Morocco

Morocco 13 October 2009

The gorges of the High Atlas Mountains are gorgeous. We visited two, Gorges de Todra and Gorges du Dadès. Most tourists only have the opportunity to drive through in a tour bus but we had more time. We stayed two nights in each place and hired a hiking guide to explore their really beauty.

We hired a Grand Taxi to take us from Erfoud, where I wrote the last blog, to Tinejdad, which was as far as the driver was allowed to go. We asked him to stop once to find out what the conical mounds of dirt were that littered the flat desert. This was an irrigation system dating from the 12th C. Each mound had a well head with a winch to lower a bucket for water from the underground canal and a larger winch to lower a worker to effect repairs on the canal system. The underground canals were dry now but the coming rainy season would fill them with water. Each tribe has their own parallel canal, consisting of a line of wells reaching to their garden area. Very ingenious.

We decided to try our luck with sharing a joint taxi from Tinejdad to the next town, Tinehir. The driver will not leave until all six seats are purchased. After nearly an hour we lost patience and paid for one additional seat.

The third leg on our journey was a 15 km ride in a Grand Taxi just for us. Dh 42 (6 CAD) was not unreasonable. We did share the ride with a man who spent the entire ride trying to persuade us to stay at his choice of hotel and to hire him as a hiking guide. We insisted on going to our choice of hotel as recommended in the Lonely Planet but we agreed to have him take us hiking the next day. It was a good decision. Mahjoub turned out to be a very likeable fellow and he knew the trails into the mountains.

After checking into our hotel, Ray and I went for a short walk. We had to watch out for the big tour buses that passed us on the road. This was our first experience in Morocco for being right on the tour bus trail. Every company worth their salt brings their group to the Todra Gorge for either a short visit and lunch or a late afternoon tea break. There are lots of hotels along the road but the business goes to two hotels in the best part of the gorge large enough to serve tour groups. The view of the high red sandstone cliffs with the Todra River and lush Oasis gardens running at its base is worth the trip.

Mahjoub arrived right on time the next morning with a young German couple, Marcus and Effie. We all got along well and thoroughly enjoyed our 4 ½ hour hike. We climbed to a vantage point at 1800 M to see the red sandstone cliffs of the gorge and then down into a valley to have tea with a nomad family. Mahjoub told us there are now about 12 nomad families in the area, far fewer than 20 years ago. The men of the family were away tending their flock of sheep and goats when we arrived. The flock is their trading power for needed goods in the village. The young 10 year old daughter arrived carrying a large sack of dry bushes which they use for fuel and leading a donkey laden with plastic water jugs. There is no water source in the mountains so jugs of water must be filled from a spring beside the road where we started our hike.

The family of five has a small cave carved into the hillside where they store grain and also use for sleeping in rainy weather. A baking oven sits in another depression and a goatskin of milk hangs in another storage cave. We sat in the shade of an open sided tent made of camel hair blankets. The youngest child, a two year old boy, amused us as his mother prepared tea for us with local herbs. Ray was amazed at how neat and tidy everything was. Their belongings are few but they are all well cared for. Mahjoub told us all the boys go to the village for school at age 7 but the girls generally stay home to help their mothers.

Tea Break

Ancient Cemetary

After our rest and refreshments, we continued across the rubble strewn hills with only very low bushes for vegetation. Just above the village of Tizgue, we passed through the ancient cemetery. It was much simpler than our cemeteries. Flat sandstone rocks, so much like the surrounding landscape that it was hard to distinguish them, were laid across the grave. Two upright slabs marked the head of the grave. If the rocks were parallel, the person was a man. If the rocks were perpendicular to each other, the person was a woman. No names were carved into the stones.

Mahjoub invited Ray and I to join Marcus, Effie and him in a Cous Cous dinner that had been arranged at his family home in the village. Cous Cous is not the instant meal we have at home. In Morocco it is a meal for special occasions as it takes several hours to prepare. It is made from scratch, gently steamed and then the vegetables and meat are added. We were very happy with the opportunity to visit a local family in their home. Fourteen members of Mahjoub’s family live together in the house, his parents, sister and brothers, one of who is married, and three children. The house, built in several levels on the hillside, was reached through a series of back alleys. The family hopes to eventually take in guests and have fixed up many of the rooms with that view. We first climbed to a roof top terrace for a view of the town and then were ushered into a room whose walls and floor were covered in rugs. A huge dish of steaming Cous Cous with chicken and vegetables was placed on a low table in the center of the room. We were given large spoons to eat with and to ladle our food onto plates. We ate our fill and complimented his sister, the chief cook, on the meal.

It is possible to hike through the mountains for three days or to take a 4WD vehicle over very rough roads to reach the Dadès Gorges but we went by the far less expensive and quicker Grand Taxi. One taxi, filled to the gills, took us down the mountain to Tinerhir and another taxi with just the two of us for passengers, took us the rest of the way. It was obvious our driver, who spoke no English and very little French, was unfamiliar with the very steep and winding road. He drove very slowly, allowing us to admire the ruined fortress Kasbahs, pinnacle rocks and in one area, piles of giant round boulders.

We had picked out a hotel 27 km from Boumalne at the base of the road. It had been expanded since the Lonely Planet report and now was large enough to accommodate a small tour group, which had filled the hotel. The manager recommended another hotel just down the road and even phoned for us. Auberge Argane was a good choice. We were the only guests and had our choice of four large, nicely decorated rooms. A roof top terrace gave good views of the hills and the extensive village gardens on either side of the Dadès River. Another terrace at ground level looked over the hotel’s private garden where the manager, Mohammed, told us most of their fresh produce was grown.

The next morning, the guide, also named Mohammed, arrived to take us on our hike. He had to be assured that the altitude of 2000 M was not a problem and that were were fit enough for 3 – 4 hours of hiking. Of course we were fine. Mohammed has been guiding since 1975. He must have been close to 50 and smoked continually but aside from the occasional cough, was still fit. Our walk started through the gardens, proceeded through an abandoned village and up an almost barren hillside. Thyme, camomile and some other very hardy plants were the only vegetation. We quickly reached our high point and were a little disappointed when Mohammed told us the rest of the way was downhill. We need not have worried. The best part was to come. We passed a nomad farm but the family was elsewhere for the day. Mohammed told us that the families would soon be leaving for lands farther south. Snow does fall in this area, several inches at a time, but it does not stay. Nevertheless it gets too cold for families who live outdoors most of the time.

A little further on Mohammed pointed out the Gorge. We could see a few flocks of goats climbing the rocks on either side of the gorge. We made our way down a path to the dry river bed running between the sheer red rock sides of the gorge. This path becomes impassable during the rainy season as there is always the danger of flash floods but it was fine now. I kept stopping to take photos and Mohammed kept urging me on. He was concerned that the goats would dislodge rocks that would tumble down and injure us. One small stone did roll down but we were sheltered under a rocky ledge at the time. We continued walking down the river bed between cliffs that were sometimes no more than an arm’s breadth apart. Mohammed helped us descend two areas where the alternative would be to slither down on our bellies. Soon we reached the junction with the shallow Dadès River, crossed on a row of rocks and scrambled up the embankment to the road. We were pleased with the walk as we would have never seen the best part of the gorge from the road.

Later that afternoon we set out again, intending to see the view from a hotel built at the summit of a series of long switchbacks, a distance of about 3 to 4 km from our hotel. We thought it would be easier to get a ride to the top and walk back to the hotel but when we inquired about a local collective taxi, we were told there were none of this Friday Holy day. We started out anyway and lucked out. Part way up we spied a car with Dutch license plates who, when asked, were only too happy to take along two passengers. At the top we enjoyed the view, had tea but decided it didn’t match the views on our walk.

It was time to move on. We had a condo reserved for a week starting Saturday in Marrakesh. Early Saturday morning we shared a fast, this time, taxi ride to Boumalne, with our manager Mohammed. From there we took the bus to Marrakesh. It was a long 7 hour journey through dramatic countryside. We started the trip with the High Atlas Mountains in the distance but were soon in the midst of the mountains. Saturday must be laundry day for women were busy doing the weekly wash in every river we crossed. Carpets, piled high with mounds of laundry, were spread on the ground beside one river. Railings of a footbridge over the river were hung with more carpets and blankets that were drying after their washing.

There were no straight roads with bridges spanning the gaps. The narrow, paved road followed the contours of the mountains over what must have been the original goat paths. Up to over 2300 m and down the other side we went. At one point there was a loud bang and the bus rattled to a stop beside the road. I feared we had a flat tire but luckily it was a rock that was trapped behind the wheel. The rock was dislodged and we were on our way again. We did have a few breaks to stretch and buy food but it was a long trip. We were glad to finally reach the city and our condo hotel.