We meet for breakfast and try to get out a quick message on Action's computer but the painfully slow Internet doesn't allow it. We return to the road and slowly the terrain gets more and more mountainous and the road gets more and more winding. Mohamed makes a suggestion to stop in a town on the way and grab picnic supplies as he knows a great place to stop and eat. Passing through a small village we stop at a local market. Navigating the busy stalls, we hunt for snacks as well as cheeses, prepared meats, fruits, breads and crackers for lunch. In exchanges that have no semblance of order, we all buy our picnic lunches and load back into Abdul's van. We head into the High Atlas Mountains following a two lane road that slowly starts snaking it's way up the mountain ridges. We pass few villages but see many vehicles and learn this narrow, winding road is the main road between Ouarzazate and Merrakech. Occasionally we see roadside souvenir salesmen on the side of the road but mainly the spectacular views across the mountains are what catch our eyes. The terrain is still getting steeper as the road starts turning back on itself through hairpin turn after hairpin turn as we approach the Tichka Pass. Making a quick photo stop on a mountain overlooking the pass itself we also find many roadside fossil vendors.
As we continue following the pass we stop at a small seemingly deserted roadside stand consisting of a very small cafe and some outdoor picnic tables under the shade of tall cedars. We sit down and share our provisions using improvised cutlery and utensils with a great view through a cedar forest to the valley beyond. With full bellies we again load into the van to continue our journey over the rugged landscape. For a few moments the terrain briefly flattens but mostly we find ourselves crossing hills and mountains or following narrow valleys. Soon we see snow capped Mount Toubkal in the distance, misguidedly believing we are close. No matter how far we travel, Mount Toubkal appears to be just as far away as when we first saw it. The scenery is spectacular but seemingly endless as we travel onward. As the sun nears the mountain ridges we break from the main motorway and begin following a narrower road over more rugged terrain. We pass several small villages as we wind through the mountains, now each brief peek at Mount Toubkal reveals we are finally getting closer and suddenly we are in the bustle of the village of Armed. Armed is the jumping off point for exploring the Mount Toubkal region.
Abdul finds a parking place, we unload our gear and soon walk to a nearby hotel. We are told to load what we need for the night into our day bags and stow our luggage in a room. Quickly we take care of our bags, grab a quick bathroom break, snacks and water and slowly assemble outside. Though Armed's altitude is high, the temperature is still comfortable and the sky is blue as the sun is sinking. We now begin following the footpath to nearby Imlil where we will spend the night at the foot of mount Toubkal, Northern Africa's highest mountain. Imlil serves as base camp for hikers on their two day hike to the peak of the majestic mountain. Two of the girls in our group opt to ride mules up the trail while the rest of us choose to walk. We wind our way up the busy road through town and quickly the narrow road transforms to a narrow footpath but just as busy. We pass homes, creeks and many people and mules as we wind our way up the path. Halfway up we we find ourselves in a forest with an occasional view across the valley.
As the sun starts to disappear behind the mountains we arrive in Imlil and find ourselves on the doorstep of the Gite Atlas house. Situated of the edge of town, the home overlooks Imlil's narrow streets, the gorge below Imlil and Mount Toubkal crowns the view. Our host invites us for mint tea and shows us our group accommodations before we quickly break off to explore the village before darkness falls. I choose to explore the maze of narrow streets and hear the distinctive call to evening prayer. This call is less melodic than previous prayer calls I've heard and almost sounds ominous. It's interesting watching parents gather their children for dinner and the merchants closing shop. Fortunately I manage to find my way back through the maze of narrow streets as the daylight is dimming and sit down to relax as our companions trickle back to the gite house. The night chill quickly consumes our abode and following dinner our host builds a fire in the group room. Kate and Natasha are given Henna tattoos by the talented hands of one of our hosts and after relaxing we settle in for a lively card game of "Presidents and Assholes", I never make president but fortunately never fall to the lowly rank of "asshole". The day has taken it's toll and everyone retires for the night.
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