Spring snows on Toubkal

April 2000:
Things got off to bad start when my axes were lost in transit. After several days waiting in vain for them to arrive Iain and I set off hoping to find one we could borrow en route! Finding fuel for the stove had also been a problem - we just couldn't track down any paraffin. A helpful taxi driver taking us on another fruitless trip to the airport to check if the axes had arrived said his brother could get some. He worked at the airport. We pulled up at the depot where his brother worked. We handed over out fuel bottle and watched him stroll over to one of the 1,000,000 gallon aviation fuel silos. A tiny tweak on the drain tap and our bottle was full.

Despite being in North Africa the weather in Marrakesh was decidedly Scottish and when we arrived at the roadhead in the Toubkal region of the Atlas, the similarities continued. Within a few minutes of setting out we were engulfed in a white-out with snowflakes the size of tennis balls. A young Berber man suddenly emerged from nowhere with a bomber jacket a strongly recommended we follow him to his village where we could get shelter. It seemed the best option.



Photo 1: Our berber saviour
Photo 2: Departing for the Neltner hut the next morning

His village was built in amongst giant boulders and he kindly put us up in his tiny room, playing us Berber music on his tape recorder and telling all about his brother who was a guide. His mother cooked us Berber couscous. He had honoured us by putting some 'meat' in it which consisted as far as could tell of ears, intestine and other assorted body parts. Although our host kindly offered the meat to us first, we were able to politely decline on the grounds that we were vegetarians.

A combination of knee deep snow, heavy packs and altitude - made for an exhausting approaching march. The Neltner hut is at the end of a long straight valley and foreshortening makes the hut appear much closer than is the reality. The bright sun coupled with my usual unpreparedness for sun protection resulted in severe sunburn by the time we reached the hut. My very old guide had been written before the new hut had been built and so it was a complete surprise. Our quiet climbing trip was transformed by hoards of Austrians on a package ski touring holiday. Worse the new hut was full and were forced to squash into the already overflowing old hut. This had been robbed of everything useful for the new hut and so had no facilities not even water. Downstairs the toilet was filled with frozen excrement so crampons were required for the icy walk to the new hut for even the most basic calls of nature. The waist deep snow made any travel impossible without skis or snowshoes and we left after a few days when Iain's case of diarreorh was the last straw!



Photo 3: Ian practising in his crampons
Photo 4: Me near the top of a couloir not too far from the hut

A traditonal 'haman' was taken in Marrakesh and proved to be the highlight of the holiday though the exfoliating scrub of my third degree burns proved a tad painful!

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