Imlil to Setti Fatma

It's nearly the end of November and I’m not quite sure where the year has gone. I am however mighty impressed that this time in a month we will be making our way home for Christmas. The joys of teaching... never a dull day, time really flies. What with Portugal and all the exciting stuff we've been doing in school it seems like quite a long time since we were up in Imlil and setting off for our three day hike across the mountains.

Advertised as easy, the 40 kilometre walk would lead us through connecting valleys and over a 3180 metre pass, with two overnight stops in Berber gites, before finishing in Ourika Valley where we had left our car.

 

The morning of our departure we were met by our guide Mustapha, chef and muleteer Hamide, and our mule Bob at our Aubegre Dar Adrar. We really didn't feel that we needed all three to take us on an 'easy walk' over the mountains, but travel experiences have led us to believe in, where possible, providing opportunities for locals to earn an income. Setting off it did feel like a bit of an entourage, and I was a little concerned for our mule. We only had a small bag each but he seemed really overladen, thankfully I soon realised that a lot of the stuff was lightweight bedding for Mustapha and Hamide.

Day 1 – Imlil to Tacheddirt

The first day we set off slowly climbing up the Tamatert Valley heading east from Imlil. Initially frustrated with Mustapha's somewhat plodding pace, I soon realized that it enabled us to walk a lot further without stopping, and we could actually enjoy the view while we progressed. It was with this slow and increasingly enjoyable pace that we wound our way up through a pine plantation before crossing the 2362 metre saddle and descending slightly into Imenane Valley. Here we traveled down a long and windy mountain road. Strung out along the green valley floor were lots of little villages. Linking these villages there are are pretty gardens taking up every available space. Moroccans have to come be experts at water use, working in whole communities to build complex irrigation channels that are controlled with little drop doors, or planks of wood. At the lift of a door, water can be directed from one side of the valley to another so that everyone can water their crops. At the head of this valley, nestled against a ring of high mountains lies the small village of Tacheddirt, our stop for the night.

Mustapha looking back down towards Imlil

 

Villages along Imenane Valley

The village of Tacheddirt at the end of the valley

Part way along the Imenane Valley we stopped for lunch. Our mule was unloaded and the kitchen was set up. This was a very impressive sight and way more than we needed for the four of us. They brought everything. Everything that is apart from something to light the gas stove with. Unburdened and grazing happily Bob the mule bucked and protested greatly at being loaded up again so soon, so we could continue in search of a lighter. Thankfully this worked in our favour. Bob was soon unloaded again and we got to lunch on an enormous pasta salad with sardines, fresh lentil tajine and sweet mint tea, in a beautiful spot next to a stream with views of the snow-capped peaks behind us. 

 

 

 

It was something of a surprise to discover that our mule Bob was actually a girl. I’m not even sure she had a proper name, I think it was just a name they decide to give the guests to keep them happy. She is a working animal and not a pet, we've yet to meet a working animal that gets a name here. Interesting fact from our guide about mules... females are used in the mountains, they are stronger and have greater stamina. 

We reached Tacheddirt at around two in the afternoon. Although we climbed 1070 metres the day's 12.5 kilometres did indeed feel easy, but it was nice to arrive at our gite early to enjoy a hot shower and relax on the terrace with the incredible views. Ten years ago accommodation in Tachedddirt was limited to a Club Alpine Francais Refuge, now there are a couple of guesthouses. Our gite was the newest and was far grander than we expected, we had a clean, warm and dry room with six thick mattresses on the floor all to ourselves. 

Views from the terrace...

Day 2 – Tacheddirt to Timichchi

We had been warned that day two was to be the toughest day, but the day with the most rewarding views. We set off from Tacheddirt at 7.30 while the valley was still quite dark. Not long after we left we began to climb. This was the hard part, a continuous climb up to a 3187m pass into the next valley. Bob and Hamide set off long after us and we were determined to beat them to the top. We stopped a few times for a five minute water break but basically climbed over 1000 metres without a proper break. 

On the way up we encountered a little old man resting with his donkey. We exchanged greetings with him before he continued on ahead of us, pushing his donkey from behind. He went all the way up the hillside, winding along the narrow paths, all the while pushing his donkey hard. When we reached the top he had secured his donkey and was sheltering from the wind behind a large rock. He had unloaded his donkey and had a handful of Mars bars, five soft drinks and a kettle for mint tea to sell to passing hikers. Impressed with his effort we bought a Coke off him. It was only then that we found out he was completely blind. He makes the climb every day in the hope of earning what can't add up to more than $5.

Having taken a couple of hours to reach the top we then had to start going down. I am quite content with up. I am not a down person. Never too sure-footed at the best of times I tend to hesitate and lack commitment in my stride, often leading to uncontrolled skids. To compound the issue our route down was much trickier than the way up. Loose footing and steep drops made it quite an exhausting descent. Narrow and slippery in places it was challenging for us with our hiking boots on let alone the overweighted mules with skiddy metal shoes that usually use the route. By the time we reached our lunch spot we had climbed a 1000 metres, and descended 1100. Not sure about this 'easy' walk classification. 

Our lunch stop was in a small town clinging to the side of the valley. There were roughly twenty houses clustered together around a mud-hut style mosque. While waiting for food we observed that the village only stretched as far as shouting distance. Every so often women would climb onto their roofs and shout up and down the village at each other. Who needs a telephone when voice projection and mountain valley acoustics will do just fine. This was one of the most rustic villages we have come across. Not a satellite dish in sight. This village can only be accessed on foot or by mule so much of the modern trimmings of the outside world has been kept at bay.

We were sitting just outside the village, close to a large sand pile. The whole time we were there children of all sizes were going back and forth to collect sand. Using any kind of container they could find, some as young as two or three, these children would walk, bent double under the weight of the sand, shuffling in sandals, flip flops or over-sized wellies, carrying the sand to a growing pile by one of the houses. It pulled at the heart strings to see one little boy help an even smaller boy try and carry his load back. This tiny little boy just couldn't get a grip on his container and kept stopping and crying. Each time, the slightly bigger boy would stop, put down his own load and try and help the smaller child, before picking up his own and continuing. They would make it about five metres before the process was repeated.

The children didn't ask for anything; help, food or money. Some were curious about us, but they were still very timid towards us. It seemed they had little other to do than move sand, throw stones at each other, or, as many bored and unoccupied children have a tendency to do, make noise. One boy on a nearby roof decided he was going to try and serenade us with Berber songs, and wailed at the top of his voice while banging a pan lid. It became strangely acceptable after a while and he was joined by a few friends. This is something they do every time tourists pass through. As we left the village we did feel when passing one group of children, that they were going to turn away from their stone throwing at each other at start throwing them at us, but Mustapha prevented this by speaking to them quietly.

Day 3 – Timichchi to Setti Fatma

Day three was supposed to be the easy day, and we were looking forward to it being so. The night before had not been quite as comfortable as we had hoped. We stayed in Auberge de Timichchi. This simple auberge was run by a friendly man who had set it up many years ago with only one room. Every year or so he tries to add on another room and now he has eight or nine he can use for guests. This is impressive progress, but the rooms are basic and the mattresses of the thinnest variety. With no sheets to lie on and a sleeping bag zip that decided to choose this occasion to die on, the night was quite cold and uncomfortable. Little sleep was had and I arose in the morning hurting all over and ready for our 'easy' day.

The map showed us that we were simply following the road that wound along the side of the valley before descending down into Ourika Valley and our final destination Setti Fatma. While the terrain was easy what we hadn't counted on was the fact that we had 14.5 kilometres, with 420 metre ascent and 900 metre descent to do all before lunch. The walk was beautiful and dramatic, but with the end in sight and the thought of the hot shower and soft sofa awaiting us in Ourika Garden Resort, we just wanted to get to the end. Our first sighting of Setti Fatma was a welcome one. The view from the top of the valley was amazing, and as the crow flies the journey there would be short, but following the dirt track that zig-zags back and forth down the hillside makes it a few kilometres further than you think. So close but yet so far.

Ourika Valley, Setti Fatma is at the far end.

Arriving to the hustle and bustle of touristy Setti Fatma was a relief to the by now descent-hammered knees. For an easy three day walk it felt like we had gone a lot further. The views we got on route were well worth it though. Combine it as we did with a few days of post hike luxury in and around Marrakesh and it's a great option for an unusual week break. Experiencing a little bit of the rough makes that soft bed in the kasbah or riad all the more rewarding, especially with the thought of the 8300 calories we had just burned.

Planes, trains and auto mobiles.

A warning in advance, after a few weeks off, getting back into writing mode was painful. This is distinctly lacking in eloquence.

I am sure for many people following our exploits, it appears that we are always traveling and on holiday. With a teacher's calendar and about fifteen weeks holiday a year that is something of a reality.

For our Spring Break we had planned yet another grand tour encompassing the front and the back of the High Atlas mountains. We planned to drive down the front of the mountain range, crossing over them at Marrakesh and then returning along the desert side. Due a the sad loss of a family member our plans had to be changed to include a trip home for a funeral. This could only be a quick trip as we had a friend booked on flights to meet us in Marrakesh. It was this time restriction that led us into our own version of Planes, Trains and Automobiles all so we could scrape forty hours of time at home to be with family.

Our journey commenced with a 1 hour drive to Fes Airport, where we might have had to wait just as long for coffee and stale croissants if Nick had not suggested to the incompetent woman behind the counter that it would be quicker if he went behind the counter and made it himself. We then had a 3 hour flight to Paris where we had a 6 hour stop-over. This we filled 1.5 hours of when we went into Paris to meet friends for a sunny beer in a park. Then back to the airport to wait for a 2 hour delayed flight to Liverpool before a 1 hour drive home. Door to door in just under 16 hours.

We learned two important things that day. Never buy coffee upstairs in Fes airport, it is probably one of the most uncivilised international airports in the world, and never plan on eating dinner in Charles De Gaul airport, it is only marginally more civilised than Fes airport, and you have to walk about three kilometres before you can do anything.

From Manchester to Marrakesh....

 

Up until now Fes has been the biggest tourist centre we have seen in Morocco. There are endless places to stay and guides leading tourists on winding trails through the medina. While Fes has undoubtedly the best medina, Marrakesh has got the pick of accommodation. Fes has a large number of riads, but these are overpriced and dated when compared to what's on offer in Marrakesh. Not only are the riads trendy, modern and affordable, there are also numerous kasbahs in the surrounding area offering glamorous rooms and large swimming pools for $16 a night. 

Our first night was spent in possibly the best budget riad we have seen. Riad Al Az overlooks the palace gardens and has six spacious rooms overlooking a colourful plant and cushion filled courtyard. For a change all the decorative lanterns actually got lit at dusk, bathing the whole place in a warm welcoming glow.

Djemma el Fna

First on our checklist of places to visit while in Marrakesh was Djemma el Fna, a grand square on the edge of the medina. This vast area is part market, part meeting place, part road, and at night a giant restaurant. As the sun goes down people scuttle in with tarps, poles, tables, chairs and BBQs. Smoke begins to fill the air and the party begins. There are over a hundred stalls selling more or less the same thing, barbecued meat, Moroccan salads and cous cous, and they are nearly all full. This square is the place to be. Not only is it the main eating area, it also hosts the worlds oldest street theatre. Snake charmers, bell ringers, story tellers and witch doctors all do their stuff to the constant beat of drums that come from pockets of musicians sitting amongst the chaos. Navigating through this smoke and darkness around people crowded around their performer of choice is tricky, especially as there seem to be no rules for road traffic, cars and bikes appear to criss-cross through the people willy nilly. You have no idea which way to step to get out of the way.

We enjoyed exploring the chaos and happily settled at a choice table, ordered food and watched the world go by. Sadly, and it really pains me to say this, we had not learnt from our recent lessons and got completely scammed by a wily restauranteur. Thinking back to the days of Thai street food we failed to demand a menu and as a result got brought things we had not ordered in great amounts. A meal that should have cost at most $30 cost $50. this left us with a slightly bitter taste and a now mantra of 'always check the price first', 'always check the price first'. Not the best way to have to begin your eating experience. 

Marrakesh surrounds

As well as showing Philippa around Marrakesh, we felt the best way for her to get some much needed de-stressing time was to escape the congestion of the city and head for the hills. Hire car collected we set off on our windy route up to Oukaimaden. The last time we went up to the Moroccan mountain resort there was snow. Snow draws crowds and being there on the busiest weekend of the year we were there to witness hordes of Marrakeshis descend on the snow and cause absolute chaos in a farcical way. This time couldn't have been more different. There was no snow so all the car parks were empty, the stores closed and all the restaurants deserted. Staying in the Club Alpine Français was spooky, empty rooms and corridors. You expected Jack Nicholson to jump out brandishing an axe at any minute. Apart from the shepherds, numerous wild dogs and odd hopeful ski equipment seller, we had the place to ourselves.

 

Ourika Valley

From the highs of the mountain to the lows of the valley, we drove down into Ourika valley the next day. This is a lush river filled valley filled with gardens, fruit trees and riverside restaurants where sweltering Marrakeshis escape the scorching heat of the Marrakesh summer. After the basic accommodation of the CAF refuge we were in for a bit of luxury at Ourika Garden Hotel. This is a small hotel set on a hill with fruit and herb gardens, swimming pool, two inside eating areas, and twelve terraces all for four guest rooms, each with own fire place and lounge. The rooms are rustic and decorated in colourful Berber style. During our stay here we discovered two new Moroccan favourite foods; Zaaluck – smoked aubergine salad, and beef and fig tajine. Surrounded by lush green and red poppy fields and blossom filled fruit trees with the backdrop of the Atlas Mountains with a skilled Moroccan chef at your beck and call, it is a magical place to unwind. 

Venturing out from Ourika Garden was hard, but we were beginning to feel guilty about showing Philippa Morocco fomr the inside of hotels and inside of a car. The next morning we set out with the determined air of explorers. We were going to drive up the valley and hike to one of the nearby waterfalls. Sadly as there are so many small riverside restaurants along the valley and so few tourists this year, the restaurant touts were out in force, not just being pushy but also aggressive. There is nothing that riles us more than people who lie to you to make you stop. When one man said that we had to park at his restaurant because the road ended round the corner it riled Nick so much that he stopped on the return journey just to wind the guy up. We know they are just trying to make a living, but is annoying nonetheless. In the end this onslaught from the locals squished our motivation to get out and explore. We nipped out to take our picture on one of the many precarious rope bridges across the river, the rest of the time we sheepishly viewed the valley from the safety of the car. This is a place we will return to and hike through on foot one day.

Marjorelle Gardens

One of Philippa's finds from her fanatical reading of an additively good guide book was the Marjorelle Garden. This surprisingly small garden is an absolute haven of piece and quiet. Surrounded by high walls secret garden style, and with picnics and children banned, it is really my kind of garden. Designed by French expatriate artist Jacques Marjorelle, it is this garden and in particular a distinct cobalt blue he used all over the place that he has become famous for. The garden is serene, cactus and bamboo filled with quiet corners and relaxing water features at every turn. It was for this reason that Yves Saint Laruant bought the garden in 1980 and requested his ashes be scattered upon his death. As well as the piece and quiet, it is the colours that make this place unique, as well as the blue, there are bright yellow and orange pots which contrast brightly against the green foliage. This is a photographers dream, and whether you are a fan of gardens or not, it is a must see in while in Marrakesh.

  
Last night disappointment...

During Philippa's visit I had gone to great lengths to arrange a broad spectrum of Moroccan life. We had seen traditional riad, basic mountain refuge, rustic Berber cottage and finally for our last night a bit of modern riad chic. There are literally hundreds of riads to choose from in Marrakesh, choosing our last night rooms at Jardin des Reves took a lot of research. Having been ill and more than a little lack lustre for the duration of my oldest friends visit had left me with the guilty feeling of a poor host. The thought of our last night of luxury eased this guild some as I knew that it'd be an experience even if I couldn't leave the room.

Upon arrival we were settled by the plunge pool while relaxing music played and we were served tea and Moroccan pastries. This was the riad experience I have been waiting for for a while. Sadly after about half an hour of friendly chat from the owner we were informed that they had not received our full booking and only had one room available. This was apparently no problem at all as they had an equally nice riad next door. Alarm bells started ringing at this point and sadly rightly so. If I hadn't had such high expectations of our stay I would have been quite happy with the other riad, but as it was it felt like the forgotten cousin. The finishing touches just weren't there. Sadly I completely succumbed to a major sulk and had to be put in a hot bath before I could make it out the room. A very disappointing last night's stay. 

I had anticipated lots of amaing photos from here, but what's the point of taking pictures of the place 'you nearly stayed'. Here are some from around the medina instead.