Journal of a tour in Marocco and the Great Atlas

by Joseph Dalton Hooker; John Ball

It was perhaps fortunate for our object of reaching the summit of the mountain as early as possible, that the slope by which we ascended is extremely dry and barren. A few species, already seen on the Tagherot Pass, were gathered near the snow, but the upper ridges showed only a few perennial species in flower, of which the most conspicuous was a variety of Alyssum montanum. Most of the others were stunted bushes, one of them being a dwarf form of the common gooseberry, with stems about a foot long, lying flat on the surface of the rocky soil. Throughout the ascent the rock was of schistose structure, seemingly argillaceous, but in some places containing a notable proportion of lime, and here and there showing traces of mica. Intrusive dykes and bosses of reddish porphyry appear in places, but do not play a conspicuous part in the aspect of the mountain.

Hooker reached the summit about 2 P.M., and was rejoined by Ball nearly half an hour later. Excepting some light fleecy cumuli floating over the low country to the north, at a lower level than the eye, the sky was cloudless; but in some directions a thin haze obscured the details of the vast panorama. Our first glance was inevitably directed towards the unknown region to the south, and there, at a distance of fifty or sixty miles, rose the range of Anti-Atlas, showing a wavy outline, with rounded summits, and no apparent deep depression, rising, as we estimated, to a height of from 9,000 to 10,000 feet above the sea. The highest portion within our range of view, and the only part with a somewhat rugged outline, bore a few degrees west of due south, and corresponded in position with the Djebel Aoulouse of the French map. A somewhat darker shade traceable at some places on the flanks of this dimly seen range, possibly indicated the existence of forests, or at least of shrubs covering the slopes.

When the first impulse of curiosity was partially satisfied, we began to take more careful note of our position, and to study in detail a view which had been so long denied to us. The first fact that struck us, was that the peak on which we stood lies a considerable way north of the watershed. The axis of the main chain, which here subsides into undulating masses from 2,000 to 3,000 feet lower than Djebel Tezah, lay between us and the central portion of the Sous valley, and, even if the prevailing haze over the lower districts had not veiled the details, would probably have cut off the course of the stream and the rich tracts that are said to fringe its banks. The higher strata of the atmosphere, above the level of about 7,000 feet, were, however, delightfully clear towards the east and west, and every feature of whatever portion of the main chain lay within our range was easily traced even at distances of thirty or forty miles. An extraordinary change had occurred during the three days since we had viewed the chain from Sektana, covered in deep snow down to the level of about 7,000 feet, and showing only a few crests of precipitous rock here and there protruding. The white mantle had now completely disappeared, and only long streaks of snow filling the depressions of the surface now seamed the flanks of the higher mountains, leaving the summit ridges everywhere bare. During the ascent of the northern face of the mountain, we had kept close to one of these long and comparatively narrow snowslopes that extended through a vertical zone of over 2,000 feet, with a breadth of some 300 to 400 feet, and we now saw a still longer and wider strip of the same character, filling a shallow trough below us, on the east face of the peak. Near to the summit, and on the ridges leading to it, not a trace of snow was to be seen, even in the crevices of the rocks, where it would find partial shelter from the sun.

We now proceeded to survey the field of view, in order, if possible, to fix the positions of any conspicuous summits. Looking due west, nothing approaching our level lay between us and the dim horizon. A succession of projecting spurs of the Atlas, dividing as many successive valleys, subsided into the plain; the most prominent, and that extending farthest from the main chain, being the mountain above Seksaoua. Turning the eye a little to the left, about west by south, we saw crowded together many of the higher summits of the western portion of the main range, which was here seen foreshortened, so that it was impossible to judge of their true relative position. The highest of these, seamed with snow, we judged to be about twenty-five miles distant, and higher than Djebel Tezah by 600 or 800 feet. In nearly the same direction, but only about ten miles distant, was a rugged projecting peak, rising some 300 feet above our level, and very many more of somewhat lower elevation were discernible in the space between us and the more distant points. Between SW. and SSE., the range of Anti-Atlas, rising behind the broad Sous valley, bounded the horizon.

At our feet, and cutting off from view the course of the river Sous, the mountain mass that here forms the axis of the main chain presented the appearance of a troubled sea of a light ferruginous colour, declining gradually in elevation from W. to E. At a distance of about eight miles ESE. of Djebel Tezah it sinks to an estimated height of little over 7,000 feet, at the head of the main branch of the Oued Nfys, and offers the only apparently easy pass over the main chain which we had yet seen.[2] The rocky sunburnt flanks of the mountains were dotted with trees of dark foliage, doubtless some form of the evergreen oak, up to a height of about 8,000 feet above the sea, for the most part solitary, sometimes in clumps, but nowhere forming a continuous forest. The numerous feeders of the Oued Nfys had cut deep ravines in the flanks of the mountains, and were lost to sight, except where gleams of silver light shot upwards from the deeper valleys amid the walnut trees that fringed their banks. Numerous hamlets were seen, some perched upon projecting ridges, some lying in hollows and girdled with a belt of emerald-green crops.

It was impossible not to speculate on the condition of these primitive mountaineers, who have since the dawn of history preserved their independence. Leo Africanus, speaking of the very district now overlooked by us, which he calls Guzula, says that the people were in his day molested by the predatory Arabs and by ‘the lord of Marocco;’ but they successfully resisted all encroachments, and no attempt is now made to assert the Sultan’s authority among them, or to enforce tribute. Something they have doubtless gained in material, and still more in moral, welfare by stubborn resistance to alien rule; but the prosperity that is sometimes attained by tribes subject to the semi-feudal rule of chiefs, and among whom intestine feuds are rooted in immemorial tradition, is usually short-lived.

Our hope of getting further knowledge as to the eastern extremity of the Sous valley, and the orographic relations between the Atlas and Anti-Atlas ranges was not to be satisfied. Djebel Tezah, as we found, stands some way north of the axis of the chain, while the great mass that rose over against us between ENE. and ESE., extending to the head of the Aït Mesan valley, sends out massive buttresses to the south, and by these our view of Anti-Atlas was cut off to the SE. On one of these western projecting buttresses, we could distinguish a large village belonging to the district of Tifinout, and standing at an elevation of nearly 7,000 feet. Turning our eyes to the north of true east, many of the higher summits of the

chain were seen rising above the intervening ranges, the most distant probably belonging to the Glaoui group, east of Tasseremout. Once more we came to the conclusion, that throughout the portion of the Great Atlas chain visible from the city of Marocco, between the easternmost feeders of the Oued Tensift and those of the Oued Nfys, there are no prominent peaks notably surpassing the average level. Many of them must surpass the limit of 13,000 feet above the sea, but it is not likely that any one attains the level of 13,500 feet. The last object that attracted our attention in the panorama, in a direction about east by north, was an isolated mass, forming a bold promontory on the northern side of the chain, of which a rough outline is here given.

When the engrossing interest of the distant view had so far subsided as to let us pay attention to nearer objects, we were struck by the unexpected appearance of considerable remains of dwellings on a platform of level ground, only a few feet below the actual summit of the mountain. About a dozen rude stone dwellings, all in a ruinous condition, with chambers sunk a couple of feet below the level of the ground, and the roofs fallen in, had at some former period been here erected; but we saw no traces of recent occupation. It seemed most probable that they were intended as shelter for herdsmen, who had driven their flocks in summer to this lofty station.