Going Analog in the Atlas Mountains

e’re in week three, the last week of a wonderful trip through Portugal and Morocco. The trip has been peppered with moments of delight and surprise, struggles with booking and communication, breathtaking views, and shockingly delicious cuisine.

The last week of our trip finds us deep in the Atlas Mountains. We are the only guests at a beautiful hotel called Le Village Du Toubkal, in a Berber town called Imlil. It is nestled into the hillside and is one of the only structures to withstand the 6.8 magnitude earthquake that hit almost a year ago. As we toured the hillside villages and trekked alongside a mule (we asked its name, and apparently, they call it ‘mule’) carrying our bags and water, we saw the damage done by what was apparently the first and only earthquake to hit for generations. No one currently living in Marrakesh or the mountains can recall anything like it.

It is also a solid 25° cooler here in the mountains than in the city of Marrakesh. It is a blistering 109°F or 43°C down in the city. We managed to escape this heat and are in the cooler mountain region called Imlil, where climbers and outdoor enthusiasts travel during the winter to climb the two-day route to Mt Toubkal, at 4.167m or the highest peak in North Africa.

We are not climbers. We are barely trekkers. But we did manage to go on a full day's hike that took us hours through small villages lined with cobblestone and varying levels of cement and brick construction. Each small city has a mosque, and five times a day, chants and prayers ring out through the villages and echo through the valley. It is beautiful, something to behold. It makes you realize that it is a blessing to be alive and here in a world where bricks are carried and laid by hand — a simpler life.

Which brings me to the analog portion of this story: we have no Internet. I managed to have a weak cell signal and am able to communicate using WhatsApp. However, even though we have Wi-Fi with a router specifically installed in our room, it only seems to work between two and four in the morning. This is not ideal. However, in many ways, it’s been a blessing because the girls have been offline, unable to access social media, and we have not been able to binge-watch or open Netflix Disney+ or Prime Video. This is all very refreshing, and we are all relaxing in a way we may have never experienced before.

So we sit here in an air-conditioned family suite, with the power going on and off, the cool winds blowing, and the sun rising and setting behind vast mountains with prayers and chants ringing through the valley five times a day. The Berber people — part of the pre-Arab indigenous tribe called Amazigh (meaning “free people” in their native Tamazight language)  — who are native to these areas are warm, welcoming and resonate with integrity. There is a unique cultural identity and pride displayed throughout Morocco with the Amazigh symbol stamped in the earthenware and on graffiti in the cities.

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I feel like I’m in heaven. I wish I could stay here for weeks, not days.

The girls have occupied themselves by drawing and reading, and have decided to create henna art on their hands. When we arrived, we were offered a mule to carry our bags up the long winding hill to the villa. I declined, thinking it might have been a mistake, but did not realize it was a standard method of transportation up here. It is rather dangerous to drive on these roads with a car, much less a truck. Although cars are going quickly, there are scooters and such. It is a rocky dirt road with wheels slipping out at any corner and the roadside crumbling as you drive. It does not feel like the most stable route for an automotive vehicle. So next time, I’ll take the donkey.

In the last few days before our return to Marrakesh, to Lisbon, and finally back to Seattle, I sat and read a book on the history of the Atlas Mountains. It is very riveting and soul-catching to read about a place and its history when you are there. Being off digital media completely would be the next step. Can our addicted selves and society at large handle that? Can the world truly slow down? It’s an environment like this that allows for a shift in thinking and perspective, which is so sorely needed in this quickly shifting landscape, climate, culture, and the future that awaits, one that we create, back home.

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