one step of progress.

Reaching the summit was a glorious moment.  I heard the Chariots of Fire theme music in the background as I approached the summit in the slow motion baby-steps (sometimes in all fours) I was reduced to over the last half hour.  Upon arrival, the Hallelujah Chorus--a bit out of place in an Islamic country--also came on out of the blue.  

We chowed down some snacks, took some shots, and took in the crisp cool air of the mountain top.

At the summit, we were met by some Spaniards that we chatted with the day before at the refuge.  We also ran into a group of young Moroccans whom we had passed and that passed us throughout our ascent and who were part of an association from the Agadir region dedicated to doing recreational activities.  On one of the ledges of the summit, there was also a group of Moroccans who were playing some Bob Marley tunes on their cellphones, were waving a flag with Bob Marley's face on it, and smoking a little hashish to celebrate.  It was an interesting mix of people.

About an half hour later, we began our descent back to the refuge.  I tried not to follow the example of those individuals that were sliding face-first down the mountain; so instead I leaned back, tried to take some sure steps, and whenever necessary I'd crouch down and do a one foot slide or butt slide down the loose scree portions of the trail.  I followed the red dots like a horse with blinders.   About an hour or so later, we finally spotted the refuge.

My legs were already sore from the previous day's hike to the refuge.  Most of the PCVs we spoke to had summited and then descended all the way to Imlil on the same day.  Some took advantage of a porter who hauled their stuff.  Not being in any kind of a hurry, we decided to chill out another night at the refuge and start back first thing the next morning.  My legs were grateful.

The hike back definitely took less time and was less tiring.  We saw the sun rising over the mountains. Some shaggy goats grazing.   The weather was a lot nicer on the way back too.  We made it back to Imlil in about 4 hours and then took a grand taxi straight to Marrakech for only 30Dhs.

Although I couldn't climb to the top of the world mainly because the mountain is not in my PC host country, I can say that I got about half way there.  Mt. Everest stands at a modest 8,848 meters (29,029ft) while Mt. Toubkal stands at a remarkable 4,167m or 13,671ft.  It's a notable feat in my eyes.  A great journey and another site I can now cross off the list.

Trip Essentials

Transpo: According to the Spaniards we encountered, they took a grand taxi from the Marrakech Airport to Imlil for 300DH (This is the standard fare when one books a taxi as private transport).  Usually, that taxi driver has to stop at the gendarmerie (police station) to explain that he is going outside of his route and get permission.  The better option is to go to the grand taxi station near Jmma El Fnna and book an entire taxi paying the standard 30Dh per person if you don't mind sharing or paying six fares worth 30DH each (180DH total) to book the entire taxi to Imlil.   If you don't mind taking in some more scenery and are in no rush, take the route I took from Marrakech to Tahanout by city bus (7DH) from the Sidi Mimoun city bus stop also near Jmma El Fnna, then hopping on a grand taxi or semi-truck from Tahanout to Asni (7DH), and then finally getting on another grand taxi from Asni to Imlil (8DH).

Accommodations:  Despite the cold shower, I still recommend Chez Mohammed for Imlil.  They have a number of rooms and a large living room with lots of ponges that could accommodate large groups.  They also offered to cook us a tagine for 50DH, which is about the same price we paid at the village's terrace restaurant.  It doesn't feel like you're in a hotel at all, but more like someone's home.  The surrounding area is quiet and away from the village traffic.  At 50DH per person, it's a great value.  Phone: 0524-48-56-16.  If you decide to go there, when you get there ask the locals about the school.  Mohammed's pad is 200 meters up the road from there.

At base camp, the Refuge Toubkal Les Mouflons was a great spot not only to rest, but to meet other hikers.  They have all inclusive packages that include meals.  We just paid for the bunk bed and ordered a tagine for one of the nights, which cost us 100Dh.  The bunk bed cost 120Dh per night.  The showers had hot water, but only one person could be showering at a time.  Staff was friendly and their hanut was well stocked with water and all sorts of snacks.  We didn't make reservations, but if I were to do it again, I would.  Large tour groups can arrive and take over entire rooms.

Gear: Ascending during the summer is a whole lot easier than winter.  No gear is necessary other than just a fine pair of hiking shoes with good traction, a couple of layers of clothing, and a windbreaker/rain jacket.  There's a lot of loose scree from the refuge to the summit so a couple of sturdy hiking sticks can certainly help in balancing and also to push and pull your way up the mountain.  The refuge loaned the sticks for 50DH each, which I thought was kind of steep.

Guides: In the summer, I don't think there is a need.  One can easily follow the white marks, which begin from Amrend all the way up to the refuge.  To the ascent, the red dots clearly mark the path one should take.  The winter is a different ballgame.  Because of snow, one may need to take alternate routes to the refuge or to summit that may not be clearly marked or as easy to follow.

Here are a few other links on Mt.Toubkal for your reading pleasure:

So supposedly there's going to be an ultra-marathonesque event around Toubkal in September 2010.  On my way down from the summit, I think I saw someone training for it.  As I took baby-steps down the slope supporting myself with my trusty hiking stick, there was this one guy in short shorts with a water bottle in hand who was literally sprinting down the mountain hopping, skipping, and just bouncing off the boulders like a street acrobat. Check it out: http://www.toubkalchallenge.com/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Toubkal

The Shamal Series: Journey to the Center of the Earth through The Grotte Friouato

Last Halloween weekend a few volunteers gathered to celebrate as best as we could one of our most endeared pagan holidays. We weren't able to go trick-or-treating or to wear any of our superhero costumes; so, our host, Steven, suggested we just do scary stuff the entire weekend.  He suggested we check out a cave near Taza that all the Tazies talk about and then catch a horror flick in the evening.

I headed out to meet everyone late Friday night. We had dinner at a nice restaurant in the heart of Taza's ville nouvelle.  I got myself a tuna pizza that was nice and crispy with plenty of marinara sauce and cheese to complement the tuna. Shortly thereafter, we took a brief walk around town. The Taza medina (old city) is quite stunning with its medieval fortress walls illuminated at night and sitting atop a towering plateau overlooking the sprawling ville nouvelle (french for new city).

In the morning we took a petit-taxi past the ville nouvelle, onto the Taza medina plateau, around the medina arriving at a taxi stand where a number of tan station wagons waited for passengers. We met up with Aziz, an employee of Morocco's Ministry of Water and Forests who also serves as a counterpart for a number of Peace Corps volunteers in the region. We also ran into a couple of tourists, one American and another from the Czech Republic, who were looking to go to the cave, but were waiting for others to fill the taxi. The two young ladies were doing an internship at a veterinary clinic in Fez.  So once we were all together, Aziz bargained with the taxi drivers for a bit and then we were on our way to the Grotte Friouato.

After a 30-minute uphill journey zig-zagging through some beautiful, dense forest passages of pine trees and rocky terrains dotted with stone-stack houses and tiered farming on the sides of the mountains, you come to a wide, open expanse that supposedly is a rain-season lake where winter grains are grown in abundance. We arrived at the base of the Grotte Friouato, checked in with the reception desk, paid 35DH for a flashlight and for the tour, and then made our way to the entrance of the cave.

Not having read anything about the cave, I didn't know what to expect. My only point of reference for this expedition were pictures of the Ozark Caverns in Missouri that I had seen on billboards on I-44 when my family would make the trek from Oklahoma to Pennsylvania for our annual church convention. In those billboards, there was always a little kid pointing to some really cool rock formations as the entire family looked on in utter amazement. The brochures I would pick up from various rest stops also photoshoped the same shot of the kid with his family on a background of wide passageways with railings and lighting that accentuated the rock formations and the many cave pools.  The publicity also showed what looked like a golf cart in one of the shots, and the tour guide and tour group were all equipped with a hard-hat. I wasn't expecting a replica of the brochures here, but when I heard that a number of tourists frequent the cave every year, I figured that those managing the site and the tours were taking precautions to ensure that tourists keep spreading the word.

Aziz accompanied us to the reception and then walked us over to the entrance of the cave upon which he said goodbye to us and wished us good luck. When asked why he wasn't accompanying us, he smiled and said, "Oh no, not me." We entered the cave to a warm stream of air that seemed to be channeling through the entrance. We began our descent to the cave. For the first couple of hundred steps, there was railing available, but then as we reached a more gradual grade, no railing was around and it could have been useful given the uneven and worn concrete steps.

 It was interesting to experience the change of temperature as we descended. It was as if two masses of warm and cool air were sitting idly in the cave, and once you stepped into the cold, you only felt the cold. It wasn't too chilly, but just enough for a fleece.

We took a brief break at the base of the cave, which was actually the entrance to what would be our journey to the center of the earth.  I was already feeling my knees shaking a bit after the 500 or so steps we hiked down.  Then, our guide said, "mn deba l-foq, triq saib swiya" (from here on, the way is a little difficult) and he wasn't kidding.

The entrance to the cave was one of the most challenging parts of the journey.  It was literally a tunnel that you had to squirm, twist, and turn in awkward ways trusting the person in front of you to place your feet on the next step as the view was obstructed by the narrowness of the tunnel and because you could only descend face down meanwhile attempting to retain some balance by grabbing onto the muddy walls.

It was a wake-up call because it made me realize that should anyone twist an ankle, injure their tail-bone or back, or suffer any other accident, there would be no way to get anyone out.  This was just one of the many points during the hike where we looked to the guide and to each other in dismay and wondered if it could get any worse.

We kept descending down some more steps onto some amazing rock formations.  There was sparkle everywhere.  Who on earth had come here and sprayed sparkle all over these rocks?

Brown and white rock icicle-like formations with water drops at their tips, boulders with coral-like surfaces, and undulated cave walls that resembled my mother's vanilla or chocolate icing on the many a birthday cakes she made for me were all part of the amazing show we were witnessing as we descended further and further down into the cave.

Without any sort of markers along the way, we were completely reliant on our guide.  When I entered the cave, I thought how would we be able to get people out if we injured ourselves.  As we kept going down I thought, how the heck would we get back, God forbid, anything should happen to our guide, and the chances of injury weren't unlikely.  The cave floor and the walls we used for support were muddy and very slippery. There was no light in the cave save our flashlights, no railing anywhere to be seen, and for sure no way to communicate with anyone on the surface.  Fortunately, our guide was fearless.

He led us through the nooks and cranies of the cave with ease, lighting passageways, and cautioning us to thalla f rask, which generally means to take care of yourself, but in this particular instance, he meant each word literally: thalla is the transliteration for the verb to take care; the "f" sound is the preposition that follows the verb; ras is the word for head, and the "k" sound attached to the word adds the possession "your".  After banging my head a couple of times through the tunnels, I began to understand why those silly-looking hard-hats were on the brochure and made me wish I had one.

Later on with tired knees, we reached what I deemed to be the Bridge of No Return.  It was a 2x6 wooden plank placed over a deep crevice that you could not see the bottom to, and to make matters worse, the plank was not bolted or holstered.  Our fearless guide walked through it so easily I believe he could have performed several scissor kicks and back flips without a glitch.  Then came Steven, he looked at it and looked back at the group and could only laugh.  I was genuinely freaked out.  My knees were already trembling a bit with every step, and now I faced this wobbly plank.  I took a deep breath and took baby-steps to the other side.  We all made it safely, hamdullah (thanks be to God).

After we crossed the bridge, we came upon a number of shallow cave pools that at the time were a little empty.  To cross each pool, we would walk around the narrow fringes of it and we encountered more wobbly planks, but it was not as terrifying because we could at least see where we would fall.

We finally reached the end of our downhill hike to the center of the earth.  We had descended nearly 2 kilometers.  Surprisingly, there was railing at the end of the hike signaling that this was the furthest one should go, but technically the cave goes down even further and I believe they have yet to reach its bottom as of yet.  We turned off our flashlights for a bit to experience the pitch-black darkness and silence that surrounded us.  It was one of those overwhelming moments that your mind has a hard time grasping.

We thought at first that it would be a difficult uphill climb, but it turned out to be a much easier trek.  We tip-toed across the cave pools, took our time crossing the Bridge of No Return, powered through the steep inclines, and snaked up through to the cave entrance until we saw the reassuring light at the end of the tunnel.  We took another deep breath and marveled at our feat.  I walked over to the guide and asked him how many times he has gone all the way down and he said that he did it at least twice a day in high season.  Anyhow, I still felt that I had accomplished something.  Now at the entrance to the cave, I felt that should I injure myself that I would have a chance of surviving.

Finally, to celebrate our journey to the center to the earth and back, fittingly we took ghetto-esque shots and then climbed to the top of the mountain for some sun salutations.

Right next to the cave's main entrance, there was a balcony cafe that we crashed for a bit.  The park staff served us the classic sweet-as-molasses mint tea and then we busted out some bread and tuna.  After getting our fill, we took a brief ride to Bab Boudir, another forest preserve where the East and Middle Atlas Mountains converge.

Our taxi took us back to Taza where we parted ways with the two veterinary students.  I headed back to Steven's spot with the other volunteers where we proceeded to cook some dinner and carve a pumpkin. To cap the night, we watched an old Halloween classic: The Exorcist.  It was a good ending to our more than scary perhaps reaching the level of terrifying Halloween weekend.

To learn more about Taza and the Grotte Friouato, please visit this link:

http://www.morocco.com/blog/taza-and-gouffre-du-friouato

Photos are a compilation of PCV shots and those of our veterinary friends.