[HIGH ATLAS MOUNTAINS, MOROCCO] — I didn’t know there’d be a donkey involved.

Actually, I didn’t really know what all would be involved. But there he was, on a foot bridge spanning a roaring river. Staring at me like “Really?”. It would be hard to be a donkey, actually. Getting all the shit jobs that man doesn’t want to do, in this case, carrying my pack and our lunch for the day. And the flies. Man, the flies. A constant swarm of pesky varmints, always, poking your eyes, biting your knees, and just all-around being annoying. 24/7. I hate flies and if I was a donkey, I’d really hate flies. A constant shake of the head to shake them away. My tail in continuous motion to swat them away. My leg muscles in a constant twitch to shoo their annoying bites. Constantly. Man, I’d hate to be a donkey.

And yet, there we were. Me. My Berber guide Mohamed. And his even more-Berber compatriot whose name I got the gist was “Lassoo.” And the donkey. (I couldn’t make out his name, either, but it was something like “Gently”…either that or both were pulling my leg with their names…)  I asked my hotel, the glamorous Kasbah Tamadot a few clicks down the road, for something a little more strenuous than the previously-arranged two hour jaunt up a neighboring peak. Ahmed, the amazingly helpful Guest Services Manager of the hotel suggested this hike that we were about to take. “We call it ‘hard-trekking. More like five hours, more if you want, but you should see how you feel after five.” he said. “Sign me up.”

HIKE ONE:

The plan was, hike up one pass, hit two to three villages, then hike up another pass that takes us down to Imlil and the gorgeous valley in the Toubkal National Park. From the top of the pass, we could decide if we wanted to keep going. There will be a lunch involved. That’s about what I knew. I was all in, itchin’ to get some hiking in in such a remarkable place. But I wasn’t expecting a donkey. Nor Lassoo. Nor what lied ahead. But when they took my pack, with my ten pound DLSR — dubbed “my little brother” —  water and layers of clothes and packed it on Gently’s side packs, I thought “Wow, I like donkeys.” And up we went.

 I didn’t know there’d be a donkey involved.

Mohamed bolts out of the gate like Ussain Bolt. Straight up. These are not gentle National Park Service trails that gently move you on switchbacks up the mountain, these trails pretty much go Up. I couldn’t see our destination, just a massive green wall we were climbing at an incredible speed. I tried to act cool. But I was dying. Mohamed, with legs of steel, pushed on. We hit the top of the pass, catch our breath then descend down the next valley. Picturesque towns cling to the hillsides, the roar of the river audible from the top of the pass. It is 9am. The sun and sweet air are nourishing…at least since we are going down now.

This was a cool, but difficult hike. The valleys and towns were stunning, but it is a lot of UP, a bunch of down, then strolling along the roaring river, then a killer ending UP. Like a three thousand foot vertical ascent at the end of a hike. It completely kicked my butt. And when you get to the top of the pass, there is a road. And a bar. A van load of French tourists in flipflops even drove up, got out at the same mountain top that I had “worked” to achieve the views, got back in their van and drove away.

This is where I learned the difference between “trekking” and what we typically call “hiking”.  Where I come from, a you hike UP to see something cool that nobody else can get to, then hike back down. With trekking, you’re just walking somewhere, from town to town, that maybe you could have just driven a car.  So when someone asks you if you want to go trekking, clarify, then say “Why don’t we just drive there?”  🙂

Here’s how beautiful this place is in the storyboard below. CLICK ON THE THUMBNAILS TO OPEN THE GALLERY.

The approach into Toubkal National Park is just breathtaking. You can see these mountains all the way in Marrakesh.

The whole valley laid out ahead of us. We’d spend the next four hours crossing it.

And there it was, Ammaskor. Very cool and lush amidst the arid peaks. Terraced fields to feed the town.

…and walk along shaded paths and the sound of rustling water.

And then, time for a picnic lunch along the river, with women doing their laundry and a chance to just chill.

Up.

…and of course, a bar and shop. And a damn road. And the aforementioned French flipflops.

Here’s some Zen of Goat for you, expand it and hit HD:

HIKE TWO: IMLIL TO ARMED

Okay, so I told Mohamed, I don’t want to distance, I want the waterfalls. So he took me to some waterfalls, good ones. And then on up to the highest village in the valley, Armed, also his home village.

From there, we’d get the Toubkal views I was looking for and we stopped by his family’s home — ummmm his five hundred year old family home

From there, we’d get the Toubkal views I was looking for and we stopped by his family’s home — ummmm his five hundred year old family home — for tea, then have a nice tagine lunch overlooking Toubkal and the beautiful green valley below. All set. Much easier on the calves. No Lassoo or Gently. Just the two of us.

Starting out in the hiking center of Imlil, which feels like Katmandu does (at least pictures I’ve seen) with hikers and campers from all over the world.

Kasbah Toubkal is the keystone place to stay in the valley. The views are stunning, I hear.

I want to stay here next time.

Mohamed is from this valley, in the town just up the road, so he knows the whole place like the back of his hands. You need a guide here. There are no signs or trail markers. Only Knowledge. And Mohamed is The Man.

And the views were absolutely worth it

No windows. Don’t need ’em. The thick mud and straw walls have proven for centuries “Cool in summer. Warm in winter.”

And this will be where I have lunch

This is my man, Mohammed on the right. He is a certified guide. Leads hiking, trekking, mountain biking, skiing off piste and an all-around beast. And this is Rashid, possibly his brother, almost certified after 5 years of tourism school. He is a mountain bike beasts and takes people on 5 day bike/camp tours up and over the trails. I do not know how they do this.

Rachid, Mohamed and I think Ahmed, the owner of the Douar Armed Imlil guesthouse and restaurant. He is an incredibly nice and hospitable Berber host. They make amazing food here, with stunning views.

Rachid gave me his treasured ghachi shawl. I objected, he insisted “It is Berber tradition to give a gift to someone who is nice to you.”