Problems in the Atlas

Not what I expected. This little pearl of wisdom floated into my consciousness as the snow underfoot gave way and I sank down to my armpits in deceptively enticing, soft-serve-like icey covering. You see, the name 'Morocco' tends to conjure images of warm, sandy dunes; camels; exotic aromas and, sure, monkeys in miniature Man United jerseys. The common thread between all of these is that they are all enjoyed in slip-slops. So the fact that it was now minus 5 degrees and I was ignominiously trying to wriggle free of my freezing predicament, looking something like a porpoise giving birth, certainly had caught me off-guard.

You see, just four days earlier we had arrived at the village of Imlil at the foot of the High Atlas mountains looking to do some lite trekking. And perhaps to make a snow man. The solemn figure of the local big-wig (as deduced by the extraordinary moustache dancing on his upper lip) approached us to  begin the interminable process of bartering for a good route and a price that would make us feel like we had been penetrated just a little bit. "Its no problem": words that walk a tightrope between optimism and false hope. When relating to scaling North Africas highest peak during its coldest month it tends towards the latter. And yet these were the words we would hear again and again over the next 4 days.

"Mohammed, we have never used proper mountaineering gear - is it a good idea to start to get the hang of it on those white, Mordor-like slopes?"
"Its no problem."

"Mohammed, its below freezing and my glove has just blown into that crevasse"
"Its no problem."

"Mohammed - my crampons aren't getting enough purchase and I'm sliding down this 80 degree rock face."
"Its no problem."
"Mohammed, have you seen "Touching the Void?"

Language was often our downfall as Mohammed spoke mostly Berber, a little French and no English. We, on the other hand speak only English and know only the diverse and surprisingly useful Arabic words of 'keshkusha' which means 'foam' and 'ghwoorza' which means 'anus'.

Nonetheless we managed to summit after four pretty extraordinary days. The temperature with the wind-chill was minus 10. The fog was so thick we couldn't see more than 5 metres in front of us so the alleged magnificent panorama from the roof of North Africa was lost to us. But we had reached the peak with the bare minimum of equipment, so in the words of Mohammed - it was no problem.

Oh, and just a quick thank you to everyone who has generously donated to the Key School for Autism. If anyone else would like to contribute even a small donation to this remarkable school please click on the Back-a-Buddy link on the right of this page. We will accept demeaning challenges for donations.