Our sojourn finally took us away from the urban sprawl of industrial cities and the people smugglers of Tangier, to the fabled Atlas mountains. These snow-capped peaks jutted upwards framed by arid valleys and mud brick Berber villages; a much needed respite from the frantic streets of Casablanca, Fez, and Marrakech.
It is at the village of Imlil that we placed our overnight gear on to a pack-mule, slapped on our hiking gear and embarked on an exploration, first to Aroumd - a traditional mountain village perched on a rocky outcrop that provides breath-taking views of the High Atlas Mountains and then later on to Sidi Chamharouch - the White Shrine. This ramble took us across rock strewn flood plains to a track etched into a mountainside, and like goats in an Argon tree, we climbed upwards.
As our senses captured the beauty surrounding us, our paths crossed with fellow hikers, waving freedom flags - The Berber national flag that signifies an affinity with the sea (blue), the mountains (green), the desert (yellow) and the 'Yaz', the free man.
Late afternoon, as the temperature plummeted, we greeted the White Shine of Sidi Chamharouch, which sits overlooking a cascading waterfall. It is here that the disenfranchised and disillusioned pilgrim trek, seeking guidance from Allah to overcome their malaise. Sacrifices occur and offerings of goats and chickens are given to the local village members by those afflicted with this angst. Here they will stay until their thoughts clear and a positive disposition fills them. After making our way back down to Imlil, we spent the evening with a traditional Berber family, enjoying a delicious meal and homely hospitality.
New Year Eve sees us on the move to the fringe of the Sahara. Our ears popped as we wound our way through Tizi n'Tichka, Morocco's highest pass at 2260m to Ait Benhaddou. One of Morocco's iconic sites and a tourist mecca for those wanting to glimpse scenery from Gladiator and Games of Thrones; this world heritage listed, fortified village is a great example of clay architecture and home to a mere six families. As night descended, Moroccan wine flowed,we joined hands as our strangled verses of Auld Lang Syne floated ethereal like towards the fabled city.
From the fringe of the Sahara, we were thrown body first into its mouth; where ochre sands swarmed over us, like waves crashing across a shore-line. After a bumpy four wheel drive ride, we straddled Sydney and Thomas, our camels, for a ride out to the apex of sand dunes - standing 150m in height. This towering Goliath engulfed us in a sense of solitude as our virgin footprints tattooed the sand. Sand boards materialised and the mighty dune was conquered as the final rays of the sun kissed us good night. After a another superb meal of traditional Berber fare, a roaring fireplace beckoned, stories were shared, wine consumed, the night stars burn't so brightly that their number and intensity overwhelmed. The true beauty of silence was realised. The magic of the mighty Sahara remains lovingly etched in our memories.
Our travels take us from the arid desert of the Sahara to the salt spray of Essaouria. Here restaurateurs haggled over the days catch from fisherman, whose faces were etched with stories from the sea, shoe-shine artist and beggars all hawk for the tourist dollars. Western music beckoned from cafes which seem to erode ever so slightly, the veil of conservative Islam.
To Morocco and Fouad (our fabulous guide), we say a huge Shukran!
'We think this may be the beginning of a beautiful friendship'
