Todra and Dades - Gorging the Atlas

Bidding our slobbery friends farewell, Krista and I turned our backs to the Sahara and headed towards the mountains.  With high expectations for the town of N'Kob, which on the map sits between the Atlas and the Sahara, we figured we would find plenty to do.  Even the guidebook said N'Kob was Morocco's best kept secret.  How could we go wrong?  But, maybe Krista and I like to set the bar too high which ultimately leads to a let-down.  Imaging that N'Kob sits within reasonable striking distance of the mountains, what we actually found was a dusty town in the middle of a broad valley with the nearest legitimate mountains probably a couple days walk away.  Some secret.  But that is one of the quirky joys of travel; trial and error.

Although N'Kob wasn't exactly what we were looking for, certain aspects of the village were charming like its dozens of little kasbahs, palm oasis, and barren desert.

Look familiar?  We happened to cross paths with N'Kob's weekly market which had the usual assortment of identifiable and unidentifiable goods.

From N'Kob we traversed through more classic desert landscapes offset by snowy peaks on the distant horizon.  Ultimately we would land in the small village of Tizgui which in itself is nothing to write home about; its the rugged mountains and deep canyon that dwarfs the village that makes the area so splendid.  Krista and I were no doubt kids in a candy store as we stood gazing at the valleys and peaks of the area.  The village sits at the mouth of the mighty Todra gorge, a tall, narrow, slit through the red rocks.  However, the most interesting part for us was getting above it all and trekking through the empty desert mountains.  We spent a full day climbing a high pass, scaling a mountain, exploring a dry river valley, feeling lost, and ultimately returning to Tizgui.  It was the type of day that we would have had back home; if it weren't for the arid environment and the Berber nomads and their donkeys, we might as well have been at home.  Todra gorge and the surrounding area left us mightily impressed, but with days numbered and curiosity piqued, we left in search of new jaw-dropping territory.

Sign says, "Danger!  Narrow canyon with guys selling turbans to tourists inside."  I actually do not know what that says but if you discover once in Dades gorge that you need a turban, men were selling.

The views from atop the gorge were much more spectacular than in the gorge, but no one to buy a turban from.

About 50-some kilometers from Todra gorge sits another gorge, Dades gorge.  A quick series of taxi rides brought us to the mouth of the Dades valley.  In the town of Boumalne an enterprising taxi driver talked us into hiring out the entire taxi (as opposed to sharing it with other customers) into the gorge.  With a little English, and a little more charm he convinced us to accept his offer.  It turned out to be a good choice because the scenery heading towards the gorge was spectacular and we were allowed to soak it up at a more leisurely pace (and more comfortable seating arrangement).  Once in the gorge, although impressive, we decided that the villages we had passed were more appealing than the shear rock walls of the gorge. So our driver took us out of the gorge and dropped us in the small village of Ait Arbi.

Ait Arbi is a picturesque village with several crumbling kasbahs, a flowing stream surrounded by birch trees and green gardens, and rock formations that appear to melting into the hillsides; maybe Ait Arbi is supposed to be Morocco's best kept secret.  Once again, Krista and I were like kids in a candy store.  When we finished strolling through the village and scrambling around inside the old kasbahs we began sizing up the extraordinary terrain all around us.  The complex networks of eroded rocks, gullies, and mountains was like a giant playground calling our names.  With a full day, some bread, sardines, and pastries, we managed to tackle two summits and get lost in a maze of narrow slot canyons.  For both us, it was probably our most fulfilling day in Morocco; the perfect way to finish a journey through a country that is at times frustrating, annoying, confusing, touristy, and even uninspiring.  Instead our day was filled with beauty, relaxation, peace, and adventure.

Ait Arbi has a number of beautifully crumbly kasbahs that meld perfectly with the exotic landscapes.

The area had some unique and stunning landscapes.

At times, Ait Arbi was nearly perfect in the scenery department.

Slot canyons are fun, but unexpected slot canyons are even more fun.

The snowy Atlas were too far to reach but gazing at them with the arid desert contrast was a close second to slogging through the snow.

Zagora - Sahara by Camel

To contrast the craziness of Marrakech, Krista and I headed for the peace of the desert.  Our first stop was the town of Ourzazate.  Our expectations were pretty high as we climbed up and over the High Atlas and dropped into the arid fringes of the Sahara desert.  After not laying eyes on snow for over two years, I was in awe as the bus made its way over a snowy pass before descending into the bleak landscapes of the Sahara.  On the map, Ourzazate seems to sit in an extraordinary location between the snowy mountains and the desert.  However, Ourzazate did not provide the peace and proximity to nature that we were looking for.  Turns out, Ourzazate is a big sprawling city and we quickly learned that it is difficult to escape from.  With rented bicycles, we figured we could easily get beyond the reach of the busy streets, fancy hotels, and concrete buildings.  But, a flat tire along with inadequate time kept us in the sterile urban environment longer than we pleased.  After one night in Ourzazate we merrily hopped a predawn bus further into the Sahara.  

What Ourzazate did have was an impressive kasbah.  From what I gather, a kasbah is an old mud fortress of a building in which several families used to or still do live.

By day break we reached the much calmer and smaller town of Zagora.  The calm of Zagora is apparently contagious and we were both instantly at ease knowing that we had found the type of place that we were looking for.  With its large palm oasis, encroaching desert, and low mountains, Zagora would become our base for organizing adventure further into the desert and away from civilization.  And of course, there is no better way to achieve this than by mounting a camel and bobbing with the rythmic steps of the ugly desert beast.

 

With a little time before loading on the camels, might as well hike to the top of a mountain.

The Zagora area is home to some very impressive desert landscapes.

From Zagora we were shoved into a dilapitated Mercedes mini-bus and whisked through typical desert landscapes of eroded ridges, mesas, and canyons.  After a couple of hours we reached the small village of M'Hamid where we would meet our camels, guides, and Irish family who would be accompanying us for the first night.  From there, it was down to business.  Although not my first encounter with camels, I still couldn't help but stare at the beasts and ponder their strange behaviors.  Camels have got to be one of the most entertaining animals to be around with their dopey behavior, short temper, slobbering mouth, strange noises out one end and foul smells out the other, and a tongue that appears to inflate followed by a long string of drool that mystically drifts away with the Saharan wind.  They are certainly not the most elegant of creatures, but given the circumstances, the most practical.

Silly brutes.

Our first night in the desert was spent at the base of idyllic dunes, not more than 10kms from M'Hamid but with a sense of peace and isolation as if we had just traversed the Sahara halfway to Timbuktu.  After a delicious dinner we all crowded around the fire where our guides serenated us with traditional Berber singing and drumming followed by a restful night's sleep in a tent.

Wandering the old ruined kasbah in M'Hamid.

Our camels and guide Rashid leading the way through the deep sand.

Camp at the base of the dunes.

 

Berber entertainment complete with turbans.

The following day our guide Rashid, Krista, I, and 2 camels continued further into the desert.  It was a day filled with more open desert, frigid wind, and sand penetrating every conceivable place.  Over the course of the day we essentially made a loop in the desert leading to nowhere in particular, ending up at a camp site closer to M'Hamid than we had been the previous night.  That evening as Rashid prepared dinner, I thought it a good idea that Krista and I help him out by herding the camels back to camp who had wandered off grazing.  A helpful idea, but not necessarily a good idea since both of us know next to nothing about camel handling.  As we struggled to move the stubborn brutes away from their grazing Krista was inflicted with a big slobbery chomp on the hand leaving her bleeding and in pain.  Luckily the wound did not necessitate an evacuation from the desert.  The next morning, Krista with a swollen hand, but no serious damage, we made a quick ride back to M'Hamid refreshed from a few days in the calm of the Sahara.

Sand dunes have got to be nature's greatest artwork.

Rashid and Krista joyous that camels do not carry infectious diseases.

Marrakech - Joining the Circus

There are certain place names that stick in our minds as being ultimately exotic, places that exemplify travel; Timbuktu, Kathmandu, Mombasa, among others.  Marrakech is one such place.  I had been warned about Marrakech before even arriving in Morocco; told to be careful, watch my pockets, and expect blood pressure rising hassles. Others even recommended that Marrakech should be avoided altogether.  But I can't come this far without sneaking a peek at such an infamous city.  Further, it was a convenient place for me to meet up with my travel companion for the remaining weeks, my good friend Krista.  For her, Marrakech would be a chaotic introduction to Morocco.  For me, a halfway meeting point that was a test on the patience.

Marrakech is an old city with a rich history of desert caravans, sultans, and street theatre.  With a population of about 1.6 million people, Marrakech is beautifully set in a large valley between the snowy High Atlas and the arid Anti Atlas.  As with most larger Moroccan towns, the most interesting part is in the heart, the medina.  Marrakech's medina is a crazy maze of narrow streets, street vendors, open markets, workshops, and in general, organized chaos.  The medina is a place to wander aimlessly and get lost for hours on end (and curse the endless stream of kamikaze moped maniacs).

For Krista and I, Marrakech wasn't supposed to be much more than a meeting place to catch up, plan onward travel, and get a taste of Morocco at its most exotic.  What we got was a bit of an awkward start to a couple weeks of travel together.  Although Marrakech has nice accommodation, nice restaurants, and is more or less set up for tourism, it is a strange place with an ambiance that just seems a little off.  It is chaotic, hassle-loaded, confusing, mind-blowing, and for the most part, ingenuine.  I must admit that it was one of the most awkward places that I have travelled to, maybe along the line of going to the circus as a kid and accidentally going in the wrong entrance and finding yourself center stage with the crowd staring at you amongst the wild animals and acrobats.  Sure, there were loads of tourists from across the spectrum, but that may be a contributing factor to Marrakech's offness.  Historically it has attracted travelers, almost as a pilgrimage site of sorts, and travellers themselves  can be just a little bit off.  And now, Marrakech is a third-world city with first-world visitors.

But, it ended up serving its purpose even though both of us were eager to get out in the end.  We wandered and got lost in the medina, watched artisans at work in their hole-in-the-wall workshops, joined the party with snake charmers, monkeys, acrobats, musicians, and dancers at the famous Djemaa el-Fna square, enjoyed outdoor barbecue, ate snails, and made fun of mopeds.  It was an enjoyable reunion that left us running from the madness in search of a place a bit more genuine and closer to nature.  Marrakech is no doubt exotic, but that's about all I can say.

Whether you like it or not you might just find yourself playing with the monkeys in Marrakech.  The handlers are quick to get them on your shoulder and reluctant to take them off.  Then they demand money.  For 10 minutes with the monkeys the guy wanted 200 dirhams for our brief moment with the monkeys.  Doing the math, thats's the equivalent of about 25 dollars which works out to 150 dollars an hour.  Not bad wages! In the end, he walked away acting angry with the equivalent of about 2 dollars and me angry for parting with 2 dollars...

 The Koutoubia Mosque; the largest in Marrakech.

Getting lost in the medina was a joy, especially when we could find empty streets.

Marrakech is no doubt a beautiful city with a stunning contrast between snowy peaks and tropical flora.

Djemaa el-Fna square at dusk.  The action in the square changed between night and day; by day the square is busy with snake charmers, monkeys, acrobats, and orange juice vendors; by night, it is all about the food, dancers, musicians, and story tellers.

With a throng of vendors selling snails at the square, we had to try; turns out snails aren't too bad.

Dates, figs, nuts; and apricots - lots to snack on in Marrakech.