Morrocan Nights....

I arrived in Morocco after two great weeks with Kim..not sure if that was the cause for my lack of enthusiasim, or the fight with the Taxi driver at the airport who tried to take my bag and only relented when I stood my tallest and glared/stared him down....but at the moment I am not enamoured with this supposedly magical, mystical city that is as exotic, busy and colourful as you would imagine, but smells like our old cottage loo on the stinkiest August day, mixed in with a little donkey...

Marrakesh was established when the camel caravans crossed the Sahara Desert bringing gold, ivory and slaves from Africa.  Muslim missionaires brought the word or Islam and the country was established under the Alaouite dynasty (ancestors of the present King) until the French took over in the 1920's and ruled until Morocco became independent in 1956.  Morocco continues to attract Europeans and other travellers to it's bohemian lifestyle and relatively inexpensive cost of living.

My first two days were spent exploring the old town (Medina) and the new town (Gueliz).  I also visited a Hamamm.  For those of you not familiar with the experience (and if any of you were, it would have been nice to have had a heads up) it was like being womanhandled by a sumo wrestler and then scrubbed within an inch of your life with a nylon mesh pot scrubber.  So it went like this...I asked at the hotel which was the best Hamamm to go to, they said the Hilton Hamamm was probably the best for me...assuming they meant posh I was flattered until I arrived and found out that the Hilton Hamamm in Marrakesh was possibly much like the reference to the Hanoi Hilton for the jails in Thailand (although later on in my trip, Niall and Jeremy assured me after their Hamamm experience that mine was indeed posh!).  I sat down with a lady at the main desk to determine what services I wanted.  Being an anti-massage kind of person I opted for the entrance fee of 30 Dirhams (about 4 CDN dollars) and the scrubbing for an additional 35 Dirhams.  I also purchased the scrubby which I have visually established for you in the previous sentence.  I do not purchase the lovely lavender smelling soap that they are peddling as I assume that will be included....WRONG!  I enter what I would consider to be a "change area" and was told to remove my clothes.  Admittedly not completely thinking this through before I came I only brought my bathingsuit bottoms and no towel, assuming I was going to a turkish bath kind of place and I would rent one....WRONG!  So I disrobe to my modest bathing bottoms and am pushed through the next door which reveals a large open marble sauna type of environment with a fountain in the middle surrounded by 8 marble stools infront of sinks which are constantly filled from the fountain. Several large moroccan women in black midievil russian one piece bathing suits and various customers undergoing a variety of services.  I am ushered to a marble stool where the lady gestures to soap and is basically asking me if I have some, when I say no, she proceeds to grab a blob of this honeyish wayish foul smelling goo and wash me with it and the water from the sink.  Now having always completed my own personal hygine regime, this was definately something new!  After my "bath" I am once again pushed throuh a door into the actualy sauna room.  Ahhh finally, relaxation...WRONG!  The marble bench is so hot I burn my butt at the first sitting and am required to maintain a constant stream of buckets of water across the marble seat to sit for 15 seconds before I get burned again.  Just as I am getting the hang of my little process, I am summoned by one of the sumos in black and proceed back into the big open room to lay on a plastic picnic table where she begins to scrub the Portuguese tan from my body!  Once over my body is numb, I can only imagine this is what it is like to have your whole body tatooed, but as the numbness takes hold, I notice that there are brown blobs on me and the table.  I think oh how nice, she is using lavender in the scrub....WRONG!  It is my skin, my skin is literally being peeled from my body.....help!  A quick shower to remove the evidence and I am returned to the change room where I admire the painful price of beautiful skin....I am truly glowing!  The best part is sitting and relaxing after my ordeal drinking mint tea and watching the other westerners enter, as innocent and carefree as I was just a brief hour or two ago...knowling what lies behind the door makes me chuckle...

Ok so life got much better once I met my group!  I actually got to go out after dark!  Our group contains 16 people a variety of ages and backgrounds, but all from the UK with the exception of me!  Our guide, Mohammed was very experienced and had been completing treks thoughout Morocco for 9 years.  His training to be a Moroccan Mountain Guide is quite grueling and includes a walk across the 250 km of Morocco in something like 14 days and a 4 day 45 km test.  So needless to say, I felt quite confident that if anyone was going to be able to motivate (read DRAG) my but actoss this trek he was the man for the job.

With a Yala (Berber for Coe on, let's go!) from Mohammed we set off bright and early the next day in our 4 x 4's for the drive to Imelgas and the Bougoumex Valley.   The drive takes about 5 - 6 hours, but the scenery is breathtaking at times, both visually and literally as we careen along the dirt road on the edges of cliffs (I can now fully empathize with Kim and her issues with my Ricky Racecar driving in Portugal, payback is a bitch!), at times, giving way to other vehicles, why I am not sure, but as the fear in ou faces must have revealed our concern, Mohammed confirms that our driver has been doing this for years and not to worry...oh if it were that easy.

Our first night is in a Git which is essentially a small open concept house which sits in the valley.  Mohammed decides that we should take a little trial walk up to the Granary  called Sidi Moussa which sits on the top of a plateau in the valley.   It is apparently the oldest one in the world (I think this title is something like World Famous in New Zealand saying), but considering it is made up of mud and straw and bits of wood, the fact that it has survived for over 100 years is actually quite impressive and at the same time, quite worrisome as we stand on the top of it to observe the sun set....

Our reward when we arrive back at the git is a delicious tagine dinner of lamb and dates.  Mohammed tops off our desert with his own special gift bags for each of us which contains a roll of toilet paper and a lighter, I don't think it requires any further explaination...happy trails to you....

The night is filled with quite fretfull sleep, or lack thereof as the "peaceful village" seemed to be overcome with the sounds of the chanting, singing, mules, dogs, call to prayer, cockerals...you name it, this village had it and was not as sleepy as it had appeared in daylight.

A little sleepy start the next day as we meet up with our muleteers and their various mule charges...thank god they are such strong beasts as they have enormous weight to carry when I can barely carry myself along the trail.  We walk 20 kms in 12 hours.  Although I am exhausted I am bouyed with the laughs we have had thoughout the day including my roomie Jo's (aka Jo the Berber) and my attempt at creating drinkable water from a stream with our very orange iodine.  Everyone says to pretend it is Irn Bru or something like that but thankfully we remember the neurtilizer tablets and with a few tabs and a few good shakes, we have clear, slightly ghastly tasting, but drinkable water to consume....  I am happy to say that I was not the only exhausted person which is a tremendous relief as I did have my fitness doubts about climbing at 2000 m and above when I did my little warm up hiking with Regula in Switzerland in July.  Our walk took us through the beautiful lush valley and then ended up over repeated ridges which lead to our very windy campsite on a plateau with a spectacular view of the mountain range we were to walk up over and around in the next few days.  It has been quite a while since I have camped but the peaceful setting and exhaustion take their toll and the rocks and fairly lopsided angle of the tent are not a concern as it would take a herd of elephants to wake me...or so I thought...in the middle of the night, there is an incredible (or atleast from the inside of a tent is sounds incredible) wind which sounds like a freight train and nearly lifts up our tent, but for the dead weight of Jo and I.

At this first camp we are introduced to the most important tent of all, Tent No. 7 (not at all like the fragrance of Channel No. 7) which is the trekkers version of a loo, toilet, or in this case a not so deep hole in the rocky soil.  Although I have consumed 4 litres of water throughout the day, I have little or no desire to pee, but figure that I should atleast try.  Thank god I was first in line as it was reported that the environment rapidly declined after that, although it miraculously and I believe thankfully withstood the winds to remain on guard for it's patrons in the morning.

Too little sleep and another day of hiking....I awake to 2 mules attempting to mate and they would have been successful but for the fact that they are sterile (a mule so I have been told is a result of a very lucky make donkey getting it on with a female horse, however, the chains breaks there are they are all sterile).  I pop my 2 Advil vitamins for the day and we take off for the pass over Ghoughoult mountains at 2850 m.

The next day we have a steep ascent of 400 m to an altitude of about 3100 m and a plateau which will be our jumping off point for our ascent tomorrow.  Mohammed sets an excellent pace and although possibly a bit slow for some, we all stick together and arrive at the top.  Looking back I cannot believe the height and distance we have covered in a few hours, absolutely unthinkable at home.  At the top at the beginning of the plateau we run across two very cute nomad shepherd boys (one is wearing a man's pin stipped suit jacket).  I cannot stop giving them my dried fruit and nuts as I feel so bad about us sitting there eating in front of them, but I also give them a hackey sack with a canadian flag on it, thinking it will give them something to play with and do as they watch over their sheep and goats day after day but as Ian (the official photographer of the group) stated I should have demonstrated what it was for as they had apparently started to try and peel it to eat it.  Another lame brained western gesture!

When we arrive at camp for the night on the Tarkeddid Plateau at 2900 m, we discover that we are are staying next to a Refuge run by a french fellow.  There are hot showers and beer.  Surprisingly, the beer does not appeal to me, but a hot shower is a must.  The group and Jo and I transform ourselves into variations of our former cleanliness and feel a bit more human.    A very unexpected treat givent he surroundings are doughnuts.  Our chef has made doughnuts!  They are delicious and come with Berber coffee which is a bit like Chai tea...Yummy...Jo and I eat 3 each!!!!

The day of the ascent of Mgoun!  We awake at 4 am and take off at 5 after a breakfast of oatmeal.  It is dark and the blackness is penetrated by our lights from various contraptions, head lights, flashlights, etc. as we navigate the initial hill up to the rim and the summit.  It should take 5 hours for the 1100 m ascent and I myself am dying already! The first few hours are killer and at the second stop I hurl myself onto a rock and cling to it gasping for air like a fish out of water.  I am not entirely confident that I can do this.  Everyone in the group is so nice and as I Some of the group are faring better than others and Niall (the irish version of Neil) has been dancing around Jo and I all morning attempting to lift our spirits...we have Mohammed on our side and he advises Niall to conserve his energy...ahhh peace.  But alas, we arrive at the next break stop and I hurl myself on a rock gasping for air like a fish that has been sucked from the water my a fisherman's hook and I begin to involuntarily cry.  Julie gives me a bite of a date square, Paul gives me a Mint to suck on, Hugh gives me a little hug and  Tania tempts me on with the knowledge that she a chocolate peanut butter snack bar for our celebration at the top.   At the next stop I am not so bad, but I begin to shake uncontrollably and I am still suffering so I pull out my trusty can of Coca Cola. I am not sure what the rationale is for this little trick, but I only know it worked for me in Peru on the Inca Trail.  Something to do with the carbonation and the caffeine and sugar.  Regardless, a couple of gulps and I am much fitter and ready to continue.  I think a Coca Cola commercial is in my future.  We begin our final ascent of the Mgoun Massif from 3500 m up to the top and Amsod at 4068 m.  The ridge line that we follow is not wide, but not technical either and in fact is quite well pedestriaized, but the altitude is a bugger!  Niall is not feeling well and has been suffering the last 2 hours.  Although I am feeling ok, I am happy to walk at the back with him and motivate him on, this includes walking like Blue the Bear and marching to band music (I had heard at Buckingham Palace with Kim) in my head...I know I said I was not too affected by the altitude, but I think these last few admissions prove otherwise.  We did finally arrive at the top in 4 1/2 hours and after many hugs (a few more tears) and a group picture taken 16 times (thank you Mousafa) we head down.  The descent is very fun as we catapult ourselves down the scree, attempting, but failing to following the example set by our guides who reveal this is the part they consider the most fun of the tour.

We arrive at our final camp at  2600 m (some us via mules for the last km or so...very fun if you like bamboo saddles and scratchy wool seats...the fellas have taken up a challenge to play the muleteers in a friendly game of football (soccer for all you North Americans).  What fools were they, although they managed to outskill them, they were dying from the altitude and the Berbers were running circles around them.  Thank goodness for a few well placed kicks to maintain England's place as a the nation of football remained intact.  After dinner our muleteers and guides treated us to an evening of moroccan music which consisted of plastic washbowl drums and a very repetetive chorus and response, but entertaining all the same, infact it was a highlight for me to see how these people with so little in terms of a westerners measuring stick could be so happy and generous.

Our final day of hiking involved going down into the valley and up to the pass over Tizi n'Ait Imi at 2900 m and down again into the Bougourmez Valley.  As we are passing through the valley there is a Fantasia which is like a Morrocan Fair and we stop by to catch a horse race.  The beasts are beautiful and well looked after (as compared to the mules and donkeys we have experienced over the past few days).  The race begins with a bit of a two step dance down the field by the horses and then they make their way back to the start and take off...mid way down the field this time the riders discharge their rifles (I thought they were just for decoration with the costumes they were wearing) and scare the pants off most of us.  We arrive back at the git to our final night.  Jeremy, the solicitor in our group very eloquently thanks Mohammed for his guidance and support throughout our journey.  I am in awe of Jeremy's oratory skills.

We leave early the next morning and head back to Marrakesh via the waterfall called Cascades d'Ouzoud.  They are beautiful, but a popular place for locals and end up being very crowded and touristy.  We arrive back in Marrakesh a little too late for me to make my flight, but this affords me the opportunity to have a final dinner with the group which is terrific.  The souks that surround the Djema el Fna Square are amazing filled with leather goods and iron and wood working trinkets.  Jo acquires some last minute gifts and we all head back to the hotel.

The next day, the majority of people leave, but I am stuck.  The only flight I can get to France and Sandy is on Tuesday.  Thank goodness I have some company with a few remaining trekkers.