Improvising a Berber route in the Middle Atlas of Morocco

When he had been watching the most vertical and narrow walls of the famous Todra Gorge, within my solo trip through Morocco conducting a Kangoo rented, I was curious to go a little worn and full road bumps that snaked from Just as he did the river. Every meter progressed, or rather, every meter I played dodge a hole in an asphalt almost nonexistent, I came to realize that I was out of the tourist part of the area and I was getting where I myself expect me . The road going up increasingly to be at an average altitude of 1700 meters and stay a landscape of red and bare mountains, with brightness of brand new winter snows. Fever last night and the cold that had happened in that room without heating Hotel Jasmina had given the baton to the release of adrenaline and the awareness that came a nice adventure ahead. Improvisation was defeated once again planning. Ahead they were to get the most authentic and unforgettable images of what was my first trip to Morocco . I drive along the roads of the Middle Atlas, extinguished completely cover my mobile phone, I decided to not follow a fixed course and stay on the details that would find me, and that would be many.

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Berber make a route between mountains, adobe villages and turbaned shepherds gave me a new lesson that the most exciting trip is also to learn, is lost and get away from the beaten track.

MAP WITH ROUTE BEREBER

To go along this route chronic and who knows if it can be used in any in situ occasion, I show you a map of the steps I took with the car that day starting from the Todra Gorge. Often these sites appear only in very detailed maps of Morocco, which are not what we usually find in travel guides.

AN EXCITING DAY IN THE MIDDLE ATLAS MOROCCAN

Todra Gorges are a series of canyons that reach its peak at a point where the walls on both sides of the river seem almost touching hands. Walk down there is like going through a whimsical stone slit, which is what many tourists are looking for. Actually they reach the most narrow walls, where there are a couple of hotels, among which was where he had spent the night submerged between a nasty touch blankets at the same incorrigible. It is in that part where organized tours stop, buses and most people who want to look out for the first time to the area. It is worth but not much more than what you see at first instance.

Because I finished soon visit, much earlier than expected, I decided to follow the zigzag River Todra later, until I realized that what was appearing ahead, a rugged landscapes that even I believed me and in which breathing an immense and longed solitude. That year I had escaped the tumultuous and noisy New Year celebrations to be alone, to live my first adventure with the only company of the backpack in a country that wanted to visit for a long time. Actually it was not the first, since a year and a half before I had been a couple of weeks in the Balkans on a trip with friends in which we achieved through war (that of Israel with Lebanon in the summer of 2006 ) and I did not want to go back home early. Then I tasted the sweetness of traveling alone, which is best able to decide what really will by desiring and open up more easily to people you'll find. I do not recommend one in particular, but each weigh the pros and cons of traveling alone or accompanied and overturning in what the heart dictates at the exact moment of his life. Mine asked me to do it this way ... and just in Morocco, I would return at least once a year for a long time. However it is among my favorites.

Although the path that was driving was anything but a normal road, I dared more because it was a Renault Kangoo that had rented days before Ouarzazate, the first city of some importance that one is crossing the Atlas by Tizi-N'Tichka. Had a high suspension compared with a normal vehicle and could do some more prank. In the improvised route through the Middle Atlas served me much because I could cross several streams with it. Otherwise I would have had to turn around on many occasions. Really ideally, an SUV that offers more possibilities and can move you where they do not other cars. Although I imagine that these roads make do someday, if they have not already done so, breaking some magic places that are not communicated today with the big Moroccan cities.

I remember in one of those moments when I stopped the car approached to me a pastor who was walking through the rocks to the other side of the river. He wore tied around his head a turban of yellow that contrarestaba dark eyebrows merging into one and a prominent mustache. He told me to wait patiently came with goats on a mountain retreat and took them to graze the edges of the river where grass grew some, but not much. All in broken French impossible not allowed a minimally normal conversation, or my part or on yours. This Berber was one of the first people I met along the way, but not the only one.

Rural scenes full authenticity ensued. He was a spectator of a life that has changed little or nothing in hundreds of years, fetching water from the river, grazing wearer weeks without sleep in the comfort of a bed. One of the many virtues that Morocco has still allows you to travel in time, blow you out of the fury of a Western town to make you understand the magic of the people and things is in the simplicity. They are lives without wrappers or additional ornamentation, but I'm sure they are not in any way unhappy lives.

He was in love with those daily pictures with which I was crossing the road. A road that broke the routine stone gorges that followed the Todra River and happened to open at a nice Berber village with mud houses Tamtattouchte call. Background with a bare footprints of the first snow of winter mountains oobsequiaban me a picture postcard of a place that seemed to exist only in my imagination. I was so happy I followed that road so bumpy in advancing at the speed of a snail ... Thanks to that I had met a beautiful place would not have expected to meet during this first trip to Morocco.

Of Tamtattouchte is a path towards Dades gorges only suitable with 4 × 4 and I could not ask at any time, although it is one of the most interesting options to go to that place getting out of the more or less normal comfort of a road from Tinehir or Boumalne du Dades, much closer and better communicated. The adobe houses were the hallmark of this and other Berber villages with which I would find. Chromatic fellow mountains based on simplicity and properties to safeguard the cold winter and hot summer days in Morocco.

I wondered what to do, whether to go forward or turn around giving out terminate this nut. Although the road map leading hinted that the route would be worse and would be difficult to make a circular loop as I intended, I decided to continue forward, Ait-Hani, and even then decide. A flat landscape, but well guarded by mountains left and right, was regaling me again with daily images of the Berbers who live by farming and ranching. I took snapshots that could be from another time. Once again the phrase that "Morocco is the closest of distant countries" was gaining respect.

I came across some girls taking back a huge "pack" of branches and herbs that should weigh much. While looking at them in the face, I realized that they were just little girls.

I arrived in the town of Ait Hani, an even smaller lonelier than before and, at first glance, Berber village. There I tried to "prove" the road to Imilchil and after a bumpy path and watch the road was torn from the 2km could not do anything but go back and think about the next steps.

People looked at each other intently wondering who he was and where the hell wanted to go. He reminded me of that very common situation in many of our towns in Spain where a stranger and viejetes you notes from entering until it is displayed. This, among other things, indicated that I was getting to places where they are not too used to meet people from outside. Tourists usually walk away from those parts and some travelers are 4 × 4, motorbike or bicycle who appear there rarely. Particularly barring any SUV that sped I did not meet with anyone abroad.

The men loaded the mules to transport grain. For them it was a working day. For me the perfect opportunity to meet another way of seeing life, get out for a while, albeit short, of the routine of a troublesome winter in Madrid. He was living everything with so much hope, that after the years I have clear he was appreciating the powerful aroma of freedom and authentic look to pawn me in all my life.

I walked a little more for those roads of this kind of "plateau" in the Atlas. In a way there are landscapes that years later would certainly similar in parts of Bolivia. Or, at least, who would head rightly or wrongly my mind to move to a country like Morocco I am deeply in love.

When I did not trust the map and if I was spending too much thread I noticed that there was a tiny roadside motel under construction. I stopped to ask if he could masons resume after Tinehir and Boumalme road without turning. I was told I could advance to the peoples Amellago Assoul and then returned to Goulmima by another road, without being good, could almost certainly spend with the vehicle carrying. I was glad not to have to turn around and continue the adventure, although I did not like that the "almost certain" because on the map came it was worse than he had done before. In the end what was to be one minutes he ended up lasting much longer since Ahmed, which was the name the person who asked me, and workers who were working on fixing the motel, invited me to sit at the table with them and eat a delicious tajine.

Before starting with lunch one of the gang members abañiles appeared with a jug of hot water and a towel, and we helped each of us to wash our hands. We were hungry and the dish of the day, lamb tagine, filled a plastic panel on which we approach all. We talked about many things while we pushed bread stewed meat simmered in a vessel of clay. In fact, the bread was both our and our fork knife. As if tongs were addressed, each arrimábamos meat and potatoes on our side to leave nothing in the bowl. Of course, it was empty. Everything was really great.

That meal with Ahmed and other Berbers ended with several of them belching as a sure sign that had been filled. They asked me many things, like what I did in my country, if I had a wife and children or what I was looking Morocco. Family, work and, of course, football, fall into many of the conversations I've had in my travels to Alawite country, in this or other occasions. They also told me his experiences of friends and relatives in small boats across the Strait of Gibraltar in search of a better life in Spain. Worth listening to the views of those who truly know what it means to embark on such a danger that the mafias take advantage of their fear.

I said goodbye to Ahmed and the crew and continued to advance, just as they recommended me, looking for Assoul and Amellago. I thanked them for receiving me as one and invited to eat with them. The Berber people are extremely hospitable and this was another example of his kindness. Integrate with local people I have always considered basic to live a more complete travel experience.

I returned to the road, the R-703 Assoul looking for, the next town after Ait Hani, 37 km from where I was. By the way still he had the impression of being back in time. I did not mind spending the watch or not to have mobile coverage. Absolutely I not needed at all. He had better things that set me and to think about instead of being aware of who every day make us their slaves.

And that way I arrived and entered the village Assoul Amellago, anonymous places that rarely appear if you want a detailed map of Morocco. There the ancient ksour or fortified cities (singular Ksar) are attached along the walls of the mountain and the benefits of small oasis emerging from nowhere. Isolated and lost enough to look like great places.

The scenery was again steep and rocky, again following a river bank. In fact rainwater in recent days fell uncontrolled flooding generating small mountains crossing the road at full speed. The first demasiasiado were not uncomfortable, although at the time I had to go back on the road to Goulmima, where I had to get in every way before that was done at night.

Suddenly, as I feared, the road was completed. It became a way of sand each time had a less defined pattern. Much of it was under construction but there was absolutely no one not working. I went slowly to ensure no stone not eat in the car but tense moment came when I ran into a creek in the middle of the road. I did not know whether to risk crossing it, then if later it would be worse, or if it was best to turn around, although he needed several hours to retrace his steps. A priori it was willing to do it but this time if I missed having mobile coverage in case anything happened.

I prayed to the Goddess Fortuna and the suspension of the Kangoo. I went with a constant or very slowly or very fast speed, since it is not well seen the bottom and spent the obstacle smoothly. Although there was my fear is not because the road was in a terrible state and did not know if he would be the last stream that would put me ahead. Even I would imagine that years later in South Africa that just would have been a puddle, but for SUVs. This sort of thing is not good to try them with more normal vehicles. A small utility probably would have stayed in the water and then know who pulled away. The problem was, above all, go alone. Sometimes there are advantages if all such mishaps happen in another country, in an isolated place without power if you want to use a phone to call for help.

In hindsight, though, things look differently. Adrenaline freed that day rarely. For me, in my first full solo adventure he was a great adventure. Each step progressed became a prize in a cry in the wind and in the blink of fists and hold the steering wheel too, it was not to get into a sinkhole.

When evening came the longed Goulmima (with exceptional Ksar I was lucky enough to visit the day before) and I finally reach a normal road, the N10, the same that goes to Ouarzazate, the point where days later He must return the rented car. In this case the asphalt, compared with the route came to do, it was like driving on a Persian carpet. Although there was time for the emergence of other problems, such as the imminent arrival of the night and, above all, a sandstorm that significantly reduced visibility on roads.

For a long time, until well past Tinehir, I had to severely limit the speed, since it did not look too clear what had front. In addition to these hours, they ended the respective working hours and the road was full of bikers or people on bicycles without lights on I had to be very careful. Like people walking by the roadside crossing "spontaneously" from side to side of the road naturally. The arrival of the night, probably, is the time that more care must be taken with the car when one moves by Morocco. The dimly lit and somewhat anarchic way lead many Moroccans makes this aspect is important to keep in mind. Some also speak of the numerous roadblocks. In my case the police always treated me with great kindness and I did not drop any "bite" or bribery of so much talk in the country. In that aspect I recognize that I was lucky. Although neither I spent the limits of speed, so I saved fines and was safer.

After driving a while to find accommodation at a price as affordable as possible I ended up finding a room in a hostel in the heart of the Dades Valley. The town was called Ait Oudinar. I soon go to sleep because he had spent a day of non stop. The oddest thing was that when I woke up the next morning and looked out the window I found that a huge snow was falling in the valley. He observed the snowy kasbahs was certainly another thing I did not expect this trip to Morocco.

But is that a trip to adventure out there enough for both ...