Costa Blanca Mountain Walkers

The High Atlas and Jebel Toubkal
6th June to 13th June 2011

- by your roving reporter: Colin Massey

Cast of characters:
Guide - Hassan, graduate in Economics, serious, very good on issues with the trek: "We can do "x" if you really want to, but we should really do "y". And we did. A good man, who explained to us the history and customs of his people.
Assistant guide - Ibrahim, the local boy from Aroumd next-door to Imlil. Wherever we were, he would yell a greeting or exchange handshakes with passers-by, he seemed to know everybody. Moroccans in general and Ibrahim in particular give vigorous greetings, he'd wrestle and shove his mates, he set the friendly, cheerful tone of the rest of the team.
Cook - Rashid, amazing at producing delicious food, in a tent in the wilds, with equipment and ingredients carried by mule. The salads were finely chopped and beautifully arranged on a big platter, the vegetables and meat were delicious, better than most restaurants. No tinned vegetables here and no tummy upsets. He seemed to love his work and we readily put up with the problems of eating while sitting on a mat.
Support team - 2 kitchen staff, + usually 9 muleteers, and 13 mules, aka Muffin
The Trekkers - 18 intrepid CB mountain walkers

The Prologue
A solitary Ryanair check-in desk at Alicante airport, other passengers not following Ryanair rules, barging in repeatedly at the front of the queue, which snaked across the floor. Chaos, but we got there.

Different kind of chaos in the Medina in Marrakech. "What's so special about Monday night?" Everybody seems to be on the street. Heading into the Souk to haggle for some cloth or jewellery, dodging the scooters as they zip around you, or sitting drinking tea in a bar (men only).

We did all that, except the scooter bit, and some managed to get a crafty beer as well.

Riad Nesma is lovely, with the blessed relief of air-conditioning, but its small size means 4 to a room for some. We met the tour boss, Jamal, and we were introduced to Hassan for the first time, who explained the trek. Little did we know.

Later on, 4 Calpeites were admitted to a very upscale restaurant, despite only wanting a beer. Entertainment was mentioned, and there was a band playing. Sometime later, band retires to muted applause, dance music comes from the speakers, and 3 (or maybe 4) belly dancers weave around the tables. Participation was encouraged, A. Vaughan declined, but C. Massey was seen to join in. She was a lovely girl. And all for one beer.

The Trek
Imi Oughlad to Tizi Oussem
We started at 1,357mtrs, leaving our luggage to be put on Muffin along with rest of the stuff for our five day trek. Hassan leads us slowly upwards, he's taking no chances with us "oldies". We hardly saw any other trekkers over 30 the entire time we were there. Early on, Bill practised somersaults. He's a tough guy. At the pass 2,467 mtrs, Ibrahim does his version of a "banana break", handing out nuts and dried figs. It's overcast and cool, with a fine mist everywhere which slowly clears as the day progresses. Then we drop down a bit to find mats laid out for lunch, preceded by the inevitable mint tea. As we trudged uphill, we stood aside to let the mule train through, so now lunch is ready, and we have first sight of Rashid's delicious salads and vegetables.

The afternoon walk is on a broad track dropping to 1,850 mtrs, and we have time to look about us. The mountains are dotted with trees but are generally bare with the occasional splash of gold where a terrace has been sown with barley. But the scattered goat herds find enough to live on. The narrow valley bottoms are rich with orchards, and we see boxes of cherries being brought up to the track by mule, to be driven to market.

The refugio at Tizi Oussem is the smartest building in the village. The mud paths wind around a jumble of very old buildings clinging to the side of the hill. The minaret is painted the usual pale orange colour, but every other building is the colour of the earth around it. The women carry bundles of hay on their shoulders from the allotments in the valley bottom, to feed the cow in the basement of the house. You feel that life has not changed in hundreds of years. But they have just received electricity, and the first TV. We sit down to dinner, and sleep on cushions. So what! It was to be another 4 nights before we enjoyed such comfort. And we put all the snorers in the same room.

Tizi Oussem to "somewhere in the wilds"
Clear blue morning, as we wind slowly uphill past the stone-built sheepfolds, guarded by snarling dogs. Towering above us are spectacular waterfalls created by the snowmelt. 2 hours later we are standing in front of them, feeling the blast of the spray. In the interim we've had several crossings of mountain streams, stepping over rocks, and trekkers have stumbled into the icy water. We don't have the final total, but Mike Granville and Geoff Ellis competed strongly for the title of most mishaps over the whole trek.

We have lunch at the top of the climb and stretch out in the sunshine. Then more climbing and we meet 2 Yorkshire types who give out dodgy Test match scores, and finally we find a flock of bright orange tents on a bare rocky shoulder of the mountains, just short of 3,000 mtrs high, our home for the night. And there's a mess tent and a kitchen tent.

We are above the clouds spread out to the north, but soon it swirls around us. After dinner, the team cheer us up by lighting a bonfire, and singing Berber songs, banging on various pots and pans. We respond with "She'll be coming round…" and we sing a brief version of Alouette together, before we trudge off apprehensively to our tents.

The ground was hard, it felt very cold, the wind blew, but we must have slept some of the time.

"Somewhere in the wilds" to campground below Refuge Neiter
We emerged bleary-eyed from our tents to see the mules hobbled and snaffling their breakfasts. For us, there was always fresh bread, boiled eggs, tea, coffee etc etc. Fig jam was very popular. We can see where we are headed, like a climb of the scree of the Bernia, but twice as long. However, there proves to be a reasonable zig-zag trail even if it's still a tough climb. Surprise, surprise, at the top there's a man selling fizzy drinks. This is at 3,550 mtrs, very brave because not many people are coming this way. We cross our first snow fields, descending to the picnic site. Continuing our descent to the Refugio Neiter at 3,200 mtrs, the thought keeps recurring that every step takes us further from tomorrow's summit. But we can get a hot shower there for 10 derhams, despite the notice which says the facilities are for residents only. Glad to feel clean again. The sun is shining brightly and waterfalls are streaming off the mountains into the river. A snow bridge runs from one bank to the other, and despite the force of the torrent flowing under it, we use the bridge to cross over to our tents. The clouds push up from the valley below in the late afternoon, and the temperature drops.

More wild camping. The pads we sleep on come in 2 thicknesses, The 2.5cm thick one is of limited benefit, the blue one is double that, and although the pads are made available in the mess tent, the blue ones are jealously guarded by the ones who bagged them the first night. How tight is that!

Over dinner, there's a discussion of tomorrow's challenge - the ascent to the summit of Toubkal. 3 members decide to opt out, and the easier walk option is not available because of the amount of snow still on the mountains. Hassan suggests a 7 a.m. start, which sounds severe, but what do we know? Question to Hassan - "what's it like going up?" "Steep" "What's it like coming down?" We fall about laughing. The ground under our tents is just as hard as last night, but the night is not quite as cold. No singing, we've got a tough job on tomorrow.

To the summit of Jebel Toubkal 4,167 mtrs
A bright, clear day, hardly any wind, and the mountain shields us from the sun. A sign on a rock says 8km to the summit, and almost 1,000mtrs of ascent. We struggle through a steep ascent of rock and scree before reaching our first snowfield. From now on, until the shoulder below the summit, two thirds of our climbing is through snow. Ibrahim is carrying an ice axe which is used a few times to hack a path. We are mostly in shadow, thankfully, which keeps the snow firm and helps us cope with the effort of the ascent, and we can see the wisdom of the early start. The party stretches out. An amazing silence descends, except for a few snow particles tinkling down the slope. The choughs glide noiselessly overhead. Some of us feel headaches, occasional waves of nausea, extreme fatigue. But we all make it to the ridge below the summit.

We've now come around to the south side of the mountain, so we are back on rock and the gradient is not so steep. There are some more tricky stages as we hit the snow again, but we're not going to be put off now, it's grit your teeth time as we reach the snow field rising to the beacon on the summit. We celebrate, the weather is perfect, you can see for miles, and also there's Imlil down in the valley, our final destination tomorrow. It's midday and we have a snack lunch.

On the descent, the snow is much more slippery as the sun warms it, and it's a constant battle to stay on the track, and not slide off like a rocket, at right angles to where we want to go. Ibrahim seems to be able to ski in his boots, and starts snowball fights. Verity and Juul seem his main targets (he's a wickedly accurate shot), and they respond in kind. The descent changes, it's still steep, but the angle is different, and for many, our feet shoot from under us, and we are sliding rapidly downhill on our backsides, steering by jabbing in a boot. No harm done. Janice manages to stay upright, poised as ever, and also Bill who is not using a stick. But he is suffering a serious loss of vision, probably from snow blindness. We are dreading the difficult bit above the final scree, but it doesn't prove a problem. However by the time we reach the bottom, we are mostly dead in body and mind. We arrive back at the camp by 3.30pm to the usual glass of tea, and a delicious salad lunch. We doss in the warm afternoon sun, later the cloud rolls in as usual, but we are acclimatised now and the night passes quickly.

Campground below Refuge Neiter to Imlil
Approx 1,400 mtrs descent on rough track? Piece of cake. The temperature rises quickly and we see trees and vegetation. There are loads of young trekkers on long weekend breaks coming uphill. The locals spray the fizzy drinks for sale with cold mountain water. We stop in a shady bar to sip mint tea while the mules pass by. By lunchtime, the river valley flattens out, and we enjoy our final Rashid meal sat in the shade of a large tree. We follow local custom as advised by Hassan, and stand to see Captain Chaos hand our gratuities to the different groups in the support team. Continuing the trek, we come to more signs of modern life eg a car. Mike Granville, who had pulled a calf muscle, finishes in style - riding on a mule. Imlil is attractive and at Dar Imlil, we pass into a different world: cool gardens, cushioned seats, a soft bed, a normal WC. The evening passes in a blur, our resourceful leader had purchased a bountiful supply of booze, which we drink discreetly.

The Epilogue
After a peaceful Sunday morning in Imlil, we are back in the mayhem of Marrakech. Some lie low in the cool of the Riad, some venture out to explore the Medina, some go to a Hamman to cleanse away the dust from trekking, and experience the agony and the ecstasy as the masseur/se gets to work on thighs and calves. But in the evening, we all follow Hassan through the melee to a roof-top restaurant. We are now more relaxed in this strange, crowded city, we've been there, done that, got the t-shirt.
If you want to look up the firm that took such good care of us - www.toubkalguide.com

Click here to see Janice & Juul's photo story