Rif mountains Morocco
Africa,  Independent travel,  Morocco,  Photography,  Travel Blog,  Walking

Moroccan Roll Lifestyle

Mehdi’s brother’s friend with the rental car office is waiting for us, car clean if a little battle scarred, he even has paperwork and insurance documents ready – often when we’ve done this kind of “local” hire before, the only paperwork which changes hands is cash. “Gendarmerie” he explains, with a wave of his hand.

Rif mountains in Morocco
Rif mountains
Rif mountains in Morocco
Barren land in the Rif mountains
Rif mountains in Morocco
Rif mountains

Our destination for our only day on the road in the Rif Mountains is the tiny village of Akchour, gateway to a renowned spectacular waterfall hike. Actually, it’s not just the hike that’s spectacular, the drive from Chefchaouen to Akchour is pretty amazing too. The huge, sweeping mountain terrain is so scenic, so dramatic. Regularly punctuated by steep climbs, hairpins and Scalextric-like stretches laid out ahead, the road wriggles its way between colossal peaks, somehow finding a route through unforgiving landscapes.

Rif mountains in Morocco
Our road through the mountains
Rif mountains in Morocco
On the way to Akchour

Smoke billows from small rounded brick structures at the roadside, each one a mini bakery where women create the discus shaped loaves so loved by everyone in Morocco. Sheltered from the sun by multiple layers of traditional clothing, these bakers are such an archetypical sight of Morocco, a scene which has played out unchanged probably across centuries.

Baking bread in The Rif mountains in Morocco
Roadside bakery

Now and again a patch of almost lurid green forms an oasis in the rocky, barren ground – these are the well known cannabis farms of the Rif Mountains. In Morocco, cannabis use is legal for medicinal purposes, illegal for any other use, so by necessity all of this crop ends up in the medical profession. Of course it doesn’t. Farmers in this otherwise deprived area make more money from this than any other trade, and no medical trade supply line is ever going to be as lucrative as the “other one”. Blind eyes are turned, no doubt somewhere money changes hands, the trade goes on despite official clampdowns and Morocco remains one of the world’s largest producers of hash. 

Rif mountains in Morocco
Spot the cannabis fields

The road ends at Akchour, the terrain too difficult now to take construction any further. Akchour is a particular type of village, one of those remote places which has latched on to a reason to become a destination, and made the very most of it. In Akchour’s case, the reasons are two spectacular natural features: lengthy cascading waterfalls and a remarkable rock formation known as God’s Bridge. 

Hiking toGods Bridge in Rif mountains in Morocco
Hiking the trail
Looking down on Gods Bridge Rif mountains in Morocco
Looking down on God’s Bridge

We opt to take the hike to God’s Bridge, but in fact end up doing it two ways, once by climbing high on to the ridge and looking down on the “bridge” from above, the other by following the waterside trail in the bottom of the canyon, meaning occasional diversions into the water. The “bridge” is in reality an eroded and collapsed archway where the remaining rock bridge spans the canyon a whole 100 metres above the water. Both of our views, from above and below, are pretty amazing.

River near Gods Bridge in the Rif mountains in Morocco
Part of the Akchour cascades

The canyon itself is beautiful, fast crystal clear waters cascading down a series of waterfalls and foaming over boulders, glinting in the sunlight beneath the verdant canopy above. Akchour’s enterprising locals have set up cafes along the route, tables either next to or actually in the water, tagines boiling away on coals to tempt in hungry hikers on their return. Or hungry travellers, even – it works, and these hungry travellers submit to temptation.

River near Gods Bridge in the Rif mountains in Morocco
Akchour

River cafes near Gods Bridge in the Rif mountains in Morocco

By the time we hand the car keys back to Mehdi’s brother’s buddy, the sun is disappearing behind the Rif Mountains and the streets are falling into shade. Up here in the mountain air of Chefchaouen, the nights are growing noticeably colder, djellebas and other outer robes are starting to appear and the blankets in our room are being given employment.

Tempting tagines

We’ve managed to make the best of our time here despite the absence of the rental car we had planned to have, though there has been a bit of spare time which would otherwise have been filled with other excursions. While Michaela fills one such time with housekeeping matters and forward research, I put the music on shuffle and the headphones on my ears. Uncannily, my ipod randomly selects “Rock The Casbah” just a few tracks in.

Mehdi’s repair to the door lock held firm for the rest of our stay. However the door to our outside space fell off its hinges. Breakfast remained steadfastly identical despite the fact we never once managed to eat even half of it. Hot water was predictably unpredictable. My bed frame became detached from the footboard, collapsed and hit the floor with a loud bang which must have had anyone in the room below wondering what the hell had happened.

Moroccan roll baby.

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