Yesterday I decided to go out for an exploratory run up into some berber villages in the Anougual valley. The great thing about living in Morocco is that you can just get out there and explore.

I started with an easy jog up to the first berber village, passing olive groves and shepherds with their flocks. The hills beyond beckoned, and I could see the trail i wanted to run disappearing into the pine forest above me.

After 15 minutes of steep ascent i was above the village and onto the track. As I ran past the last house, a local berber man shouted at me to be careful.

“What’s the problem?” I asked.

“Ahalluf” he said. Racking my brains i tried to remember what this tashalhayt word meant, as he put his fingers to the side of his mouth like little tusks. “Ahalluf!”

Of course, i remembered that this forest used to be used for hunting, and there were still lots of wild boar here.

“Mashi mushkil” I replied. It won’t be a problem. At least, i hoped not. I couldnt let an animal spoil my run, and surely i could outrun a pig, especially if it had tusks to scare me on?

With slight trepidation I ran on through the forest, ears alert to the snuffling of boar. Of course, any that were around would have heard my pounding feet long before i came upon them, and disappeared, and the man’s fears were unfounded. I saw no sign of boar. Following a traditional irrigation watercourse (seggia in arabic, targa in berber) I made my way out of the forest, across a dried up stream, and up to the first coll after 45mins of running.

The view into the valley behind was spectacular. Berber villages dotted the hillsides, greenery lay in the gorge which was the valley floor, and in the distant background the high peaks of the Atlas Mountains reared their snowy heads. Another shepherd stopped to greet me, surprised to see a foreigner running up here and probably a little surprised that i was dressed for running rather than in the local style. This is why i love running in Morocco – the mixture of local culture, hospitable people and wild mountains is just indescribable.

I wound my way down across the hillside, on a typical berber footpath. These have been built up and repaired over centuries and provided the only access into the remote villages until very recently, when the government started schemes to bring roads and electricity into the mountains.

A couple of kilometers further i crossed a plateau. The young shoots of wheat were already knee-high on the plateau, and whoever owned this field must have been very happy to have flat land to plan rather than the usual terraced field further down in the valley.

Running into the village of Ait Hamd, I began looking for where my next footpath began. It wasnt obvious but i knew there was a berber footpath lower down which would contour around and bring me back towards town. So I asked some women.

“There” they said, pointing over the edge into the abyss. I looked over and could see nothing but scree for a hundred meters or so below me.

“Where?” I asked.

“There! Look, cant you see the path? Straight down here into the village of Sellamt.”

I looked again, and noticed a local family far below. The women shouted something to them, and they waved back up at me. I remembered that these people are built like mountain goats, and think nothing of the steep mountainsides they climb everyday. Bracing myself, I jumped off the path and onto the loose scree. “Just go down to that family and you will see the path” the women shouted as i slipped and slid my way down. They laughed.

I found that it was easier going to descend at a half run, allowing myself to go with the movement of the scree as it slipped beneath me. A few minutes later and i passed the family, gaining a more normal berber footpath again. Then I carrid on down to Sellamt, and turned right on the final contouring path towards home.

Boys watching their families sheep laughed at me as i passed, and one or two tried to keep up with me for a few paces before stopping, laughing with their friends. This all added o the enjoyment of the day.

After another 5km or so of this beautiful contouring path, i rounded the final spur and could see town at last. A quick descent to another village and then a gruelling kilometer of ascent again to the final village, and I was almost done. That final ascent was pretty tough and i wished i had brought some food with me to give me a quick boost.

Dogs barked as i ran through the final village, then t was an easy 10mins of gentle downhill running back home.

An amazing run, something to be done again. Just over two hours of running, around 15km of distance and a height gain of about 800m.