Using The Atlas

Heading away from my location above the reservoir I stopped for fuel in Ouaouizaght and topped up my water tank before heading towards Tilouguitte on the R302 which looped round the drier reaches of the reservoir before climbing steadily over the col with good views across to the High Atlas to the south west. It was a decent surface that plunged in to the hillside village via a series of hairpins, wriggled through the town and then crossed the river at a point where the women were washing carpets and clothes and children were swimming in the gorge. Another set of hairpins and a final dusty village as the tarmac ran out put me right by the river on level gravel under the trees with the lofty and impressive Cathedrale looming over me.

 

This is a huge craggy buttress that rises perhaps 1500' above the river in dramatic fashion with its red hues, vertical crags and shrub lined ledges. I took a nose further along the valley but thought the track a bit too rough to pursue as it led through to the Ait Bou Goumez Valley and Agouti some 40 miles further on. The location alongside the river was sublime and to add interest there was an abandoned timber mill housed in a long shed with the remnants of the saw mill complete with 4' diameter blades, a thicknesser and other items - no manufacturers' plates remained but it all looked very dated and would presumably have processed the mainly cedars that clad the local slopes. 

 

An English girl and her Portuguese boyfriend were in a van by the river and remarkably further up was a small Eriba caravan and another van. It was a great spot and I was up early next morning to take the two and a half hour walk up to the summit. The path started off near a small gite, climbed steadily to a quirky art deco picnic spot and then began to get quite exciting as it approached the main bulk of La Cathedrale. Rough steps cut in to solid rock were followed by loose screes, steeper sections and then a scramble with a wire for reassurance on to a fairly wide ledge that ran around the cliff edge past some caves. There was a 500' drop on the one side and I would have preferred a wider ledge but eventually the path climbed steeply again via some rough steps to emerge half a mile from the summit with wonderful views back down to the van parked up way below. It was a remarkable vantage point in hot sunshine but a strengthening wind was heralding the arrival of thunderstorms from the west. Carefully returning via the same route I was back at the van after 6 hours having spotted a bright blue roller bird on a power line - hard to photograph but a beautiful sight. I spoke with the young couple for a while and prepared for a quiet night. However whilst it was still dry and sunny I could hear some significant storms away in  the distance and an hour later noticed tthat the river had turned a dirty brown colour, was carrying logs and other debris and was rising quickly. Then the heavens opened around us so I decided it might be prudent to move off the gravel flood plain so headed back to the track and then looked for a place to stay on higher ground. I took a side dirt track but torrential rain and hail rapidly turned this in to a slippery quagmire so I turned round, dropped back to the main track and crossed the bridge which confirmed that the river was indeed rising rapidly. With wipers on full tilt I reached tarmac and then climbed well above the valley floor before finding a side turn on to a level rocky patch that would do for the night. Tremendous thunder and lighning abated after a couple of hours and apart from one truck and a moped nothing moved that evening. Next morning dawned bright and sunny but the higher slopes had a white coating of snow and hail and as I returned to Ouaouizaght I could see that the higher ranges of the High Atlas had seen a significant fall.

Grateful not to have been caught out I spent a night back above the reservoir where a lovely old Moroccan guy turned up and told me a sorry tale of his ailing mother unable to afford medicines for heart trouble and his five children - he normally makes a living from catching fish but had been having little luck and with Ramadam demand was way down anyway. I was very moved and whilst slightly dubious asked how much the drugs would be. One hundred dirham was quoted but mindful of how fortunate I was to make a full recovery from my excitement over a decade ago now I gave him 400 and wished him and his family well. At this point he burst in to tears and embraced me tightly for many minutes whilst I reassured him that it was fine and he shouldn't be upset. Eventually he wandered off leaving me to feel very humbled yet again by these amazing people and their wonderful country. I had decided to approach the Ait Bou Goumez valley from the west so drove to the huge Bin El Ouidan dam and crossed it taking the road to Azilal. From here many miles of remote twisting tarmac took me through bizarre geology to reach a T junction with the R302 again. I turned east and dropped through remote Berber villages clinging to the rocky slopes beneath snow coverered summits and eventually arrived at Zaoulat Ahansal. From here it was only perhaps 30 miles back to La Cathedrale and the road was being upgraded so I decided to take a punt. After ten miles the tarmac petered out and yet again the van performed superbly on the last 20 miles of rough piste with loose climbs, washouts from the storms and many hairpin bends but after a challenging 90 minutes or so I was back at my riverside pitch against all expectations. In bright sunshine with the river still running a paler brown I followed its course and then a side valley up to a source where crystal clear water gushed out of a rock crevice. Back at the van a few Moroccan groups had arrived as the weekend saw the end of Ramadam but there was room for all and I had a peaceful night. Returning once more to Ouaouizaght I picked up some foodstuffs as the shops were selling well in readiness for Eid, the festival that marks the end of Ramadam, filled up with water again at the garage and then took up residence once again above the lake.

 

 

Later eleven young Moroccan guys arrived for their Eid party and invited me to join them for bread, salad, kebas and tea in what became a very memorable couple of hours as we swopped numbers and photos and enjoyed the superb location. I didn't want to intrude too much so left them to it and they eventually dropped down to the shore for a game of football. We said our good byes later and they drove off only for another family group to turn up for a sunset picnic - they also invited me to join them but I had already eaten too much so politely declined.

The next morning I took back roads through to the Cascades D'Ouzoud I had last visited on my first trip a decade ago and noticed that the corn crop was being harvested - hand sickled, tied in to bunches and then loaded on to donkeys to be taken home for hand threshing. I ignored the gestures of car park attendants to stop as I was heading for the Camp Zebra camping above town where the friendly patron offered me a choice of pitches as the place was quiet. I chose a shady terrace adjacent to a tap and with good views across the valley and an English couple for neighbours. They were also on a 3 month Brexit busting visit and looking at their onwards options for the end of April so were interested in our plans to sail to Italy. It was very hot so I took advantage of the shade and tap to do two loads of hand washing, strung a line between two posts and it all dried within an hour. I then walked down to town which was quietening down after the holiday weekend and walked to the top of the falls for a grandstand view of the multiple streams of water and the numerous terraced cafes and stalls across the gorge. Walking back to the site I enjoyed an ice cream from the womens' co operative stall and settled in to enjoy a quiet night.

Another scorcher dawned - Morocco was experiencing temperatures 10 degrees and more above normal and that same blast of hot air was setting records across in Spain, a complete contrast to the cold spells earlier in the year that had affected the horticultural scene. I enjoyed an hour in the pool and then took off for town again this time taking the path down through the terraced cafes and emerging out by the plunge pool where locals were bathing or taking a trip on the colourful barrel barges that edged under the falls to the delight and screams of passengers. I carried on down the gorge leaving people behind and passing ever more distant and run down camping options amongst the trees, they were very simple set ups and would provide for a magical if primitive experience. I then passed a small house before meeeting a group of lads who like me were trying to find a cave somewhere in the main gorge. Some rudimentary steps and ladders brought us down to the river and after some dead ends we spotted the small entrance into a surprisingly well decorated  chamber. It was a long hot walk back out of the valley so after finding the small bakery down a side street I stopped for tea in a shady terrace before another ice cream on the way back.

 

My new neighbour was a Swiss guy in a large Dodge RAM 5l truck with a camper body on the back which all looked very impressive and expensive - he had been down to Mauritania and said that out on the deep sandy tracks in the desert his plastic fuel filter had melted in the heat... Anyway we enjoyed wide ranging discussions in the evening cool and watched a French couple in a brand new Ducato struggle to reverse out of the dead end track below the site - much Gallic hand waving and colourful vocabulaire.

 

 

By now I began to doubt the viability of my intended trek as there had been no futher contact since an email giving very sparse arrangements about meeting up - stupidly I had actually deleted their email but felt that if they were any good they would have contacted me again with a kit list, guidance on clothing and the like. Thus I had an extra week to fill so decided to head back across the High Atlas via Demnate heading towards Ouarzazate as I thought a few days with Mahfoud and his friendly family back at Toundoute would be enjoyable. The beautiful road has again been much improved since my previous visit a decade ago and climbed majestically over the Tizzi N Outfi pass at 2150m with the bus pulling well. Just after Assermo I could have taken a back route to Toungoute but decided that welcoming as it was the auberge had little or no shade and I was planning to rest up for a few days. Thus I carried on down towards Ouarzazate and stopped for the night on a large gravelled area off the road and still high enough to be cooler. Below me in the distance the sun reflected off the impressive Noor solar power station - an indicator of where Morocco's future lies both for domestic use and international export.

It had been a straightforward enough route this time although the section from Tamzerit had yet to be upgraded and was still a narrow band of ragged tarmac with washed out riverbeds in the gorges but at least unlike 2013 there were no snowdrifts or icy patches. A large group of men pulled in during the evening and all produced prayer mats, faced east and began their ceremony - reminding me of a similar event a few years ago in the Brecon Beacons that at that time and location seemed a little suspicious. 

After a quiet night I dropped down to the N10, turned east and parked up in Skoura to stock up with food before pulling in to a camping area alongside the mighty Amahidil Kasbah. The site was almost empty but had a large bamboo and palm frond sun canopy that I could just park under which was perfect. A Portuguese guy in a tent with a van was also tucked away but didn't seem to be particularly sociable so I sat and read in the shade as dusk fell. Early next morning I was off to the Kasbah and explored its numerous rooms, levels and shaded courtyards - it was well worth a visit as the original layout and structure had been very well preserved and each room left to show its original purpose with the relevant equipment or furnishings. The cafe tucked away in a shaded courtyard was vey peaceful if a little overpriced so I returned to the van for a light lunch in the shade. Later on I jumped on the bike for a couple of hours exploring the extensive palmery - always an absorbing experience and then returned to talk to a French couple who had been cycle touring around Morocco for two months but actually lived in Tunisia. They recommended a visit but it's much smaller than Morocco so would perhaps only justify a month or two one day.

So after a respite from the continuing heat and with the trek definitely not happening I decided to stay on the south side of the Toubkal massif and see if a road we had seen several weeks ago would indeed lead up towards Lac Ifni. After a refreshingly varied, if expensive, shop at the Carrefour in Ouarzazate I headed towards the Tizzi n Tichka pass over to Marrakesh that we had gingerly crept over in a damaged van back in 2015 before taking a side road towards Sour. This passed a mining site that had covered everything in a thick black dust - not coal but I think possibly manganese and then climbed in to the hills with a number of far smaller one man band mines following what must be a substantial seam.

 

Eventually the tarmac turned south but my route lay north and for the next ten miles the van yet again proved immensely capable on a rough stony track through empty barren land. Eventually I popped out in Sour to join the road we had discovered almost two months ago after visiting Telouet and this brought me to Amsouzart, the turning to Imilhene and the way to Lac Ifni. I stopped for bread and then followed the narrow valley through some very humble villages with terraced crops and plenty of green trees and shrubs thriving thanks to the various streams gushing down from above.

It felt a bit like my visit to Nepal, cycling, almost 40 years ago now as I climbed up a steep and twisting road. Two Moroccan lads with rucksacks were heading the same way so I picked them up as their destination was still several miles ahead. They were from Taroudnant and had good English so when the road petered out near a rock and gravel but level area I got them to ask the two little boys who turned up if I could stay. Apparently that was fine and their Dad would come by later so I said goodbye to the guys as they headed up for a night by the lake some 3 miles and a 1000' further up a mule track. It was a spectacular location marking the spring line so bare rocks rose high above whilst spread out below the villages, terraces and crops looked magnificent. Dad spent some time watering his crops and a few trees but had obviously given the kids strict instructions to leave me in peace and the day ended with a cool breeze, amazing stars and a blanket stillness other than the stream cascading down across the valley. A friendly group of four in a hired 4x4 stopped for the view and were intrigued by the van and my situation, especially the one from Sydney when he heard about my visit there in 2010/11.

Next morning I was away after breakfast to follow the mule track away from the house towards Ifni. Several groups of workers were laying a better stone surface which made the going very easy so after just over an hour I reached the col for a view of the blue lake far below with the mountains of the Toubkal massif rising another 6000' above. The start of the route from the lake towards the western summit could be seen as it crossed a huge alluvial scree, again looking like the desolate valleys I had visited around Annapurna. Below the col a small tea shack was providing refreshment to a lively party of youngsters who had made it there and a couple of tourists who had taken a mule ride. I also met the guy from Sydney and one other from their group who had struggled a bit but were in good spirits and then eventually the two lads from Taroundant who had had a very enjoyable night - I promised to pick them up if I saw then again as I would be heading their way.

 

Back at the van I rested up and then walked down to the village for tea on a shady terrace - it was all very idyllic but would I am sure be very different in the winter months. I had to pull the bikes off to change a gas bottle - I should have checked back at Skoura as whilst I am not cooking much or heating a lot of hot water the fridge is working hard especially when I am parked for a few days so there is no cooling from the 12v split when driving. Later that evening the two little lads quietly and shyly came over and I let them have a look at the van but Dad appeared and seemed disproportionately cross with them so I felt a bit awkward and indeed on leaving the next day he still seemed very angry so I paid more than he asked and wished them all well. 

Dropping back to Amsouzart I picked up bread and two gas refills before the couple of hours drive down to the N10 west of Aoulouz. Before long I was climbing the lower reaches of the Tizzi n'Test that Mandy had cycled down 6 weeks ago - on the plains it had been so hot that instead of windows open for a fresh breeze I'd had them shut and the air con on - having it regassed before I left had been a good move. However for the climb in the midday heat it was all windows open and heater, with fan, full on to assist the engine in keeping its cool. I passed the turning to the lofty vantage point a couple of miles off the main road we had spotted weeks ago as I knew I could get water a little further on past one of the panoramic cafes. I pulled in by the pipe that had cool clear water pouring out and spoke to the friendly guy running the simplest of tea shacks. He had just cooked an omelette and insisted I shared it and bread with him so after filling up and moving the van to one side on  the narrow road we sat in the shade as various vehicles passed by including a dozen or so British bikes and the four guys from near Ifni who recognised the van. I thanked the guy, gave him a few dirhams and said I'd see him again in a day or two and retraced my steps before turning off to arrive at a lofty vantage point with a cool breeze. It was hazy due to dust but I enjoyed watching vehicles inching their way up and down the many twists and turns through my binoculars. A guy turned up on a moped with several large sacks strapped on - apparently it was lavender that he was taking down to be processed. He asked for a drink and was delighted when I gave him an ice cold bottle from the fridge and then refilled it and told him to keep it, such small gestures mean the world to people who have so little. Later a young lad appeared, said hello as he passed and then seemed to just drop off a cliff towards a small cluster of house way below wearing just a pair of flip flops...

The odd scooter, car and pick up passed until dusk and I watched the goatherds bring their flocks down the steep slopes as the day cooled off before a few lights emerged way below after dark and the odd vehicle tackled the tricky route.

Today I have read and relaxed whilst watching the view, I took a short walk down the track to see what lay round some hairpins and was surprised to see quite a substantial village way below which explains this improved access. The hazy dust has cleared so even more lights are visible down on the plains stretching away to the south.

Tomorrow I move on as Mandy arrives in Marrakech in four days so I will stop for water again and find somewhere on the other side of the col.

Pics as always here....CLICK