Waking up to watch the sunrise is WELL worth it. Pictures will never do it justice of course, so I give up on trying and just “soak up the sun” in the dunes. Horrible attempt at a play on words, I apologize. The desert changed me.
We are served a gigantic breakfast, and while we’re eating one of the guides comes through the tent yelling “Marrakesh!” so we drop our food and run. There are only 2 bus options for the day; 8am and 5pm. We were really hoping to get on the 8am but realized it would be a bit too tight to make it. Especially if we rode the camels back to the hotel. The only other option was then to try as hitch hike, because if you’re not in the desert there’s nothing to do here and Im sure we’d be brought to some more rug shops. Luckily, this guy has a desert-ready SUV, and is absolutely RIPPING through the dunes to get us to the bus on time. What a gem.
We get to the bus station with just enough time to pay and board before it pulls away. We don’t book tickets straight to Marrakesh, we plan to stop at a beautiful gorge we’ve heard is along the way, and then on to Marrakesh. Cesc books both tickets, but I only book as far as the gorge because I have more time and might want to stay an extra day.
Tinghir is the name of the town closest to the gorge, which is a little funny because it sounds just like Tangier, the city I flew into right across the sea from Spain. If it turns out we’re heading back that direction I will stop drop and roll off the bus.
5 hours later we arrive in the town and need to sort out whether we want to stay here, or try to find a hostel closer to the gorge itself. It’s about a half hour or longer drive to get up there, but we’re not sure we’ll be able to find accommodation. Again, there is a group of men outside trying to sell us on staying at their hotels and hostels. One man offers us a room for 120mdh (11€, $16cad) each per night, with dinner and breakfast included. Sounds pretty damn legit but after what happened with our last hostel next to the Sahara I’m more than skeptical. We manage to bargain for 100 each and throw our prayer hands up. Inshallah it’s not a mistake.
Similar to how involved Mohammed felt he had to be, I’m unable to say anything to Cesc privately. Our new hostel man, who is actually also named Mohammed, is being overly attentive, but hasn’t tried to sell us any tours yet so that’s a huge plus. The closer to the hostel we get, driving up winding mountain roads, past a beautiful valley, the better vibes I get. So far Morocco’s landscape hasn’t been anything like I expected. It’s much more green and mountainous, but here in Tinghir I see more of what I had imagined Morocco to be. Down in the valley is a lush jungle, surrounded by towering, dry and very rocky mountains. The old kasbah sits between the two, abandoned and crumbling. The stark difference is beautiful and so interesting.
We get to the hostel where we are shown to a huge room with two separate double beds. Amazing. Before coming here everyone told me it’s unacceptable for unmarried couples to travel together, but guess what? Another totally misinformed piece of advice. That may be true of other Muslim countries, I don’t know, but we haven’t had to pretend to be married once. No one has even batted an eye.
We head out to the gorge which is pretty epic. I grew up in a small town with a beautiful gorge but this is totally different. More rocks, so many rocks…all the rocks. The cliffs are higher, and there’s no fun little swimming hole like the one in my home town of Elora. Still makes for a fun little hiking adventure.
Once we get sick of all the rocks and the blazing sun, we decide to head down to the abandoned Kasbah. We hitch a ride with a local, who is the first person we try to flag down. WAY easier than hitch hiking in Chaouen. From the main road we walk through the little jungle, have to cross a river in our bare feet, and do a bit of level 1 rock climbing. It’s totally worth it though, in so many ways. We are the ONLY people down here, which blows my mind because who wouldn’t want to visit abandoned kasbah ruins? On our drive up Mohammed told us that these are often used in films like Star Wars, The Mummy and Express to Marrakesh. I can totally see why.
It’s bigger than it looks from afar. Which actually makes sense considering it was an old village. Getting out of the Kasbah is a little more challenging than getting in, and we don’t get to panic level, but the sun is starting to set and we’re just following what may or may not be a path out and hoping for the best.
Obviously I survive, we make it out before dark, and have no trouble catching a ride back to the hostel.
Our included dinner is absolutely massive and super delicious. We both order cous cous with lamb (which is actually 100% beef, even though they swear it’s not) and we can’t even finish half of it. We meet a few other people at the hostel; not all couples this time!! One guy is traveling solo, there is a pair of German sisters, a couple from Argentina, and a couple from England. Still half couples, but not allllll couples, and not allllll Spanish. Confirmed: other nationalities DO in fact travel in Morocco!
The moon rises over the mountains while we all chill out on the roof top terrace, exchanging travel stories, asking the hostel employees questions about life in Morocco, and listening to chill tunes. One of the guys who works here tells us he is a Berber Nomad, a tribe that, as you can guess, never lives in one place, sleeping in caves and living off the land. He welcomes us to come visit his home on the top of the mountain tomorrow, but I get a slightly weird vibe about it. Why would a Berber Nomad work at a hostel? Someone told me they don’t speak Arabic or French, just their own language, and this guy is speaking to us in both English and Spanish. So I don’t know how legit this “Nomad” is, but going to one of their camps would have been cool if it were an actual thing.