The High Atlas. Hamish Brown

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      Looking east along the north slopes of Saïd ou Ali

      We trailed up the unexciting Oued Ikkis valley (friendly old shepherds) and camped short of the tizi to be sure of water. Our muleteer was feckless and Ali did everything for him. There was a lot of rain overnight. Next morning we had to wait an hour on the Tizi n’ Ikkis (2830m) before man and beast caught up. We headed up a ridge from there only to have the muleteer refuse to go any further. We damned him, sent him off, ate all the heavy food items and shouldered our packs. The long 700m climb to the snowy crest gave us a display of every type of scree; hard grafting. A dip and on led to the first major top, Ali ou Aïssa (3686m), which had a Toubkal-style trig. Continuing, the highest point of all, Ichichi n’ Boukhlib (3747m), proved nothing but a shale tip. The weather was looking bad. We left our rucksacks at the next dip to go on to what is considered the finest summit, Saïd ou Ali (3727m), to which northern approaches aim and from which Domenech shows a variety of ski descents. The ridge rolled away westwards for ever it seemed, but, having traversed the highest trio, we felt excused further effort. In fact, with thunder around, all we wanted to do, was run – down. The down was on 2000m. Poor old knees.

      We straggled into the village of Taarart soaked to the skin, the eye of the storm crashing round, which the villagers found hilarious. The cheik took in the tired gang. Even Ali was somewhat weary. We sat steaming round a wood-burning stove made out of an old paint tin, which was as efficient as a four-figure priced equivalent at home. Despite the village’s limited means we were given a huge tagine at supper and bedding appeared after the mint tea. The electric light was supplied by wind power. Some of the old men who came to say hello only spoke Tamazight, not even Arabic. Yet next day we were able to use a thrice-a-week camion out to Tounfite. Ayyachi was plastered in snow.

      The exit took all morning as people piled on with goods and goats, and we were 35 on board eventually – a cheerful, sociable run which we thoroughly enjoyed. Ali had chatted up a soldier who took us to his sister’s house for a lunch tagine. At dusk, with clouds building up again, we went to a hammam and came out cooked and clean. We had a room at the back of a shop, and Ali borrowed a tagine dish to cook a marvellous meal from the fresh vegetables we’d bought. There was another storm.

      Local girls of the Atlas

      We woke to wind and scudding cloud, even at the town’s 1940m, but still set off to bag Jbel Masker, Ayyachi’s imitative little brother, with tops, running west to east, of 3257m, 3265m and 3242m. We took bivvy gear in case, but hoped to be up and down in the day. We were off at 06.00. After a false start through the town’s rubbish dump we hit the trail through to a village, Ardouz, which we skirted, then worked up through fields and found a good break through the cedar band beyond. We zigzagged up scrub (juniper and the like), which was not at all scrabbly. A gully and onto snow led us to the crest just west of the highest point, 3265m – a more enjoyable ascent than Ayyachi’s. We only caught glimpses of white Ayyachi through the tearing clouds so were not lingering. Using snow rims and screes we descended quickly. Ali, ahead, had stopped in the forest and lit a fire so we had welcome brews. We made Tounfite before the storm. At supper we had the loudest crack of thunder I’ve ever heard. It rattled the café and set children howling.

      A decorative Atlas door

ROUTE FOUR

      Jbel Hayane 2410m

Commitment	The easiest walk in this book, a good summit to take in during a passing road journey.
Maps	100: Azrou. A road map that shows the hill and the road would suffice.
Texts	Mailly alone just mentions the hill – for skiing (so I suspect flocks do move out). My description above is ample.
Travel to start	8.5km piste off the R13 Azrou–Midelt road, and own transport essential. Could be done as a day-outing from Fes. Allow 3hrs for the traverse.
Local assistance	Not needed.

      This small outrider of the cedar country rewards with a gentle day’s walk.

      Hayane was climbed in September 2000, and although of modest height it is the highest summit in the wedge of cedar-forest country held by the Azrou–Khenifra–Zeïda roads. We had walked through the cedars on GTAM95, impressed by both the stately giants and the evidence of prolific regeneration, so were keen to return.

      The lone tree on Jbel Hayane

      Six of us were in a Land Rover, so I suggested trying to backtrack on GTAM95 from Kerrouchen to the north-east to see the best trees we’d noted. Heading east from Khenifra we took the minor road, not the R503, to El Kebab, a lively Monday souk (which has lured us back several times) then, still a goudron, up the Oued Serrou valley to the Kerrouchen turn-off. On subsequent visits (Land Rover or minibus) we’ve continued over the Tizi n’ Rechou to Zeïda – recommended rather than the R503. On this occasion we set off into the forest from Kerrouchen and simply became mislaid in a maze of pistes large and small, several leading to dead ends. We certainly saw cedar trees. Eventually we came out at Itzer, so went over the Col du Zad (N13) to camp by the known Aguelmame (lac) de Sidi Ali. Jbel Hayane was the highest in the area – and near.

      Heading for the souk

      I had a note of how to find the hill, and we set off north on the N13 for a turn-off after 4km. We found the Bekrite road was our turn-off, a goudron, although we still measured off 8.5km to the corner where we wanted to start walking – but this was hardly needed, as Jbel Hayane was in full view, forested on the left. A piste towards the hill helped, then we headed south to gain the south-east crest. There were still flowers to interest and wheatears heading south. We found lots of agates in the strata and a stone looking like Kendal Mint Cake (the original?). The first bump was skirted on the left, the second on the right, then there was a dip before the final pull to the summit. A stone tower on top was a surprise, but gave a wind break behind which to have a snack before we continued down the long north-east ridge on the other side of the valley. We dropped down into it at a nomad camp and were given tea in a wigwam of wooden boards. There seemed to be sources a-plenty even after the summer heat. Could they over-winter there?

      Plains in the spring flush with colour

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