Draa River Hike (Morocco)

 

Draa River

(Morocco)

100.2 kms

Day 1: The Draa River Oasis

22.9 kms, December 7, 2010

Now the Traveler was anticipating great views of vast palm tree forests, but still the sight is quite stunning. And in the background is one of the coolest mountains he's ever seen: with wavelike slopes like a Chinese roof and sandwiched colourful layers, it reminds him of a pagoda. He quickly scurry across town to the otherside of a hill where he can climb and get a nice panoramic view.

As you gaze down to the forest, you can almost forget that you’re in the Sahara desert—it looks more like a palm jungle in Malaysia! But then you look off to the horizon and see red earth castles scattered about, rising up above the tree line and you know this can be no other place than Morocco. He's clearly going to want to take his time exploring this region. The “oasis” he explored upstream west of Ouarzazate was a lifeless wasteland compared to this! This is going to be an amazing climax to this Chapter exploring the Draa River Basin.

First he wanders around Agdz for a little bit. Nothing really special about the town itself, but it will be his las full size “town” for a while, so he figures he should enjoy it. It has a market, a main street lined with shops, quiet residential neighborhoods and a couple of eateries. The Traveler decides to go ahead and have a full breakfast of an egg omelette, as he doesn’t know when he’ll get my next meal.

The Agdz Old City

Although downstream has a lot more places to explore, as theoretically he should be able to follow this oasis valley all the way to Zagora 90 kilometers away, there are a couple castles upstream that are begging to be explored, so the Traveler figures he’ll go ahead and get those out of the way. So he follows a road north, passed by children and young folk on bicycles heading to school. Along the way there are interesting structures, like a modern home being build with steel and concrete pillars but filled in with mud bricks! He figure it’s because earthen walls provide much better insulation from the heat than cinderblock. Then there’s a huge, walled compound with an ornately decorated gateway which must have been the palace of the q’aid, or chief of the region.

Finally he reaches the Old City of Agdz built right on the edge of the lush sea of green. Now this isn’t the first mud city that he's explored and certainly won’t be the last… but there’s something very special about this city. See, Agdz it seems was just recently completely abandoned, but many of the homes are still almost intact, so you can go into the houses, into the rooms, up the stairs, into the inner courtyards, to the rooftops and really get the feel for what life was like in an Old City. There’s no hardly anyone there, so you don’t have to worry about any embarrassing encounters… you can just wander around and discover at your leisure!

It’s fascinating to try to figure out what each room was for and what life was like living in these homes. Each house has different sections where each son would move in with his new bride, and in the center is a tiny little courtyard with the communal kitchen shared by the wives… There are storage rooms and inner stables for the animals... a world that is now frozen in time.

It is a little dangerous, as sections are collapsing due to the rain. You have to be extra careful on the upper floors that you don’t fall through the floor… And it’s easy to get lost in the labyrinth, which makes it all the more fascinating.

The Traveler wonder why they don’t just tear down the city and rebuild it. At first he assumes it’s because it’s a taboo to tear down your ancestral home. But later he asks people and they explain to me that it’s because of inheritance complications. Nowadays a single house would have to be divided and parceled out to 50 or 100 descendants which would give each descendant only a few square meters—can’t do much with that. Besides, nowadays in more peaceful times, people don’t feel the need to live clustered together in cramped castles… there’s plenty of empty space on the hillsides to build so the new generation prefers to build spacious, individual houses, and the original home just sits there in limbo. Also, as the Traveler will later learn, these ancient unreinforced structures can be deadly in a strong rainstorm.

Someday this city will simply fade away into the soil from which it was made. Someday there will be no more alleys, courtyards or stairways to explore. But it doesn’t feel like a tragedy, but rather a solemn reminder that we all are, after all, just passing visitors on this earth and everything that we do will return to dust. At least the dust of these castles won’t cause any harm to the surrounding environment, unlike our modern toxic industrial cities…

Just a short walk farther is another old village Tarmast, this one is still inhabited and has a mix of the old and the new, with some concrete structures and traditional mud buildings. Here is a good place for a pause under some palm trees to play some songs.

Wandering through the alleys of the village the Traveler comes across a group of cheerful women who greet him and ask him to play a song for them. He's quite taken aback by the request, as he's not used to having village women talk to him here in Morocco. He smiles and greets them, and says maybe another time… he suspects they are just joking around and might all run off if he actually does pull out the guitar. But it’s still a pleasant little encounter and nice to see a traditional culture where women can talk to a man without getting in trouble.

After Tarmast, the Traveler opts to stroll down into the vast palm forest where date palms and pomegranate trees are laden with ripe fruit. In fact, a lot of fruit is rotting on the ground (he's later told that the first crop of pomegranates is sour, so it isn’t harvested). It all gives the impression that this is a fruitful and abundant land…

Back in the day people of this region would have been considered “wealthy” in comparison with their neighbors living higher up in the rocky and dry hills because they have water and fertile soil. But now in this modern age, when everyone “needs” mobile phones, TVs, cars, and Chinese imported goods, these people are considered “poor” and they have to go off to the big city to earn extra cash to buy the things they can’t buy just by growing dates…

Perhaps someday, when modern civilization falls apart, these people will go back to feeling that they are “wealthy” again…

Zaouia has another ruined castle/village and a newer village right next to it… another little discovery.

An Amazing Hilltop View

As the Traveler approaches his next village he opts to climb up a hill to get enjoy a panoramic view. It’s a postcard perfect shot of a castle, the ruins of a mud city, the palm forest beyond and then the river and then mountains... From here he can see the beginning of the oasis, where the Draa River comes out of a narrow gorge to the north. Then to the south the palm forest seems to stretch on and on for infinity.

The Rbat old city is still partly inhabited, so he doesn’t have as much freedom to wander in and out of people’s houses. In the center it looks like there’s the tomb of a saint, which must give an ongoing importance to this old city. It’s another fun place to hike around.

Part of him wants to continue on up the river to check out the gorge and whatever is beyond. But he finally figures that Rbat should be a good stopping point, and here he should turn around and start tackling the Agdz to Zagora stretch. But instead of catching rural taxi back, he figures he needs to go down a check out the river itself… to see the thing that has brought life to this valley.

The Draa River

This is the first time that the Traveler has seen a real river here in Morocco and he definitely will not be fording this one! The river has a quick current, so even crossing by boat could be a challenge.

But just like Morocco's other big river, Ben El Ouidan, this river is a bit artificial, the size of it is determined by how much water is let out of the dam farther upstream. He's told, however that this river has been full for a long time now as is there’s been a lot of rain these last couple of years keeping the dam at maximum level.

This is a reminder, that even though this region seems so self dependent and disconnected from the rest of the country, it still owes a lot to the national government. If it weren’t for that dam, this vast valley would experience some pretty nasty flooding, systematically eroding their precious soil.

He follows along the river bank, which is lined with a wall of stone in a wire mesh. There is a bit of erosion, but not because of the river, but rather because the rim of the farm plots are not properly reinforced, so when they overflow the water eats away at the edge. He hopes people do something to fix that soon… because here if you lose a meter of fertile land, you’re not ever going to get it back.

A family is gathered under the date palms, some of them resting, and some of them harvesting dates. They call the Traveler over for a chat and finally he has the chance to get answers to some of my questions about this fascinating region. They tell him that they live in the Agadir, but still remain attached to their land, coming back to harvest their dates and tending to their ancestral plots. They tell him about the floods of the past and the cooperative culture they have. He asks if people ever fight over irrigation water when there’s a drought and they tell him no, everyone works together… But people much farther downstream might have it much rougher…

An older lady in the family seems to quite happy to chat with the Traveler—but in the end she doesn’t extend her hand to greet me. The Traveler understands… women here can talk with men, but not shake hands! It gives this culture both a relaxed and yet conservative feel to it.

Finally he continues on his way, all along the river bank, where he manages to get a video clip of the pagoda mountain, the river, and a herd of camels drinking on the other side! Finally he reach Agdz once again… but his adventures for today are not over yet.

The Other Side of The River

The other side of the river is pretty barren, but there is a village on the slopes of Pagoda Mountain, which the Traveler hopes there’s a bridge to. Sure enough, he finds a paved road heading that direction with plenty of traffic going back and forth. A young fellow greets him in Italian.

The Traveler give him a funny look and asks him in Arabic, “do I look Italian to you?!” He smiles bashfully and explains that he worked for several years in Italy, but now with the economic crisis, he realized he’d be better off in his home country than sitting in Italy without a job…

Finally the Traveler reaches the river and crosses, where a towering castle greets him on the other side. The bottom half is built of stone and the top half of mud—quite an impressive structure. The Traveler then heads up in through a tunnel alley into the town.

Telouine has a different feel than the villages on the west side who got the lion’s share of fertile land. Here the town consists of clusters of houses scattered all across the steep hillsides. It feels a lot poorer too… and the Traveler gets a lot of children begging for money or for a pen—something he didn’t get on the other side, where people seem prouder and more self-respecting. He notices a mother telling her three year old child to run over and beg from the passing white man—something he really doesn’t think is a good think to teach a child…

There’s a dirt road that follows the base of the mountain and he asks if it leads to any more villages. “Lots and lots of villages” he's told. So even though light is fading, he decides to continue on to try to experience just one more village. Apparently the Traveler still hasn't learned his lesson to not push his luck.

A Funeral

The road follows the Draa valley, with a sea of trees to his right, and endless cliffs to his left. Way up ahead he can see a village which he figures he’ll do a quick visit to and then hike back to Agdz in the dark. At least this time he’ll have a road to follow.

Tafergalt is a cheerful place with young fellows playing football in a flat area and the road cuts right through the middle of the village with long walls on both sides. Here there’s also the ruins of an old castle, but since dusk is setting in, The Traveler figures he’ll skip it. People are friendly as a pass a group of men by the mosque waiting for the call to prayer from the mosque. A young fellow invites the Traveler to his house for tea…

This feels like déjà vu...

This time he decides to accept. There’s something just really pleasant about the guy and he can’t see what harm it would do to end his day’s journey with a cup of tea. Little does he know how important this visit will be to his understanding of this region—and to Morocco as a whole.

Brahim leads him to a house that’s full of people. It turns out that just recently his father died, and all the sons (about 10 or so) have come with all their families from all over the country to pay their respects. At first the Traveler feels a little awkward, like he's crashing a funeral, but the atmosphere feels relaxed and everyone is eager to talk with him.

Brahim explains to me how the family structure works in these parts: all the sons travel to other cities to seek their fortune, many of them have continued their studies even on to university. The youngest, however, must stay at home to care for his parents and tend to the family’s land. Even if the family becomes prosperous, he must still care for the treasured family plots… and Brahim is the youngest.

The Traveler so fascinated by this opportunity to get a real glimpse into the life and culture of this region that he accepts their invitation to stay the night. But first he goes and buy sugar (something you traditionally bring to a funeral) as well as a few other food things just so he does’t feel like a freeloader. Brahim insists that it's not necessary... but the Traveler knows he should.

Brahim and a couple nephews take the Traveler to show him around the village. He explains that many people here have 3 houses: one, an old house in the the castle, which they really don’t use any more, 2 a more recently build, spacious earth house with many rooms built around a central courtyard, and 3 a modern cinderblock house.

“No one wants to live in the modern house, though—we just use them for weddings or events.” He tells the Traveler. “We’re used to the earth houses which stay warm in the winter and cool in the summer.” Interesting to note that, even when they have the choice, people realize here that the “new” isn't always better.

He explains how things work here in the village. Everybody shares freely with everybody, but nobody exploits this to take advantage of other people. In much of Morocco, this complete generosity and hospitality has been disappearing, because there are people who exploit the system to freeload off others, making many people suspicious of their neighbors. But here in the east, people’s minds and hearts are still pure.

“But when we go to the city, we have to learn the system there, and we can’t behave the same way as we do in the village”

They continue to show the Traveler around, to the original family house, where there are still three different kinds of ovens for making bread. One, a tilted barrel, like the ones he'll later see in Kurdistan, the other an enclosed oven where you put the bread directly on hot stone, and the other a domed oven with the fire underneath. It's a reminder of how complex traditional cooking is in Morocco, in contrast to the rest of the world.

The Traveler will remember these ovens when he does a tour showing cooking in colonial United States—over an open fire which often resulted in deadly burns. Early Americans could've really used some of these traditional Moroccan cooking techniques.

The Family

Back with the family for supper, it’s impossible not to notice a peculiarity of this region: Whereas in most of Morocco there’s a clear divide between fairer skinned and darker skinned people, here you see five different shades in a single family!

He asks if here people can intermarry with outsiders, say, Arabs. He's told “yes, but here people remain very attached to their village and extended family and come back whenever possible—and their spouse would need to understand that”.

He's then told that he's not the only “world traveler” in the room. They introduce him to an older fellow who says he spent several decades traveling around the world, working as a chef for Club Med! To find a Moroccan world traveller is quite exceptional… but to find a world traveller in a place like Tafergalt is almost unbelievable. They get to talking and the chef tells a bit about his amazing life, how he left his sheltered village life, got the job, and learned how to adapt to all sorts of different cultures and learn different languages—even though he had very little education…

A very inspiring encounter here in Tafergalt. But the most amazing discovery was yet to come.

The Fascinating Tongue Doctor of Tafergalt

“Have you ever heard of someone removing stones from the eyes with her tongue?” One of the fellows asks the Traveler. At first he thinks he didn’t hear the guy right. “There’s a woman here that can do that… would you like to see?”

The Traveler's still trying to figure out what they’re talking about when they take him into a crowded, traditional room with several people waiting outside the door. Inside, they ask permission to let him in to see, assuring the woman that he won’t take any pictures. And there he sees one of the most bizarre and fascinating scenes in my whole life.

The woman was tending to a patient who had a stone stuck in her eye… no, not right under the eyelid… way in the back of the eyeball! And this woman sticks her tongue under the eyelid, and reaches all the way back there and pulls it out!

It’s a very surreal moment. But he sees it with my own eyes. Not only that, but she’d also pulled out other junk that had been stuck there for who knows how long.

One of the fellows explains to the Traveler that he had something stuck in his eyes and went to the doctor who told him he’d need an operation that would cost 10,000 dirhams… He came to this woman who removed it with her tongue in just a few seconds and charged him just a few dirhams.

The Traveler asks if she learned this from someone, they tell him no, she just figured it out by herself—it’s her “gift”. He asks if she can teach others to do the same, the tell him she can’t explain it…

People from all around the area come to be treated by this incredible “doctor” here in Tafergalt.

Part of him wants to run around telling the media about this, so the whole world can know about this unique skill. But another part of me knows that she probably wouldn’t want that—to be in the spotlight, scrutinized by the world, a sideshow for tourists to come and gawk at…

This has been an absolutely amazing day.

Day 2: Farming in the Draa Valley

13.3 kms, Dec 8, 2010

The Traveler spends the night in the main house with a couple of the grandkids and Brahim spends the night with his family. The next morning Brahim is off early to work in the fields, and Fouad, his brother, takes over giving the Traveler a tour.

They go down to te jnan or family farm plot to see Brahim at work, and here the Traveler sees an inspiring sight that will stick with him for a long time: Brahim is in the walled in plot with four other men, working alongside them swinging his hoe.

Immediately this brings flashbacks of a number of scenes the Traveler has had in his Journey through Morocco: encounters in the city where many unemployed Moroccans spurn any sort of physical labor because they consider it “degrading”.... the troubling scenes in the mountain villages where women do the heavy farm work while the men sit around... the constant reminders that this is a country that is sharply divided between the exploiters and those being exploited...

But not here in the Draa Valley. Here, the Traveler is told, no matter how prosperous a family becomes, they STILL work in the fields, right alongside their employees. Brahim's family is reasonably well off. He doesn't HAVE to swing his hoe next to his men... but he does... that's just how things are done here in this region.

The Traveler is moved by the sight. He has finally found a culture here in Morocco that he can point to and confidently say: this is a good way to live... this is a good way to run a society....

Not to say that everything is perfect. There is a price to pay to preserve a culture like this. The Traveler remembers a conversation last night. They were talking about education, and one of the brothers mentioned to Brahim that he should've continued his studies.

Brahim looked at his brother and responded tersely, “you know that, even if I had continued my studies, our father never would allowed me to leave and pursue a career. I had to stay and take care of them and the farm.”

Brahim does have a few localized “side projects”--like a little barbershop... but clearly his individual freedoms have been sacrificed in order to preserve culture and tradition.

Would I feel this is a “noble way of doing things” if I were in his shoes? The Traveler wonders.

The Traveler did a little farming growing up and tries to show off his skills as well. But he's used to digging with a shovel and doesn’t do to well with an angled hoe, but it’ still good for a photo op.

There’s something almost utopian about this region. Fertile land, plenty of water, no crime, people who share with each other and no one exploits the others, work together as equals even if some are wealthier than others… People care for their land wisely and pass on their good values to their children…

The Traveler's not saying it’s perfect, but it’s the closest to “perfect” he's seen in a long time.

But things were not always this way.

The Castle

Fouad takes the Traveler to the castle at the top of the hill. It’s a “true” castle, not just a walled village, an imposing structure built for the regional q’aid back when this region was a feudal society, ruled by a brutal lord who could work people as slaves and take anything that he wanted. Fouad tells me grim tales passed on from his grandparents of how people were robbed of their lands, and possession by the q’aid and forced to build this castle without pay.

It seems so contradictory to think that a land where there’s so much unselfishness and equality could have once been run by such a cruel, hierarchical system. The Traveler is both confused and inspired at how a society could evolve so quickly in a positive direction... when it seems most cultures of the world seem trapped in the vicious cycle of the sins of their ancestors.

Inside there’s a large courtyard surrounded by pillars and arches that looks more like an old Roman palace. The Traveler can only imagine what this must have looked like back in the day.

But not everything is authentic. Fouad points out one gateway which doesn’t seem to quite blend with the rest. “That was fixed that way for a movie set”. Apparently this region is also popular as a location for movie… and sometime the directors “tamper” with the sets a little bit…

The walk over to the ridge where you get a great view of the surreal view: look straight down, and you feel like your in the middle of a lush tropical jungle...tilt your head up a little... and you see the jungle abruptly end and bone dry rugged cliffs begin.

The Traveler continues with Fouad to Temnugalt, right down the hill. It has another fascinating old city to explore, but here again they find an old courtyard with suspicious looking pillars. Fouad chips off a chunk of plaster, yep, their fake movie props. But there’s still plenty of authenticity as well, like the ruins of an ancient mosque with a pool of water and a very cramped praying area.

Then you reach a hole in the wall, a sudden drop, and the vast oasis down below.

Finally Fouad decides to head on back, and the Traveler continues on alone. He will never forget the time he spent with this wonderful family.

Villages of the Draa Valley

It’s not long at all before the Traveler reaches Ait Ali. Here the houses up on the dry hillside and the shady farmland below. Here the fertile land is sacred and houses are not built there.

This time the Traveler climbs up a path up around the top side of the village to take soak in the view. It seems that “Pagoda Mountain” of Agdz is actually the beginning of a long plateau, with miles and miles of beautiful rugged cliffs.

On my way back through the village he passes the communal oven where ladies bring in their dough and lay it out on hot gravel to be baked. One of them smiles at the Traveler and calls out casually “do you want some bread?” he thinks fast. Nobody sells bread at the village stores, because everyone bakes their own—so if he wants bread, here’s his chance. So he goes back and insists on paying for a large, delicious flatbread.

“Just be careful to get all the stones out of it!” She calls out.

Cool! Now the Traveler has figured out a new way to get something to eat while hiking across the countryside—just buy bread from the communal oven…

Talmzit has another cool little castle and walled section. Here the Traveler sees a peculiar structure: A modern, block and concrete house built on stilts, perched above the village wall! It seems there must’ve been some sort dispute and he wasn’t allowed to tear down the wall, so he figured out another way.

Here the Traveler looks for a village store to find something to go with his bread. All he can find are cans of sardines, so sardines it is. Along the way through the village he gets three invitations to join them for lunch. It’s a thoughtful gesture, but he decide to turn them all down. He's come to realize that invitations to a meal in these parts isn’t supposed to be just a ticket for a free lunch, but the beginnings of a friendship. And it would be very impolite for me to just eat and run. Right now he wants to cover some new ground and explore new places. He's quite satisfied with the new friendships he established in Tafergalt.

This is beautiful countryside and a splendid stretch to hike, but the Traveler will have to admit, that these villages are starting to blur together in his mind. I actually have to look back through my pictures to remember what was distinctive about Abussas!

It’s early afternoon, so things are pretty quiet now, except for a couple guys building a house who want him to come play some music for them.

Once again je wanders up to the topside of the village where there are some more ruins to wander through, a long shady alleyway, and then back down to the main road once again.

The nice thing about hiking along an palm oasis, is that there’s no shortage of places where you can duck into the shade, relax a bit and play some music. This takes away the stress of wondering, “where in the world am I going to play my music without looking like an idiot?”

Taourirt is a peaceful little village right before the road veers away from the palm forest and up between two hills. He figure he’ll follow the road instead of the oasis, just because it’ll be faster…

As he approach Talat, he opts to hike up the arid mountainside a little ways for a change of landscape and atmosphere. Here he find a lonely tree in a little valley where all signs of civilization are hidden and he can imagine that he's all alone way out in the middle of the desert somewhere…

Then he heads on down to the next village, where school is just letting out and he's joined by a group of rowdy kids heading home from school.

Right around the bend is yet another village called Ait l’Qaid Mir. Here he climbs to the top of a hill where he takes another fantastic classic shot with ruins of an old city, palm tree forest and desert mountains—one of his favorites.

Here the Traveler is joined by a couple young fellows—which is nice, after playing music all by himself all day. They fill him in a little bit on the geography of the area. Here he can see that he's at the end of this row of villages, then there’s a long stretch with no villages.

Tufila is right next to Ait l’Qaid and the “end of the road” for any rural taxis. When the Traveler reaches the far edge of town, a young fellow comes and practically demands that he come into his house for tea. So the Traveler follows him inside to a typical family compound with windowless rooms surrounding a courtyard. But unlike Brahim’s home in Tafergalt, there’s no sense of prosperity here. The room is dirty, with unpainted earth walls and nothing but a few pillows and a vintage little black and white TV at one end.

Doesn’t feel quite like utopia here. It's an important experience to see a different facet of life in the Draa Valley.

Day 3: The Quiet Side of the River

20.8 kms, November 28, 2011

From Tufila, the paved road becomes a dirt path, as the Traveler passes a peaceful, area with no villages. No problem, it feels good to be out in the peaceful, safe desert. He did check Google Maps earlier, so he knows there are more villages on this side of the river.

Sure enough, he winds around a barren hill and sees Ait Hamou ou Said, a stunner of a village. A small but well maintained old mud village, with high walls and a beautiful, recently restored castle overlooking the river. He also notices something distinct about this town. The doors are look ornately decorated with shiny grid shaped designed… but on closer look, he realizes that they’re covered with flattened sardine cans! He gets a chuckle out of this clever way of recycling—and beautifying their homes at the same time.

The next village is just a short distance away and, after doing a loop around the Traveler doesn’t feel like retracing his steps, so he heads off into in the wrong direction, into the oasis farm plots, figuring he’ll figure a path out of it eventually. But no, after a while of zigzagging around, he finally paint himself into a corner, with a cliff on one side and the river on the other. Determined not to backtrack, he clambers up on a narrow canal right on the side of the cliff, and does a balancing act until he finally finds a way up the steep hill... and reaches Tergelman.

Maybe I’ll stick to the road for a while, he tells himself.

This is definitely the “quiet” side of the river. On the other side is the Ourzazate-Zagora highway with a lot more traffic—but also shops and maybe even hotels. But the Traveler is enjoying the tranquillity of this side, imagining how different life is here than it is on the other side of an impassable river, just a few hundred meters away. Here, going to secondary school or going shopping would be quite a challenging undertaking…. But on the flip side, here, you can just let your kids run free without worrying about them getting hit by a car…

Ait Mellikt is actually a series of villages, but packed together, with no space to strum in between, so the Traveler decides to count them as one town.

After Ait Mellikt, there’s a road which leads to a bridge across the river—the last chance to cross the river in who know how long. It would be much more sensible to cross to the other side, where there is public transportation and other amenities… But the Traveler's really enjoying this peaceful hike through idyllic villages with no vehicles, so he keeps going.

Almost immediately he finds himself walking down the long, narrow alleys of yet another village Ait Abdullah.

Nighttime in the Middle of Nowhere

The next town is just a tiny hamlet that takes just a few minutes to walk through. The Traveler sees a man sitting in front of a house and asks in Arabic, “excuse me, what’s the name of this village?”

“Why do you want to know?!” He responds gruffly. The Traveler is a bit taken aback. He's never met someone openly hostile in this region.

“I’m just passing through and want to know what the name is?”

“What are you doing here?!” He asks again, clearly not planning to be of any assistance.

As the Traveler walks away it sinks in what that was really about. See: that man was blind, and since he couldn’t see that the Traveler is a foreigner, he must of assumed that the inquirer was Arab, since the Traveler spoke to him in Arabic. It seems maybe the friendly hospitality of this region isn’t always universal. Further downstream, though, he will have some more interesting insights into the relationship between the two peoples.

And then… the dirt road veers to the right, past a lonely house and… disappears! All of a sudden, as darkness approaches, the Traveler's walking on a footpath that clearly isn’t going anywhere. What should I do? He thinks through his options: He could turn back—which is something he hates doing… He could find a house (there don’t seem to be any around) and ask for shelter. Or he could sleep in one of the well pump sheds, which although not very clean, at least would shelter him from the cold.

Or he could keep going. And that’s what he does. In the semi-darkness he scrambles through brush and walls of carrizo cane---now there is no path except the one he's making, across a dry streambed, obviously getting farther and farther from any civilization.

And then, he reaches it: a steep rugged hill—not something you’d want to try to climb in the dark. Except he can make out a path going up to the ridge, and decides to give it a try, aided only by moonlight and occasionally the backlight of his cellphone. He wonders if this is going to be a decision that he’ll really regret—staying the night stuck on that rocky windswept ridge will not be a pleasant experience!

He reaches the top… and lo and behold: just a kilometer or so ahead he can clearly make out a car—crossing the river! He gingerly makes his way down the hill, where he finds a real path… and sure enough it is a bridge! And not only that, as soon as he crosses it, he finds a very reasonably priced supper and hotel joint that caters to passing tourists—for a reasonable price--and his adventure reaches a very happy finish.

But in retrospect, he was really pushing his luck on that one. He promises himself not to be quite as reckless next time.

He spends a relaxing evening chatting with the locals—as well as a French couple that his spending the night there... and calls it a day.

Day 4: Back to Civilization

19.7 kms, November 29, 2011

The rhythm of life is completely different on this side of the river. Here peoples’ activities are built around the schedule and infrastructure of modern civilization: an endless parade of young people on foot and bicycle heading to school… men waiting by the side of the road with a couple crates of freshly picked dates waiting for the collective taxi to take them to the weekly market. Even though the landscape and the look of the villages is the same, the lifestyle is quite different.

Tensikht is actually a couple villages on the slopes above the oasis with still mostly traditional earthen homes. There’s the tomb of a saint at the edge where people come to make special requests…

The Traveler follows the road as it winds up the hillside giving him a great panoramic view of the region. On the other side of the river is a wide flood plain with sparse vegetation, giving it a different feel from the normal view of dense palm groves. Around another bend he reaches the village of Ouzagood, perched atop a steep hill with long, narrow alleys leading to the impressive ruins of a mud castle and tower.

Immediately beyond Ouzagood is a series of hamlets crunched together, so he's going to count them as one town. Here the weekly market is in full swing which is fun to explore. Since village stores don’t usually have much to offer, most folks come to the weekly market to stock up on everything from flour to tools—you can even buy windows and doors here. This is the date harvest season and a section of the market is just for local producers to come and sell their dates.

The Traveler remembers a conversation a while back with a Moroccan farmer “it’s a real pity that Morocco with its millions and millions of palm trees still imports dates from other countries like Tunisia.” Now the Traveler wants to find out what people in this region have to say about that.

He's told “it’s all in the seed—there are actually expensive, high quality dates produced right here in the Draa Valley. Others prefer to just grow cheap, low quality dates. But there’s also a problem of perception: many Moroccans have this mental block believing that foreign dates are better than Moroccan dates.”

Here in Ait Ighn the Traveler is able to get a decent meal in a crowded little café before continuing on down the road.

With these towns being so close together—and of course having to stop and play a five song “concert” in each one—the Traveler doesn't think he's going to get a very high kilometre count per day on this trip, which is quite all right. He's getting over a bad cold and he's in no mood to try to break any distance records. His next town Taghersift is another gem: a castle perched on a hill with a stunning 270° view: two earthen villages, nicely cut hills with three layers of cliffs, and a vast sea of palm trees where, if you just block out the surrounding hills, again, you feel like you’re in the jungle tropics! The castle itself is pretty cool too, with tall towers, decorated gateways and round pillars inside made of earth bricks—the first he's seen like that.

Yep, this is a region that never ceases to impress…

Down along the edge of the “sea of green” and up again, he quickly finds himself in yet another mud castle/village. He heads inside to explore and photograph the alleys of Toghza. Some beautiful abandoned multi-storey houses that beckon to be explored here as well.

The Last Berber Village

While exploring my next village Irhfi, he meets a friendly fellow who gives him some very interesting information about this town: “This is the last Berber village. The next village down the road is an Arab one.”

This comes as a surprise—the Traveler had the idea that the Draa Valley was all Berber. “So how do Berbers and Arabs get along?” he asks.

“Oh we get along fine—even intermarry. We shop at the same weekly markets and there’s no tension between us. At one time there was, but not any more.” He points up the road. “Ten kilometres this way and ten kilometres that way… everybody knows everybody because we all go to the same market every week. That’s why there’s no crime here—do something wrong and it’s all but guaranteed somebody you know will see you.”

“What about people from outside the region… don’t they commit crimes?”

“Oh, if an out of towner passes through, we keep a close eye on him the entire time—until he leaves.”

This region does seem to have an almost utopian quality to it: no crime… everybody gets along… everybody trusts everybody. But clearly this has been a region fraught with wars and struggle—you can read about it in the history books and see it in the architecture. So what is the secret? How is it that this region has become so peaceful and people from this region are known all across the country as being very honest and hardworking?

The Traveler thinks that there are different factors that contribute—some cultural, some economic… Nowadays, thanks to the dam upstream, this region doesn’t suffer from periodic drought as much as it once did. And when the population grows beyond what the land can sustain, it’s easy for some of the sons to just go to the big cities to look for work (of course, always leaving at least one son to tend to the family land). And having a strong national government I suppose also serves as a deterrent for inter-tribal strife. But he believes there’s also something special about the culture here—the connectedness of the community and the values that are instilled into the children that help insure that they live by a strong moral and ethical code.

The Traveler crosses a wide dry riverbed which separates the Berber and Arab villages. He wonders if things will feel any different on the other side. When he sits down in they shade to strum a couple of songs, he's joined by a couple fellows—something that hasn’t happened a whole lot during this trip. Most of his concerts have been done in solitude. He does notice the guys are a bit fairer skinned than upriver, although clearly darker skinned and lighter skinned folks intermarry freely all throughout this region.

On towards town, another fellow selling dates beside the road comes over for a chat. He’s actually a university student in Agadir. “I come during the date harvest time to help out the family” he tells the Traveler, clearly well adapted both to the modern and traditional world.

Oulad Othman itself is a bit of a tourist attraction—the first he's seen in a while--due to its beautiful castle. The day is still young, but he decides to go ahead and settle down for the night here as he doesn’t want a repeat of yesterday’s adventure. He drops off his bag at a little 1 room “hotel” and then quickly heads off to get a couple good shots of the castle before dusk.

It’s a beautiful shot—one his best here in the Draa Valley, with a towering multi-storey castle surrounded by an earthen village… right behind it the sea of palm trees… behind that a multi-colored plateau-mountain… A perfect capsule of the beauty of this region.

He heads inside the town looking for a way into the castle itself. A young boy follows him as he enters the darkened gate and does his best to explore it’s halls and chambers in the darkness. The guy doesn’t ask for money—but the Traveler figures he should give him something anyways…

There’s another village just a few hundred meters away, so he figures he’ll go ahead and cram in one last town before he calls it a day. He takes a quick walk up through Tinezga to the barren gently sloping plains between the hills and the oasis. Here he enjoys a peaceful little concert as dusk sets in and boys play football nearby. He must admit it is nice to watch the sun set when you know for certain that you’ve got a bed to sleep in tonight!

Back at the hotel-café, he enjoys a pleasing evening chatting, playing music a sipping tea with the locals—as well as a couple of tourists from Belguim passing through.

Day 5: Breakfast with the Village Chief

22.6 kms, November 30, 2011

Yesterday was kind of a short day, so today the Traveler tries to get an early start, and within 30 minutes he's reached the next village, Oulad Ngdem. The town hasn’t woken up yet, so he enjoys a pleasant stroll up and down its alleys and finds a spot overlooking the villages he visited yesterday, just as the sun rises over them.

It looks like it’s going to be one town after another for a while. In Oulad Mussa, a few hundred meters away, he sees something strange… a man going from house to house begging. This is quite rare in these parts, unlike the cities in Morocco where there’s a beggar practically on every corner.

The Traveler opts for a change of scenery and dives into the oasis for a while following the labyrinth of paths people use to reach their plots of land.

The next series of towns are packed so closely together he's just going to count them as one town. he stops to ask a well dressed fellow coming out of his house the name of the town, and, even though the man is in a hurry, he insists on showing the Traveler hospitality, telling his wife to bring tea and breakfast pastries.

“I’m the village sheikh” he tells the Traveler with a broad smile “you are welcome in our village”. A very nice way to start out the day.

And after wandering around this town for a bit—which has more long, straight alleys, rather than twisted mazelike alleys of smaller villages, the Traveler exits to the main highway again. Passing by the high school, a crowd of schoolkids ask that he play from music for them. Kids are usually quite nice and civilized in these parts so he doesn’t worry things’ll get out of control. Soon he's got a nice little concert going with a crowd of 30-40 boys and a couple girls too—and yes they're very well behaved… this means he can take a video clip, and pass the guitar around as well. A very enjoyable encounter with the schoolkids of Oulad Melouk.

Continuing on to the next town, some of the boys offer to accompany the Traveler. Since he's been guilty of contributing to truancy a couple times before he reminds them that their supposed to be in class. “Oh, we just got off school” they reassure him.

The hike to Agoubt isn’t to far—but would still be a miserable walk to make during the hot months. He asks why they don’t have bicycles “we used to… but they broke down”…

They ask what his job is and he tells them he's an English teacher. “Can’t you come teach us English here?” they ask “our high school English teacher left and now we don’t have one” They continue complaining about how often the teachers in these parts aren’t that serious. Getting a good education in these parts is difficult… but not nearly as difficult as, say, the other side of the river…

They sit in the shade of a palm grove to play some more music and they pick some dates and share with the Traveler (he learns later that “stealing” cheap dates for a quick snack is permitted in these parts—but not the expensive dates). A enjoyable experience—and it will also go down in the Traveler's record book as one of those rare special occurrences when a fellow hiker or hikers join him for a walk from one town to another...

He continues on and quickly find that when there isn’t a village every kilometer or so, the hike gets a bit hot and tiring. He tries following a dry river bed, for a change but ends up trapped, surrounded by cane walls on both sides… Next village Oulad Binsa'a isn’t all that special, other than a nice little earthen saint tomb.

Before reaching his next town, he goes ahead a sits for a strum in a little orchard. It’s been a hot, shadeless walk and he needs a break. Soon he's joined by a local musician, a percussionist who plays at weddings and festivals. He begs the Traveler to come back this evening to join him and his friends for a jam session…

Ksba’ has a bit of a different feel, on top of a low plateau surrounded by a barren plain on 2 sides and farmland on the other. The alleys are in a gridlike pattern with long, boring windowless walls. At the far end there’s a nice view of the neighbourhood ladies all gather around the well doing their clothes washing.

Just a stone’s throw away is Zaouia Tamada, which is partly ruins, partly still inhabited and doesn’t take the Traveler long to explore. As he is about to leave, a couple old fellows by the side of the road advise him “you really should visit the old castle”, pointing to a dirt road going deep into the oasis. He's not really in the mood for doing a long side trip, but go ahead and follow their advice.

And yes, even though I’ve explored lots of ruined castles these last few days, this one is really worth seeing. Surrounded by nothing but trees on all side, and seemingly completely forgotten is this castle—no, walled city which, once he finds a hole to climb in through is just really fun to wander around. There are towers, family forts, areas that look melted away and others that look recently abandoned. And unlike other mud town ruins, there’s no new village built next to it. It looks like folks from this village moved a long ways away, giving it a ghostly feel. It seems they didn’t want to ruin any of the precious fertile farmland around by building houses nearby. Here people really value their farm plots and houses are almost always built on barren rocky hillsides, not within the oasis.

End of the Draa Hike

From Zaouia Tamada, the Traveler finds a dirt road straight through the oasis, only used by an occasional farmer going to or from his plot… a very serene and restful stroll. When he finally does make it back to civilization he finds myself in a sizeable town—the biggest he's seen since Agdz, which looks like a real hub for the region. It’s nice to see noisy cafes, young guys playing football in a barren field… an assortment of shops… all within a few hundred meters of the serenity of the oasis.

As dusk is setting in, the Traveler climbs up a hill which gives him a great view of the region. Here in Tinzouline the valley surrounded by rugged hills ends and the oasis gets super-wide, with other villages on the other side several kilometres away. To the southeast, is a vast open plain with a vast swath of green is line with swaths of barren tan.

Down below to my right is a large wall walled in cemetery—a Jewish cemetery he's told… a relic of another time in history, when a large number of Jews lived peacefully among the people here—even creating their own dialect unique to the Jews of this region.

It’s a beautiful moment, looking to the west and letting all the experiences of the last 5 days start to soak in.