Journal of a tour in Marocco and the Great Atlas

by Joseph Dalton Hooker; John Ball

In the course of the afternoon, Abraham brought to us an elderly Jew, named Salomon ben Daoud, described as a man employed by the merchants trading with the interior, and familiar with all the roads leading to those parts of South Marocco with which the people of the city have any intercourse. The contrast between the appearance of this man and that of the Moors was complete. He had something of the downcast, long-suffering expression common among his coreligionists in this country, but an unmistakable air of intelligence that at once made him interesting. It was easy to understand that, although despised and often ill-used by the governing race, these people by their superior brain-power have contrived to make themselves indispensable to their masters, and that all people in authority, from the Sultan to the deputy-governor, are forced to rely upon them. Although Salomon was able to answer readily most of our questions respecting the several routes leading from Marocco into the neighbouring portions of the Great Atlas, it was inevitable that the information given by an uneducated man should fall very far short of what we should have desired; and the abundant catalogue of names of places—very few of them possible to be identified on the map—which he glibly enumerated, rather tended to confuse than to clear up our understanding of the country. With a view to mature deliberation on a point of such importance Salomon was requested to write down the chief particulars which he had given us verbally; and his memorandum, written in Hebrew, was afterwards translated by Abraham. This translation, checked by the memoranda taken down at the time by Ball, is printed in [Appendix B], and affords a slight contribution towards the topography of a portion of Marocco hitherto completely unknown to Europeans.

The morning of Saturday, May 6, found us still in doubt as to our future course; but, on a careful review of the whole matter, we adopted a decision of which we saw no subsequent reason to repent. It appeared that if we decided on pushing forward into the interior of the country we might be able to reach the head of the valley of the Tessout—the main western branch of the Oum-er-bia—lying probably about 120 miles due east of Marocco. The portion of the Atlas chain whence that stream flows is in all probability as high as the range seen from the city, and perhaps somewhat higher, and the district through which we should travel was and still remains a complete terra incognita, as to which Beaudoin’s map is almost certainly incorrect.[1] Against these strong inducements we had, however, to set many weighty reasons in favour of the alternative course, which consisted in at once directing our steps towards the main chain south-east of the city, and thence travelling gradually towards the Atlantic coast, penetrating in succession to the head of as many of the chief valleys as circumstances should allow.

The first course was open to the objection that, under any circumstances, it would involve a considerable amount of travelling through a comparatively uninteresting country—at least four days, and probably six, for the route to and fro between Marocco and Demenet, and four days at least for returning to Mogador; and further, that if difficulties should arise to prevent us from reaching the head of the Tessout valley, we might possibly miss altogether the main object of our journey by failing to reach the higher region of the Great Atlas. On the other hand, by coasting along the northern skirts of the chain, and penetrating as many valleys as might be found practicable, we should avoid altogether the need for retracing any part of our course, and might reasonably expect to reach a part of the chain whence a couple of days’ ride would carry us back to Mogador. The strongest argument was, however, the consideration that by choosing the latter route we should have numerous chances of accomplishing our desire to reach the upper part of the mountain range, and that if we should find impassable obstacles in one or another valley, we should yet have an unimpaired chance of succeeding elsewhere. Hooker’s strong impression that our future course would not be unopposed gave especial weight to the latter view, and the sequel will show that we were well advised. It was therefore decided to apply to El Graoui for letters to all the Kaïds of the valleys subject to his authority in the range extending from Tasseremout to the borders of Haha, while, with a view to a possible change in our course, he was also requested to write to the Governor of Demenet.

In one way or other the days passed in Marocco were so fully occupied as to leave no leisure, and Maw alone was able to afford time for an excursion to one of the low hills on the south side of the Oued Tensift, seen on the left of the track by which we had approached the city. The nearest of these—a rough mass of metamorphic rock, rising nearly 800 feet above the level of the plain—is only about three miles distant from the walls.

Our regret at not having been able to accompany Maw on this excursion was much increased when towards evening he returned with a number of interesting plants, several of which proved to be additions to the Marocco flora. The most notable of these was an undescribed species of the tropical and subtropical genus Boerhavia, and a curious Reseda, seemingly distinct from any described species. Besides these, he had gathered a variety of Forskåhlea tenacissima described by the late Mr. Webb as F. Cossoniana, Andropogon laniger, a fine grass whose leaves have the scent of Verbena, Echinops strigosus, and one or two more species characteristic of the flora of Southern Algeria.

Maw also visited some of the bazaars, and described them as miserable and repulsive, and we preferred to let the carpet merchant who had been recommended to us bring his goods to our quarters. The carpets made here are not considered equal to those of Rabat, but they are comparatively cheap and durable. On inquiring how our purchases could be forwarded to Mogador, we found that the hire of a camel with his driver for this weary four or five days’ journey amounted only to about seven shillings of our money, and that the risk of robbery was considered too trifling to be worth mentioning.

The comparison of five observations, taken on as many successive days, gives for the altitude of our station in Marocco a height of 511·9 mètres, or 1,679 English feet. Allowing for the difference of level, the height of the great square may be taken to be very closely 500 mètres or 1,640 English feet. The observations were calculated on the assumption that the barometer at sea level at Mogador stood at 760 millimètres, and hence it is not surprising that the results of each day’s observation vary from the mean, in some cases as much as fifty feet; but, as settled weather prevailed at this period, the mean adopted is probably very near the truth. Most of the results of our observations (see Appendix) agree well with the few observations previously made in the interior by M. Beaumier and M. Balansa; but in this instance there is a difference of seventy mètres (or 230 English feet), M. Beaumier’s result being 430 mètres above the sea. No particulars are given by him as to the instruments used, or the methods of observations and reduction, and we feel no hesitation in provisionally adopting the height resulting from our own observations.

As may well be supposed, the object that most fully and constantly engaged our attention during our stay in Marocco was the view of the Great Atlas range, for which the terraced roof of our house afforded every needful facility. The interest attaching to an almost unknown chain of great mountains was enhanced by the hope of penetrating its recesses. We were often tantalised by finding clouds hanging about the flanks, or clinging to the higher peaks, as happened during the latter days of our stay, but there was always enough to be seen to reward our attention. We were able to identify the mountain, Miltsin, which Washington took to be the highest peak in the Atlas chain visible from Marocco; but we had already, during the last day’s journey before entering the city, satisfied ourselves that there is no summit visible from the plain of Marocco that can claim any marked predominance over its neighbours. Travelling, as we were, nearly parallel to the main chain, we were far more favourably placed than Washington, who approached the city from the NNW., and always viewed the chain from nearly the same direction. The crest is undoubtedly more sinuous than it appears as laid down on the map, or when seen from a distance; some of the projecting summits are therefore nearer to the eye than others; but it appeared to us then, and our subsequent experience only strengthened that belief, that most of the peaks or prominences in the higher portion of the chain seen from the plain of Marocco, in a distance of fifty or sixty miles, attain to very nearly the same height.

Washington speaks of a base-line of seventeen miles which served him for his trigonometrical observations, but it is obvious from his narrative that this cannot have been measured so as to admit of much accuracy in his results. As a matter of fact, it appears from his map and accompanying section, and from the narrative of his excursion to Tagherain, that Washington considerably underrated the distance from the city to the crest of the Great Atlas. His Miltsin is doubtless a summit near the head of the Ourika valley, which apparently stands some short way north of the axis of the chain. According to the scale of his map Miltsin is twenty-seven and a half geographical miles distant from the house which he occupied, whereas it is impossible to estimate the true distance at less than thirty-three geographical miles. If we allow for the height of Marocco above the sea level, and increase the estimated height of Miltsin in the ratio of its true distance to that assumed by Washington, we get for the height of the peak 13,352 feet (4,069·6 m.) above the sea, which is perhaps somewhat above the true measurement.

Owing to the prevalence of clouds during the latter period of our stay in Marocco, we failed to secure a satisfactory outline of the Atlas chain; but, through the kindness of Sir J. D. Hay, we are enabled to insert a copy of a drawing made by the late Mr. William Prinsep, who accompanied the mission to Marocco in December, 1829. The view of the same range given in Jackson’s generally accurate work must have been done from description or from imperfect recollection, as it bears no resemblance to nature.