Messing with the High Atlas

After our little escapade flirting with the Middle Atlas we decided to mess with the High Atlas. One of our first views of the snowy peaks ahead was on the morning of our wild camp on the hilly shores of Barrage Moulay Youssef.

Over the next couple of days we had the mountains almost always in our view as we headed towards Imlil where I had my sights set. As the mapper, I usually get to choose the general direction and route over the short term (although my other responsibility is to try and work out what food and supply options there are along the way) and I had read about the Toubkal National Park in a guidebook.

Losing sight of the snow for a brief period, we wound our way through red rocks and ridges which felt a far cry from the peaks we were aiming for. We also spotted our first tortoise outside Touama which served as a reminder of the dry and arid landscape we were soon to leave behind. Even better than the tortoise was meeting Maxi and Miriam from Germany. We met them in the afternoon as they were about to tackle the Tizi n’Tichka Pass which would take them 2,260 metres over the High Atlas.

We continued our route, knowing that our climbing was yet to come… On this night we knew from the map that we’d probably struggle to find somewhere to camp due to the amount of agriculture in the region. We ended up asking someone in a local village and were given a back yard to stop in, for which we were extremely grateful. They even left us some blankets in case we were cold!

In between us and the mountains was one more full day of cycling. Little did we know what a varied and challenging one this would be. We started off on what was a main road, until it wasn’t and we had to ford a river.

Following a gravel route I’d half planned on Komoot we turned off the road and onto a track which gradually got narrower and narrower and became a mule track.

After snaking through a tiny village along winding narrow streets we emerged onto tarmac once again (but only for a short period). Another turning at a junction sent us up a short but steep and rocky hike-a-bike section which spat us out on the top of a hill with some magnificent views of the mountains.

From here we were heading largely downhill to the Ourika Valley where we knew there was food and refreshments. We were getting ready to stop as it was lunchtime but the route presented to us was going to be slow going. The trail was narrow, and deeply eroded which meant it wasn’t possible to ride. Rocks like sandpaper also lined the way and to avoid damaging our tyres, pushing our bikes was necessary. This picturesque but challenging route took us through some of the best scenery we’ve seen in Morocco, all with the High Atlas looming in the distance.

It’s these off-road tracks that give us the best views of the landscape and brings us right into the heart of Morocco. This route was no exception and it allowed us to explore places that other visitors rarely tread and that makes it even more special. Along this trail as we stopped for some snacks we were met by Zak, a Moroccan who was guiding an American family along the trail. He asked us how we knew about this route (it was a mapping coincidence) and remarked at how even local people are unfamiliar with it, despite it being so beautiful.

Oddly, at either end of this trail there were remote football pitches. Either one a decent and pretty challenging hike from population centres. More on football pitches later…

Fifteen more minutes of quite intense hike-a-bike and we were ready to stop so found a tranquil hotel in Aghbalou. Devouring couscous and tagine, we planned how our afternoon would look and where we might possibly set up camp for the night. A little tired from the morning’s off-road adventures we had a leisurely rest in the shade beside a small swimming pool. By the time we left, it was 4pm and there was a big climb coming up. The plan was to cycle a few more kilometres and find somewhere partway up the climb to camp. This turned out not to be the case as the road was lined with settlements and people for many kilometres and here we met Braim and Bilal, two small children who cycled with us part of the way.

As we climbed the views got better and better and the mountains got closer and closer.

We never did find that camp spot on the climb. Only when we reached the top, in the dark, did we find somewhere suitable to pitch the tent (flat, not rocky, hidden). So after a mental hike-a-bike morning, we managed to log our biggest climb on Strava of 933m of elevation gain in the afternoon/evening. Quite the day! Welcome to the High Atlas, I guess.

The morning after we woke to huge views down onto the flatlands surrounding Marrakesh from our 1870 m.a.s.l. camp spot - we couldn’t see this when we arrived in the dark. This day would again be a day of two halves. The morning being predominantly down into Asni and the afternoon being predominantly up into Imlil. I followed Sam slowly on the descent.

The climb to Imlil was something that cyclists may have experienced before. It was up, but barely up. Like a false flat, it was such a gradual climb that it just didn’t feel like we were getting anywhere despite the kilometres on my Wahoo ticking down. We even managed to overtake some British tourists on e-mountain bikes (this was actually only because they had to stop due to a bike fault, but we’ll take it) and rode with them briefly as they overtook us once they were back moving again. A gradual climb may seem fine but the number of metres left to climb on my Wahoo wasn’t going down significantly and it dawned on us that the last few kilometres to the hotel were going to be horribly steep.

The road was very steep but by golly, the views from our balcony were absolutely stunning and we felt fully immersed in the mountains. It was magical to leave the curtains open overnight and see the stars through the window and to wake up with the sunrise bouncing off the mountains.

The next few days were spent resting at 1950 m.a.s.l. It was so peaceful and we could hear people going about their business in the village below, shepherds and their goats, gushing water as the snow started to melt and the glorious sound of the call to prayer from the adjacent mosque.

Our stay coincided with the start of Ramadan. We’ll write more about this in due course, including our experience of the practicalities and what we learnt about this important time in the Muslim calendar.

We couldn’t leave the mountains without exploring a little further and on our last day, rode in the early morning towards Tacheddirt. Upon reaching 2331 m.a.s.l. this was the highest we’ve ever ridden and the lack of oxygen was obvious so that even on our unloaded bikes (luxury) we felt more out of breath than normal.

At this point we have to mention Kari who was staying at the same hotel as us and was travelling around Morocco in his Citroen 2CV. He had lots of stories to tell about his trip around the country and all the amazing roads he had driven and ridden on his motorbike on previous visits.

We were really sad to leave this peaceful place and would love to return to explore some more of the mountain roads and perhaps some of the gravel tracks and trails that we could see on the slopes.

But, looking forward was our next challenge, the Tizi n’Test. A mountain pass similar to the Tizi n’Tichka which passes over the High Atlas. For this we had to cycle all the way down from Imlil, back to Asni, and then on to the Ouirgane Lake. Stopping here for the night, we planned to do the climb in one go and stop somewhere near the top of the pass.

Setting out early we wanted to give ourselves plenty of time to get to the top as it was around 70km away. Immediately we saw signs of the 2023 Moroccan earthquake. We had learnt about this natural disaster in Asni after speaking with locals. They talked about how many houses and villages had been destroyed and how infrastructure and roads had been closed and subsequently restored. We learnt through further reading that nearly 3,000 people died. The impact of the earthquake was visible almost consistently throughout the coming days and it was difficult to see such beauty in the landscape and such devastation too. We will write more about the earthquake and our experience in a future blog post as it’s too important to just mention it as part of this wider post about the High Atlas.

There were huge landslides and gigantic rocks blocking parts of the road. The road was also being worked on and expanded from a small almost single-lane tarmac road to a larger two-lane road. We were stopped at points to allow workers to clear the road ahead and much of the climb was on really dusty gravel, often through construction sites with big machinery. Despite there being a lack of ‘official’ signage, barriers and formality, there was always someone guiding traffic, helping us through and making sure we were ok. They seemed to take particular care of cyclists. We felt very well looked after and everyone was very chirpy despite the disruption.

In every village we passed, buildings were destroyed, cracked and abandoned. Temporary accommodation had been provided in the remote mountain areas and these were still occupied almost two and a half years after the disaster.

The roadworks did substantially slow our progress, in part because the dust made our belts make a squeaking noise like a nest of hungry chicks, which I could block out but was driving Sam mad! We powered on, knowing that in the end we would reach the top and some accommodation. Some delicious m’semen from our hotel kept us going up a steep but incredible climb to nearly reach the top.

At the top, we checked into an Auberge, and as it was dark, decided on a private room rather than pitching the tent. The friendly face of Jeanne appeared, a fellow tourer, and we shared stories of where we had been, including the descent that lay ahead of us, and the route we had just taken as Jeanne was travelling in the opposite direction. I was particularly exhausted and we swiftly went off to bed but we made it on one of our biggest days of the tour.

It’s worth mentioning that while many of these climbs reached heights akin or higher than the climbs in Norway, even the steep sections were gradual in comparison to some of the monstrous climbs in Norway. We didn’t encounter anything much over 15% and then only for brief periods. Some sections in Norway were nearer to 30%, with prolonged stretches over 20%. Sam likes a steep climb (he prefers to get it over and done with), whereas I was happy winding my way up the Atlas.

The next day, we woke up bright and breezy to set off to try and beat the road workers who were already at it on the section outside the auberge. Thankfully they were the only ones who appeared to be working and the whole rest of the descent to Taroudant, although gravelly, was free of busy machinery and stoppages.

Shortly after setting off we made a pit-stop for a second breakfast at Sunset Restaurant. Ibrahim and his family’s hotel and livelihood had been completely destroyed by the earthquake. In place of the original building were portacabins and outdoor tables and chairs for guests. We had the best omelette (accompanied by one of the best views) we’ve had in Morocco, whilst hearing about how the family’s lives have changed. Despite everything they are running an excellent business and doing whatever they can to survive.

After a week or so in the High Atlas we arrived in Taroudant in Souss Massa. This final ride on leaving the mountains was 90km of riding with only 9 metres of ascent. A sign of things to come. What a time we had messing with the High Atlas. We are really going to miss those resplendent hills.