Morocco - Climbing Mount Toubkal

♪ - Zina by Babylone https://youtu.be/zKGW9V1WSl8 
Yes, you did read the title correctly - I climbed a mountain! I also survived to blog the tale, which is a huge relief. Looking back on it all now I feel like the whole thing happened as the result of a misunderstanding on my part. My boyfriend originates from Morocco, and after hearing many tales of how he and his friends climbed Toubkal as teenagers I (WRONGLY) came to the conclusion that climbing this mountain was going to be no problem, and so agreed to join him and three of his friends on a trek to the summit. I naively continued to believe this right up until our taxi pulled up in the village of Imlil where our trek was to begin. 

I must admit I became slightly concerned about my choice when the athletic girlfriend of one of the other guys declined the climb as she was unsure she would make it. I however, soldiered on convincing myself that she must have overestimated the situation. Panic began to set in when we started to collect our 'gear' for the trek. GEAR!? After laughing it off and saying "I don't think so, I don't need that stuff." I was convinced to hire walking sticks, a pick axe and crampons. It was at this point I came to realise something about myself as a person, I choose not to see the reality of situations until it is too late. In the months leading up to this climb I had been given advice by my boyfriend who sent video links so that I could get an idea of what I was letting myself in for, but I had chosen not to take it in. That was until I found myself stood at the bottom of the highest peak in the Atlas Mountains with a pick axe in hand and crampons swinging off my backpack. At this point those warnings were ringing in my ears and the video clips of exhausted climbers knee deep in snow started to project themselves in my mind accompanied by the menacing soundtrack of my own heart beating with alarm. 

We began to walk, and for the first few hours it was great. We walked at a good pace and stopped off to refuel and take in the beautiful views. It was a lovely sunny day and I was starting to think that maybe I was right about this climb after all. UNTIL WE HIT THE ICE! As we were climbing up a rocky patch I slipped on ice and stumbled backwards. It was hard to gain my balance because of the weight of my backpack. This completely threw me, my brain went into panic and my heart started racing again. I remember sitting down on a rock with tears streaming down my face feeling like I was already a failure and told my boyfriend I couldn't go on any further. Luckily one of the other guys suggested I put my crampons on early just for extra grip, smiled at me and told me I would be fine. 

After eight hours of climbing the refuge was finally in sight. By now the snow was knee deep in places and the cold mixed with the aches and pains I had acquired during the climb made the last mile very difficult. I was relying heavily on those walking sticks I had earlier deemed unnecessary to both hold me up and also check the snow covered ground in front of me would not give way. As I walked through the doors of the refuge I did not feel good. I ached from head to toe and my head was pounding. It took me over an hour to climb the stairs, remove my wet clothing, boots, and set up for the night. In the evening it was difficult to eat but the boys convinced me that my body needed food so I tried to eat as much as I could. One of the other guys from our group was already suffering with the altitude and had made the decision not to venture to the summit in the morning. I too decided that I would stay at the refuge rather than make the final 3 hour trek. That was until I woke up in the night. My whole body ached but my head had cleared. I thought of all the minor achievements I had made sine we left Imlil. I had climbed for 8 hours, surely I could manage another 3 right? I felt full of strength and determination that I would NEVER climb another mountain in my lifetime but I would make it to the top of this one! 

At 5am the next day when the boys started to pack their bags for the final climb I surprised them all by declaring I was coming too. I knew I had to commit myself and not weigh them down in any way. This part of the climb was the steepest and felt very slow. It had snowed overnight and so there was no path to follow so we had to make our own. As we reached the summit I found my pick axe very useful to pull myself up the steepest parts of the mountain. There were times we were walking on the very edge of the mountain and I had to sing to myself to keep my mind occupied. I used my walking stick to lean into the mountain and looked ahead at the footsteps of the person in front of me in order to prevent my eyes from looking down at the mighty drop. 

Just before the last climb to the summit we came to a clearing with a spectacular view. I can only really appreciate this view from pictures as I came over with a bout of altitude sickness at this most inconvenient time and was rooted to the spot whilst the world span around me. Again, I was unsure I would make it any further but was reminded that I had made it all this way and only had one last climb to go. As I pulled myself up to the summit I felt so proud. I was 4,167m up. I did it! 

Lala

  x