Up until last year I had a fairly strong dislike of running. Up until this year I’d never run half-marathon distance. So how I came to decide, in the blink of an eye, to enter the mythical Marathon des Sables – 2014 – is difficult (even for me) to understand. Despite being fairly active, and having been aware for many years of the event’s existence, I had never shown the blindest interest in actually doing it. So, how, within the space of a few minutes did I decide that I was going to enter next year’s event….?

To be frank, I can’t really answer the question, but, several weeks later I can confirm my excitement and commitment to the event, and I welcome anyone who is interested to my Marathon des Sables 2014 Blog. But be warned, once you start reading about this event, and taking advantage of the myriad information and accounts available on-line, there may be no turning back for you….

What is the Marathon des Sables? 

The Marathon des Sables (MDS, as it is often known and shall be referred to in this blog) is a yearly ultra-marathon event which takes place in the south of Morocco. It is a multi-stage foot race of six stages totalling around 250km, with each day ranging from 30km to 80km. The rules are that you have to carry your own gear and provisions (in a backpack which will likely weigh around 10kg…more on that in due course) and you are only provided by the organisers with water rations and basic shelter, in the form of a massive tent camp at the end of each day. The route takes competitors through a landscape of sand dunes, stony desert plateaux, across rocky mountain ranges and wide expanses of hot, open terrain. It is described as “the toughest foot race on earth”, with ultra-high temperatures and sand storms contributing to this difficulty. It is held in April, is televised in France and around the world, and is one of the most iconic ultra events in the sporting calendar. This year over a thousand people  from nearly fifty countries took part, and the vast majority finished safely.

More than just a race 

So, why do it?  Isn’t it just too tough to be considered by ordinary mortals? Is it, quite simply, an act of madness? Well, here’s my take on the subject….

Here’s a bit of context. I am 42, I am a relatively fit individual who exercises fairly regularly. I have never run a marathon, I am not a fast runner, I have bad knees. I have a reasonable focus when I have a goal to achieve and I can be determined. But I am not, by any means, an exceptional athlete. Physically, I’m a fairly ordinary specimen.

I know many people who have completed the race and I have read many reports/blogs/forums on the subject. So, during the “teetering” period prior to announcing participation, I did my homework. To enter anything like this you need to have, after all, at least a reasonable confidence that the outcome will be a positive one. I was rapidly convinced that this was achievable, but more than anything, I became quickly convinced of how beneficial the idea was. When people recount tales of the MDS, what they come back with is almost metronomically the same comment; that it was, despite the misery of heat, sandstorms and abject fatigue, the most incredible experience. That was ultimately what affirmed my decision to enter. Other reasons included the fact that I run an adventure tours company in Morocco itself, have lived in Morocco for 10 years, that I will have friends competing, and that it provides a year’s-worth of goal-orientated motivation. The time had come for a real challenge. Roll on April 2014. Well, sort of.

Preparation, Plans and Fears

So, as I sit in an air-conditioned office in Marrakech, with the summer’s heat starting to rage outside, I am ten months away from the MDS 2014.  It’s been six weeks or so since the big decision and I’ve put a loose plan of action in place. It strikes me that all you can do is to prepare as best you can. I am fortunate enough to know people who have run multiple MDSs, accomplished physios and osteopaths, and I already have a reasonable grounding in the principles of physical training. There are all sorts of subjective, and fairly arbitrary, figures thrown around, but most people seem agreed that this is more about mental toughness than anything else; you need to do the physical preparation but the rest will be in your head. So, in other words, learn to suffer, or to embrace the suffering, as it’ll stand you in good stead in April.

There are many worrying aspects of “the world’s toughest foot race” and these may vary slightly from individual to individual. Below I list the concerns (in no particular order) which I’m sure will never be far from my mind between now and next April.

Blisters, and how to effectively avoid them, as bad blisters can end your race or lead to intolerable suffering

Heat – stifling heat requires special preparation, highly controlled hydration, and mental strength

Injuries – training in a sensible manner in order to minimise over-training injuries

Training time constraints – managing work, family and training balance

In the next installment, I shall go into more detail about training methods and programmes. Feel free to share your views and comments!  A la prochaine…. In the meantime, here’s some food for thought in female 2013 winner Meghan Hicks’ blog (complete with official 2013 video in English)

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Mirleft is one of Morocco’s best kept secrets. Situated an hour and a half south of Agadir, and benefitting from an agreeable all-year round climate, this expanded fishing village has a bohemian air about it and a refreshingly laid back feel. There seems to be something special in the air on this stunning stretch of wild Atlantic coast. Nobody seems troubled or rushed in any way, and although this small town lives in part from tourism, it doesn’t feel in any way “touristy”. For lovers of low-key coastal retreats, surfers and beachcombers, Mirleft, and its charming neighbour Sidi Ifni, makes an excellent alternative to more populated towns further north.

What’s more, Mirleft is in possession of one of Morocco’s best boutique beachfront guest houses, Kasbah Tabelkoukt. Decorated in an African style, with a lofty cliff-top location and with steps down to a wild surfing beach, this charming family-run guest house offers a level of comfort and style to suit even the most discerning of guest. This maison d’hotes is made up of well-appointed suites in the main “kasbah”, and some more economical stone cottages in the hotel’s rambling hilltop garden.

Set against the attraction of wild beaches (including the beautiful Lgazira Beach), friendly Mirleft and quirky Sidi Ifni, together with good hiking, mountain biking and paragliding possibilities in the surrounding hills, Kabash Tabelkoukt makes an ideal year-round beach destination.

Please click here to contact us for more details about this hotel and for all your holiday requirements in Morocco

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Forward to Marrakech, 25 March, in the civilised surroundings of the lovely Riad Kaiss. Pre-ride breakfast briefing under clear skies. Stu seems grateful for the springlike weather and Paul is even happier. Morocco is in a post-rain spring bloom and we well know that what lies ahead of them is going to provide a beautiful backbone for the magazine feature. Saaid, our trusted Moroccan guide looks nervous as he is handed some riding kit for the shoot. Stu is lean and mean, with a shock of bleached hair, a business-like look in his eye and rock-solid confidence in his ability to handle the demands of a 100+ mile mountain ride. It would all be in a day’s work for him and I didn’t doubt it.

Our crew for the shoot was (ex-military) minibus driver Mohamed, today, rather unusually, and clearly intended for max impact,  wearing a sports jacket and tie, young recruit Simo to help out, and Saaid Naanaa, mountain guide and all-round good guy. The route we designed for Stu (which will for now remain classified)  was a loop of beguiling variety through a physical landscape as diverse as any country of the world could deliver in such a compact geographical area. Stu cruised out across the plains as his “warm up road” undulated through a rippled landscape of low desert foothills studded with eucalyptus trees, up through Mediterranean-style olive groves and onto a monumental plateau of wheat fields rolling in the shadow of the highest mountains in North Africa. The morning came and went and the miles evaporated as Stu started on the day’s big challenges of proper mountains, big snow-capped beasts, as the switchbacking tarmac cut a dash through juniper and pine forests until, many miles later, he emerged above the tree line at the highest ski resort in North Africa, perched nearly 9000ft above sea level. Time for a tajine a a quick inspection of the “resort” before a 20 mile descent took him back towards the Haouz Plain. The final section of the ride, particularly in the context of all that came before it, was the sting in the tail. A long section with no respite – up, down, up down, up, down. The race was on to get the loop finished by sundown. A sunset photo and message on Facebook from Saaid “goodness, he’s still going….” – respect from the now spent Saaid – as Stu climbed in and out of the saddle to complete the task just as the golden Moroccan sun melted into the desert.

The following day, Stu was, in true athletic tradition, of course absolutely fine. Lunch on a sun-drenched terrace in a restaurant in Gueliz, for a ride post-mortem. Rider and photographer delighted and enchanted by a special day in rural Morocco – no surprise to us here at Epic Morocco – and something special had happened, as it always does. The talk was very little about the riding, the memories were about the colours, the people, the culture, the landscape, and a team of helpers that Stu described as “some of the most helpful people (he) had ever met” – proving again that Morocco is a multi-faceted, multi-dimensional, beautiful and absorbing place through which to travel. And even better by bike.

This is just a taster. Look out for the full article and stunning images later this year in Cyclist magazine.

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1. Marrakech – A cross-cultural melting pot where African, Eastern and Islamic influences merge with international chic.

2. Fez – The medina “par excellence”, a medieval labyrinth of beguiling scale and jaw-dropping architecture, history and Islamic culture.

3. The Ait Bougmez Valley – Little Nepal in North Africa, the “Happy Valley” is the hidden gem of the High Atlas Mountains.

4. Dakhla – One of the world’s top kitesurfing destinations, in a mesmerising edge-of-the-earth white sand and turquoise lagoon paradise.

5. Essaouira – the Atlantic Coast’s weatherbeaten and white-washed bohemian jewel, with film-set good looks, good restaurants and riads.

6. The Sahara Desert – Sand dunes merge with palm oases, a land of big skies where crumbling kasbahs and mirages await adventurous visitors.

7. Chefchaouen – Morocco’s prettiest village nestled peacefully into the Rif Mountains in Morocco’s north.

8. Tafraoute and the Anti-Atlas Mountains – Towering rock faces, painted rocks and luxuriant oases characterise this seldom-visited region.

9. The Toubkal National Park – Home to North Africa’s highest mountains, great guest houses and all a stone’s throw from Marrakech.

10. The Middle Atlas Mountains – A land of cedar forests and lonely mountain lakes, this tranquil region has an ambience all of its own.

For more information about tying these places together contact us at escape@epicmorocco.co.uk to start planning your trip.

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Springtime Weekend Break - a short hiking break in the heart of the High Atlas Mountains

This ‘linear’ hike from the end of the tarmac road at Setti Fatma high into the Atlas Mountains is an ideal escape for those looking for maximum walking time and minimum time spent in a vehicle. The Toubkal National Park is the most accessible region of the High Atlas, and this hike, although little more than an hour’s drive from Marrakech, has all the drama you’d expect from North Africa’s premier mountain range. Suitable for regular walkers, with one challenging pass to cross, the High Atlas Quick Escape uses local accommodation on trek with a rewarding final mountain night spent in a fantastic Berber guest house near Imlil. Add two nights in a beautifully-converted “riad” guesthouse in Marrakech and you have the perfect mix of Moroccan rural and urban culture. Variations on this theme are also possible, including extending your holiday with a stay on the Atlantic coast in film-set spectacular Essaouira.

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This event, which takes place on the 3rd and 4th October 2013 is one of the toughest trail running events in the calendar and takes in the dramatic scenery of the Toubkal National Park. Keep an eye out in the next couple of weeks for supplementary information on our site as we are planning to post the relevant information in English, and to organise packages around the event, so that you can bring the whole family and have a holiday at the same time! To get a flavour of the event click on the video link on our homepage or click through to our UTAT tour page

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Charm, Elegance, Refinement in an exceptional location….

Riad Dixneuf la Ksour in Marrakech is the fabulous award winning creation of two travel lovers & talented architects. They were inspired by the Medersa Ben Youssef Museum, whose architectural beauty fascinates its visitors, to create this unique riad. Tucked away in the renowned area of Laksour within the walls of the ancient Medina, it offers a haven of tranquility whilst still only a short walk from the famous bustling square – Djemaa el Fna.

The Riad has six rooms & suites designed in the true spirit of traditional Moroccan architecture and the beautiful lounge & library rooms are furnished in leather with ancient photos and art books to create a stylish environment to relax in. There is also a patio with plunge pool to cool down in and a rooftop terrace where you can sip your traditional Mint tea whilst you take in the fabulous views over the city to the Atlas Mountains.

Please click here to contact us for more details about this raid and for all your holiday requirements in Morocco

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I am by nature, wary of ‘organised’ or ‘packaged’ holidays. Amongst mountains in particular, I prefer solitude or at most, the company of one or two friends. I avowedly adhere to the Marx brother’s contention of not joining any club that would have me as a member. Yet my wife and I had signed up for an organized trek through the Djebel Sarhro not only with a group of strangers: but a team of muleteers; a cook; a guide; a family of nomads and several hundred sheep and goats. How did it come to this?

Several years ago I’d read an article about a small, Marrakech-based company, that organized walks with Berber nomads as they moved from summer to winter pastures. It had looked interesting and I filed the article away. Perhaps now that we were heading out to the High Atlas this would also be a good time to try something different. We could enjoy the luxury of being led over unknown terrain, it would toughen us up and get us used to the culture, language and the demands of trekking – a gentle aperitif before the heavy main course of the High Atlas. And so we enrolled with Charlie Shepherd’s Epic Morocco and a week walking with the Ait Atta through the Sarhro region of south eastern Morocco. I was finally persuaded by a notice Charlie had put in his information sheet:

‘This departure of Walking with Nomads is classified as an exploratory trip as the route taken may vary according to the requirements of the nomads and their flocks. This should be understood by all participants. Please also be prepared to experience a way of life that some may find particularly tough.’

Okay! Fine by me then!

The Ait Atta are a semi-nomadic tribe of Berbers native to the Djebel Sarhro where they spend eight months of the year, before migrating north to the High Atlas mountains to escape the heat of the summer months. Their income is derived from managing flocks of livestock, a precarious living in a country affected by drought. Their migration route is governed almost exclusively by the need to find pastures to graze their flocks of sheep and goats. We would join them during the last week of their migration from the High Atlas back ‘home’ to the Sarhro in the autumn. Sleeping in our own lightweight tents and having our heavy baggage carried by mule or camel, we would cross the Djebel Sarhro from north to south.

There is probably some rule of thumb which dictates that the further you travel from home the more exotic the destination, the more foreign the experience. Morocco in general and Marrakech in particular turns this rule on its head. A three hour flight from Britain flings you into another world entirely. Another time another place, smells, sounds, colours and light. Marrakech for me is the nearest you can get on this earth to Terry Pratchett’s Ankh Morporkh: a ready smile; an openness of spirit and a grasp of French will go a long way towards helping you have a positive experience. In the Hotel Grand Imlil we met the other four fellow travellers, our cook, Mustapha and our guide, Rachid. They were in the midst of completing the purchase of provisions. We must be packed and ready to go at 7:00am the next morning.

The ten hour trip took us over the Tizi n’ Tichka, not so much one pass as a series of passes. It was here that my own mind, formed by a long acquaintance with the Cuillins and the Cairngorm Plateau began to appreciate that the High Atlas was truly a magnificent range of mountains. The Djebel Sarhro was a very different affair. This area lies further south than the Atlas, lower lying, nearer the Sahara, both rough and beautiful in its own way.

As we bumped down the last few kilometers of track towards out gite, the skies darkened, the very air thickened. Tagdilt was where that we would be transferring our baggage onto the mules and meeting up with the muleteers. The gite looked reassuringly like a Redesdale fortified farm, presenting thick blank walls to the outside world – a darkening, rock strewn plateau with glimpses of figures on the horizon. Were they Armstrongs or Elliots? If they were the Ferniehurst Kerrs we were in trouble! They turned out to be our mule team. The muleteers presented as a rakish, roguish looking crew who eyed us up as suspiciously no doubt as we must have been looking at them. Through the following week we began to appreciate them better as a most helpful, humorous, courteous and yes, roguish band of fellow travellers.
The days that followed were a voyage of pure delight. Night time temperatures were a comfortable 10˚ – 15˚C. We would awaken at dawn and after a substantial breakfast, be on our way accompanied by a large swarm of sheep and goats. The Berber women were responsible for the herding and the route finding. The children wearing only plastic sandals on their feet, glided across the craggy mountainsides, chirruping and yipping, keeping the flock moving in the right direction. We gently picked our way through rock and boulder strewn high lands following ancient paths and tracks. Although semi arid, there was never the sense of desolation and wilderness of the Scottish Highlands. A distant slash of vibrant green would indicate a tenacious small-holding where maize or barley was being grown. The pace we travelled at was very much that of the animals: five to seven hours each day; seven to ten miles distance through rugged terrain that was both varied and delightful. This allowed time to talk, to look around or to go off and explore. At the end of each march a handsome late lunch was set out in the shade of a rough woven Berber tent. Some of the party would attend to the daily bread making, a rough unleavened bread, hot and tasty – made for wiping up the juice of a tagine. I joined in rebuilding the corrals where the herd was kept each night. Working together is a good way to connect with people. Much laughter was generated in comparing Berber walling techniques to Border dry-stane dyking. Was I becoming competitive?

We passed from the northern boulder strewn slopes of the Djebel Sarhro, with its precious springs and small occasional streams, fantastically sculpted juniper trees and jumbled peaks to the southern side. The southern slopes spoke of the great desert not far to the south. Bluffs and mesas rose up around us. As we marched over arid stretches of dust and shattered rock the midday ritual of mint tea was hugely welcome. Each day, Saiin found some luxuriously shaded corner and set a fire of a few twigs. The boiling water was transferred from his blackened kettle to silver tea-pot and thence to individual glasses. He presented each of us our drink with a deep sense of ritual and genteel hospitality.
‘Bismillah!’
‘Bismillah Sa-ha!’

The last camp left intense memories. Our descent from an awesome gateway of vertical rock down to the camp was achieved in temperatures of around 35˚C – the highest of our march. We were glad of the early finish and the cool shade of the rough-woven awning. The camp lay in a vast amphitheatre of bluffs and cliffs. In the balmy heat of the setting sun, Rachid took those who wished to do so, high up onto one of the bluffs for a last evening ritual of vervain tea. That night around a roaring fire we barbecued and enjoyed the singing and dancing of the Berbers. And the stars! Hamdullah! The stars!

Arriving back in Marrakech was truly the return to the flesh-pots. If the famous Djemma El Fnaa at night seemed exotic and a far distance from our High Street, it also felt an equally great distance from the tranquillity and quiet majesty of the Sarhro. It is beyond explanation as to how easily we slipped into the timeless, daily rythms of the nomads. The shift back towards urban life left us dazed, emotionally jet-lagged. We had to remind ourselves that the walking with the nomads was supposed to have been a ‘mere apperatif’, the easy acclimatization for the rigours and heady delights of the High Atlas. We felt replete and yet the main course was yet to come.

Our time in Morocco gave us an appreciation of what an incredible variety of trekking terrain exists all along the High Atlas. But our Djebel Sarhro walk taught us that beyond the inevitable draw of Toubkal there is a varied, huge and as yet relatively unknown terrain. It also left us knowing that in small hamlets and on hillsides which bear no official name, we have friends who we will see again. Inshallah!

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