{"id":26636,"date":"2018-04-18T08:00:00","date_gmt":"2018-04-17T22:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.intrepidtravel.com\/adventures?p=26636&preview=true&preview_id=26636"},"modified":"2025-03-18T01:41:09","modified_gmt":"2025-03-17T14:41:09","slug":"morocco-walking-with-berber-nomads","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.intrepidtravel.com\/adventures\/morocco-walking-with-berber-nomads\/","title":{"rendered":"Returning to Morocco after 42 years to walk with Berber nomads"},"content":{"rendered":"

In 1975 I was twenty-five years old and had never traveled beyond the borders of North America. One day, I got it into my head that I wanted to tour Morocco<\/a>.<\/strong><\/p>\n

A few months later my new husband and I were singing \u201cMarrakech Express\u201d at the top of our lungs in a shiny blue Renault. We were traversing the mountains and deserts of Morocco on a journey that would take us through Casablanca, Rabat, Meknes, and Fes, along the undulating ribbon of freshly paved highway that connected them all to the oasis of Marrakech.<\/p>\n

Fast forward to 2017. Intrepid Travel\u2019s Walking With Berber Nomads trip<\/a> appeared in my Facebook feed. Whoosh! <\/em>Suddenly I could hear the muezzin\u2019s call to prayer, smell the spices in the medina, and feel the breeze lifting my hair off the back of my neck on the Barbary Coast. I signed up the very next day.<\/p>\n

I had thought of Morocco over the years, and I wanted to see if Morocco in the digital age had managed to remain the kind, eager-to-please country I remembered so vividly.<\/p>\n

RELATED: THE ART OF DISCONNECTING: LEARNINGS FROM A MOROCCAN MOUNTAIN EXPEDITION<\/strong><\/a><\/p>\n

You are welcome in our city<\/strong><\/h3>\n
\"Fes

You are welcome in our city<\/p><\/div>\n

This sign on the outskirts of Fes remains my most enduring memory of 1975 Morocco.<\/p>\n

See the young man on the motor scooter in the distance? He offered \u2013 undoubtedly in the employ of the hotel \u2013 to lead us to a reasonably priced guesthouse, petite dejuener<\/em> included. We followed, and it was lovely. Tiled floors and a balcony overlooking the city, upstairs from a French bakery. Merci beaucoup.<\/em> At the time, Arabic and French were the prevalent languages.<\/p>\n

In those days before Trip Advisor, we traveled unencumbered by reviews. It may have been naive, but times were different. We never met another traveler on that trip and, once we were outside the cities, didn\u2019t see another car. No wonder Jimi Hendrix was hiding out there. We did<\/em> chat with some Peace Corps volunteers in Rabat whom we recognized as Americans by the Clarks Wallabies on their feet.<\/p>\n

SUBSCRIBE TO INTREPID\u2019S NEWSLETTER FOR TRAVEL TIPS, COMPETITIONS, GIVEAWAYS & MORE<\/strong><\/a><\/p>\n

Returning to Morocco after 42 years<\/h3>\n

In contrast to the few lodgings in 1975, today there are over a thousand hotels of all sizes \u2013 mostly in the cities \u2013 in a country the size of California. Frankly, other than these small differences, the countryside we experienced during our Walking With Berber Nomads trip remains very much the same beautiful, undeveloped landscape that I recall.<\/p>\n

The ‘guinea pig’ group<\/h3>\n
\"Linda

Linda and Abdellah<\/p><\/div>\n

The twelve of us arrived in Marrakech from the US, Canada, UK, Germany and Australia to join Abdellah, our nomad guide. Most of the group were millennials, along with three 40ish, one 50ish, and me, the baby boomer senior citizen at 67.<\/p>\n

Abdellah briefed us on the trip before dinner. We were the first participants \u2013 the guinea pigs, as it were \u2013 so flexibility was going to be our motto. The next morning, we set out on the same switchback roads I recalled. During the seven-hour drive from Marrakech, we chatted, laughed, enjoyed the scenery, and bonded over our shared love of traveling, hiking, and worldwide cultural experiences.<\/p>\n

WALK WITH THE BERBER NOMADS ON OUR 8-DAY EXPEDITION<\/strong><\/a><\/p>\n

Soon we crossed the mineral-rich mountains of the Low Atlas and rolled off-road to the desolate location where we would join our Berber nomad family.\u00a0 It was Moroccan springtime, and the nomads were ready to move their winter camp from the lowland desert to higher elevations for summer. We would be hiking alongside them; four to five hours of walking each day over nine to 15 kilometres (six to 10 miles).<\/p>\n

\"Morocco

Day two trekking<\/p><\/div>\n

In the lead-up to the trip, I had laid out my duffel contents on a coffee table back at home, adding and subtracting the vital and frivolous contents. Most valuable items: broken-in hiking boots with wool socks, wet wipes, hand sanitizer, trekking poles, solar charger, journal. We were each allowed a duffel bag (40 pounds\/18 kilograms max) and had purchased drinking water along the way. There would be no water available for bathing or showers.<\/p>\n

Meeting our Berber family<\/h3>\n
\"Linda

Linda with the family<\/p><\/div>\n

Our Berber family was waiting for us across the plain, at a location with smoke-darkened caves that had been hand-carved into the banks by nomads hundreds of years ago.<\/p>\n

A cook, as well as a contracted team of three men to transport our tents and gear on mules, rounded out our group.<\/p>\n

The animals consisted of three adult camels (one of them very <\/em>pregnant, and no \u2013 darn it<\/em> \u2013 she didn\u2019t give birth that week), three mules, four donkeys, 53 goats, eight baby goats, 120 sheep, and two chickens. The baby goats tolerated being tucked into blanket pockets on the back of a donkey every morning, with the two chickens decorating the top of the blanket pile like the bride and groom on a wedding cake.<\/p>\n

\"Baby

Loading the baby goats onto the donkey<\/p><\/div>\n

After dinner in the cave, we retired to our tents and fell asleep listening to the murmur of animals around us.<\/p>\n

At dawn, we were awakened by a symphony of cellphones, with a chorus of goats and sheep. \u00a0\u00a0I hustled into my clothes, laced up my boots and sprang from my tent to greet the day. Watching the low rays of the sun swim over each hill until we were all bathed in its rosy warmth never got old.<\/p>\n

Not-so-typical days<\/h3>\n
\"Tents

Camping<\/p><\/div>\n

Each day had a similar routine, except for the days when they didn\u2019t. Yes, pleasant surprises were frequent, but the common denominator was the same relaxed pattern.<\/p>\n