Yes, I summited and soloed Djebel Toubkal, the highest point in North Africa and the goal of most trekkers who come to Morocco to trek or climb. However, it was a bit of an epic to do so. I am back in Marrakech tonight, hoping to head back into the mountains tomorrow down a slightly different road and hoping for better weather than I had around Toubkal.This morning, I literally hiked out in a blizzard in 2-3 feet of snow and I was saying all of my Hail Marys and calling upon all the good energy of the universe to help me out. I was very grateful to be out of that snow and now to be dry and clean, sitting in a cafe writing this.
But let me start from the beginning...
Brandon (the Irish lad I met at the hotel in Marrakech) and I headed up to Imlil, a little mountain village, on Thursday morning. After getting a little ripped off by the taxi driver, we decided to split the cost of a donkey to carry our heavy bags up to the Toubkal refuge, which is more or less the most popular "base camp" for climbing Toubkal. Toubkal is at 4167 meters and the refuge at 3000-something.
Because my trip here was more to study and record music rather than trek, I didn't really bring all of my standard mountaineering or trekking gear- just the bare minimum. I was actually surprised that I was able to pull of climbing Toubkal... but anyhow...
Brandon had given me permission to walk on ahead, which I was glad of because I couldn't both stay with him and also keep an eye on our bags, which were on the back of the donkey. I didn't like the idea of watching our bags go off deep into the mountains ahead of us but I wasn't able to keep up with the donkey and its owner once the altitude starting settling in so I gave up about a 1/3 of the way there and just hoped that the donkey man was honest and would take our bags where I had asked (I had only paid him half at the start and explained in Darija that I would pay him the rest when we arrived at the base camp, hoping that would lessen the chances of him disappearing with our bags into the remote mountains). Secondly, I was hoping that we could easily find our way to the refuge without any trouble since all of our belongings were on that donkey, save for the water and food we were carrying.
The hike in was just spectacular. I was a little preoccupied worrying about Brandon who really didn't have any experience but I decided I'd have to let him fend for himself. The hike in was tougher than I'd expected in terms of how fast I could go and the mountains were impressive and stark and massive. After almost 5 hours, I arrived at the refuge. A couple hours later, Brandon showed up and immediately crashed out for about 4 hours. I had the slightest signs of altitude: a headache and a little nausea, probably from ascending too fast, but a nap cured that.
However, when I woke up, it was absolutlely freezing and when I looked outside, snow had fallen on the ground. When Brandon finally woke up, he told me that it wasn't likely that he was going to try the peak the next morning- he was totally wiped from the trek in. That turned out to be a wise decision on his part.
I had put out a lot of feelers and gotten the idea that it wasn't a big deal to go up Toubkal without a guide; although it seemed like most people do take a guide, I had talked to a few people at the refuge who had done it without. I had planned on going without one but when I saw the snow on the ground, I wondered if I should reconsider. Perfect conditions were one thing but I didn't even really have a map of the place.
That night at dinner, as I forced myself to eat, I listened in on conversations between the many guides and other climbers. I casually asked one of the guides if they would be taking crampons or if the snow was going to be a problem. They didn't seem too concerned. I figured I could follow a little behind one of the groups or if I started to feel uncomfortable on the trail, I could always turn back or jump on board a team and pay later.
So I woke up at 4 AM and left at 6, following just behind a group of 3. You could just barely see the trail at that point. The snow on the ground did make for slow going as the rock and trail were slippery. In some places, I ran into ice. The weather wasn't great. Visibility was alright but clouds were hovering and it was chilly out. I knew that I had at least one climbing party behind me and several up ahead so I figured as long as I could stay on the trail, I'd be okay.
After about three hours of climbing through clouds and snow and rock and chilly wind, I reached the summit. I was really happy to have brought some power gel as I couldn't eat at the altitude. The summit was fairly nice on top, actually but not long after I started heading down, the clouds moved back in and it started to snow. It took almost as long to get down with the slippy snow and ice everywhere.
Brandon met me at the hut when I arrived back from the climb. I realized then how glad I was that he had stayed back. All he had were sneakers and he didn't really have any hiking gear. Even I wasn't really as prepared for the mountain as I would have liked to have been. I wore every piece of clothing I brought with me, save for my skirt and used my extra socks to cover my wimpy liner gloves. I was glad I had a hat at least and an emergency bivy sack. I did feel a bit like a pioneer cimbing such a big mountain with such minimalistic gear (especially after seeing all the paying climbers who had guides and who were outfitted with the best gear available). So I was glad to have not had to worry about Brandon, whom I don't think would have made it and whom I would have been worried about the whole day.
Brandon decided to head down that afternoon as he was meeting his fiance in Agadir on Saturday morning. I decided I wanted to stay an extra night in the refuge- it was such a special place, so beautifully tucked in the valley in between dramatic peaks.
By Friday night, however, the snow had turned into a full-on blizzard. New climbers had arrived that afternoon. The tenders of the refuge tried to make a fire for us but ended up smoking us all out. Then the generator went out for awhile. All of us were downstairs in the common area with jackets on, drinking hot tea and chuckling about how we would have had better weather in the Alps this time of year. I felt like I was in a Swiss hut, watching the blizzard go on outside. The wind was so ferocious that it sounded like a helicopter was trying to land on the roof.
I hadn't really brought a sleeping bag so I was sleeping in my emergency blanket and sleep sheet and wearing most of my clothes all night long. It worked out alright but the refuge was always a bit chilly. We all had hoped the storm would die down overnight but it only got worse. By this morning, there was a few feet of snow ont he ground in places and some of us were concerned that if we stayed longer, we'd be stuck there for days.
So at 9 this morning, I packed up and jumped on board a group of climbers who were heading down, into the blizzard and back to Imlil, the first little town you can start the trail from, which also has a dirt road accessing it.
Thie hike was a bit concerning at first- the wind was horrible and you could barely see your feet. I tapped the shoulder of the gal in front of me and said, "I'm in back- will you please make sure and look back to make sure I'm there every once in a while? I don't want to get separated from the group." For the next few hours, I just tried to stay as close to the group as possible, stumbling around through the powder and being beaten up by my poncho which I'd tried to rig to keep my pack dry. We made our own trail down the valley through the snow and blizzard little by little.
That hike went on for hours. I was completely soaked, except for my torso. Finally we reached Imlil and I was mainly hiking with Claudia and Peter, a couple from Ireland. After I haggled the price down (I should start charging those around me a small fee for all the money I am saving those I travel with. I get better prices because I can speak a little Arabic, although I'm still getting a signficant markup from what the locals pay), we shared a taxi back to Marrakech where I found a hotel as soon as possible to wash and dry all my soaked gear.
After checking the weather reports online, it looks like the weather just sucked everywhere the last couple of days. Tomorrow, I will try and head back into the high Atlas but this time, taking a bus, not a taxi because if there is snow on the passes (which there probably is) I don't know that I trust the taxi drivers to get me there alive. I'm not ready to be done in the mountains, though. Frankly, I just can't handle Marrakech right now. Its energy is too raw and abrasive somehow. I still haven't gotten enough of my mountain fix.
As a side note, Claudia apparently got a couple short videos of all of us hiking out in the blizzard this morning, just because she knew her friends back home would never believe her that this was North Africa of all places. I hope to be able to pass that along in the coming weeks when she emails it to me.
So! That was my Atlas adventure! You can see more pictures from the hike in and out
here
