Running Toubkal? Are you crazy? asked my dad when I told him about my idea.

At 4167m Toubkal is the highest summit in North Africa, and a trekking challenge which many undertake each year. Whilst not the most spectacular mountain in the region, its status as highest is well deserved. This is a big mountain, which is usually walked over three days, spending two nights in mountain huts to acclimatise to the altitude.

Ever since I started guiding in the Atlas Mountains, the question has been on my mind: how hard would it be to run up Toubkal?

Now I must admit that this question comes with a slightly selfish motive. As a single my wife worked in this region for several years, and she often tells me about the time that she and a group of friends decided to hike up Toubkal in a day. She mentions details such as having to have a nap somewhere halfway up the trail because they were so exhausted, and about not being able to move for a week afterwards. So naturally there has always been the challenge to see if its possible to walk it in a day like she did!

The other reason to run up Toubkal is that I lead trail running adventures in these mountains, and I wanted to know whether I could seriously offer this as an option for paying clients. After all, this is something that no other agency is offering.

We had planned to spend a few days in Imlil this week to visit local friends anyway, so what better opportunity. The Berber men are often out all day working, so my wife could take the kids to visit with the Berber women, and I could go and climb my “little hill” as she called it. Then in the evening we could all hang out with our friends when the men came home, and share their Ramadan fdour (breakfast) feast.

At 5am my alarm went off. I had barely slept anyway, with the anticipation. I throw my stuff in the car, drive to where the Imlil road ends at the village of Aroumd, and have a quick breakfast of yogurt and bread. Unfortunately I forgot to bring coffee. Then I do some stretching as the summit of Toubkal is illumined in the first light of dawn. I know the view well but it still looks very high. There’s not a cloud in the sky so I apply plenty of sun cream.

5:45am – I set off at a gentle jog along the valley floor to where the trail starts ascending. I’m already regretting wearing tights and a fleece as its getting warm already, but who knows how cold it will be higher up. The forecast said 2 degrees on the summit today.

At the head of the valley some local women are bringing bundles of grass down from the mountainside for their cows. Their backs are bent double under the huge loads, and I reflect on the fact that I will never be as fit as these locals no matter how hard I train.

The first leg up to Sidi Chamharouch is a lovely run. Not much ascent, a wide path, and at this hour all the little shops along the way are closed which means no hassle. How many times have i had to explain to “peanut guy” that I really don’t want to buy his homemade peanut bars, and that actually I did plan ahead and bring all the trail food I will need, thankyou very much!

It is said that there is a powerful Djinn who dwells at the Sidi Chamharouch cascades. There is just one lone pilgrim riding a mule up to the shrine at this hour – an old man. Unusual as its normally women who head up here to receive the blessings of this sacred place.

35 minutes into the run and I am above the shrine. I am feeling smug as this is often our lunch rest stop when we guide trekking groups here. As I ascend the zigzags higher up a young local lad overtakes me . He has no pack or mountain clothes, and i recognise him as the guy who mans the last coke shop on this trail. He must run up here every morning to open his shop before the trekkers arrive. I wonder if he ever considers competing in a mountain marathon?

The final pull up to the refuges is easy going but I have to pace myself, knowing whats to come and how much endurance I still need. Last time I did this run with the refuge as my destination, I was pretty wasted by this point and really feeling the altitude. This time I think the mental challenge of going further stops me from feeling tired so early.

1h50 after leaving the car I reach the Toubkal refuges. A lone guy is sweeping the steps, and a European lady is sitting forlornly on the wall. I ask her if she is going up top today. She says that no, she is really struggling with the altitude and with headaches, and that she will wait until tomorrow. She asks me if it is a hard mountain to climb, and i don’t really know how to respond. It really depends on your level of fitness I reply. Then I turn towards the main Toubkal path, wondering if she is watching me go up. As 4000m peaks go its probably one of the easiest in the world, which is why its so popular.

I head behind the refuges and onto the scree slope. I’m slightly nervous about whether my body can actually cope with what I am putting it through, but i know that there are people who run ultra marathons for fun and Toubkal is nothing compared to that. I decide that i’ll try to at least get to the top of the first screes and see how I feel with the altitude. I reason that I can always use the refuge as an emergency safe place if i exhaust myself or break a leg or something. The thrill of being alone in such a potentially dangerous environment is part of the appeal to me, I am sure.

2h45 – The first part of the notorious Toubkal scree slopes are over and I can see the Tizi n Toubkal coll. The going is rough, in places it is like trying to run up a 40 degree slope covered in marbles. Many times I slide back down just as far as I have stepped up. Oh this is so much more fun in winter! I’m already planning to do it again when its hard nevé and i can wear my microspike crampons. I have an Eluveite song in my head which is really irritating as right now I would rather be sitting in a comfy sofa:

What’s that urge that lifted up our longing eyes?
What’s that ring echoing from the leaden skies?
What’s that augur resounding from the lyre’s strings?

It’s the call of the mountains, ooh, ooh
The call of the alps
The call home, ooh, ooh
The tune in our hearts, the song of the mountains

3h40 – I have reached the coll whilst battling scree all the way, lured on by the song of the mountains. I haven’t actually managed to run at all since the refuges, it’s more of a relentless uphill power-walk. Still, I have overtaken a couple of trekking groups, and a single Danish lady wearing toe-shoes. She assures me that they are great on this terrain. I admit I have often thought about buying some, but I really don’t want to give in to such subtle marketing techniques which can charge you £100 for a shoe and tell you that you are running “barefoot”. Honestly, when I run barefoot I simply take my shoes off, and don’t pay for anyone’s branding! But not on this scree, no chance of barefoot running here.

The final ridge is a nice trail but I am feeling very nauseous now. I can’t work out if its the altitude gain or just tiredness. I tell myself that if I get a headache as well as the nausea then I will turn around, as it could be altitude sickness beginning and I wouldn’t want to pass out up here alone. My technique for dealing with altitude is to simply make myself hyperventilate constantly as I run. I tell myself that this increases my oxygen intake. I have no idea if this is medically proven, but it seems to work for me.

The traverse under the summit ridge is fun and quick compared to doing it with clients. A couple of short zigzags and then I can see the summit pyramid, closer than I had anticipated. I try to fast walk, I have absolutely no run left in me despite it being almost flat now – but I fail to get there before I pass the 4h mark.

4h08 – it’s almost 10am and I am alone at the top of Morocco. There are several sheep sharing the summit pyramid with me, but no people in sight which is really nice! I take a couple of photos and then head down. There is little incentive to lingering on a summit when you run up mountains. In fact, I find that the actual summit is a minor event in the whole day’s experience. Funny how it used to be the main event in the days when I walked hills for fun instead of professionally. Running Toubkal? You are crazy! My dad’s words still ring in my ears. Yes, crazy I may be – but I did it!

The great thing with the thin air at altitude is that as soon as you head down, you no longer notice it. I gambol down like a young lamb. The traverse is a bit dodgy since I’m tempted to run it, but one wrong foot placement and it would be a long fall. I don’t know where he was but a young English guy recently had a fall up here somewhere alone, and his body wasn’t found for days. I seriously wonder about bringing running clients here, as a mountain leader I just couldn’t guarantee their safety running across something like this. Its all very different to when everyone is taking it slow and I can protect the dangerous bits for them.

I meet some Germans near the coll. We have a laugh together and they ask me whether I have enough sugary snacks in my pack to keep me going. I assure them that I still have three mars bars left! This is far more than i usually take on my runs.

There’s one nice section of scree running where i can go pretty fast, sinking into the scree with each step, and then its back to the marbles. The footing is just horrendous and I feel like i am descending far slower than planned. I lose my footing several times.

11am – Back down at the refuges again. I don’t stop to talk to anyone, I want to get back to Imlil for lunch. I honestly thought I would be out for most of the day. The euphoria of having summited already and having no injuries thus far is beginning to hit me. I break into a steady jog along the easy trail back to Sidi Chamharouch. Since the trail is so flat now compared to what I have just done, it begins to feel like really hard work without the gravitational pull to help. I’m mentally calculating if i can be back within the 6h30 mark, but as my fatigue starts to set in I see this target receding. There comes a point in every run where you tell your body to do something and it just refuses point blank. This is one of them, and I slow to a walk far too often.

The most dangerous thing about the descent from running Toubkal now are the mules. When you are trekking they go faster than you, so aren’t a problem. Having to dodge past mule trains at running speed is another thing entirely, and one mule almost stumbles into me as I pass, making me twist my ankle on a rock. Fortunately my ankles are pretty tough after all the trails I run, and its normal for me to twist one a time or two on a run. I carry on. Seeing all the expensive kit bags on the mules, my mind wanders about how such wilderness experiences are still ruled by consumerism and marketing. I am as guilty as anyone, i have more pairs of shoes than my wife! When you see some of the locals going up each day in flip-flops it really makes you wonder.

After the final turn of the path, Aroumd is in view and i can just make out my car glinting in the morning sun. I have been going 6h50 and I try to break into a sprint, desperate to be back before the 7h mark. Its probably a result of growing up in a culture where products are always priced at “£6.99” instead of “£7”, as if that penny makes any difference. Somehow it seems important to my tired mind to get back before the clock says 7h. But try as I might, I just don’t have the energy to go any faster. I finally get to the car at 7h05.

12:50pm. And it’s done. 27km, 2360m height gain, Toubkal honestly is a bit of a beast to run. Will I take running clients up here? Absolutely, but it will have to be a very special kind of client, the kind who are used to running up mountains for fun, and I don’t think I can have very high ratios which means it will be expensive. Still, for the right people it will make a really good climax to a 5 day running holiday on the trails here in the Atlas Mountains. So this wasn’t just a fun day out, it served its purpose as a recce trip too, which is great.

As I drive back down to meet my family in time for lunch, my mind is in turmoil. It all seems to have happened so fast that I don’t actually believe I ran up Toubkal, except that I have photos to prove it. At the same time, its a major personal goal achieved and I am already feeling the anticlimax. I’m not competitive by nature, but I am definitely addicted to this mountain running thing. The most dangerous thought of all then comes into my mind, which I promise myself I will never tell my wife or kids…

I wonder if I could run up Kilimanjaro?

Disclaimer – The Atlas Mountains are a harsh, remote environment far from rescue services and safety. Please don’t go running in them on your own without the necessary skills of navigation, weather forecasting, planning, hydration, communication, etc. Better to hire a guide and be safe. Several people have died on Toubkal this year already. Please don’t be one of them.