Morocco Ski
Expedition: The Approach
With no mules able to get into the
mountain refuges and not wanting to pay for porters, we knew that our loads
were going to be heavy. We tried to take
as little as possible, but the food we brought such as fresh meat, potatoes,
and veggies for tagine were going to weigh us down. No matter, we were used to carrying heavy
loads or so I thought.
Berber village of Oussem
The first day of our approach we
got a ‘crack of noon ‘start due to a seemingly minor piece of equipment that
actually can be a major problem if you don’t have it: sunscreen. We had overlooked this piece of gear both in
packing at home and in acquiring it in Marrakesh. Ready to set out, we realized we didn’t have
any and the combination of clear blue skies and snow for a week was going to
wreak havoc on our faces. None of the
shops in Imlil had any either and the pharmacy was inconveniently closed for
the day. Apparently, the Moroccans were
less than concerned about the health of my face than I was. I ended up having to take a 17 km taxi trip
to the town of Asni so that I could buy some stupid sunscreen. I got some there and with my “moneymaker”
safely slathered with lotion, we were ready to set off.
We were able to put our skis on and
skin right out of town following a road past the village of Mizi. The path that we chose ended up taking us
through a walnut orchard on the slope of the valley. Walnut trees are not that tall and our packs
and all the stuff hanging off our packs snagged on seemingly every branch. After a while, we rose above the orchard and
were starting to feel the heat of the sun and the heavy packs. Just then, we heard the screaming and
laughing of young kids. We came upon a
group of them with little ill-fitting skis that they were taking turns walking
up a short hill and skiing down. We gave
the kids a wave hello and continued on.
After seeing the children, we started following a mysterious skin track
that someone was putting in above us.
When we reached the pass that we had intended to go over, we found about
15 young Moroccon guys with old skis and boots.
They were hiking up the hillside and skiing down. Apparently, we weren’t the only backcountry
skiers in the area. After a little
miscommunication with them, we started down and skied as well as you could with
a 50+ lbs pack down to the village of Oussem where we needed to get in contact
with the Lepiney Refuge hut keeper and let him know we would be heading up
there the following day.
The Beast
Oussem is a small Berber village perched on the hillside, just above the bottom of the river gorge. Most of the people in the village live a subsistence life and tend their sheep. One of the first homes that we came to had 3 men sitting on the roof (due to the homes being on a steep hillside, often the homes are multi-layered and the roof of one layer is the terrace of another). The 3 men spoke Arabic and Berber but absolutely no English. We tried to use simple words and hand gestures to let them know we were trying to find the hutkeeper of the Lepiney Refuge. With no success in that, we decided to use hand gestures letting them know we needed a place to stay for the night. They had a little discussion amongst themselves and one of them told us to follow him. He took us down the steep, winding footpath that led to his home. It looked like this would be our accommodations for the evening. Omar, we found out his name a bit later, sat us down in his main room and poured us mint tea, while bringing out some flat bread and olive oil to snack on. This was the absolute best olive oil I had ever had. Bryce and I who were starving, devoured the bread and olive oil. Soon enough, a younger lady who apparently was a school teacher came into the home to help translate for us. Unfortunately, she only spoke French and a little bit of English. After a while, we were able to get across the idea that we needed to find the hut keeper and he was sent for.
Waiting
Omar let us into another room that we could hang out in and relax. Just about dinner time the hutkeeper “Brian” showed up. I doubt that was his given Berber name. Brian was about 26 years old and was quite the dashing figure with an impressive mustache that any man would be proud of. He lounged lavishly on the couch and did everything, including his tea pouring, with great flair. I quickly dubbed him “Hollywood” or “Playboy”. He spoke in decent broken English and told us that due to an injury to his knee and hip, he wouldn’t be able to go up to the hut and instead would have his buddy go up for us. Brian also stuck around for the couscous dinner Omar served us and we all chatted for a while. We slept on couches in Omar’s living room. In the morning before we set off, we came to find out that Omar was not quite showing us the Berber hospitality we had thought he was. He wanted some payment for the food and the night in his home. This was entirely reasonable, as we had tried to offer him some money the night before. However, in the morning we were a little struck when he was not satisfied with the more than generous amount we had first given him.
Lepiney Refuge
We set off from Oussem in the morning, following Bryan through the maze of the village to another village called Tamsoult. Despite a bum knee and hip, he set a blistering pace. He left us at Tamsoult and we were on our own up to the hut. After much drudgery with the packs and the afternoon sun, we reached the Lepiney Hut which of course was locked since the hutkeeper hadn’t arrived yet. We hung out all afternoon waiting for Brian’s buddy, but no one came. This was getting a bit alarming since we had no tents for shelter, but luckily there was a shed next to the refuge that was open and had a few dirty mattresses. We cleared the snow from the shed and started to make it a little nicer just in case we’d have to spend the night in there. As the sun started to set and the temperature plummeted, there was still no sign of a hut keeper. We crawled into our sleeping bags in the shed and resigned ourselves to some cold peanut butter and honey sandwiches for dinner.
Just as we were enjoying our cold
dinner, I thought I heard a very faint noise outside. We listened harder but assumed it had just
been the wind. Going back to eating, we
heard it again louder. This time
realizing we had heard a person. Bryce
jumped up and put his boots on before heading outside. There, he saw a headlamp coming towards us in
the distance. We yelled back at each
other when he saw our headlamps, and we could tell he was wallowing through
crotch deep snow. We were elated that
the hut keeper was finally coming to open up the refuge and put our skis on to
go meet him. When we got to him, we took
his back and got his keys so we could open the refuge door. Once inside, we started up some hot water to
make tea for the hut keeper who looked obviously tired.
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