In Fes, the temperature hovers just above freezing, and so rain, sometimes sleet, pounds down on our house, the sound amplified by the plastic roof that covers our open courtyard. Further up in the mountains, the rain turns into snow, creating the perfect conditions for a Moroccan ski adventure.
That's right. My first ski trip since high school took place in North Africa.
Our ragtag group of skiers gathered at 7:00 am last Saturday morning. 14 in total, we piled into our rented van while the rest of Fes still slept. Most of us dozed on the bus as we climbed further and further up into the mountains. Along the way, we passed through the town of Ifrane. I'd driven through Ifrane a few times before, but it never ceases to make me smile. France developed the town, which is situated about 45 minutes from Fes, as a resort village in the 1920s. The architecture is firmly European, the trees are neatly groomed, and joggers and recreational bikers abound. The drive through Ifrane is like passing through the Swiss Alps for ten minutes, only to be plopped back into Morocco again once you reach town limits.
We reached the Mischliffen resort an hour or so after we left Fes. Several inches of powdery snow were on the ground, and we took the opportunity to throw some snowballs and marvel at the fact that we were several inches deep in snow. In Morocco.
After some scrambling to find "suitable" boots, skis, and poles for all of us (Suitable is a relative term. My skis were a good foot taller than me and appeared to be about 20 years old. I did only pay around 5 dollars for all of my equipment, though.), we hobbled over the basin, where people were skiing, snowboarding, sledding, and generally taking in the scene. There were about 4 trails in total, but when we first arrived none of rope tows were running, and so we skiied around in the basin for awhile until one rope tow started up (50 cents per run).
After a truely meskeenah fall off of the rope tow, I began my first run. I quickly realized that super long, un-curved skis are extremely difficult to control, and so my hopes of parallel turning were replaced by a strong desire not to wipe out completely. I failed at even this modest goal when I took a spectacular wipeout on an icy patch.
The top of the run was pretty beautiful, though.
After a few trips down the open trail, a bunch of us decided to hike over to an unopened trail. This was perhaps my worst idea ever. Hiking in ski boots while knee-deep in snow and carrying skis on your shoulder is extremely difficult. Making our way down the ungroomed trail was even more difficult. Out of fear for our lives, Stephanie and I opted to take off our skis and walk down the mountain/slide down on our butts. The final straw proved to be getting my boots back into my binding at the bottom of the run. In case you're wondering, it took 2 friends 15 minutes to shove my boots back into my skis. Yikes.
We finally made our way back to the lodge, where we enjoyed some hot chocolate before heading to Azrou, a beautiful little town in the mountains, for lunch.
On the way to Azrou, we stopped briefly at a cedar forest which is famous for its Barbary apes. Apes were chilling in the road, climbing in the trees, and aggressively begging for food. As Stephanie posed for a photo, one of the apes attacked her leg. Barbary apes do not mess around.
After lunch, we made our way to our driver's family's house for tea. The house is located in a Berber village, and the landscape was incredibly beautiful. More importantly, I got to play with the family dogs a little bit.
We boarded the van once more to make our way back to Fes. 12 hours after we departed, we arrived to our city once again, and once again the city was dark. While my shins ached for the next few days and my socks took nearly a week to dry, I can now proudly say that I went skiing in Morocco, and lived to tell the tale.
