Days 12–14: October 12–14

Initially, we thought we would spend the night at the Tamsoult refuge, but when we got there it was around 3 p.m., so we decided to keep going. We rested for about an hour on the terrace. The refuge keeper, an old man, made us delicious mint tea (Moroccans love mint tea so much that the old man grows it in a small garden near the refuge). We had a great rest, had a snack, and moved on. Ahead of us was a climb to 3,000 meters — to the next refuge, Lepiney.

We walk along a noisy mountain river, at the bottom of a canyon — mountains on both sides. The trail keeps getting lost among the rocks, winding from one bank of the river to the other. We cross the river on stones. There are no tourists here at all anymore. Along the way, we stop near a waterfall. Out of nowhere, a Moroccan appears, looking like a guide — he asks where we are going. We say — to the Lepiney refuge. He said something in French, and we didn’t quite understand what exactly. Only later did it become clear that he was the keeper of this refuge. He ran ahead, and we kept going for a very, very long time. Evening was falling, the sun had already gone behind the mountain, painting everything pink one last time. Without the sun, it became noticeably cooler.

By the time we arrived, the guy had made tea — without mint this time, but very, very sweet. What’s interesting is that in Kyiv, under normal circumstances, I can’t drink sweet tea at all. But in the mountains, I want tea that is very sweet.

The hut is small; there are just the two of us and the caretaker in it. On the first floor there’s a little kitchen. As far as we could tell, there was no food in the supplies, only tea and sugar. The caretaker made himself dinner out of who knows what. And we ate our own supplies brought from Imlil — bread, boiled eggs, canned food. It was good that we could drink as much tea as we wanted.

While we were having dinner, I looked through the visitors’ logbook. Every refuge visitor has to write down their details — name, date of birth, nationality. I wanted to find the oldest visitor; it turned out to be a Spaniard aged 80. Simply amazing — I’d like to be hiking in such mountains at 80 too....

On the second floor there are mattresses right on the floor. You get up to the second floor by a fire ladder.

Before going to bed, I step outside. The sky is so full of stars. Every time I’m amazed by how many stars there are in the sky — probably dozens of times more than we can see in the city. And the Milky Way is so clearly visible. In the distance, the lights of Marrakech can also be seen. It’s very beautiful too; the lights shimmer, and it feels as if the city is a huge glowing anthill.

We woke up early, at dawn, around 7 a.m. We had tea and set off. Today’s plan was the refuge below Toubkal. First, we faced a long, exhausting climb to the Tizi n’Tadat pass, with an elevation of 3,550 meters. The zigzagging trail seemed never-ending — you lift your head, and the pass is still far, far away. We met only one couple of hikers (we would later get to know them better at the refuge). Lots of donkeys and their handlers.

After the pass, there is relief, and the descent down to the refuge begins. The route is very beautiful. Toubkal is visible.

We arrive at the refuge early, around one o’clock in the afternoon. There are lots of people here. In fact, there are two refuges here — one relatively cheap, the other expensive. I had tried to book places in the cheaper one. We were very lucky: it turns out that this cheaper refuge is fully booked, but some tourists canceled their trek and there are two free spots. We order lunch, dinner, and breakfast. The prices here are not low, but we have no food left. Only dates for the ascent.

We have lunch on the terrace, in the sunshine. We are joined for lunch by a young couple from the Netherlands. And another couple — a Spanish woman and a French man whom we met while climbing the pass. Everyone is very nice. We chat about everything and nothing. Everyone tells something about themselves. The Frenchman and the Spanish woman are big mountain lovers and professionally do rock climbing.

We have dinner in a large dining hall. They bring us a pot of soup and a mountain of couscous with vegetables. And for dessert - a pomegranate. The pomegranates here are strange - they are not nearly as red as we are used to, only slightly pink, but sweet-sweet.

There are a lot of people in the refuge. Lots of tour groups. Lots of individual travelers. It’s noisy, everyone is talking to each other. At our table is the same couple from the Netherlands. They tell us about their travels. And another couple from Russia. But they are somehow unfriendly and do not join the general conversation.

In the morning, the ascent of Toubkal begins, and it is noticeable that everyone is a little nervous. Everyone has crampons. And we decided not to rent them. Back in Imlil, we asked a very nice couple whether crampons were needed for the ascent; they were just coming back from Toubkal. They assured us that crampons were definitely not needed, and for some reason we believed them very much. I don’t know, somehow it all turned out stupidly. Everyone in the refuge told us that crampons were needed, but for some reason we blindly believed that couple… They had been there.

We started the ascent around 7 a.m. It was just getting light. The climb here is not difficult, quite gentle. We walk slowly. Somewhere halfway up, ice begins on the slope. In my Martins I slip, and it’s impossible to go any further. Crampons are needed, and we don’t have them. And why didn’t we take them… So stupid. There it is, Toubkal, looming on the horizon, not far at all, we are at an altitude of 3800. And there is no way to go further. We return to the refuge. And then to Imlil. A long, long descent to Imlil. The road is beautiful, but there are no photos at all. Somehow I wasn’t in the mood to take pictures. Everyone walked in deep thought.

Wolf walked slowly. The yellow CAT boots did not live up to expectations. They leak badly and rubbed his feet raw. In Imlil we find a nice hotel. We have dinner on tagine in the center of the village. We fall asleep dead tired.