“I stand in a portico hung with gentian-blue ipomeas… and look out on a land of mists and mysteries; a land of trailing silver veils through which domes and minarets, mighty towers and ramparts of flushed stone, hot palm groves and Atlas snows, peer and disappear at the will of the Atlantic cloud drifts.”
So wrote Edith Wharton about Morocco back in 1917. Morocco’s mystique is still as powerful today.
I’m a seasoned traveller to the North African country and have been to its spectacular Atlas Mountains a couple of times. I’ve driven through them, testing out a new Range Rover Sport as it careened and flew over the tough terrain (it passed with flying colours).
And I’ve navigated its rocky trails during a tense week in Marrakech, as my dad lay in hospital in an induced coma (heart surgery on the first day of his holiday!). Confined to just half-hour visits each day, Mum and I found solace amid the stones. A kind, gentle taxi driver took us to Ouarzazate and the Ouzoud Waterfalls, where their beauty nurtured and soothed us.
But I’d only ever been a day tripper to the lower mountains, and I wanted to go higher and to stay overnight. So, when I was planning my 12-year-old daughter’s first trip to Morocco, and I saw a journey into and over the High Atlas mountains, including a stay in a Berber home accessible only by hiking or by mule, I was sold.
And so, leaving Marrakech’s snake charmers, whirligigs and intoxicating mix of spices and dust behind, we piled into a van and headed into the mountains. Our route initially took us to the village of Imlil, a gateway village in the High Atlas. There we stored our main luggage and donned daypacks for the trek ahead (though young children can ride the mules).
Imlil is like a snapshot of High Atlas life, with small shops and local stalls selling oranges, pomegranates, nuts and Berber rugs from baskets. We set off uphill, passing roaming goats and strolling cats. Beneath the vast canopy of the Moroccan sky, the hills glowed rose and pink. Peaceful in its prettiness.
Our first night’s destination was on the outskirts of Aroumd, a quiet village perched on a moraine spur above the valley, with extraordinary views across the peaks. Here, we stayed at family-run guesthouse, Dar Tagine: a traditional Berber house converted into a cosy gîte. As the day started to fade, we saw the village begin to light up and local children heading back from the football pitch below. At sunset, a distant, melancholy call to prayer echoed across the mountains.
Dinner was local tagine and Moroccan flatbread, served amid the warmth of the woodstove. With no nearby light pollution, the night sky was jaw-dropping: the Milky Way shimmering in three-dimensional detail – accompanied by one final, late-night call to prayer.
Next morning, after a breakfast of hard-boiled eggs, fresh fruit, yoghurt and flatbread, the children gathered for a cookery lesson with our host, learning to shape and bake Moroccan flatbreads themselves.
Energised, we headed out of the village and hit the road again, aiming for the higher reaches of the Atlas, travelling along narrow, winding roads scarred by the terrible September 2023 earthquake. Visitors are advised to travel with flexibility, awareness and respect: although many villages are rebuilding, reconstruction has been slow. Some remote communities still live in temporary accommodation – people still living in tents, two years on.
In striking contrast, we passed the Richard Branson-owned luxury mountain retreat Kasbah Tamadot – now repaired and reopened after the earthquake – and Amizmiz, a foothill town about 55-60km from Marrakech. Something of a hub for trekking the surrounding Berber villages and the Amizmiz Valley, it hosts a sprawling souk every Tuesday.
Further south, we passed through Ijoukak, another small town renowned for its natural beauty. Nearby, lies the historic site of Tinmel, once the flourishing centre of a great 12th-century mosque famed for its Almohad architecture, and said to have inspired Marrakech’s Koutoubia Mosque. It too is undergoing reconstruction after the earthquake. Ijoukak is another starting point for hikes through the Agoundis Valley and toward the Toubkal National Park. And its souk is held on Wednesdays.
Our journey reached its peak – literally – at the 6,867 foot-high Tizi-n-Test pass. For lunch we stopped at La Belle Vue, where we devoured chicken tagine and beef skewers accompanied by the most delicious cucumber, mint and tomato salad – and looked out over a view that seemed to stretch forever. The only other diners: a local couple on their motorbike, clearly enjoying their best life.
From there, we descended, passing villages and winding roads, to Ait Igas and our next stop: L’Arganier, an old farmhouse-turned-guesthouse with a serene blue-and-white aesthetic, a large swimming pool, and a tented restaurant. Here, among the orange groves, the kids played in the pool, and we relaxed as the sun set before enjoying tagine – chicken and olives – under a canopy.
Later, we’d continue our adventure along Morocco’s coast, to Essaouira and the Atlantic waves, carrying the calm, colours and openness of the Atlas with us. It had been an amazing journey.
As the author and storyteller Tahir Shah once wrote, Morocco is the “gateway to the unknown” – a phrase that attempts to capture the country’s mystical allure, chaotic souks, and otherworldliness. An entrance to something very old, deeply mysterious and utterly enchanting.
And amid the tranquil but powerful Atlas Mountains, a world away from the hustle and sensory overload of Marrakech, you feel this with a particular intensity: surrendering to a rhythm and a way of life that has remained unchanged for centuries. Whether encountering Morocco for the first time, or making a return visit, there’s nowhere on Earth quite like it.
Lysanne Currie is editor-in-chief of Meet the Leader. She also writes for Robb Report, Diplomat, Guardian, Influence, Tempus and Investor
