Up and out at 830am for our trek up in to the mountains for our night of camping. We are all very excited, too excited perhaps to ask about what the day will be like, except that Mark says it will be about 4 hours all together to our camp site, up above Tachdirt village, and we’ll be there for lunch. Some of the mules are waiting outside the hotel for us – there will be 7 of them in all, some loaded with tables and chairs and bottles of water and tents and everything else needed for the road, the rest to be loaded with our duffels (we are feeling pretty badly for these mules who each carry about 200 lbs of stuff, and we all wish we had packed less except for Mira, Sam, and Steven all of whom could not possibly have brought smaller bags than they did).
We set out eagerly, out across the fields, the sun already feeling hot this early in the morning. The first part is road, then it becomes narrow rocky slippery path as we climb higher, panting. It varies between really hard to oh this isn’t so bad. Mostly it seems the description of ‘gentle and well defined mule path’ was meant mostly for mules and not adult humans.. At one point we see a car approach – tourists wondering where the road goes, and Mark has to say ’nowhere’ . As they have a pleasant chat we watch a Moroccan man, desperate for a sale, buzz up the hill on his moped, chasing the car, arm outstretched with a fistful of necklaces. Sadly he had to return without even the money to cover his fule expense for such a foolish endeavor. But it was funny to watch, in the middle of nowhere. I don’t even remember all of the hike. Hairpin turns, zig zagging pathways, higher and higher, so narrow and intimidating you could not take your eyes from the path. Finally we crested and began the descent (it is an amazing thing to actually climb OVER mountains!) but again, down has its drawbacks. It’s steeper and more intimidating. The kids are way ahead with Mark, Lasen holds up the rear to cover the wavering, more timid adults. If I wanted to see the view – awesome, breathtaking – I had to stop and brace myself against the stones to my right in order to not fall to my death to my left (or vice versa). It was easy to feel annoyed at the kids who would clearly be done with it all way before me. Even the easier parts were tricky – once I found myself crashing to the ground for no apparent reason, luckily no more badly hurt than scrapes, but it took me quite a long time to recover any trail confidence after that!
Finally we came to the village of Tachdirt, accessible only by foot. What had looked almost modern from a distance was really very old, mud caked stone buildings on several levels, with a few courtyard areas with roosters and chickens milling about. I have fallen behind a bit and am alone in a courtyard as three women enter all dressed in beautiful robes. We say Bonjour, then they begin fast talking - I shrug to say I don’t understand, and they laugh and laugh. Many small children came out from every corner, dressed in a variety of hand me downs that could be American, to traditional Moroccan dress. The begging began, in French. Though I could not tell what they were asking for in specific, I knew it was money, my handkerchief, my cap, or my earrings. These kids are beautiful with bright green eyes and dark hair and we all want to take pictures but that brings a chorus of ‘no no no no no no’ as they wag a finger at us. They follow us all through the village, along a narrow path, begging all the while until we reach some boundary and they hang back as we continue on. I am thinking now that we’ve passed through the village we must be close to camp. Our mules have passed us and 3 hours have gone by. But alas, Lasen says another 45 minutes, and points upward to a path more wicked than ever. So steep, so narrow, such a long fall off the side. The front group speeds ahead and I find myself mostly alone again (though there are some further back as well). Zigzagging up up up, worrying about falling down down down…. Well I did make it after all but it was a long time before I arrived at camp, and a trek of 4.5 hours in total. I did eat lunch but was mostly interested in getting into my tent for a snooze…. as Mark was teaching us Ronde, the traditional Moroccan card game (perhaps not spelled correctly) I could feel my eyes closing. We all ended up getting out tents arranged and just then the rain came down, hail actually… so it turned out to be the perfect time for a nap! Ah, that law of attraction.
Finally we came to the village of Tachdirt, accessible only by foot. What had looked almost modern from a distance was really very old, mud caked stone buildings on several levels, with a few courtyard areas with roosters and chickens milling about. I have fallen behind a bit and am alone in a courtyard as three women enter all dressed in beautiful robes. We say Bonjour, then they begin fast talking - I shrug to say I don’t understand, and they laugh and laugh. Many small children came out from every corner, dressed in a variety of hand me downs that could be American, to traditional Moroccan dress. The begging began, in French. Though I could not tell what they were asking for in specific, I knew it was money, my handkerchief, my cap, or my earrings. These kids are beautiful with bright green eyes and dark hair and we all want to take pictures but that brings a chorus of ‘no no no no no no’ as they wag a finger at us. They follow us all through the village, along a narrow path, begging all the while until we reach some boundary and they hang back as we continue on. I am thinking now that we’ve passed through the village we must be close to camp. Our mules have passed us and 3 hours have gone by. But alas, Lasen says another 45 minutes, and points upward to a path more wicked than ever. So steep, so narrow, such a long fall off the side. The front group speeds ahead and I find myself mostly alone again (though there are some further back as well). Zigzagging up up up, worrying about falling down down down…. Well I did make it after all but it was a long time before I arrived at camp, and a trek of 4.5 hours in total. I did eat lunch but was mostly interested in getting into my tent for a snooze…. as Mark was teaching us Ronde, the traditional Moroccan card game (perhaps not spelled correctly) I could feel my eyes closing. We all ended up getting out tents arranged and just then the rain came down, hail actually… so it turned out to be the perfect time for a nap! Ah, that law of attraction.
Later things cleared – since nothing lasts long in the mountains – and the kids bathed in the icy river (I soaked my feet, and a couple of people enjoyed the shower tent with a bucket of hot water) then we had a beer chilled by the same river, and later an amazing dinner of pasta with red sauce made with mushrooms and artichoke hearts. Mark says it took a long time to teach Saaid to make a good red sauce – the first efforts always had carrots and potatoes in it, to make it more like a tagine, a traditional Moroccan meal. Our conversation was of things like: What was the time you were the hottest and the coldest? Or What is the best meal you ever had? Then thank goodness BED, after gazing up at a zillion stars in a huge sky. Camping out never felt so good.
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