Bonjour,
As you might imagine, I was not the instigator of the plan to go trekking through the High Atlas Mountains. Frankly, it sounded a bit too hard core for me: Three days hiking 12-15 km a day at higher elevations through remote villages and then staying at night in rustic Berber homes? I tend to be more of a luxury-riad-kind-of-gal (not very Coloradan, I realize). But I knew Bob, Don and the others would be in their element. And, of course, they were.
That said, I was right about it being pretty hard core. Don and Sheri characterized it as more rustic than their 5 or 6-day trek on the Inca Trail in Peru. But it was also beautiful.
The first day was the hardest, not helped by an early series of fall by our group that left many of us bloodied. Before we even set off, Tommy fell off a 12-foot roof, which most fortunately produced only banged-up knees. He's a lucky boy.
After the rough start, we began hiking up and over a mountain pass, going through villages with simple stone houses shared by people and livestock alike. The Berber families are largely subsistence farmers, using long-established, irrigated terraces.
After a long morning climbing, we broke for lunch at spot overlooking the by-then dusty valley. Most of us collapsed for a couple of hours, even some of the mules.
Some of us still had some energy to burn, however.
Of course, those very same persons had often enjoyed some help with the steeper parts of the trail.
For the trek, we had a guide, a cook, and three others to help with the mules (the "muleteers"). We also had four mules to carry our bags, water and food, as well as the occasional tired hiker under the age of 14. Here's Sasha and Tommy with one of our muleteers (who was quite cute).
Is Sasha making a new man friend?
On our second day, a couple of our 17 year-old muleteers met up with a couple of young Berber girls (see one of the lovely young ladies on the left in the photo, in typical dress. You can click on the photo to make it bigger) and engaged in some pretty serious flirting (didn't need to know Berber to understand what was going on). Bob did his part to try to negotiate a love match by extolling the virtues of our muleteers. Our guide, Lahcen, found that very funny.
At night, we stayed in gites, which were better-than-average Berber homes made of stone and concrete and included the
most basic of bathroom facilities. Here I am in the doorway of the gite we liked best, mostly because of the unbelievable setting.
The second day of the hike was by far the best, as we climbed to a spectacular setting near an impressive waterfall, where the kids goofed around and climbed down to the bottom.
Families from the closest Berber village had moved up to their "summer homes" next to our gite, bringing their goat herds with all of the baby goats. They were, as Tommy would say, "so adorable." We may have 50 pictures of those scampering little goats, since I turned the camera over to the kids. The people ones, that is.
By the end of the trek, I could have slept through every call to prayer and any livestock noise. But I was also ready to return to our lovely Marrakesh riad, with the fancy soaps, hot showers and pool. More on that next....
A bientot,
Kim
Bonjour,
Bob made the biggest purchase of the trip: A homemade "bass guitar."
(Figuring out how we're going to get our stuff back to the States is becoming an increasingly serious issue).
The next day, it was back to cool and breezy Rabat after a sad good-bye to SKSD in Casablanca.
