The Snows of Hell

"If I were in hell, I imagine this is what I'd be doing." And so it went. Toubkal according to Brianna (less than half way up). And, Nolan, near the end of the day, "When I have kids I am NEVER forcing them to exercise. I mean, you're a good parent, mom. But, this is awful." As usual, I just smiled and assured them that some day they would thank me. I reminded them that they had hiked the Camino just two years ago. They reminded me that the Camino was flat. I had to give them that.

Toubkal is not flat. The highest peak in North Africa (at about 14000 ft) has been looming over us in Marrakech for the past 8 months. April is the magical hiking season, when the snow is melting, the desert flowers are blooming, and it's not a billion degrees below zero at the top. So, with two free days, it only seemed logical to climb. We packed up the backpacks with warmish clothes and sleeping bags and set out for an adventure.

Andy had climbed Toubkal before once in the fall, so we trusted that he knew what he was doing. We took the local bus to Imlil, spent a little time negotiating for ancient crampons in the village, stuffed ourselves with one last tagine, and headed up the mountain. Sunshine and blue skies accompanied us the entire way to the refuge, which was a five hour hike from town. We enjoyed drinks and iced our feet in waterfalls on the way up. We dodged donkeys all along the way and laughed at the herds of goats navigating the steep hillsides around us.

We finally hit snow late in the afternoon - just before arriving at the refuge where we would spend the night. All was well so far. Despite the heat, the complaining had been minimal. Brianna and Nolan had distracted each other from the task at hand. We were all happy to discover the "caminoesque" vibe at the refuge - rooms filled with bunk beds, heavy blankets, a communal dining room, and trail snacks for sale.  The relative "warmth" of April, however, meant that there were no fires burning in the fireplace, and the chill of a Vermont barn in winter settled on us quickly. Nolan made it no further than taking off his sneakers and spreading out his sleeping bag. He was asleep in seconds. Brianna managed to drag herself downstairs with us for a dinner of lentil soup and spaghetti before we all crawled into our sleeping bags shortly after sunset.

The next morning, in another moment reminiscent of the Camino, I pulled reluctant hikers out of warm sleeping bags just after sunrise. We ate a quick breakfast at the refuge (where I finally gave in and rented crampons despite my certainty that they were unnecessary), packed our daypacks, strapped on the crampons, and set out for the summit. It took about 30 seconds for the trail to get ridiculously steep. We quickly found ourselves panting to just get over the first rise in the crunchy snow. It didn't help that we could see the steep trail ahead of us continuing upward without an end. The slow trudge began. We found ourselves in sort of a worn trench of snow perched on the edge of the steep hillside that served as the trail. A small trip outside of the trench would have meant a very long slide down the mountain.

We trudged slowly and breathed heavily. There were not a lot of smiles from the under-18 crew. Upward for three hours with a few breaks for snacks and water, we walked. There was some whining. We walked some more. Then, Nolan's crampon broke. I'm pretty sure he wanted to do a happy dance and roll down the mountain. However, it wasn't going to be quite that easy. Andy sacrificed his crampon and tied Nolan's half crampon to his boot. We carried on (much to Nolan's dismay). Another 30 minutes in, Nolan had had it. Looking up, there was nothing but another steep climb in the snow. The rocky peak seemed miles away still. He and Andy decided to head back to the refuge. Brianna was forging her own path well ahead of us, so I just followed behind.

When I found her resting on a rock, she had reached the end of the snow field and was about to start up the rocky ridgeline. We packed away the crampons and set out to finish the adventure we had started. It was not an easy finish. It took 90 minutes of steep scrambling on loose rocks and gravel.  Then, there were moments of genuine fear as we clung to rocks to negotiate narrow, slippery spots on the trail when the summit was in sight. Then we were there. Morocoo stretched out below us. 360 degrees of snowy and rocky peaks surrounded us. Clouds filled in the valleys between the peaks. We were above it all. It was sunny and perfect. The mountain gods were smiling down on us. Life was good.

Then we had to get down. All the way down. The 4.5 hour climb to the summit was a 2 hour glide and slide back to the refuge. After we made it back to the snow field, we took advantage of every snow chute we could find and flung ourselves down for the ride. It was a blast. Wet, deep snow made for messy and cold fun, but it was fast and easy on the legs. We met up with Nolan and Andy back at the refuge, quickly refueled and changed into dry clothes, and, then, we all set off for the quad-killing downward trek back to Imlil. We, once again, enjoyed sunshine, donkeys, and amazing views the entire way. We dragged ourselves back into town just as the sun was setting and were all too happy to overpay for a semi-private taxi back to Marrakech for the pleasure of our warm trickle of a shower and our own beds.

We are all still limping around (two days later) - barely able to negotiate going down stairs or off curbs. It's a little too soon to ask the kids if they had fun. I know too well the answer that I would get today. I'll let the dust settle and the muscles heal before I ask that question. For me, however, if Toubkal is what hell has to offer, you can sign me up!