Right after we leapt out of the rusty car that we shared to get us out to the Atlas mountain town of Imlil, we were noticed by a friendly enough man who introduced himself as Ibrahim. He mentioned his hostel that was in very close proximity and so rather than waste time, we followed him. It wasn't as close as we were led to believe, but it was well worth the trek. After hiking up a narrow, winding gravel track, past kids playing joyfully on the steep bank next their settlement and over a tiny stream, we were in Ibrahim's home village of M'zzik, home to about 100 people (just a guess).
His hostel was the only one in the village and it gave magnificent vistas over the valley below and of the approach to the Kasbah. We decided to take the mattresses on the floor of the room and share a few cups of whiskey Berber with Ibrahim. This drink is made by mint leaves being boiled in water like tea and then about three sugar cubes are stirred into each persons cup, but this wasn't compulsory. What a way to pass a couple of hours in the afternoon before listening to the calls to prayer that sounded from the minaret in Imlil and echoed around the valley.
The next day after sleeping like logs, we arose and sauntered down into Imlil for our breakfast of omelette with a freshly baked white bread roll. Simon opted to have is omelette with cheese and he was forever saying how delicious authentic Moroccan cheese is and how it must have come straight from the cows on the mountains. That is until Jon tutted at him and pointed to the Dairylea triangles stacked on the top shelf in the chef's kitchen. Being foodies, we walked across the thin road strip and bought five doughnuts from a tiny shack that seemed to only sell these doughnuts (just like those back in Marrakech). Four were for our dinner later after passing the village of Aremd in the higher Atlas, but one was to scoff there and then. Up in the muddy-coloured village of Aremd, there were plenty of basic, cuboid-shaped, houses, which looked like a giant game of Jenga at a distance. There was another minaret standing proudly, imitating the Koutoubia.
It was beautiful and we had fun exploring random paths between the houses, sometimes successfully getting through, sometimes coming to dead ends with cockerels keeping guard. We crossed a dry wadi, paused underneath a walnut tree with our doughnuts and enjoyed the shade whilst we had it.
On our continuing ascent, the rocks on the path became looser and we'd regularly be twisting our ankles due to us being too focused on the beauty of North Africa's highest mountain standing high, right before us, with a clear dusting of snow on the peak. Fortunately we could see this all the way up to the base, which was our turnaround point.
The village at the base had an Islamic shrine with a featureless dome and it's uniqueness was magnetising us but we became disappointed when we spotted the 'Muslims Only' sign outside.
On our descent, we were lucky to get a view over the Casbah!
Further on we met another Ibrahim who was selling carpets and he softened us up with some more whiskey Berber. Based on his location, we couldn't imagine him selling an awful lot of these typically Berber rugs so we gave him the satisfaction of walking away with not one, but two! It seemed that everybody knew each other in the Atlas mountains as, even though we were quite a long distance from our base in M'zzik, Ibrahim knew Ibrahim... If that makes sense!
One of the most incredible things was the fact that on arrival back in Imlil, a Tuareg man from the other side of the Atlas mountains had come all the way from his Saharan home just to sell his small wares to tourists. We figured that there would be more tourists in Imlil than in the vast emptiness of the Sahara, and that's probably why he's there. He stood out in his sapphire blue gown and looked deceptively more like a sultan than a member of an ethnic minority having to scrimp and save. After admiring his authentic goods on the rickety wooden table, we stopped for a well-earned traditional tagine!
Following our enjoyment in the Atlas, we were granted one more night (and day) in stunning Marrakech before returning home. Thanks go to Ryanair and Easyjet for setting up affordable flights that take just three hours, to this place which in it's cultural difference feels even further away from home. A world away in fact! It really is where the Middle East and Africa come together.
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