Only half an hour after touching down at Marrakech airport, direct from a blustery English autumn day, I found myself crossing the Jemaa el Fna. On this first day of the holy Muslim month of Ramadan, the sun was out, the temperature was rising, the drums were beating, and Marrakech once more was welcoming travelers into its chaotic, colourful midst.
The ultimate aim of the Rock and Sun Morocco trip was to climb in Todra, a river gorge in the Atlas Mountains several hours drive away from Marrakech. Our itinerary allowed for a little acclimatisation to Moroccan life in the tourist hub of Marrakech first, though, and exposure to Marrakech's medina, the site of a thousand and one sensations, including freshly squeezed orange juice stalls, snake charmers and storytellers. After dark, action in the square intensifies, as the food stalls set up and the smoky aroma of open-air cooking tempts passers-by to sit down and sample tajine, couscous and kebabs. After your meal, you can fish for coke bottles, take up boxing gloves against a local, get drawn into a dance narrative performed by transvestites, watch a guitarist perform with a chicken on his head: all to great hilarity from the crowd.
The road journey from Marrakech to Todra is a dramatic one, dominated during the first few hours by the mighty Atlas mountains. A pass snakes up to a height of 2,260m, with stomach-churning bends and lofty vistas over the Moroccan landscape. We then dropped down onto the straighter roads of the pre-Sahara, though the journey - and the geology - continued to be eventful. The drive threads its way between the Atlas and the Anti-Atlas. On the way we passed through Ouarzazate, a dusty yet proud town, hosting the film studios from which many a desert hit has been produced, including, of course, Lawrence of Arabia. Clouds of locusts swarmed by us on the road, and we passed impressive fortified kasbahs, and much evidence of Moroccan life: piles of bikes outside schools, smiling children, football matches, traffic police patrols, over-laden donkeys, veiled women.
Eventually we turned off the main road at Tinehir, and began to head upwards once more into the river gorge. As we neared, orange cliffs began to grow and spread above us, until we arrived by the source of the river, coming from within the cliffs. The rock walls are impressive, even oppressive on first sight, rising swiftly from behind buildings, the road and the river, to tower above those who enter the gorge. A sliver of sky separates the faces at the top, a sliver that later in the evening would become flecked with hundreds and thousands of stars.
These were the cliffs we had come to climb, but we had little time to admire them before being greeted with great warmth by the proprietor of les Roches, and invited to share his 'Berber breakfast' at sundown. This was a welcome feast to travelers and fasters alike of harira (spicy chick pea soup), breads, hard boiled eggs, dates and honey-drenched pastries. Later, after joining a big group of Spanish climbers in the hotel dining room, we were entreated to innumerable glasses of Berber whisky - the Moroccans' playful term for the ubiquitous mint tea - and a jamming session of drums and song.
The next morning, Chris, Mhairi and I assembled for our first day's climbing. We took our time to get to know the rock: sharp, seemingly spindly and yet strong, and with a surprising number of friendly holds. To a climber more accustomed to the bustling crags of Britain, this rock is very lightly touched by previous climbers. Sand and dust lie on many of the ledges, pebbles are ready to be knocked down onto your belayer's head, and larger rocks are sometimes dangerously loosed from above and can be heard clattering and booming down the sides of the valley. Wear your helmet.! The Todra Gorge is the opposite of a polished climbing area, and put me in mind of tales of the earlier days of the sport in Britain, where new routes were there to be discovered by bold pioneers, and decades of boots and hands had not yet cleared all extraneous material from the rock faces. Later in the day, we saw local climbers ascending routes bare foot, another reminder of the sport before it got so technical. There is also a lively trade among local climbers who compete to produce and sell on photocopied and hand-coloured topos to visitors.
The day's climbing ended with an attempt at a more difficult route: one that I fell off repeatedly but which Mhairi climbed with her more characteristic ease. Some gentle teasing from an assembled crowd convinced me I would complete the climb, though given the amount of scrapes I sustained in the attempt, and droplets of blood I left on the way up, I'm not sure if it is entirely 'todo en la cabeza, chica' ('all in the head, girl'), as one helpfully put it.
Encouraged by our first day's climb, we went on over the next few days to bag a number of 5s and a couple of 6as, with Mhairi leading in fine style and myself more gradually following. But for me the real merits of the week's climbing was in learning to climb more quietly and gently, taking the time to look around and contemplate the stunning views along the river gorge, and the small figures dotting the landscape below: goats and donkeys and their nomadic minders, tourist buses arriving for a day trip to the gorge, the brightly-festooned stalls and their owners waiting to tempt the latest arrivals into purchases. Away from the main tourist drop-off point, though, there is a greater silence in the gorge, and the chance to feel isolated and yet completely at ease in the environment, with only your own thoughts and the challenges of the rock to accompany you. This emotional as well as physical enjoyment of climbing is one that I began to appreciate as much from watching Chris climb as the more direct instruction we received. It was a very rewarding lesson.
Climbing was not the sole activity of this part of the holiday, however. Todra is a sociable place, especially for climbers, and each evening would see a group of people gathered in the hotel dining room to share climbing tales, jokes, magic tricks and music, before embarking on star-gazing and moonlit walks. One evening we had a fascinating tour of the old town of Tinjhir, learnt more about Moroccan life and helped out with a few knots of traditional Berber carpet-making. Another evening we visited the local hamman for a good scrub.
A highlight for us all was the twenty-four hours we decided to take out from climbing to go to the desert. The camel trek into the Sahara was stunning. A slow ascent into the dunes led us over bright orange, incredibly fine sand to a tiny oasis watered by a source only a metre deep. Here we slept the night on camp beds under the open sky, the only people for miles around, and awoke to the dawn sun touching the crests and waves of the sculpted sand.
All too soon, of course, we had to return to Marrakech. But before leaving Morocco, though, there was time for a final bout of shopping and haggling, in the bewildering yet bountiful souks, and then a quick spin round Marrakech on a horse-drawn calèche. And then we boarded our homeward planes, away from the heat of the Moroccan sun to the squall of the northern European autumn.
Contemplating the holiday a week or so after my return, the rich experiences and the climbing opportunities made me want to disagree with what a North African man tells a Western woman in Paul Bowles' Moroccan novel The Sheltering Sky: '"Women always think of what is finished instead of what is beginning. Here we say that life is a cliff, and you must never turn around and look back when you're climbing. It makes you sick."'
Instead, taking the time to look back while climbing, and now looking back on the holiday, has given me a great sense of joy in my climbing, and in both what has finished and what is yet to begin. For those of you yet to experience the delights of Morocco and climbing in the Todra Gorge, there is indeed an exciting beginning awaiting you. For those of us for whom - temporarily, I hope - the adventure is over, to turn around and look back on what is finished - the cliffs climbed and the friends made - gives us a great sense of satisfaction, achievement and pleasure.
