The mountains in Morocco are the emblem of the Almighty. They symbolize the power of Mother Nature to break even the indestructible, earth. They give to any men a feeling of smallness. Morocco is home to the second highest mountain in Africa, Toubkal, in the Atlas Range. I remember seeing my father going with his brothers to Toubkal. I was around ten. I felt like my father and my uncles were going to discover the unimaginable. I could not even picture in my mind what they could see or pass by. I have been hearing about the Toubkal Mount all my life and everybody was saying that it is astonishing. Unfortunately, it was too dangerous for a kid of my age and I could not be part of the adventure.

A few years later my parents and I went for a few days in the south of Morocco in Marrakesh. I went to Marrakesh in the past, but I was too young to remember anything. The city is only about 60 miles from Toubkal, but the crazy thing about it is that Marrakesh is the gate of the Sahara, the biggest desert in the world, engulfing almost all of North Africa. I remember the first feeling I had when I arrived in the city. I was suffocating. It was so hot. Every red light in the car felt like hell. The air was thick and had this smell of sand reminding me of the immensity of the Sahara. Marrakesh is also called the Red City because all the buildings are painted in ocher. It gives an incredible sense of infinity to the place, I was looking around and only one color was depicted everywhere. This red-ocher was stuck in my eyes. The day after we arrived we went to the famous palm grove of Marrakesh. From there the incredible occurred. I saw Toubkal for the first time. It was an immaculate picture of the wonder of nature. The mountain in its huge majesty was lying in a bed of sand and the seizure between the blue mountain and the yellow sand left me opened mouthed. I couldn’t believe that I was looking at Toubkal, the soul of Morocco and I understood the name of Marrakesh that comes from the Amazigh dialect, Mur’An’Kush, Land of God. I stood in the palm grove all evening, thinking of all men that climbed this colossal mount. My father looked at me and understood that I was absorbed by Toubkal. He said:” Let’s go kid, you will reach the top one day.” When I went back to Meknes, my hometown, I swore I would climb Toubkal.

When I turned 18 I was about to realize one of my dreams, going to America, the land of milk and honey, the Eldorado to my eyes. I was so excited by the event of leaving the continent and going for a new life by myself. I was also scared. To be honest, the idea of going to a foreign country with just a very Basic English and nobody to rely on frightened me. My biggest fear was probably to leave the family house where I lived all my life and not see my parents and my brothers, the familiar faces that were my entourage for the past years. I was going to miss them. My father decided it was the best time for me to climb Toubkal, so he told me to be ready. He and I were going on a 14,674’ high hike. A week later we were on our way. My father and I took the road to Marrakesh. I was very enthusiastic about our journey. For the first time in my life I kept notes in a small journal I was carrying with me everywhere. On the road my father forewarned me, the trip was not a happy hike through a valley. I remember he said: ‘Even when the Phoenicians and Greeks came to Morocco, they were amazed by Toubkal and called one of their god Atlas, the god of strength, the one who supports the world. That’s where the name of the mountain range comes from”.

We finally started our ascension to the roof of North Africa The first step was to reach Oukaimeden, the biggest village in the piedmont of the Atlas Range. The poorest region in Morocco is the one in the mountains because they have very hard winters. They get stuck for four or five months in small villages without electricity. There is no road. Very few infrastructures and extreme weather. Because of this we were climbing during May, the cooler month in the mountains. From the palm grove of Marrakesh to Oukaimeden it took us almost a whole day on camel back. It was exhausting. If you ever rode a camel you’ll know that staying on top for more than an hour or two is draining. Nevertheless, it was marvelous. We were leaving the desert step by step and gaining more altitude. From Oukaimeden we could see the eternal snow showing up. We spent the night with people from the village and we found our guide. It is almost impossible to climb without a guide since the range is spread wide and easy to get lost. We left the camels in Oukaimeden and started a long walk that would led us to the top. My excitement was showing from everywhere. I could not stand straight. I was looking at every inch of the track and nature was all I saw. I felt happy. Our guide, Issa, was an Amazigh, an Indigenous to the mountains. He was born there and lived all his life in Oukaimeden. He told me that he climbed Toubkal more than 20 times. This was stunning. I asked him how he felt the first time he reached the top. He said: “I will never find the words to express what I felt”. Issa was an idol for me. He was very poor and lived from tourism but yet he was one of the most generous people I ever met, and he was so happy to share with people the knowledge he acquired about Toubkal. When I told him that I was leaving for the U.S in a few weeks, he was not impressed or happy for me, unlike all my friends, I think he felt sorry for me. He would not leave the Atlas for anything in the world. It was the only thing he knew and the only thing he wanted to know about.

After another day of hiking we reached Imlil, the last civilization before the wilderness. It is a very small town. You could cross the whole village in less than five minutes. Perhaps it is the last point to load supplies and rest in a descent bed. We enjoyed the rest of the day in Imlil and went to the waterfall. The water was crystal clear, the most beautiful body of water I ever saw, and it was coming straight from the eternal snow. Going back to our rooms in Imlil I saw an old man sitting on a cliff. He was growing a beard similar to Santa Claus. His skin was ripped from the cold air, and he was thin and looked very sick. He was wearing a dirty rag covering half of his body. Multiple people from the village went to him one by one bringing him food, water, and kissing his forehead. I did not understood why all these people were going to kiss a man of this values. I could not even imagine standing close to him, I was disgust and hated this man. Issa stood in his turn and walked in direction of the man, he approached him slowly, gave him a small book, told him few words without awaiting for any answer, and then came back to me. I asked Issa about this gent. “Who is he?!” He said: “He is the only teacher in Toubkal. Everyday kids from other villages travel here for several miles, and gather in the mosque where he hold classes. He taught me everything and today he is teaching my children.” Issa was talking about this man as an idol. I couldn’t help myself and had to ask him: “Why does he look so desperate?” Issa laughed: “He is the happiest man on earth. He forgot about all material belongings and gave his life to the Atlas. He lives from what the mountain and its people provide, and sleeps in the mosque every night. He give all what he have -knowledge- and does not await for anything in return.  He is the wisest man in Toubkal.”

I could not sleep that night. I was thinking of this man that laid on his back and let everything go. He was for sure wise, but he was also strong. Only Atlas himself would have the strength to live the way he did. Pursuing his faith.
Imlil was behind us now. We left at the first dawn. We were entering a very harsh environment, which had already taken multiple lives. The air was getting rare and it was harder to breathe every 100’. We had to stop more frequently to rest. I discovered mussels of body that I never knew existed before. After multiple hours of hiking, I felt desperate, my knees gave out. I was thinking of quitting, but my father motivated me, and we kept on going.
Issa looked at me, he was pointing a weird metal structure that was above us and he said: “This is it!” Before my brain could even analyze the information, my body started running to that object even if I was empty from all forces. A non-stop run led me to the top. First I focused on this empty pyramid made of steel that was stuck at the uppermost of the mountain, like a lonely hermit. It looked so old. Multiple names and acronyms were wrote on it. I think that I only realized that I climbed Toubkal after I looked at the view. In front of me endless mountains covered with the whitest snow, and behind me an infinite desert. A neat and tidy picture.

At that moment everything came to my mind like thunder. I had the answer to every question that came to me. Like if Toubkal itself was speaking in my mind. I understood everything. I understood Issa, my father and the old man back in Imlil. In front of such a beauty, my mind went crazy. Like Issa, I will never find the words to describe what I felt. Climbing this mountain definitely made me a wiser man.

Always compare yourself to nature, she made us and she will break us.