Mount Toubkal - North Africa's Highest Mountain

Ian frequently leads groups to summit Mount Toubkal, and loves every single one of them!

As I crawl out of my tent the cool dawn air washes over me. I rub the sleep from my eyes and glance upward to where thousands of stars still bejewel the dark night sky above me. I can hear grumbles of fellow early wakers and alarms going off in the tents around me and already the clatter of breakfast dishes being laid out in the mess tent. The very faintest glimmer of a pinkish-orange sunrise is just starting to smear the sky above the ridge and I can see the head torches of early starters already making their way towards the summit of Jebel Toubkal, North Africa’s highest peak. I feel smug and content after yesterday’s successful summit and happy that today will see us descend back towards civilisation and our transfer to the wonderful city of Marrakech.

Our camp is sited just below the Toubkal Refuge and affords us spectacular views in every direction. Alpine Choughs, the most beautiful and delicate of the Corvid family, swirled around us in huge flocks as we made our way into camp at the end of the first day and the tumbling waters of mountain streams rushed past the camp providing welcome refreshment for our team of mules. 

We had started our adventure from the town of Imlil nestled in the heart of the Atlas Mountains. A steady climb through a landscape of ochre and burnt orange rock and sand had seen us make our way along mule tracks cut into the sides of steep gorges before dropping down to the tiny hamlet of Sidi Chamharouch where a huge, painted white boulder symbolises the tomb of the King of the Jinns (the mysterious Middle Eastern spirits). A little further up, after a series of switchbacks on the path, we stopped for lunch. Glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice cooled in stream water refreshed us, and some of the bolder team members cooled off under a picturesque waterfall before we pushed on, following the steadfast mules towards camp for mint tea, dates, and some well-earned downtime ahead of our early summit start.

That downtime was very welcome as summit day started early. As always our support team had a hearty breakfast waiting for us as we stumbled blearily into the dark Moroccan morning. Ibrahim, our irrepressible guide, fussed around the team, checking equipment and morale before we started the steep, thigh-burning climb up and across scree slopes and boulder fields towards the distant summit. We climbed at a steady pace grateful that the early start meant we had achieved the bulk of our ascent before the full heat of the sun made itself felt. 

As we crested the sharp ridge that leads to the plateau on the top the wind strengthened and we pulled on hats and gloves before a final push took us up onto the vast, almost lunar summit plateau topped by its distinctive monument at 4167 metres, almost four times the height of Yr Wyddfa, the highest peak in England and Wales. The views were stupendous, taking in the vast expanse of crags and peaks and ridges that surround this unique and beautiful mountain top. Even more special was that we had the summit to ourselves, the advantage of choosing not to summit and return to Imlil all in one very long day. 

Our descent from the top saw us slip-sliding, almost skiing, down the steep, gravelly slopes with more wonderful views of flocks of Choughs and Alpine wildflowers dotted colourfully between the rocks. An afternoon of recuperation followed as we snoozed, drank mint tea, read and admired the views before a final feast. Does food ever taste better than eating with friends on a mountainside after summiting a fantastic peak? I think not.