Aselamu Aleikum Everyone,
I apologize for my absence for some time, I was very sick earlier this week and am finally feeling better.
This past weekend a group of friends and myself decided we would climb the tallest mountain in North Africa (22nd highest in Africa), Jibal Toubkal. Jibal Toubkal stands at 13,671 feet, and is the highest point between Morocco and Ethiopia.
Our weekend started on Thursday, leaving after our first class for the train station, packing as lightly as possible. The first setback we had was one of our friends forgot all of his money back at his house, causing us to miss the train we had planned on taking and set us back about three hours.
After finally boarding a train and taking our seats in second class, we settled in for a mostly uneventful "4 hour" (at least 5, probably more) ride.
Our second set back came as we were ending our journey and gathering our bags before reaching our stop. As I swung my backpack on, my sleeping bag went sliding out from its holder on my bag, and rolled right out of the open train door, a wonderful treasure for some little Moroccan boy to find the next morning.
After reaching the city of Marrakesh we at the KFC in the train station, exciting at first, and then disappointing, the trend when eating "American style" food here in Morocco.
After eating we left the train station and began the process of bargaining for a taxi to take us to the village of Imlil, about 1.5 hours away. The later it got the more unsure I became that a driver would be willing to drive into the mountains this far into the night.
After taking a taxi from the train station to the "taxi plaza" (where many taxis congregate waiting for customers), we finally secured one to take us to Imlil for 300MAD.
After starting our ride and as we began to ascend from the city of Marrakesh into the mountains, our driver pulled over in small town, talked to a man in another taxi, and then informed us that we would now change taxis so he would not have to drive all the way to Imlil. Now in our third taxi, we finally made it to the village shortly after midnight.
As I have found to be the case in Morocco, it is sometimes the passengers responsibility to know the location of your destination, and the taxi is providing only the driver service. So if he does not know where your hotel is, and you only know the name of it, you are out of luck.
A man in a car who saw us standing outside our taxi pulled over, luckily he spoke English, he also knew of our hotel, and he directed a local passerby, named Mohammed, to escort us there. This was very helpful as Mohammed, like many in the mountainous areas of Morocco is Amazigh (Berber), and only speaks Berber.
Upon reaching our hotel, which we would never have found without the help of our guide,and Mohammed waking its owner, we finally were able to climb into bed and go to sleep.
Waking up the next morning was amazing, and the night before was the best sleep I have had thus far in Morocco, I think it was the mountain air.
Walking outside onto our terrace, we were able to see our surroundings that were invisible to us the night before. It was beautiful with mountains all around us, snow capped peaks in the distance, and small villages dotting the sides of mountains.
The ascent is split into two parts, about a 7 hour trek from Imlil to the refuge base camp, and then about a 3 hour climb to the summit.
The ascent to the refuge is split between slight and moderate inclines on rocky trails with beautiful scenery all around you, and the sound of water rushing, the trail is simple and straight forward, with small huts dotting the way where you can buy water and snacks.
After a very long and exhausting trek to the refuge, I decided to pay for a bed rather then sleep in the tents we had rented, this was a very strange experience as I had never stayed at something like this. The refuge was full of people from all over the world, who had come to Morocco primarily to climb Jibal Toubkal, many who were in training to climb Mt.Everest, and other peaks. And then you had us, 5 kids in basketball shorts and t-shirts, who thought it would be an easy weekend hike.
We agreed with a Berber at the refuge for him to guide two of us to the summit at 4am, and two others would depart at 6am(they were faster then us). When 4am came and passed, and it was nearly 5am, another Berber exited the guide house to inform us that our guide was sick and would not be able to take us up the mountain (I knew he was just unsatisfied with the price we agreed on). After contemplating what to do for a bit, we walked outside where we met two Moroccan men who were also climbing the mountain, and did not have a guide either, they spoke great English, and one also spoke Berber, we waited together before a large commercial group of hikers was set to depart and we latched on the end of their train.
We immediately realized that this leg of the hike was a different ballgame. Hike is actually not the correct word for it, climb is more like it. For much of it we were climbing, hands and legs, up large rocks up an incredibly steep ascent...in the dark. After going like this for awhile my friend and I stopped for a break, not wanting to hold the Moroccan men back, we told them to keep going, they refused at first, but we convinced them and they insisted we take one of their lights, which we had not even thought to bring with us.
After awhile we began our ascent again, only to figure out that we had lost the trail, and what we were now climbing was not large rocks, but loose rock. The kind of rock that if a certain one moves, it could trigger another movement sending you 500 meters to your death. The higher we climbed the more we realized the danger we had gotten in ourselves into.
We reached a larger rock and were able to sit, and we decided that we would wait for daylight before making any further decisions because climbing either up or down would be too dangers in the dark.
As light came I was able to see the trail below us and where we had missed it. And while we were not far from where it started above us, to reach it we had to continue ascending the loose rock. As I sat there, it was one of the moments in life where you realize that we are mortal, and as I weighed the time it would save me to climb up to the trail against my mother's reaction to my death, I decided the smartest thing to do would be to slowly climb back down until I reached the trail and then reascend safely.
My friend decided to climb up the loose rock to the trail, and twenty minutes later, I joined him after taking the trail. We continued to climb until we reached a saddle between two peaks, where we hoped it would flatten out a bit. It didn't.
After talking with two climbers who had begun their descent, we decided that we had come as far as we would go. We were roughly 300 meters and about 1.5 hours from the top, but we were exhausted and we still had to hike down the entire mountain that day.
So in the end, I did not make it to the summit, and I am okay with that, because I have an awesome life, and I am proud of how far we got, and not making it to the summit didn't kill me.
We descended the summit climb, met up with our other friend who stayed at the refuge, and then departed for Imlil. On the way back down we met a Christian named Dominic, on the first day of a personal pilgrimage through the mountains, he was an amazing person with incredible faith.
We made it back to Imlil fairly early, and we decided we would attempt to make it back to Marrakesh and try to catch the 8:55pm train for Rabat, we made it, and after another (this time well deserved) stop at KFC, we were on a train bound for home.
We sat in our compartment with three Moroccan men, and enjoyed the phenomenon of Morocco, becoming friends with anyone you are in close proximity with, especially on the trains.
We made it back to Rabat at around 2am, and this ended our exhausting weekend.
I woke up later that night tremendously ill, I won't go into details.
One aspect of culture I want to talk about today is the seemingly lack of ability by Moroccans to estimate time. The train is a great example, if you simply ask someone how far the train is from the next stop, they may say twenty minutes, and in reality it is usually more than an hour. Or on the mountain, when inquiring how far to the refuge, in a matter of five minutes you could hear 30 minutes, an hour, even two hours. I am not sure if Moroccans are just bad at guessing, maybe it is the language barrier, or maybe it is because Moroccans use time very loosely in their own lives, it is very frustrating to an American.
That is all for now
This weekend we have rented a beach house in Asilah for a nice break, today I also booked my tickets for break (Rome/Milan Italy, London England, and Dublin Ireland)
And this week is Eid Al Adha- which entails slaughtering a ram in the living room
So lots to come
I have also uploaded all pictures I have taken thus far onto facebook, so you can view them there, maybe I will see about making a post with all of them on there if possible.
Allah Ma3ck
Kevin
Arabic Word of the Day
جبل- Jibal-Mountain
I apologize for my absence for some time, I was very sick earlier this week and am finally feeling better.
This past weekend a group of friends and myself decided we would climb the tallest mountain in North Africa (22nd highest in Africa), Jibal Toubkal. Jibal Toubkal stands at 13,671 feet, and is the highest point between Morocco and Ethiopia.
Our weekend started on Thursday, leaving after our first class for the train station, packing as lightly as possible. The first setback we had was one of our friends forgot all of his money back at his house, causing us to miss the train we had planned on taking and set us back about three hours.
After finally boarding a train and taking our seats in second class, we settled in for a mostly uneventful "4 hour" (at least 5, probably more) ride.
Our second set back came as we were ending our journey and gathering our bags before reaching our stop. As I swung my backpack on, my sleeping bag went sliding out from its holder on my bag, and rolled right out of the open train door, a wonderful treasure for some little Moroccan boy to find the next morning.
After reaching the city of Marrakesh we at the KFC in the train station, exciting at first, and then disappointing, the trend when eating "American style" food here in Morocco.
After eating we left the train station and began the process of bargaining for a taxi to take us to the village of Imlil, about 1.5 hours away. The later it got the more unsure I became that a driver would be willing to drive into the mountains this far into the night.
After taking a taxi from the train station to the "taxi plaza" (where many taxis congregate waiting for customers), we finally secured one to take us to Imlil for 300MAD.
After starting our ride and as we began to ascend from the city of Marrakesh into the mountains, our driver pulled over in small town, talked to a man in another taxi, and then informed us that we would now change taxis so he would not have to drive all the way to Imlil. Now in our third taxi, we finally made it to the village shortly after midnight.
As I have found to be the case in Morocco, it is sometimes the passengers responsibility to know the location of your destination, and the taxi is providing only the driver service. So if he does not know where your hotel is, and you only know the name of it, you are out of luck.
A man in a car who saw us standing outside our taxi pulled over, luckily he spoke English, he also knew of our hotel, and he directed a local passerby, named Mohammed, to escort us there. This was very helpful as Mohammed, like many in the mountainous areas of Morocco is Amazigh (Berber), and only speaks Berber.
Upon reaching our hotel, which we would never have found without the help of our guide,and Mohammed waking its owner, we finally were able to climb into bed and go to sleep.
Waking up the next morning was amazing, and the night before was the best sleep I have had thus far in Morocco, I think it was the mountain air.
Walking outside onto our terrace, we were able to see our surroundings that were invisible to us the night before. It was beautiful with mountains all around us, snow capped peaks in the distance, and small villages dotting the sides of mountains.
From the Hotel
After a fast breakfast of bread and tea, we paid our bill, said out thank yous, and went into the village where we rented a mule and its handler, sleeping bags, and two tents, and began our ascent of Jibal Toubkal.
Ready to go
The ascent to the refuge is split between slight and moderate inclines on rocky trails with beautiful scenery all around you, and the sound of water rushing, the trail is simple and straight forward, with small huts dotting the way where you can buy water and snacks.
After a very long and exhausting trek to the refuge, I decided to pay for a bed rather then sleep in the tents we had rented, this was a very strange experience as I had never stayed at something like this. The refuge was full of people from all over the world, who had come to Morocco primarily to climb Jibal Toubkal, many who were in training to climb Mt.Everest, and other peaks. And then you had us, 5 kids in basketball shorts and t-shirts, who thought it would be an easy weekend hike.
The Refuge
We agreed with a Berber at the refuge for him to guide two of us to the summit at 4am, and two others would depart at 6am(they were faster then us). When 4am came and passed, and it was nearly 5am, another Berber exited the guide house to inform us that our guide was sick and would not be able to take us up the mountain (I knew he was just unsatisfied with the price we agreed on). After contemplating what to do for a bit, we walked outside where we met two Moroccan men who were also climbing the mountain, and did not have a guide either, they spoke great English, and one also spoke Berber, we waited together before a large commercial group of hikers was set to depart and we latched on the end of their train.
We immediately realized that this leg of the hike was a different ballgame. Hike is actually not the correct word for it, climb is more like it. For much of it we were climbing, hands and legs, up large rocks up an incredibly steep ascent...in the dark. After going like this for awhile my friend and I stopped for a break, not wanting to hold the Moroccan men back, we told them to keep going, they refused at first, but we convinced them and they insisted we take one of their lights, which we had not even thought to bring with us.
After awhile we began our ascent again, only to figure out that we had lost the trail, and what we were now climbing was not large rocks, but loose rock. The kind of rock that if a certain one moves, it could trigger another movement sending you 500 meters to your death. The higher we climbed the more we realized the danger we had gotten in ourselves into.
We reached a larger rock and were able to sit, and we decided that we would wait for daylight before making any further decisions because climbing either up or down would be too dangers in the dark.
As light came I was able to see the trail below us and where we had missed it. And while we were not far from where it started above us, to reach it we had to continue ascending the loose rock. As I sat there, it was one of the moments in life where you realize that we are mortal, and as I weighed the time it would save me to climb up to the trail against my mother's reaction to my death, I decided the smartest thing to do would be to slowly climb back down until I reached the trail and then reascend safely.
My friend decided to climb up the loose rock to the trail, and twenty minutes later, I joined him after taking the trail. We continued to climb until we reached a saddle between two peaks, where we hoped it would flatten out a bit. It didn't.
After talking with two climbers who had begun their descent, we decided that we had come as far as we would go. We were roughly 300 meters and about 1.5 hours from the top, but we were exhausted and we still had to hike down the entire mountain that day.
The Highest Point we reached on Toubkal
Looking up
We made it back to Imlil fairly early, and we decided we would attempt to make it back to Marrakesh and try to catch the 8:55pm train for Rabat, we made it, and after another (this time well deserved) stop at KFC, we were on a train bound for home.
We sat in our compartment with three Moroccan men, and enjoyed the phenomenon of Morocco, becoming friends with anyone you are in close proximity with, especially on the trains.
We made it back to Rabat at around 2am, and this ended our exhausting weekend.
I woke up later that night tremendously ill, I won't go into details.
One aspect of culture I want to talk about today is the seemingly lack of ability by Moroccans to estimate time. The train is a great example, if you simply ask someone how far the train is from the next stop, they may say twenty minutes, and in reality it is usually more than an hour. Or on the mountain, when inquiring how far to the refuge, in a matter of five minutes you could hear 30 minutes, an hour, even two hours. I am not sure if Moroccans are just bad at guessing, maybe it is the language barrier, or maybe it is because Moroccans use time very loosely in their own lives, it is very frustrating to an American.
That is all for now
This weekend we have rented a beach house in Asilah for a nice break, today I also booked my tickets for break (Rome/Milan Italy, London England, and Dublin Ireland)
And this week is Eid Al Adha- which entails slaughtering a ram in the living room
So lots to come
I have also uploaded all pictures I have taken thus far onto facebook, so you can view them there, maybe I will see about making a post with all of them on there if possible.
Allah Ma3ck
Kevin
Arabic Word of the Day
جبل- Jibal-Mountain
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