It’s Akchour Thing!

Akchour is, indeed, spectacular.  I am so glad I went even though it took a bit of doing to get there.  First, I walked from my hotel in the kasbah in Chefchaouen to the square where I could get a petite taxi to take me to the place where I could catch a grande taxi over to the next town.  Petite taxis only travel within the towns and usually cost about 6 or 8 Dirhams (day vs. night) here in Chefchaouen and you hire them idividually, although the driver can pick up up to 3 people.  Grand taxis go between towns and only leave when they have a total of 6 people.  You can leave earlier if you are willing to pay the fares for the empty spots.  Fares differ depending on the distance of the route the grande taxi goes.  I will say that six people plus a driver in a normal 4-door Benz is a bit more than cramped.  I’m glad I had time with Anas in Casablanca to figure all of this stuff out, and then Hanaa explained the directions to me so I could get to Akchour, which is maybe 30 km from Chefchaouen.

So after waiting a while, we had a full grande taxi and headed off to Akchour.    As you go towards the national park, you drive along the river, which is a rather incredible shade of blue, almost turquoise.  At this time of year, there are beautiful pink flowers in bloom all along the riverbed.  All of the trees are green and lush.  It’s lovely.  The taxi driver dropped us off in a parking lot by the entrance to the Parc National de Talassemtane.  From there, you can hike to the Cascades du Oued El Kelaa and the Pont de Dieu.Most people and articles I read suggest getting a guide to take you to the waterfalls or the bridge of God, but I really wanted to hike at my own pace (not fast – I have a short stride and don’t hike quickly anyway) and wanted to take pics and spend some time alone in nature.  Of course, I was approached by many people offering to guide me as I headed for the trail.  I declined, but the signs about the trails are in French, and the trails themselves aren’t marked very well.

I asked some guys at the restroom which way to the Pont de Dieu, but got headed off on the wrong trail and ended up wriggling through some thorny bushes on the side of a rather steep mountain on the wrong side of the river.  Stymied, I headed back down towards the river, where a young guy was beckoning me.  There were some little restaurants set up along the river, and I crossed some rocks to join him near them.  He led me up to the trail and offered to guide me.  I thanked him, but refused and he pointed me to the right trail.

I was walking then with the river on my left and a big mountain on my right.  As I was approaching a small farm, a young guy passed me heading for the river.  He stopped and gestured up to a large patch of pure green on the mountain.  “See that?” he asked.  “It’s marijuana!”  Sure enough, it was a giant field of marijuana, growing on the side of the mountain.  The Rif mountains are known for their hashish, a form of marijuana frequently smoked here in Morocco.  I was interested to see how openly people here treated its presence.  I believe it’s a large source of income here.

When I got to a crossroads at the farm, I asked someone for directions, and he pointed me to one path.  I later found out it was the wrong way.  I figured that out when I had scrambled up the side of the mountain for over an hour on what was essentially a mountain goat trail!  By the time I found the trail again, following voices and bouldering up a bit, I was hot and sweaty.  But the view was spectacular!  The river was far below me, still a stunning blue, winding through the valley, between mountains covered with trees.

Finally, the trail curved around and I saw the Bridge of God on the mountain ahead.  It was a huge arch over the river made of stone far abover the river.  As I approached, I could hear the cascades below it.  Just before reaching the bridge, I passed a guide with a couple of Asian girls.  He said I should return the way I came after visiting the bridge because the way afterwards was more difficult than the way I had come.  Not sure what to make of that, since I hadn’t come on most of the trail in the first place, I continued on to the bridge and enjoyed the incredible view of the river below.  I had gotten a late start that day, so the area was basically deserted by then.

Eventually, some guy approached me where I was sitting on the side of the cliff and we spoke a little.  He didn’t speak much English, so it took a bit of effort to communicate.  After some time, I got him to continue on without me (mostly by wandering around at the top of the mountain, going up dead-end trails and taking pictures), as I wasn’t super-keen on being out in the woods alone with this stranger I couldn’t communicate with.

I was considering going down the mountain to the river and walking downriver to the entrance of the park, but a little down the trail it became narrow, steep, and mountain goat-y, so I took the guide’s advice, and headed back the way I had come.  Since the trail was easier to follow once I was on it, I was able to make it back to the entrance without any difficulty.  When I passed the farm on the opposite side as the guy had sent me earlier, I realized he had sent me the wrong way originally.

I went down to the river to cool off and got some tea before heading out to catch a taxi back to Chefchaouen.  In the taxi, there was a nice couple from France who had been walking around in Morocco.  They had walked out to the park, but it took them so long to get there that they now needed a taxi to return to town!  Being so late in the evening, the taxi driver wanted us to pay more to just leave with only three people.  We wanted to wait and pay less.  Finally, we agreed on a middle price and took some local people with us for a shorter distance.

After I got back and showered, Hanaa’s husband had someone show me a restaurant he recommended.  I am sitting on a cushion on the floor, enjoying dinner (and mint tea, of course!), and working on this blog.  It’s been a long day, but I loved spending it up in the mountains.