Many moons ago I decided to add some spice to my life in the cold Autumnal months and escape my little English island to go and climb an exotic mountain in Morocco. It came about partly out of boredom and partly because I like a challenge. On a relatively uneventful meander through the pretty English village of Shere I came across an Outdoor Adventure shop with a poster outside advertising a trip to Morocco in November. I jumped at the chance to get away. The trip described was challenging but not beyond my ability. It was perfect for me.
I signed up, paid the money and started my own personal exercise programme for this expedition. My training was pretty feeble and consisted of walking every day and running up a small hill a few times a week. Not much but it made me feel better prepared for what was going to be a week of hiking through Berber inhabited mountain villages, sleeping in barren bare huts, all culminating in a pre dawn hike up Morocco's highest mountain peak, Toubkal.
The crew signed up for the trip were a mixed bag. A Classic FM radio executive, a couple of architects who contributed to building one of London's new skyline features - the Needle, a self employed gardener, a nurse who had just returned from Iraq, a fake Lord ( he bought his title), a fireman, a high flying London businesswoman, and a couple of charity workers, myself included.
We touched down in Marrakesh on a bright sunny November afternoon and after checking in to our accommodation in a traditional medina in the old part of town, we hurriedly made our way down the myriad of buzzing narrow alleyways lined with leather goods and spice stalls to the famous Jemaa el-Fnaa square.
Dinner was ordered, the obvious choice was a lamb tagine. Then a wander through the market stalls, carefully avoiding the snake charmer and back to bed.
Next day we left Marrakesh behind and drove out into the beautiful Atlas mountains. Then followed a few days of gentle day long hikes climbing higher and higher following mountain trails through beautiful scenery. Our hiking was peppered with lots of light healthy meals and hot mint tea.
We climbed Mount Toubkal at the end of the week when we had built up our strength and acclimatised to the altitude. Our final night was perishingly cold. We hardly slept in the bone chilling night air, shivering in icy bunk beds in the base camp hostel. But as we departed from our hostel the beauty of the pre dawn night sky filled with stars was worth the discomfort. We set off before the sun was up in the magical early morning light. At this point we had everything before us. We felt daunted but excited. The air was clean and sharp, the night sky above twinkling with stars. There was snow above us on the highest mountain peaks bouncing light from the moon.
After an hour of hiking in the darkness the sun emerged and to be honest the climb lost some of its magic. Now that we were no longer cushioned by the mask of night we could see the challenge ahead and it was daunting. After a few more hours of solid uphill climbing a few of the group decided they were not strong enough for the task ahead and dropped out. But for me there was no question of quitting. I am a very stubborn girl.
We made it to the summit by late morning. My head was thumping and I felt nauseous but I was triumphant in conquering the mountain.
The stumble back down was almost worse than the climb up. I let gravity do its work and tumbled down the mountain on heavy feet.
That night we rested in a mountain village. Our timing was perfect because we had arrived for the feast of Eid, an important Islamic holiday festival honouring Abraham's obedience to God by agreeing to sacrifice his son. Rubbing our blisters and rehydrating after the climb we sat on the flat roof of our lodging watching a very strange chase unfold below.
Over boulders, down alleyways I watched as a group of screaming giggling kids ran from a teenage boy carrying a stick and chasing after them. He looked like a monster as a result of wrapping himself in goat skins. It took me a few minutes to realise that he was meant to represent the scapegoat that Abraham killed instead of his son. As the chase developed a crowd formed on the roof of one of the buildings, everyone was enjoying the scapegoat spectacle.
On the following day after a good nights sleep we worked our way down from the higher ground and into the mountain valleys before driving back to Marrakesh. Our final day was spent haggling for leather bags and Moroccan slippers back in the markets of the old city.
The rest of the group flew back on a Friday after an evening feasting in an underground restaurant with plenty of belly dancing. I wasn't ready to return, our time in Marrakesh had been a whirlwind and I needed more time to take it all in. I stayed on a couple of nights and further explored Marrakesh on my own.
My favourite find was an afternoon spent wandering the well tended gardens of Yves Saint Laurent's house.
I left Morocco with many memories of which perhaps my favourites are : the pre dawn mountain climb under the stars, the smell of woodsmoke and apples in the mountain valleys, the scapegoat escapade and the striking cactus garden at Yves Saint Laurent's house.