• Atlas Mountains,  Morocco 🇲🇦
• Saturday 31st May-Sunday 1st June 2025

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After years of talking about it, we finally did it, we summited Mount Toubkal, or Jebel Toubkal if your feeling fancy.  Standing proud at 4,167 metres, this is the highest peak in the Atlas Mountains, North Africa and the Arab world.  Not our highest mountain to date but certainly still a memorable achievement and on a whole new continent for us, which ticks another adventure box.

We decided to go for the fast-and-furious two-day version. Yes, it’s the minimum recommended time and yes, we felt every minute of that decision in our legs.

Since 2019, it has been a legal requirement to climb Mount Toubkal with a licensed guide. This change followed the tragic murders of two European women in 2018, prompting tighter safety regulations on the mountain. Trekkers must now be accompanied by an official guide from Imlil to the refuge and from there to the summit.

A police checkpoint just beyond the village of Imlil records passport details and verifies your guide’s credentials. Additional checkpoints exist along the trail, including one at the refuge, so attempting to bypass the system isn’t an option.  So we were back in a group hiking experience whether we liked it or not!

We had hired local guides for the trek, as required and ended up with three lovely guys who really made the experience better. They were friendly, patient and clearly knew the mountain inside out. From setting the pace to keeping spirits up, they were a solid part of the journey, calm, capable and always up for a bit of banter when the trail allowed.

Our group was a real mix of nationalities and abilities.  Three of us Scots (myself included alongside a father and son), an Irishman (Andy), two Welshman (friends), seven English folk (2 couples, both male and female and then another 3 males who had came separately) and a Spaniard (he also came separately) who kept spirits high with his humour.

We all had different paces and approaches, but it worked well enough. Two members of the group were quite a bit slower, which set the pace for the rest of us, as we were only allowed to move as fast as the slowest person. It had its downsides, mainly spending longer on the mountain than we might have needed to. It’s not the worst thing, but when you’re trying to catch a sunrise at the summit, there’s definitely a part of you that wants to pick up the pace.  Funnily enough, it was the two women in the group who struggled the most on the uphills.  I’m guessing there were a couple of husbands in the doghouse by the end of the hike.

That said, there were no egos, no drama, just a group of people from different places, all with the same goal to get up, get down and make the most of the journey in between.

Day 1: Mules, Markets & the Sacred Rock

We set off from the village of Imlil, about 60km from Marrakech, which serves as the High Atlas’ unofficial trekking HQ. From there, it was a gradual climb past fruit trees, mule trains and street vendors selling everything from fizzy drinks to handmade jewellery, because why not do a little shopping en route to North Africa’s highest peak?

Passing through Aroumd,  the largest Berber village in the region was stunning. Perched on a hillside and only accessible by mule track, Aroumd feels like something from another time. Think terraced farming, traditional mud-brick houses and sweeping views of the mountains. It’s more than a stop on the trail, it’s a snapshot of a rich, enduring culture.

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Later on, we passed Sidi Chamharouch, the famous sacred white boulder, a pre-Islamic shrine that attracts pilgrims from across Morocco. Tucked beside a small mosque and a trickle of spring water believed to have healing powers, it’s a surreal and spiritual detour on a rugged mountain trail.

After around 7 hours (with breaks for rustic hill ‘cafés’ and one elderly Berber man selling fresh orange juice from a wooden shack), we reached Les Mouflons Refuge.

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It’s a stone building in a jaw-dropping location and that’s where the luxury ends. Cramped dorms, no toilet paper and electricity rationed like gold dust between approximately 7pm–10pm (if your lucky). Let’s just say, if you didn’t pack a head torch, you were in for a dark time – literally.

Dinner, however, was a revelation. Homemade soup, chicken tagine, vegetable stew, spaghetti (yes, spaghetti), rice, salad, basically everything on one plate and it worked. Starving and satisfied, we tried to sleep… emphasis on tried.

Day 2: Altitude, Army & Summiting

Alarms went off at 2.45am and we dragged ourselves to breakfast with roughly two hours of sleep between us.

Then before we knew it, we were off, hoping to summit Mount Toubkal in time for sunrise.  Hiking in the dark has its own magic and watching long lines of head torches snake up the mountain was oddly beautiful.

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This mountain was a bit of a beast, steep scree, boulders fields and endless switchbacks for miles on end.  It took us around 4 hours to summit – cue the drama.

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Just as we were about to approach the summit, in marched the Morrocan army plus army cadets.  Not only did they beat us to the summit (mostly), they also turned it into their own private photo shoot.  There were tripod poses, dramatic silhouettes and one too many group shots.  We patiently waited (read: glared) until they were marched off. Only then could we claim our moment and get that all-important summit shot.

Despite the summit squatters, the views were spectacular.  Clear skies meant we could see from the Marrakesh Plain to the Anti-Atlas and even hints of the Sahara beyond. Absolutely worth every bruise and slight bout of altitude sickness.

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The descent? Brutal. Even with poles, it was a constant battle not to end up on our bums, a battle we mostly lost.

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After 7 hours of climbing and descending, we were rewarded with another brilliant meal at the refuge. A beautiful butternut bean tagine, pasta and the most aesthetically pleasing salad of the trip. We ate like royalty… then waddled out.

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But we weren’t done. We still had a 5 hour trek back down to Imlil. That’s 11 hours total hiking on two hours’ sleep, at high altitude.

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Mount Toubkal gave us it all: scenery, culture, a spiritual detour  great food, sore knees and a solid reminder that sometimes, the shortest itinerary is also the most intense.

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Would we recommend it? Absolutely. Would we do it again? Ask us once we’re walking normally.