With A Scout Troop To The High Atlas

by A. M. Marr

Marton senior scout troop has a policy of holding one expedition of an adventurous nature abroad every three years. In 1960 the Troop spent 12 days in Corsica, combining climb­ing with the less energetic but equally exciting sport of skin diving. So in September 1962 they decided that their 1963 expedition should be held abroad and members were asked to submit their ideas of what would provide a holiday with challenge, with adventure and which on return would give a sense of achievement. Soon the ideas rolled in. Austria, Ger­many and Italy were discarded because many of the boys had already been to these countries or would have the opportunity of going there with their schools. The Swiss Alps were con­sidered but had to be ruled out because only two leaders had had previous alpine experience and this was not enough to take a party of twelve up the really worth-while summits. It was decided that not only must the country visited be in­teresting in its own right but it must also provide facilities for carrying out interesting and exciting activities. Eventually came an idea that stuck; at first it was viewed with scepticism, then with optimism and finally with excited anticipation.

The Plan — to climb the highest mountains in the Atlas Range of Morocco.

As the distances involved were comparatively great and the area to be visited relatively unknown, it was decided that organisation and planning should follow the lines of a full scale expedition. Books on Morocco were obtained from the local library and soon it was possible to start planning in detail. The Expedition had been offered the use of a mini-bus which suitably converted internally and adapted mechanically, would solve the transport problem. The time available was 23 days, during which the expedition would drive 5,000 miles through France, Spain and Morocco and spend 8 days at a base camp more than 10,000 feet up, ideally positioned to attempt the surrounding peaks. The decision to visit Morocco was made not only for the climbing which the High Atlas has to offer but also to provide an opportunity of seeing something of a completely different civilisation which in southern

Morocco has altered little since Biblical times. The aims of the expedition were set out as follow: —

(i)  To climb Jebel Toubkal (13, 660 ft.), the highest moun­tain in North Africa, and surrounding peaks.
(ii) To meet and talk to Moroccans and to observe the way of life in a non-Christian country.

Soon after the decision had been taken in September 1962, a meeting was held at which the various duties necessary to the planning of the expedition were delegated to the more senior members of the troop, who were to be given any help they needed by the junior members. Hundred of letters were written to food and equipment suppliers asking for support. Articles were written and photographs taken for the press and for various magazines, three members appeared in a television interview and explained the objects of the expedition. Sea bookings were made, equipment lists compiled and medical supplies obtained. The vehicle was fitted with a roof rack, 5-gallon tanks for water, petrol and paraffin, a sand filter on the carburettor, a four-bladed fan, new tyres, two spare wheels and a large spare parts and tool kit. A large bunk replaced the bench seats in the rear and an extra seat was added to the front compartment over the engine.

Ex-army bush hats were supplied and were found to give very good protection from the hot sun; when not in use they easily folded into a pocket. Equipment included lightweight mountain tents, primus stoves, climbing ropes, slings, pitons and etriers. Guide books, maps, carnet and permits were ob­tained and official permission to visit Morocco was given by the Embassy in London. Immunisation against typhoid and tetanus provided many sore arms and at least two boys were taken home in ambulances after collapsing at school.

We left home on 26th July, 1963; soon after Wetherby we had a blow-out on one of the rear tyres and on inspection a four-inch rip was found. Fortunately we carried two spare wheels but surely this was a bad omen so near home. How­ever, we got to Dover without further mishap and covered the road south through Bordeaux, San Sebastian and Madrid on schedule.

Eating out in Spain proved very interesting, no one in the party spoke Spanish and our phrase books were useless. After scrutinising the menu for half an hour, during which time the waiters made many ridiculous suggestions, we ended up by taking pot luck and it must be put on record that we did achieve one of the most fantastic combinations that has ever graced a table, even in Spain. After a day of swimming, under­water fishing and water ski-ing at Marbella on the Costa del Sol, we sailed from Gibraltar to Tangier and the mysterious Continent of Africa.

The Customs proceedings were somewhat enlivened at Tan­gier when it was found that one of the boys had not had his passport stamped by the Moroccan police at Gibraltar, con­sequently he was an illegal immigrant. After half an hour of much shouting and gesticulation the trouble was sorted out and we were on our way. We drove the 200 miles to the capi­tal, Rabat, and here met Tim Hulbert, who had been with Voluntary Service Overseas for a year in Morocco and who was to join us for two days. Having spent the night on the beach near Rabat, we set off early next morning for Casa­blanca. After bathing in the huge Atlantic rollers we left for Marrakesh and the deep South. The route, on excellent roads built by the French, lay across an arid plain supporting only a few palm trees and the occasional camel. Marrakesh lived entirely up to expectations. It is a savagely beautiful city set amid tall palm trees and surrounded by a high mud wall, at the foothills of the Atlas Mountains. Here we visited the Djnaa el Fnaa, a square in the centre of the city, dominated by the famous Koutoubia mosque. In this square many exotic activi­ties take place, from acrobatics and Berber dancing to story tellers and snake charmers.

While mingling with the crowds, several of us had our pockets picked but as we had been forewarned nothing valuable was taken. The square leads into the native souk, a covered market consisting of a labyrinth of alleyways in which an immense variety of stalls were placed. We learned with Tim’s guidance to bargain for goods and we usually managed to knock the price down to about a third of the original cost, this often not being achieved until we were pur­sued by the stall-keeper half way down the street. We bought many articles of leather and copper, hats, flutes and hashish pipes at very reasonable prices.

After a dinner during which we were plagued by vendors trying to sell us their wares, we decided to visit the souk again; the place certainly had a fascinating appeal. No sooner had we walked a hundred yards than we were taken in tow by a small Arab boy who proudly strutted in front of us, leading us ever deeper into the souk. We were appalled to see such poverty and so many people living in great squalor. On every corner stood beggars asking for alms, while over all hung the nauseating stench of human existence. We were quite relieved when our Arab guide brought us out into the open again.

The next day we set off on the last stage of our journey. On reaching Asni we left the main road and took to the dust trail leading to Imlil, which we reached an hour later, sur­rounded by huge clouds of dust. Soon we were taken to the Head Man of the village, who found us a place in the village centre where we could camp and who provided us with lamps. After we had finished our meal a reed mat was spread out, on which we all squatted. A small brazier was brought and the head man proceeded with the ritual of mint tea. Everyone had three glasses, no more and no less, as is the custom. We soon became used to the flavour and found it most refreshing.

Next morning four mules were loaded with our food, tents and climbing gear. With bush hats protecting our heads from the hot sun, we set out on the 5,000 ft. climb to base camp which we eventually reached after an arduous ascent from the valley. For days our only contact with the outside world were the frequent visits of Berber shepherds to our camp, in search of old tins in which to carry goats’ milk down to the valley. Around us towered jagged rock peaks, seamed with snowfields in their lower reaches, while beside us raged a mountain stream of cold crystal clear water, fed by melting snow.

Our party divided into three groups of four and hiked and climbed amid North Africa’s highest mountains. Each group successfully climbed to the summit of the highest peak, the 13,660 ft. Jebel Toubkal, whence they enjoyed a magnificent panorama southwards across the Sahara Desert. The rock ridges of the Atlas give excellent climbing. The Toubkal arete, the ridge of gendarmes, the traverse of Les Clochetons, the slender rock spires and the ascent of Tadaft (13,156 ft.), the most difficult peak in the Atlas, were all accomplished. To ensure an early start on the Tadaft climb, a bivouac was made under an overhanging boulder high above the snow line; there we spent twelve uncomfortable hours eating, drinking and occasionally sleeping. During the descent of Tadaft, when we were half way down a vertical cliff face, a sudden hailstorm burst upon us, hurling projectiles the size of marbles. The hail was ankle deep in half an hour. Climbing in the Atlas proved a fascinating experience; the mountains are a combination of Skye and the Swiss Alps. We found the rock generally good, with a few notable exceptions. Even in midsummer the heat was quite acceptable at this altitude. There are tremendous views, northwards across range upon range of mountains and southwards across the barren waste of the Sahara Desert.

After 8 days in the mountains we again loaded our equip­ment on to the backs of mules and descended to the small Berber village of Imlil and to partial civilisation. Here we reloaded our mini-bus and then travelled along the 12 miles of dust trail to the main road; thence to Marrakesh, Fez, Tangier and the long road home. We decided to spend our last night in Africa sleeping on the beach five miles from Tangier. Knowing that some of the local gentlemen might be a little light-fingered, we left one person to sleep in the mini-bus and another alongside the trailer. As dawn was breaking a harassed looking European rushed up to the boy sleeping by the trailer and blurted out “The thieves are com­ing”, departing as quickly as he had come, in the opposite direction. Unfortunately, as we soon discovered, the thieves had already been and gone, having been very considerate in not disturbing us. There was a two-foot slit in the thick canvas hood of the trailer, through which brown hands had extracted kit bags containing eight sets of personal gear. Not content with this, they had unlocked the front door of the mini-bus and taken some money out of the locked glove compartment; all this without our guards batting an eyelid. Had we known then some of the stories we have since been told, we would have stayed awake all night armed with harpoon guns and anything else to hand.

In the morning we visited the British Consul in Tangier, who obligingly lent us enough money for the journey home.

We went on to the local Gendarmerie; the police there spoke only Arabic so conversation proved awkward. We only dis­covered this after spending ten minutes describing in unfluent French what we had had stolen; the occasional nod of assent from the policeman must have been a nervous twitch. How­ever, undaunted we reverted to sign language and had a hilarious time describing underclothes and other oddities. We hastily swallowed some breakfast on the way to the boat, which then proceeded to be two hours late in departing. During the crossing to Gibraltar one passenger had such compassion on our plight that he offered to take a collection from the other passengers; naturally we gave this careful thought but as we already had enough money to get us home we reluctantly turned aside the temptation of receiving alms.

We reached Gibraltar after a two hour crossing and we spent the evening in this fascinating town. The older members of the party soon found that real draught beer was available in one of the many little pubs with which Gibraltar abounds, a welcome change from the insipid Continental beer we had been drinking. We dined in the narcotic atmosphere of “Smokey Joe’s Eating House” where we enjoyed double chips double egg, double sausage and tomato, double bacon and beans and wrote suitable comments in his visitors’ book after the feast. We slept on a beach below one of Gibraltar’s highest cliffs and listened to a regular bombardment of stones and boulders pouring down the precipice.

The next day we drove the 560 miles to Madrid, getting there at midnight. We made straight for a three hundred year old restaurant built into the hollow walls of the old city and had huge plates of whole roast sucking pig—delicious. After Marrakesh, where we had experienced 100°F. in the shade, Madrid seemed to be the hottest place we had visited; even after midnight the temperature was over 80°F., but shortly before reaching the Spanish border the weather became cloudy and cool. We drove northwards through Bordeaux, Tours and Chartres; on our last day in France a wheel on our trailer col­lapsed, fifty miles south of Calais, so we had to abandon it, loading everything on to the roof of the mini-bus.

Many people ask what we learned from such an expedition. Firstly, the year’s preparation in which each boy had some responsibility whether it be writing letters, interviewing local firms, ordering equipment, obtaining medical supplies or help­ing to convert the vehicle to suit the rigours of the journey. All this in itself was very valuable experience and only through such thorough preparation was the expedition so successful. Secondly, in managing to live together often under cramped conditions, such as driving for 18 hours on end, without any serious arguments or quarreling. Thirdly, in taking part in what was to each member an ambitious undertaking and in carrying it out completely and successfully. Lastly, in meeting so many different people in Morocco, in seeing sights which have altered little since Biblical times and in the climbing of the rugged peaks of the Atlas mountains.

To us this occasion proved that a group of boys, whose average age is sixteen, can plan and take part in an expedition to a distant, uncivilised part of the world, achieve as much as does an officially financed unit, and obtain fascinating mem­ories and an incentive for future excursions into the unknown.