A Raid On The High Atlas

By W. V. Brown.

Some time in December Beetham put before me two propositions:-Winter Sports at Maloja for Christmas and the Atlas Mountains for Easter. The former did not appeal to me as I can only take one long holiday in twelve months, and the prospect of the hottest part of the year without a break was not very alluring. The latter I thought might go and I promised to consider it.

I did so and motored over to see Beetham one Sunday in January to discuss ways and means,and having stipulated that, on arrival on the range, above 10,000 feet the speed of the party should be mine and not his (which, by the way, is the same at 13,000 as at 4,000), I agreed that I would join him.

Routes were looked out, and as, to use a legal phrase, “Time was the essence of the contract” it was decided that we proceed to Toulouse by rail and from there to Casablanca by ‘plane. A certain world-known tourist agency was written to for quotations, which duly arrived, and a cheque was sent with instructions that places should be reserved all through, and we sat down to wait in patient impatience for the great day of departure.

Unfortunately, a cog in the tourist agency machine slipped, and two or three days before we were due to depart, we learned that owing to a mistake on the part of a clerk the ‘plane seats had not been booked and that accommodation could not be had for several days.

This was a great blow, but we had to make the best of it. Beetham arranged to get away on the night of April 2nd instead of the following afternoon. He travelled to London during the night, and joined me (I had gone south comfortably the day before and had had a good night’s sleep) at Victoria station at 8 a.m., April 3^rd. We had no definite idea as to how far we could book, but consultation with a booking clerk discovered the fact that he could give us tickets to Algeciras, and these we took. Paris was reached at 4.30 p.m. and left at 7.10, and we had a fairly comfortable night. We reached Irun at 8 on the morning of April 4th, and left at 9.35 for Madrid, which was reached at 9 p.m.

According to the Continental time-table we had to change stations and proceed on another train leaving at 11 p.m., but when, after a taxi-drive on a car with a very high-powered engine, a very loose steering gear and a reckless driver, we arrived (miraculously I thought), we found a special fast train just about to leave. We entered it but after walking from end to end and finding that it consisted of many first class, one third class, and no second class coaches, we were discussing the advisability of getting out and waiting for the later train, when it started off. A very voluble and gesticulating ticket inspector appeared, and having finally made out that, though it was a case of standing in the corridor, we were expected to pay an immense number of pesetas excess, we decided that we might as well stand in the third class corridor and keep the cash. We had a miserable night, though a newspaper spread on the corridor floor and our rucksacks for pillows enabled us to get a little sleep, disturbed at frequent intervals by people stepping over us. At 6 a.m., April 5th, we arrived at Cordoba and finding that several first class travellers had got out, we moved ourselves to comfortable quarters, where we soon had another interview with the ticket inspector, and having paid him umpteen pesetas, we were left in comfort.

Algeciras was reached at 3.5 p.m., just one hour too late for the Tangier boat, so we found an hotel, bathed and shaved -both of which were very much required. Having ascertained that dinner was at eight, we looked round the town, and seeing a pleasant-looking café, decided that coffee and an omelette would be useful. We had them, then decided to return to the hotel and rest till dinner. Alas for “the best laid schemes”! I turned in on the top of my bed fully clothed, about 4.30, anticipating a decent dinner and I did not waken until 10.45 p.m., when I undressed, got into pyjamas and went to bed properly. When I met Beetham at breakfast next morning, I discovered that he also had been asleep until 10.30 when he, like me, undressed and went to bed.

The morning of April 6th was a very bad one – rain and a high wind, and there was a possibility that the steamer might not go. (There is no harbour at Tangier and one has to disembark by small motor boats). However, at 2.30 the wind dropped somewhat and we got away, and by adopting a horizontal position among some hawsers, managed to keep well until we arrived in Tangier Bay. Here Beetham got up, I waited until I heard the anchor go, then thinking that the worst was over, I also became erect. Alas! the steamer having lost way, gave an awful lurch, moved all ways at once, and my first,and I sincerely trust my last, Spanish lunch was discarded.

I should like, having enjoyed “Food and the Mountaineer,” to know what Creighton has to say regarding Spanish cookery, with special notes in respect of garlic and olive oil. My own vocabulary, stretched to the uttermost, was too limited to do justice to the subject.

Having discarded lunch, I felt quite fit, and thoroughly enjoyed the step from the steamer to the launch, which was one moment level with the accommodation ladder, and the next many feet below.

In the launch we were immediately adopted by a picturesque English-speaking Moor, who took us to our hotel, undertook to get our passports attended to, secure our tickets and reserve seats for us on the motor-bus for Casablanca in the morning. All this he faithfully did, which relieved us and allowed us to attend to our more personal requirements in the way of food. I have no doubt that the dinner was excellent. Beetham said it was, but he has been in Tibet, and these things are, after all, relative, but I shall not cease to regret that the delightful-looking red mullet were cooked in the Spanish way in olive oil, and that after one taste I had to pass them.

We retired at 9 p.m., much to the disappointment of the Moor, who, very evidently pleased with the tip he got, wanted to take us round Tangier, but we had to be up early to get the auto at 6.30.

The run to Casablanca was exceedingly interesting, and at first rather exciting. I watched the speedometer needle mounting until it reached and passed 90 (often it touched 100 kms.) and wondered what would happen if a tyre burst. The road seemed to be reserved for fast traffic, and the Moors with their caravans of camels, mules and donkeys moved on a wide track of rough land between the road and the cultivation. The country is perfectly flat and entirely without hedges or fences, but practically every small collection of native huts is surrounded by a zareba of prickly pear.

A stop was made at a small settlement with a French hotel between 11.30 and 12.10 for lunch. Rabat was reached at 3 p.m. and Casablanca at 4.45, and we began to feel that we were getting somewhat nearer. Our equipment, which had been sent by sea from Liverpool, was secured. Meta and some pans were purchased, and we settled down after dinner with the knowledge that on the morrow we should be in Marrakesh and in sight of our goal.

We were up early on the morning of the 8th, and the bus started off punctually at 6.30 on the second last lap of the journey, and having crossed the Little Atlas and dropped into the great plain, duly arrived at Marrakesh.

There was an epidemic of typhus and a conference of medical men, and every hotel was full, but through the good offices of a gentleman whom Beetham had met the previous year, we got settled at 6.30 p.m., and after dinner proceeded to draw up lists of necessary foodstuffs.

The 9th was spent partly in visiting the office of the Syndicat d’Initiative de Marrakesh to make arrangements and get permission to proceed, and secure tickets for the Rest Houses, which are the Atlas equivalent of the Alpine Club huts ; in making the necessary food purchases, and in visiting the Sooks (bazaars).

A general store, where nearly everything necessary could be got, was found, but we had great difficulty in finding a boulangerie. The trouble was overcome, just before we were, and 28 loaves were ordered. These had to be baked, and they were delivered at our bedroom about 1 a.m., when we had to get up, accept delivery, and partly unpack the tent bag so as to accommodate them.

We rose at 4.45 a.m. on the 10^th, and as, owing to the typhus trouble, the cars from the interior were not allowed inside the city walls, we had to get all our kit and ourselves packed into a caléche. This took us out and delivered us in an open space, poorly lighted by torches and lamps, and filled with a motley collection of Moors and cars. The Moor who accompanied us from the hotel was paid 5 francs, which he evidently considered handsome, as he insisted on shaking hands with us several times before departing.

Beetham and I got seats on the front of the car, the back being packed with Moors, and at 6 a.m. we started, only to be stopped in about ten yards by a peremptory hail in French. Two medical men with several attendants came up, ordered all the Moors out, and after the car was swabbed down with disinfectant we got away again.

We had been informed that the trip would take several hours, and were astonished when we arrived at Azni about 7.45, but on making inquiries we found that the length of time taken depended entirely on whether or not there had been any rock slides across the road during the night. We were lucky. The road was clear and we got through in good time without being called on to do any navvy work.

“La Bonne Auberge” provided a second breakfast, and after seeing to our rooms and baggage we started out across the valley and climbed the ridge on the East, from which we got a magnificent view of the snow peaks. The heat was intense and Beetham who had unfortunately changed into shorts got his knees so burnt that he had to wrap handkerchiefs round them for protection. Some time was spent taking photos, after which we descended and got back in time for lunch. We then made another sally and got on to thc West ridge, returning at 7 p.m., when we found the Sheik of Azni waiting for us. I am afraid our conversation was limited, but Beetham is a past-master at signs and seemed to make himself understood.

The morning of the 11th was bright and clear, and our mule-man La Sem turned up at 6.30. The panniers were packed by 8.15, and at 8.30 we were off. A stream had to be forded almost at once, but we were saved the trouble of taking off our boots and were ferried across on very diminutive donkeys, the boy in charge of mine being so anxious that I should not get wet that in lifting my right leg clear of the water, he nearly threw me over to the left.

We kept steadily up the valley until 11.40 a.m., when we unloaded the mule and had lunch, re-loading and getting off again in an hour.

A punishing grind, which took so much out of me that I found it necessary when we had reached the highest point to call a halt for about five minutes, and marked only by one incident when the mule, being tired, with malice aforethought lay down in an irrigation ditch with the tent bag containing the loaves underneath, brought us to the hill village of Tashdirt and our first rest-house at 4.45. The place did not seem to have been opened for months and everything was sopping, but the floor and walls soon dried under the influence of opened door and windows, and with the rubber ground-sheet tied down across two camp beds we made ourselves comfortable and Beetham turned out an excellent dinner on a native charcoal stove. We turned in about 9 p.m.

The alarm watch was set for 6 a.m., but we both slept rather badly, and were up at 5.20 on the 12th. We got away at 6.30, making towards the mountain which La Sem called Iguenduane, reached snow at 7.15, and attained the ridge (about 12,000 ft.) Had a most excellent time and got down to Tashdirt about 3 p.m. The Sheik arrived soon after and departed hurriedly when Beetham presented him with three portraits of himself taken the previous year. He returned just as rapidly bearing gifts of six eggs, twelve potatoes, and an invitation for kous-kous later on. We assumed that this would be at his place, but La Sem was insistent that we should remain, and at 7.30 we found ourselves and the Sheik sitting round a wooden platter, diameter two feet, solemnly digging with one hand (having been warned in Marrakesh that it was bad form to use two), and making the best possible job of what we got.

So far as I could make out the dish consisted of:-bottom stratum, about two inches of finely chopped and sweetened maize; second, two chickens which had been dismembered, that is the legs and wings were separated, the rest of the carcases were entire ; and top, sliced potatoes. The legs were easily managed, but I never again wish to tackle a body with only one hand and my teeth. The meal was rounded off with native coffee, which seemed to be 50% each coffee and cinnamon.

On the 13th we rose at 7.30, turned out at 9, making the Col Tizi Tashdirt about noon. We rested, having lunch, for about an hour and then made the summit of Angoura (about 11000 ft.) first travelling over easy rocks and higher on snow which was in absolutely perfect condition, getting down to the rest-house at 4.30 p.m.

These two days were in the nature of preparation, and on the 14^th we were up at 2 a.m., and on our way to Likoumt(12,750 ft.), by 2.45. Candles being scarce, we only took one and the glacier lantern lasted out until about five minutes before we reached the snow valley we were making for, after which we could see fairly well. The going was up perfect snow and we made good progress, but as we mounted I got slower and took frequent breathers while Beetham drew ahead until, when I arrived on the ridge, he was on a small peak which rose about 100 ft. higher to the east. He joined me and we had a second breakfast, during which we had a good look round and decided to proceed westwards.

The snow was in perfect condition and after doing three peaks I decided at 10 o’clock to rest and admire the views, while Beetham, who is absolutely insatiable, proceeded to the end of the ridge. He was away about two hours during which he was only in the range of my vision about half-an-hour, and when he rejoined me we lunched before starting down. The descent was made by a different route involving several detours, and finishing down a wonderful gully, in the bed of which we found a newly-dead mountain goat which had evidently fallen several hundreds of feet.

At 9.30 on the morning of the 15th we repacked, and with La Sem and the mule proceeded back on the Azni track for about 30 minutes, when we turned down into the valley, crossed the stream and commenced to mount the zigzags on the track to Arround, which was reached in a fairly easy five hours over a 10,000 ft. col, then down through a very narrow gorge, which suddenly opened out into an immense basin, the whole floor covered with flattened out débris, through which a stream ran. We passed through the village on the left side at the entrance to the basin, and proceeded across to the rest-house about half a mile away on the other side.

After adjusting things we made a reconnaissance about two hours up the main valley, but could not come to any conclusions as the mists were very low and very little could be seen.

Next morning I was off colour, and Beetham suggested that I should rest while he proceeded towards Toum Ca and looked out a camping site as high as possible. He left at 7.45 and returned at 5.30, not only with a report of an excellent site about three hours higher, but also with the information that he had actually been to the summit – a marvellous tour de force, before which an ordinary individual like myself can only stand in silent admiration. La Sem, when informed by signs that he was required to get our baggage higher up the mountain, was obviously much perturbed and pantomimed the mule slipping and rolling down the mountain, and much persuasion was needed before he consented.

All necessaries were packed, and at 7.45 on the 17th we started out. We had about 30 minutes level going across the floor of the basin, and then the climb commenced. About one hour out we had to cross a mountain torrent, after which the difficulties were all for the poor mule, which negotiated steep rock slabs like a goat. At 11.45 we arrived at the camping place, and I found that Beetham’s enthusiastic description was deserved. There was on the steep hillside one flat place, sheltered by an immense overhanging rock, its floor quite dry and spongy. It had evidently been used for centuries by goats as a shelter, and their droppings, feet deep, scoured by snows and bleached by the sun until they were odourless, made a perfect floor for the tent.

By two o’clock the tent was erected and our position consolidated; Beetham was busy with his camera, and I sat in the shadow in an endeavour to mend my cracked lips and cheeks. We are about 9,000 ft. up on the left bank of the stream. Toum Ca raises its pinnacles to the south of us, and another rocky ridge looms up on the S.W. The Valley up which we have come continues for about one mile S.W. and then turns south. The views are superb.

About 5p.m. La Sem, who had been showing signs of uneasiness for some time, pointing to the sky and making the tent flap about, gave up, and taking the mule departed for the lower valley. Then Beetham and I proceeded to gather about a ton of rock, which we piled on all the pegs and also round the walls of the tent. In spite of this we had a night of fears that everything would be carried off. The wind started in gentle zephyrs, which raised little dust devils as we cooked our dinner, and rendered necessary the skimming of everything, then rose within an hour until it was shrieking past with quite a roar. We turned into our blankets about 9 p.m. hoping tor the best, but fearing the worst. It was a most peculiar storm. There would be a roar, the fly-sheet would rattle and slap until we thought it could not hold any longer, then as if a giant shutter had closed it would suddenly cease absolutely, and there would be perfect quiet for an appreciable time. Then we would hear it coming again down the pass, getting louder and louder until it struck us, stayed with us a time, and then shut off again. The tent held, thanks to La Sem’s perturbation and the rocks, but neither of us slept, and at 7 a.m. we turned out.

The wind was still strong and everything was covered thickly with finely powdered goat dung. It was impossible to get away from it, and our tea had to be sieved through a handkerchief inside the tightly closed tent, before we could drink it. The tinned butter turned out to be too rancid for me to eat, so we had some dry hard bread and biscuits, and packed up a good lunch to eat on the snow higher up. We started at 8.30, and in less than an hour were on good snow, and had a perfect climb to the Col Tizi Toum Ca (12,000 ft.) which we made about 11.30. We had perfect views from here. Away to the south Lac Tifnitz and the Sous country, and up to our left the frowning summit of Toum Ca, the south face of which was seemingly impossible, though Beetham tells me that he has registered a mental vow to prove sometime in the near future that it is only ” seemingly.”

Camp was reached about 2.30, and the rest of the afternoon spent taking photographs.

Beetham planned a long day on the 19th, and as I cannot move at his pace I decided on a rest for myself.

We both slept well and got up about 4a.m. At 4.40 Beetham started out in very unpromising weather and I turned in again. At 7 o’c1ock La Sem and another Arab he had brought to keep him company, woke me. They were very worried. It was snowing hard, and they gave me to understand by signs that they wanted to pack up and get off. La Sem was also worried about Beetham, and kept pointing up the mountain. I dressed and started up the valley, and about 2 hours up, through a break in the mist, I saw Beetham coming down steep snow in a branch valley at a great pace. He had made the summit of Toum Ca again, in spite of the exceedingly bad weather conditions, and was very happy, but very wet and cold. The snow had ceased but it was raining heavily. The mists were rolling down, and the obvious thing to do was to get away.

La Sem gave us to understand that he could not bring the mule up, but that he and the other Moor would portage the stuff down, and about one o’clock we started, Beetham and I with heavy rucksacks, and the two Moors with appalling loads which they managed with apparent ease. We arrived at Arround about 3.30, and we were very thankful to get out of our wet things and get some food. La Sem’s friend was given four francs and a tin of bully beef, which seemed to please him very well. It rained heavily all afternoon and at 7.30, having moved our beds several times in an endeavour to find places where they would escape the streams of water from the roof, we turned in.

We woke about 6.30 a.m., and as the weather was still bad we remained abed until 8.30 when the sun appeared and we got up. We put everything out to dry, and at 10 o’clock started up a rock peak just behind for photographic purposes. Beetham made a lot of exposures, and after an enjoyably lazy day we returned. After a walk round the native village and dinner, we retired early.

Next morning after bathing in the stream, shaving (an awful job) and breakfasting, we settled with La Sem, who with his mule cost us the vast sum of 17 francs (2s.10d.) per day. Along with a tip in money we gave him, to his great delight, some very ripe pyjamas and shirts, one tin pan and Beetham’s old nailed boots. These latter appeared later, to our astonishment, on the feet of a Moor in the village who was evidently very proud of possessing them.

After lunch our baggage was carried up to the road, and during the interval which must necessarily elapse (with Moors) between schedule time for starting anything and actually getting away, we watched the life of the village. A Berber was pottering round an old Renault with a grease gun, while a yard or so away another butchered a kid, and in a most skilful manner stripped the skin off whole for later use as the ages-old type of water carrier.

After several false starts we finally set off at 2.15, and on a sudden impulse got off again at Tanaout, a typical hill village about midway to Marrakesh. After securing sleeping accommodation at a funny little auberge down by the river, we examined the village for prospects of photographing storks, nests of which were in abundance on roofs and on ends of broken down walls.

The evening here was delightful. Dinner, most excellent, was served to us outside in a terraced garden about thirty feet above the river. Night fell suddenly, when we were half done, and the frogs started calling, making a row which must be heard to be believed. Our table was set under a mimosa tree in full bloom, and we finished our dinner by the light of an acetylene lamp hung from a bough.

We were up at seven on the 23rd, and spent from 8.30 till 11.30 taking photos of storks, sitting on nests, standing on nests, taking wing from and returning to nests. Beetham’s patience, like his appetite for climbing, is evidently without any limits, and I am looking forward to seeing the results. After lunch we were lucky to be taken to Marrakesh on a large bus which had brought along a party of cinema people and was returning empty. The evening was most uncomfortable owing to a high wind laden with sand, and we turned in early and carefully adjusted the mosquito nets.

Our bus left for Casablanca at 6.30 on the morning of the 24th, so we were up at 5.15, which just gave time for the usual coffee and rolls. Arrived about 11.45, and after securing rooms at the Excelsior Hotel, we called on the shipping agents regarding the transport of our equipment, and were agreeably surprised when told to leave the stuff together with the address, and everything would be done for us.

We were both very desirous of returning by the route we had originally purposed using, and as accommodation could not be had on the ‘plane until the 27th, we had two days to use up. We decided that a day at Fadhala (25 kms), would suit us very well, so after café complet on the 25th we, having ascertained from a lineal descendant of Ananias that ‘buses went every half hour, started out in the hope of being picked up. It was atrociously hot, the road was dusty, there was no shade, and neither was there a bus. We walked 16 kms., and then decided to wait. We waited two hours. Still no bus, and Beetham seemed capable of waiting two more (I have already remarked on his patience), but it was 3.30, and I wanted something to eat, so I started back for Casablanca. I arrived at 5.40, and as it was long past lunch time, I had more coffee and rolls, bathed and settled down to wait for dinner time. Beetham turned up at 7 p.m. He had waited another 15 minutes after I left and had then walked on to Fadhala, had an omelette and a rest, and also found a bus to carry him back.

The 26th we spent wandering round the native part of the town and through the markets, and went to bed early, as we had to be up at 3.30 next morning. The car from the aerodrome picked us up at 4.15, and at 5 a.m., having put on as much clothing as possible, we stepped into the cockpit, sat down on mail bags facing each other, adjusted our legs, and were off. It was dawn, and the lighted town and harbour looked wonderful from 2,000 ft. up as we circled round and then struck north for Rabat. We descended for mails at Rabat, Tangier, Alicante and Perpignan, and at 5.5 p.m. finished the air part of the journey at Toulouse, having done about 1400 miles in 12 hours.

A car took us to the station, where we had time for a wash and dinner before catching the night mail train to Paris. We had one hour between Quai d’Orsay and the Gare du Nord,and there got the 10a.m.boat train. I left Beetham at Victoria, and by great good luck got across London in a taxi in twenty minutes, caught the 6.15 L.M.S. train arriving in Leeds at 10.10 p.m., a total of 41 hours 10 minutes from North Africa to Leeds.