Tamatert to Toubkal Refuge

I arrived in the mountain village of Tamatert in the dark on Saturday evening, during a violent electrical storm: the start of a brief trip to the High Atlas mountains of Morocco. My taxi stopped at the end of the rubble track up from Imlil (after driving from Marrakech airport, 39C even at 7pm). Heavy rain as we walked by torchlight down stony paths and alleyways, fat toads jumping around, mules braying, and found the tiny front door of my accommodation: a restored Berber douar. After a superb lamb tagine and other Moroccan specialities, all by candelight (no electricity in the house) I turned in. Next morning dawned perfectly sunny and clear: deep blue sky. After breakfast, I negotiated the alleyways of Tamatert and walked down the road to Imlil. From here, some guesswork is required to find the onward route to Aremd and the mountains. I followed old tracks past Berber houses and groves of walnut trees to a river crossing. Above this, a climb led to the superbly positioned hillside village of Aremd: on a steep slope with views up to Toubkal and beyond. Through the lower streets, all tiny alleyways and characteristic flat-topped houses, to gain the large dry river bed/floodplain at the foot of the higher peaks. Dramatic scenery ahead, with multiple spurs and side valleys leading to Toubkal dominating the view ahead: the sky still cloudless. Temperatures were hot but bearable. I had to ask several local Berbers about the onward route: none of it is marked, but it is well used by locals. Up to this point, I'd seen no foreigners at all. At a large boulder, I then made a rather embarrassing error, taking a small path above the river. This was obviously too narrow to be the main mule trail, but for some reason I persisted, thinking it might make an interesting short-cut perhaps. It soon petered out into a nightmare of mud, huge boulders and impenetrable vegetation. I tried to follow the river itself for a bit, but eventually decided I would have to seek a route up the side of the valley and hope to gain the main route. This I did, scrambling up a dry stream bed, and eventually spied a mule train higher up the valley side. I regained the main path by a shack selling drinks, so cooled down with an orange drink. The main track was far more comfortable, with spectacular backward views as colourful mule trains made their way up: beyond barren yellow hills soared upwards with a deep blue sky above. Soon, I reached the tiny settlement of Sidi Chamarouch at the junction of two valleys (Mizane and Tarharate, which cuts the steep side valley to the east). This has a white mosque hidden between massive boulders and is a sight of Islamic pilgrimage. It also has a few dusty shacks selling drinks, but due to ramadam most of the proprietors were asleep as I passed around midday. Above, the route gets much more physical: steep zigzags gain a long contouring path above the valley of the Mizane river. The path then makes a beeline up the valley, climbing all the way, with the views opening out towards Ouanoukrim (Ras) directly in front, although the Refuge du Toubkal stays hidden until the last minute. It began to cloud over, which made life a little more comfortable, although the altitude starting to kick in as I climbed towards 3000m (generally the level that I start to really feel it). It took almost three hours to reach the refuge, longer than I'd expected. I booked in and claimed a bunk, had a snack, and began to consider the feasibility of my original plan (which had been to nip up Toubkal in the afternoon). I had plenty of time and energy, but the obvious problem was the weather. It had clouded over, there was a hint of rain in the air, and a strong hint of an afternoon storm. Still, I had plenty of time to kill so thought I would at least reccie the route. This was pleasant, a little walk up to the river crossing, then up the initial steep zigzags leading in to the South Cwm (Ikhibi Sud). I was just beginning to think I might break into a run and continue all the way up to the summit when a loud clap of thunder sent me scurrying back to the hut for a mint tea (and later, a fine chicken tagine with carrot soup and melon).