We arrived in Imlil on Friday lunchtime and instantly felt relaxed. The town is situated at the base of Mount Toubkal (Africa’s second highest peak) and it felt like we had stepped back in time. A number of shops lined the high street with crampons, second-hand clothes and 80’s ski’s. Donkeys paraded up and down the gravel paths and the call to prayer echoed throughout the valley. Time had really stood still in this town and there was still the romantic idea of travel evident here with only a few tourists mingling with friendly locals.

We were greeted by our guide, Mohammad, and then sat down to have some lunch. Our requests for vegetarian food (we didn’t even try to explain that Rik was vegan) had clearly been lost in translation as we were proudly handed a lamb tagine. After picking out the lamb and explaining to Mohammad we were vegetarian, we hoped that it was all vegetables from then on!

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We then went to pick out our bikes which were a rather eclectic mix of fairly dated 26″ wheeled full suss’s. It was tricky to choose between the bike with working brakes, gears that changed smoothly or the tyres that had any tread left.  After a test riding a few, I settled for a Focus Super Bud and Rik, a Specialised Stump Jumper. We stocked up on water and loaded our wagon for the weekend, a wonderful bright orange Mercedes van, being driven by Abdul. With our chef (another Mohammad) on board, we were off, but to where we had no idea!

After about a half hour drive we were dropped off at the top of a gravel road where our guide Mohammad informed us we would ride down then go through a village and hit some single track. Not once had we been asked about our riding or fitness ability – I think in their mind, a mountain biker is a pro mountain biker! Well, the gravel road was lovely, passing through a little stream, taking in the views and getting used to the bikes. Then suddenly we took a left down some steps and through a village. It was only then that we hit the single track. I’d like to think of myself as a fairly competent rider but nothing could prepare me for what was to come!

The afternoon consisted of a winding gravel road with incredible views. The contrast of colours in the mountains was just breathtaking; bright red clay on one side, lush green vegetation on another and big rockslides all around. We then hit a very rocky track that kind of just stopped. We had to carry our bikes down a very steep cliff face and then we hit the river bed that we were supposed to ride along. We were on and off the bikes, going from one side of the river to another until we eventually found a path.

This was a lovely trail through lush vegetation and for the first time, Mohammad stopped at a tricky point to tell us to get off. Last year one of his clients had misjudged the rocky drop and ended up flying off the cliff and breaking an arm and a leg. He didn’t want that happening again so asked us to get off our bikes and carry them down – as if I needed prompting! We arrived at the next village to find there was a slight problem with our gite – no bed and no shower.  However as we tucked into popcorn, chocolate biscuits and mint tea, our guides managed to make us up a bed. Still scarred by my previous hamman experience, I opted for a baby wipe shower and Rik, a dunk in the river. Dinner was a lovely pile of vegetables, rice and chips and again we passed out exhausted very early!

On day three, our original guide Mohammad had to leave to tend to his sick grandmother and was replaced by a very smiley Alid who seemed to speak slightly better English, but it turned out he only repeated anything we said! As we rode down a gravel road surrounded by bright red rock we felt a real sense of being in Africa. We arrived at a big damn in which water was stored to serve the city of Marrakesh. As we went over the barrage there seemed absolutely no sign of any path to ride on apart from a tiny scar along a huge cliff. We couldn’t possibly be going there . . . but yeah, we were!

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This path really had no room for error. I had to stop multiple times to catch my breath and reassess the situation. Looking back, it was incredible but one thing I didn’t do was look down! We then wound through villages down to our lunch spot in a dried river bed under a half-built bridge. When I asked Alid if they were going to finish the bridge he informed me that he, in fact, was going to finish it.  My doubts of his English were starting to be confirmed. I think it was best to take what he said with a pinch of salt!

Another lovely rainbow coloured lunch of salad, tagine and pasta was just what we needed for the afternoon ahead.  It was the hottest day by far and that afternoon we were treated to yet more uphill, but this time on tarmac roads. We then found some single-track which wound us through a village down into a valley. It was then we saw Alid look over and realise we were in the wrong place! A long climb awaited and I was pooped, to say the least. Our gite for the night was a lovely building with colourful murals.  No sign of a shower though so we braced the hamman. Fortunately, there wasn’t a paper thong in sight and no one offered to scrub me down. It was just a hot room with a few taps and buckets to wash with.

Alid informed us we could either do a really long ride or drive 6 hours back to Imlil. We couldn’t quite believe we were 6 hours drive away but maybe he needed to stop and finish building that bridge! We decided to drive back to Imlil in the morning, hoping that we could ride in the afternoon. The drive was surprisingly not 6 hours, more like an hour and a half!

We were really enjoying sitting on the terrace of our gite in the sun but we plucked up the energy to get back in our bike gear, and it was 100% worth it! It was a bit of a climb but we knew our efforts would be rewarded. We were riding in the foothills of Toubkal and it was constantly towering over us providing the perfect backdrop. We rode through towns testing out our urban riding style, tackling steps and manoeuvring around rubble, donkeys and locals. A final big climb and then single-track all the way back down to the village.

The cost of the trip was approximately £340 for all guiding, transport, food, accommodation and a well-deserved tip. The guides and support team went above and beyond to make the trip so memorable. The riding was really challenging – no nicely carved out trails, all raw mountain tracks that really pushed my ability and fear factor. I could not recommend this trip enough as even if some parts are tricky, you can just hop off and marvel at the incredible scenery! On reflection, would we take our own bikes? Actually, we probably wouldn’t – not sure they’d arrive back in one piece!

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