Climbing in Morocco
A beautiful trip to Morocco, in praise of slowness. From north to south, via a few beautiful cities and some major climbing spots!
With Aude.
Letting go
A journey is rare, rare enough to let it cradle us as the encounters and our wishes take us. The pretext for leaving is the climbing, which we are told is beautiful, but we don't want to rush and want to leave the door open to the unexpected.
A ferry ticket out and a flight back. Two dates, and everything in between left to compose! In mind, a climbing area in the north near Chefchaouen (Caïat) and another, better known, in the High Atlas around the small village of Taghia.
The port of Sète. The endless loading of overloaded cars and vans bears witness to Moroccan mastery of loading! People argue at the counter over a few « centimetres » too many.
We cast off for three memorable days at sea in the company of many Moroccans going home. On board, every available square metre is quickly turned into a warm home where some share tea while others nap, pray, eat, read, cook, chat, etc... A joyful souk on the high seas!
Unsettled, it is time to deconstruct ourselves a little to open up to a daily life that is not ours. A pleasant feeling of understanding less, of being surprised. We let go, the journey begins. Yalla!
Caïat
Tangier. It's raining: is the French spring following us? We jump on the first bus leaving for Chefchaouen. Perfect timing! A stroke of luck that will follow us more or less throughout the trip. The old bodywork shakes, rolls and rolls through the green landscape of a spring-time northern Morocco. It creaks and squeaks, but it keeps going.
Chefchaouen. The weather is still gloomy and, heavily loaded, we climb up the blue medina to reach our first guesthouse. Our host welcomes us with an incredibly gentle voice; the atmosphere is peaceful.
A good night's rest and a shared taxi later (7 in a 5-seater), here we are in Caïat to spend a few days discovering this relatively recent climbing area whose potential has barely been touched. Warmly welcomed at the Rueda café, we find all the local guidebooks there and some good advice from the manager, a climber and route-setter. Unfortunately for us, our Arabic being as lacking as his French, it is with stumbling Spanish that we vaguely try to make ourselves understood. Signs and drawings will be more effective!
The crags are already well bolted and we spend the afternoon getting back into it on a nice single-pitch wall. Abdel Mali, an intrigued Moroccan, gives it a go and slips up a 6a+ with disconcerting agility!
But the purpose of our visit remains the main cliff, a good 2km long and 350m high. Roughly, a dozen bolted routes and as many trad routes. While the single pitches are accessible (from about 5b), the bolted multi-pitch routes are harder, generally 7b and above.
The less sanitised terrain suiting our trip well, we get the rack out for 300m of « adventure climbing ». After an early start and a few run-ins with hysterical guard dogs, we reach the foot of El Hajar Akbar (The Big Stone), our first Moroccan route. Opened in December 2012 by Arnaud Guillaume and Christian Ravier, it has belays, threads and brand-new rock. The equipment has been well thought out, with a 12mm bolt at each belay and a few 8mm bolts where protection is hard to place. The accuracy of the topo deserves a mention: thanks to them! The new rock sometimes requires care, especially at the end of the 6c and in the second part. Overall we liked the route, even if Aude would probably have preferred to get to know the place better before setting off. For the occasion we were accompanied by a few curious monkeys! A big day all the same, during which our fingers got a brutal introduction to the local rock (abrasive!).
Curiously, climbing, a sometimes adventurous activity, plunges us back into a familiar bubble. Reading the rock, the moves, managing the progression and the protection: all this familiar know-how seems disconnected from the local culture and diverts us a little from the spirit of travel. Fortunately, after a day like this one, over a mint tea and a Moroccan conversation, travel and climbing come together again and carry the travellers that we are a little further.
The next day, a short walk to Akchour at the gates of the Rif national park, which seems to be THE Moroccan tourist spot around here. A quick look reveals great potential for opening new single-pitch routes. End of the day at the Triangle sector, with some very nice routes despite sore fingers.
Imperial
Backpacks on, we take the road south again. A lift drops us on the main road, where we get on the first bus heading south. Off to Fès, an imperial city if ever there was one! A change of atmosphere for a city teeming with activity. Contrary to what we thought, we are not assailed by hordes of touts.
So a touristy session, getting lost in the medina and wandering around this very pleasant city. Also very happy to find a few little eateries to fill our stomachs for a few dirhams. With delicious M'semmen (flaky flatbreads), we seize the only opportunity of the trip to taste a good fresh goat's cheese, because despite the many goat farmers we meet, the choice of Moroccan cheese is then limited to the famous Laughing Cow...
Zaouit Ahansal
After a night in Fès, we continue south with a long bus transfer that drops us off at night, very tired, in Beni Mellal, a rather grim one-street town where we spend the night in the first hotel we find, just as grim. A quick resupply, then off to Ouaouizerth, which marks the end of the tarmac and the start of the High Atlas! Lucky again, as we jump straight into a shared minibus to Zaouit Ahansal (pronounced Zaouïte Arènssal): "the little Jesus is with us", according to a Moroccan who witnessed the scene.
The 6 hours of dirt track at an average of 15km/h, our backsides wedged between two seats, mark quite a change of atmosphere! Through the dusty windows filters a landscape magnified by stormy weather. On the bus: a fully veiled woman, a Berber farmer with calloused hands and a weather-beaten face, a father with his can of olive oil, and two religious men with iPods in their ears!
- Beher? - Labes, hamdulillah!
Suddenly the minibus stops in the middle of nowhere... A man appears out of this mineral landscape, two words are exchanged, the weather-beaten Berber hands him a sickle, then the man disappears! An improbable, timeless meeting that completely escapes us!
Zaouit Ahansal. Only three of us are left in the minibus. Tomorrow is the weekly souk and the rain doesn't seem to bother the traders setting up their stalls.
On the way to Taghia
After a very comfortable night at Youssef's, a local guide, we set off for Taghia with a muleteer under beautiful sunshine. All the villagers from around are heading down to the souk with their mules. We meet very few women, as they are generally assigned to work in the fields! This weekly event seems to set the rhythm of life and is an opportunity for the villagers to get together.
Taghia
Taghia is a small village nestled in a majestic cirque from which a network of exceptional canyons branches out. Fabulous walls enclose these gorges, sometimes reaching 800m high. Made of golden, often perfect limestone, the climbing here is major! Abundant, surprising springs give the village a rich agriculture. Welcome to Taghia!
After a jaw-dropping welcome of bread and olive oil, we get back on our feet to climb Belle et Berbère, a pretty route a stone's throw from the guesthouse. 250m of rather nice climbing (it's hard to find anything shorter around here) to get familiar with the place, opening our eyes to the surroundings.
Saïd, with whom we are staying, has been welcoming travellers into his home for nearly 20 years. He has seen how the visitors to his mountains have changed, from trekkers to climbers. His guesthouse, recently enlarged, can host a good forty travellers. He and his family adapt remarkably to the different numbers of visitors for a top-notch welcome! He's the Berber boss!
The next day, we get the nuts out again for Danse avec les Mules, a line that jumps out at you when looking at the north-west face of the Oujdad, the imposing summit that towers right over the village. The route is pleasant with a few beautiful pitches. Although it is possible to abseil from the top of the difficulties (before the last two grade-5 pitches), it is very nice to carry on to the summit via the beautiful west ridge.
A short lie-in, then we set off on Canyon Apache, a magnificent route with a fun approach. The two 6c pitches are sublime: technical and sustained, a style I particularly like.
Here we are in the kingdom of the shepherds: all day long and without dogs, they tirelessly lead their herds of goats or sheep beyond the canyons. A technical transhumance if ever there was one, since even we, poor climbers, got the rope out on some steep approaches!
After a short rest day walking around and scouting the approach to Baraka, the next day we set off for a big day in the wild Akka n'Tazarte valley. A pretty face at the entrance of the canyon, where a single line threads its way: Parfums de Berberechos.
We set off fully awake after a lively approach, crossing the village of Tamdarote, heavily guarded by dogs, and finding a scorpion under every stone at the foot of the route.
This route, opened by the famous trio Guillaume, Thivel and Ravier in 2002, offers adventurous climbing with very little fixed gear and interesting route-finding. It took us 9 hours to get the better of the 400m. The topo is simple and leaves a good deal of improvisation. A thread hook is not useless on this kind of limestone terrain. A wild route, to be done!
The return across the high plateaux in beautiful light completes the day wonderfully. A land of nomads, its desert atmosphere contrasts with that of the valley.
After this long day, a short relaxing day and a well-bolted treat: Au Nom de la Réforme. A very beautiful route on perfect rock (it's getting boring!).
As it seems to be the great classic of the area, the next day we set off on Baraka, a very long 680m route on very good rock. The approach is sublime, facing the impressive walls of Tagoujilt n'Tsouiannt and overlooking the deep Akka n'Taghia canyon.
While the first part offers beautiful climbing, the second half is less exciting but takes you out to the summit (a few medium cams can be useful in this second part).
Leaving Taghia
In the evening, we discuss with Saïd the possibility of reaching M'semrir on foot. Doable in a day, apparently; curious, because the distance seems long... In Morocco, anything is possible!
Ahmed, a young man from the village, will come with us with his brave mule to carry our things. Departure at 6am.
7am, Ahmed arrives in a hurry. We load the still sprightly mule and set off for a long day's walk through a lunar landscape. Inhabited by nomads, these high plateaux are dotted with many herds. A gentle transition to the south.
The mule, making this long journey for the first time, is exhausted and lags further and further behind. Blows with a stick, prods under the belly, tickles on the leg: anything goes to keep it moving! The descent to Oussikiss is endless.
Its muzzle to the ground, the brave mule finally reaches its destination after 11 hours of walking. A long sleep for everyone and a big well done to Ahmed and his mule, who will make the journey back the next day.
Todgha
We go down the Dades gorges early in the morning in exquisite light, which only feeds my frustration at being behind the speckled window of the shared minibus. Still, a short round trip into the Todgha gorges. The place is very touristy and we only stay long enough for one climb: le Pilier du Couchant, a short historic route on excellent rock. Despite the comings and goings of tourists, the huge palm grove that runs down to Tinghir is a true haven of peace.
Sand and light
After this last climbing stage, a grain of sand prompts us to make one last desert detour. Off to Erg Chebbi near Merzouga. While these huge dunes may make you think of a desert, that's not really the case: this big pile of sand covers only 110km² and sits on a vast water table a few dozen metres down!
This foretaste of the desert has nevertheless sparked our curiosity for this very special environment.
Pearl of the South
In a dry heat, a prelude to the scorching summer, we take the road again towards Marrakech. More lovely encounters during these last days on the road, with a particular soft spot for the peaceful town of Alnif!
The trip comes to an end, lost deep in the souks of Marrakech, bargaining hard, intoxicated by the thousand smells of a colourful Morocco that carried us away with its people, its culture, its landscapes and its climbing.
Photo gallery...