Imlil and the Atlas Mountains

Position: 31°08’08.5″N 7°55’10.4″W

The High Atlas Mountains draws hikers and climbers and hippies from far and wide. The rugged peaks offer refuge from the searing heat of the desert and some stunning scenery to boot. Imlil is the centre of the action and looks for all the world like an Alpine mountain town. Climbers and hikers mill about rubbing shoulders with donkey-riding locals and camera-toting tourists fresh off the bus. With time to spare before checking in, we pointed KeeKee, our tiny Kia, uphill and pushed through the mob towards the mountains.

Toubkal is the tallest peak in Morocco (and North Africa) and about two-day’s hike from Imlil. Hence the town’s popularity. Summiting the 4,167metre peak isn’t technically difficult, but you’ll need a guide and plenty of baseline fitness. If you’re up for it, an adventure like that is surprisingly affordable. We had no such ambitions.

KeeKee wound up the single-track road out of town. Restaurants spilled into the road. Blocky apartments leaned in. The only places to pass we’re at the hairpin bends. Squeezing between cars on one side and a 500’ drop on the other, we gingerly slid past the traffic heading downhill. The buildings finally ran out and the road improved significantly. We followed it all the way to the trailhead where the tarmac turned to dirt and we had to park the car. Google Maps indicated the road continued high up into the valley. Jagged shards of red granite sticking out of the grey rock dust told another story. Whistling up a donkey yielded nothing, so we mounted shank’s pony and went for a walk instead.

Autumn

Back in town we checked into our hotel and made ourselves comfy in our top-floor room. Its wide balcony looked out to the northwest. Heavy curtains ran around the balcony, probably to keep the summer sun out or the winter’s heat in. Winds blustered through the valley during the day, but like those in the Mediterranean they settled down at night. Now mid-autumn, leaves on the few walnut trees had already turned yellow as the temperature dropped into low single digits (Celsius) overnight. The WiFi signal didn’t quite reach our room, so I pulled out our Starlink Mini and lashed it to the wooden post railing and pointed it northwards. Fortunately, the outdoor power outlets worked and we downloaded detailed trail maps and started planning the next couple of days.

Red Tape

Heading uphill from our hotel the next morning we walked about 500m then ducked under some red and white construction tape and joined a donkey trail that was about to become a paved road. That led us towards Armoud, the village we had parked at on the other side of the day before. Two thirds of the way along, we paused for a freshly squeezed orange juice at a pop-up café/snack-shack within earshot of a waterfall. The juice was delicious and gave us enough of a boost that we powered through to the village. Buoyed as we were, we picked our way back down along a precarious eco-trail through the woods to town.

Acclimatised to the altitude now (~2,000m), we set our sights on a real hike for as far up the valley as we could go the next day. A hearty breakfast and an early start meant the road up was clear to the parking lot. We leapt out and found our pace between groups of guided walkers ahead of and behind us. A little over a mile in and 200m higher in elevation we drew up at a Gendarmerie Royale checkpoint.

Fatigued

Three officers in green fatigues stood on duty. One asked us for our passports. Glancing over them, the officer then told us this was as far as we could go without a guide. “Vous besoin un guide!” he repeated until it sunk into my head what he was saying. “We need a guide,” I finally explained to Carol, confirming what we had hoped was outdated news about hiking in this part of the valley. If you want to climb to Café Chamharouch or إمين تفريت for a snack further up towards the national park you’ll have to hire a local guide.

The reason? Aside from several back-to-back climbing accidents, I found out later that in 2018 two Scandinavian women hiking and camping in the park were brutally murdered by members of the Islamic State. Declared an act of terrorism by the Moroccan general prosecutor, 18 men have been arrested in connection with the crime. Since then, the authorities have kept a close watch on anyone entering or leaving the area. I doubt any of the hikers we saw that day were the least bit concerned about the incident. Hiring a guide isn’t too expensive, around $50 to $100 a day. But we weren’t that organised, so we turned around and took a side trail back down to avoid the crowds.

If you go…

Our hotel, the Smile House, was as comfortable as it was quirky and hospitable. Each room is decorated in layers of traditional fabrics and throw pillows. Our hosts stored our icebox cold packs in their freezer and made us very welcome. Breakfast and dinner were both very tasty.

The hotel’s large communal dining room gave us a chance to overhear what life is like as a social media nomad. An ad hoc group of 20-somethings had a lengthy discussion about how the ratio of Instagram followers to followed validates your legitimacy as an influencer. Their conversation quickly grew tiresome. We counted our blessings at having been disconnected and therefore fully immersed in our travel experiences at their age.

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