Call it intuition or call it a glitch in the matrix, but we all have those destinations where we know we’ll feel at home even if we’ve never visited before. But truth be told? The High Atlas Mountains have never been one of mine.
Marrakech, however, always has. And when I began planning a March trip to visit the vibrant Moroccan city, I was commanded by more than one travel-savvy friend to make a pit stop in the nearby range, the closest bit of which is only about an hour’s drive away. The mountains, they said, make for an excellent—or maybe even necessary—foil to the buzzing, crowded streets of the former imperial city. And, of course, the range is majestic in its own right, their heft separating the Sahara Desert from the Mediterranean Sea, and forming a weather system barrier in the process.
And so, somewhat last minute (especially for a type-A traveler like myself), we carved out a few days post-Marrakech for a long-weekend trip to the mountains. Sort of like leaving New York City for the Catskills…except, you know, not at all.
For starters, it’s actually much quicker to get there: from the city center to our hotel, Kasbah Tamadot, the drive clocked in at an hour and two minutes. The New Yorker in me must point out that while I possess a license, I did leave the driving on this journey to someone else, namely, the very capable on-site team from Scott Dunn. This was my first time using any sort of an agency to plan part of a trip (see: type-A above), and I almost felt guilty for how smoothly it went. Like, someone else could have been mapping drive times and interesting places to pull over this whole time? Needless to say, I’ve been converted.
Our day started with the easy drive into the mountains; the bustle of tourists and the hum of the Medina soon gave way to empty roads and the unrolling vista of the range in the distance. With no real set schedule to follow, we made several stops for panoramic shots of the Atlas Mountains along the way: even in late March, a few of the tallest peaks were still beautifully snow-capped. And around us, for the first time since we arrived in the country: stillness. This vast landscape, which for long stretches of the drive looked entirely untouched by anything except Mother Nature, was humbling. No one needed to tell me to put away my phone: what could possibly be more important than what I was seeing right in front of me?
Soon we ditched the car, walking a short way into a Berber village, where family friends of our guide welcomed us into their home. Set out on a table were dozens of dried local herbs, spices and flowers, all of which serve medicinal purposes in Berber culture. After learning their names and uses, we were invited to mix our own special blend for tea, which was then boiled in a traditional silver pot and sweetened with a Moroccan amount of sugar (meaning, a lot). We sipped our tasty brew outside on the house’s terrace, the craggy Atlas peaks shielding us from the sun, as my daughter and a few local boys from the village attempted to teach each other a few words of the other’s language.
Then, after learning how to make flatbread in a traditional clay oven and being urged into traditional Berber headwraps and tunics (or djellaba), we sat on huge pillows for a lunch of chicken tagine, chopped tomato salad, and plenty of fresh fruit sprinkled with cinnamon. It was an immersive and delightful introduction to the region, and, just as my friends had said, as different from Marrakech as night from day.
After lunch, we drove just a short distance to Kasbah Tamadot, perhaps the most famous property in the High Atlas Mountains and part of Richard Branson’s Virgin Limited Edition collection of hotels. Perched at the top of a winding road, the property’s rust-colored, regal main building—the kasbah, or citadel—is visible from quite a ways off. But what you can’t see until you wander the grounds is the hotel’s impressive acreage: a true green oasis in the mountains with plenty of communal spaces like an expansive pool and hot tub, plus 42 rooms spread across the kasbah, and in tents and riads.
My family stayed in the last category, which were just added to the property last summer. Ours had an ample-sized living room, outdoor dining room, and one of the largest private pools I’ve seen in a hotel room. And while we thought about dining in-room, the restaurant spaces were too pretty to pass up: breakfast was served in the kasbah, where I could gorge on freshly griddled Moroccan breads and Berber-style porridge, while dinner is inside Asayss, an impressive tented structure in the middle of the property. Meals here encompass both Western and Moroccan specialities, although you’d be foolish to order the former when the local cuisine includes dishes like lamb filet crusted in Atlas herbs, or a fish and vegetable tagine enlivened with chermoula.
A hearty dinner was also needed for the next morning’s activity: the hotel had organized a nearly daylong hike into the mountains. But first, we made a stop at the Eve Branson Foundation, a small nonprofit that teaches local women how to embroider, weave and make rugs, some of which are bought by the hotel. The foundation also includes a small shop, where I picked up some gorgeous, brightly striped table runners. From there we drove to the Ouirgane Valley, also known as the Colorado of Morocco for its striking red rocks and far-reaching vistas. While my daughter opted to ride a donkey (something I wish I could bring on every hike), my husband and I, along with our guide, more than stretched our legs on the miles-long trek, which wove through serene juniper tree forests and small villages alike. We probably only ran into three other people the whole day, which made the undulating hills and valleys seem even more expansive and remote.
I spent our last morning wandering the property’s manicured paths, admiring the mountains rising around me and taking a last dip in our pool. It was then I realized I’d barely looked at my phone since arriving, as occupied as I was with the calming surroundings. But then it was, sadly, time to head to the airport. We, of course, only scratched the surface of this region over three days. But our visit was an excellent reminder that even the most careful planners among us can benefit from the element of surprise. Your new favorite destination might be waiting for you on the other side.
