Moussa ou Salah from Beni Smint
We had a second breakfast on reaching the tizi between Moussa and the western Iblane crest (Tizi n’ Tzirouch), left our rucksacks and drifted up to Moussa ou Salah, at 3172m the highest summit of the region. There’s an odd crater, and snow still lingered. We hurried down to our sacks as people had suddenly appeared. Shaly slopes led up to a first 3103m bump – according to Peyron – which would make it the highest top of this north-east end of long, undulating Jbel bou Iblane. We went on to 3081m to make sure, but by this time we were surrounded by black clouds trailing rain and grumbling thunder. Lightning is a great booster of pace. We skeltered off fast, fine scree runs and snow runnels helping.
We hit the piste on this flank by the Tizi Ouaouesra (Wawesra) and headed for our rendezvous with the mule at the cedar forest Taffert ‘refuge’. They, off the Tizi Bouzabel at the south-west end of Iblane, arrived just as we did. Our end was in our beginning. The guardian needed authorisation to accommodate us and the caïd’s office was an hour’s motoring away. He relented in the end. The place was as spooky as the hotel in ‘The Shining’. But dry. Next day a camionette took us down to Birtam Tam and a taxi into Fes. QED. A typical ‘raid’.
This has forever remained one of my happiest memories of Atlas trekking. Just going, with minimal pre-knowledge, the fun of discovery, decisions to make, and taking the consequences. By the time we came this way again on GTAM95 there was a caïd’s office under Bou Iblane and roads were being upgraded for surfacing. Today you could just drive up from the north, even Fes, and do Moussa ou Salah as a day-walk, and something similar from the south-east for Bou Naceur. But take Ali, find a mule, and make something of it. You’re not likely to meet any other trekkers.
ROUTE THREE
Jbel Ayyachi (Ayachi) 3747m and Jbel Masker 3265m
| Commitment | Seriously big mountains. Masker can be done as a good 1325m day-ascent from Tounfite, but access to Ayyachi is more difficult and would take 2–3 days if traversing as described, or a very long day by its easiest option – straight up from the N. |
| Maps | 100: Tounfite, Rich, Midelt. Route sketches in MP2 and BD. |
| Texts | MP2 describes several routes (sketches) on both mountains, as does BD, who also has some illustrations. |
| Travel to start | Midelt, Zeïda and Boumia are staging posts to Tounfite. Midelt is an option for Ayyachi (as described), but the easiest ascent is from the Cirque de Jaffer road. With the start at 2150m, and the highest point 3747m, a long day would be needed for up and down. |
| Local assistance | Not really needed for Masker or Ayyachi from the N, but for Ayyachi’s traverse contacting a guide and mule in Midelt would be helpful. |
These extensive giants dip beyond horizons, east and west, and offer good sport at the eastern extremity of the Atlas Mountains.
Looking across the wide Melwiya (Moulouya) plain, the long crests of Ayyachi–Masker visibly curve to dip beyond horizons. The scale is vast. In earlier centuries travellers heading along the Trek es Sultan, the road from Fes to the Tafilet and the Sahara, were so impressed with the snowy majesty of Ayyachi that they assumed it was the highest summit in the country.
Nearing the summit of Saïd ou Ali, Jbel Ayyachi
Ayyachi was first ascended by an outsider, the renowned French explorer de Segonzac, in 1901. With the penetration from the north-east the French had the mountain as an enviable playground. Peyron tells a tale of the period when Tounfit was captured, in 1932, and a group of important military staff toiled up Ayyachi (much of it on mules) only to find a soldier pedalling round the summit on a bicycle. They were not amused.
We headed for the mountain in May 1992 following our traverse of Bou Naceur and Bou Iblane (Route 2), although we had had a couple of relaxing days in Fes in between. From such descriptions as we had, we started from Midelt and had a camionette the 12km into Tattiouine (Tattiwiyn), intending to hire a mule there. Tourists had queered the pitch by paying more for an hour’s ride than the standard rate for a full day, and we stood for over an hour while Ali argued prices. We were not even invited to tea somewhere, very unusual. And all too soon the shy children of remote areas became brazen scroungers, their greeting a ‘Bonjour, un dirham!’
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