Into the Rif - Part One.

The day The View from Fez received the invitation to make a journey into the mountains near Taza, the sun was shining and the temperature just perfect. It sounded wonderful. However, the next morning when we left from the taxi station at Bab Ftouh, the rain began to sprinkle down. An hour later, as we wove up a mountain pass it began to bucket down. Finally about 90 kilometres from Fez we turned off the main road and went north until we arrived at a tiny village near Beni-Frassen.

It was market day and because of the rain storm the café was packed with farmers and townsfolk who had settled down to watch The Flight of the Phoenix on a huge plasma TV. The irony of watching such a film while being rained on was lost on nobody. Eventually the rain eased enough for us to exit through the back of the café. Here a surprise awaited us. A donkey bus station is probably the best way of describing it - donkeys and mules for hire.

Although the rain was settling in and the temperature dropping, we set out - unfortunately with no idea of just how far we had to walk. A stroll through an olive grove and to a house that had been described as "large", sounded okay. Our companions, Driss, Msefer and Thami were in good spirits... at least for a while.

Once we emerged from the olive grove it became clear that the local mud was something special. It had the unhelpful ability to ball in larger and larger amounts beneath your shoes until you were wobbling on "platform-heels" that weighted several kilos each. Thami's instant response, despite the now biting cold, was to remove his shoes.

A young boy passing on a donkey stopped and watched Thami in amazement. He then continued on his way, but kept glancing back as if to confirm the crazy thing he had seen was actually real.


Thami lasted quite a long time on foot - which is not to say we had made huge progress. Going was slow and the climb getting steeper by the moment. From time to time we would round a corner and a house would come into view, accompanied by the thought that "at last, this must be it" - it was not. Not then and not for several hours.

Even though we were still within sight of our departure point, Thami's feet needed a bit of a rest.


Once Thami transferred to a mule and looked considerably happier

About an hour into the climb, the rain set in very heavily and so we stopped in a tiny adobe shed that contained a traditional stone olive press. It was cold and damp, but at least it was out of the wind. Driss continued on up the mountain on the mule, but left us with the donkey who seemed happy enough to have rest and clear some grass from around the hut.

The stone grinding wheel was massive and there were also some beautifully woven baskets for transporting olives. It would be an interesting place to return to during the olive harvest.

Thami, however, was only interested in getting warm. But after a few minutes he kindly did some repair work on my walking boots that were not only wet through but absolutely caked with mud.


Eventually the rain eased and in a promising sign of better weather, the clouds began to lift.

It was at this point that Thami announced with great amusement that we were almost "half way to the house"

The journey continues in - Part Two.

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Into the Rif - Part Two.

As we continued our trek up the mountain there were occasional breaks in the rain and as the clouds lifted the view became more and more spectacular. Unfortunately there was still another hour or so of walking but now the path was just below the ridge and mostly out of the chilling wind.

From time to time we came across isolated sheep pens built from adobe and the sheep appeared very pleased to see us - probably expecting to be fed. By this stage however they were in more danger of being on our menu.

Other sheep took one look at us and fled with the young girl herding them chasing in pursuit. We also had a negative effect on a cow who thought we had kefta on our minds.


Finally, we turned a corner and there in front of us was a small adobe house with the biggest view imaginable. From this point it was fortunately slightly downhill and so the final muddy trudge was pure pleasure


As we arrived the woman of the family greeted us warmly and invited us inside. Her children were very shy of us at first, but soon warmed to us as our arrival caused the appearance of bread and mint tea.

Muddy boots and mint tea

And, as it does with Moroccan generosity, the tea and bread soon turned into, eggs, butter, olive oil, bowls of yogurt, olives, more mint tea, glasses of milk and fresh orange juice... oh and then there was cake.

Fortunately Thami was there to assist.

The man of the house and his son both joined us and we suspect it was to make sure we did not leave the table until it was bare - because as he said, " we need it clear for supper later".

Fortunately it was time to have a TV break - power courtesy of a tiny solar panel on the roof that costs the family 100 dirhams per month over many years. When you do the sums, that is an expensive price to pay for watching a black and white screen the size of a small paperback.

Iyeh, sidi! We have TV!

After a lot of food, more food and then talk and mint tea we finally wrapped ourselves in blankets on the floor and slept. It was freezing cold outside, but thankfully the morning brought sunshine and a sky that quickly cleared of almost all but the odd cloud or two.

By the time we arose, the donkeys had already been down the valley to collect drinking water. It used to be for sale quite close to the house but an earthquake last year broke the pipes and the water supply was contaminated. Our hosts insisted that the local mineral water spring was better water anyway - and certainly cheaper.

Most of their produce is for their own consumption though sometimes they sell barley or butter.

This small adobe hut appeared to be the home for dozens of chickens, some of whom joined us for breakfast on the "patio" At least until our host's son spotted them.

Our host arrived with the sheep and soon people were emerging from rooms or from out of the trees. Breakfast became a rather large affair.

We stayed until lunch time and then after another massive meal of milk couscous, bean and lamb tagine and fresh baked bread we saddled up the donkey and began the five and half kilometre trek down off the mountain. Now that the clouds had lifted the views were superb.

Behind us the men had returned to the animals and the fields, while our host's wife, who had cooked and served so much food, stood watching us, waving, until we were out of sight.

It will be a long time until we experience such warmth and hospitality - better than anything a five star hotel can provide.

The last image was a surprise glimpse from the top of the donkey. It shouldn't have been a surprise because of course in this part of the world all scarecrows should wear a traditional djellaba.

The View from Fez would like to express gratitude to Thami for straining his muscles and endurance to the extreme to take us on a visit to his family. Shukran Thami, shukran bizef.

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Or go back to PART ONE
all photographs: sandy mccutcheon