A Brief Adventure in Setti Fatma, Morocco.

Setti Fatma, Morocco.

October 2008.

It was our last day in Marrakesh and I was feeling like the trip needed a change of tone. As wonderful as Morocco had been, the adventure had so far played out as a near-continuous stream of city exploring. Sure, I could’ve found plenty more to occupy our time in Marrakesh. But somehow I felt nature calling from the nearby Atlas Mountains.

Unfortunately, as non-drivers, our options for getting in and out of rural Al Haouz Province in just one day were limited. Thus I bit the bullet and signed up for seats with a private bus company providing return transfers to the picturesque mountain town of Setti Fatma. The company, whose name I have long forgotten, picked us up from our apartment after breakfast. Packed in with a dozen other passengers, we were soon speeding out of the city, the first collection of gently rolling hills emerging.

The further we went, the more dramatic the scenery became. Hills became mountains, fields morphed into dipping valleys, meandering streams and rushing rivers. Home to around half a million people, Al Haouz Province is the gateway to The Atlas, North Africa’s highest mountain range. As such, the entire region unfolds in a series of farm hamlets, hill towns and mountain villages. I remember gazing out of the window thinking: I could do a few weeks here. 

A Brief Adventure in Setti Fatma, Morocco.

Sadly though, there’d only be time to dip our toes into the province’s proverbial waters. It’s funny, because I have a clear memory of gazing out the window, a commanding berber fort flashing past me, dreaming of the day I’d be able to live and work wherever I pleased. Now that I’m actually a digital nomad, perhaps I should see how Sladja feels about some months in Morocco.

The trip from central Marrakesh to Setti Fatma should’ve taken just under an hour and forty minutes. However, somewhat predictably, the bus company decided to take us on a detour that nobody had agreed to. It was the classic please-buy-stuff routine as we pulled into a small herbal farm on the outskirts of town.

Amusingly, a few passengers refused to get out in protest. For me though, as apathetic as I was about the herbs, I felt grateful for the fresh air, pretty views and a chance to stretch my legs. “Welcome to (forgotten farm name) sir” grinned a young man in a white coat. “May I show you around our beautiful garden?” 

An Unwanted Pitstop.

Playing along, I allowed the man to show me around the admittedly lovely garden. As for the herbs, I was familiar with the names he reeled off from my visit to a Herboristere in Marrakesh. Farm dude was really keen on making a sale, so took me into some grubby side rooms where a group of ladies were grinding various herbs and spices into powder. “These will later go into bags, you can see them in our shop”. Uh, huh. 

After a brief wander through the store I managed to shake my guide loose by asking where the toilet was. And then I was free to seek out a peaceful corner of the garden where I could breathe in the handsome landscape. I guess this unwanted pitstop had its uses.

Setti Fatma sits neatly nestled in a canyon beneath The High Atlas Mountains. Home to around twenty thousand people, this traditional Berber settlement started out as a farm village before becoming one of the region’s most popular day trips from Marrakech. 

A visit here is all about soaking up the natural beauty with some hiking in the Atlas foothills followed by dinner on the banks of the Ourika River. The route in question takes visitors through the village and up into the hills. Along the way, you get to cross off the famous Seven Waterfalls (Cascades de Setti Fatma).

A Brief Adventure in Setti Fatma, Morocco.

On arrival our driver wasted no time in encouraging us to get cracking with the hike before reconvening in about four hours for the drive back to Marrakesh. So off we went, crossing the wooden bridge over the river and following the first set of signposts that clearly mark the way. 

Before too long the path began rising steeply, running alongside sections of rocks, boulder alleys and bubbling streams. Happily, drooping trees provided a bit of shade from the sun. While the route was hardly overwhelmed, it was definitely well-inhabited, with foreign tourists and clusters of local families hiking with us. Amusingly, nobody had prepared much in the way of footwear; kids and grandmas alike going up in their sandals and flip-flops, some even barefoot! 

As we progressed, a number of local men offered their services as guides. One of them wanted to take us on an alternative, more challenging route. But we politely declined, unsure as to how far off schedule he would take us. Other locals we met had set up camp along the route to sell souvenirs and local handicrafts.

On the Seven Waterfalls Hike.

Nothing much interested us, though I did really like the charming drinks cabinets displayed on stone shelves cut directly out of the rock. Cleverly, water from a section of river running above came trickling down over the Coca-Colas, Fantas and Sprites. Tickled, I bought a few water bottles and didn’t quibble over the inflated price.

The first waterfall came shortly after. It wasn’t exactly stunning but perfectly charming and well worth the pause to admire, photograph and catch our breaths. If memory serves me well this was the only one I was able to snap immediately, rather than politely (probably a bit impatiently) wait for queuing families to fuss over their many poses.

Inspired by their antics, I decided to grab a shot of myself with the second fall. This required scrambling down to a perch somewhere roughly among its midway point. I recall a few people looking over at me as if I were mad.

Climbing higher still, I was able to earwig on a guide who’d convinced a young American couple to secure his services. Despite his patchy English, I was delighted to learn how the village of Setti Fatma had gotten its name. According to local legend, Setti Fatma was the daughter of a respected local scholar back in ancient times.

Fiercely intelligent, hardworking and righteous, she became a renowned teacher and philanthropist who built homes for orphans and the poor. In her later years she’d become such a trusted figure that various communities would employ her to settle personal and tribal disputes.

A Brief Adventure in Setti Fatma, Morocco.

In all the excitement of the hike I made the cardinal sin of forgetting to photograph a few of the waterfalls. That’s how I rolled back in those innocent, pre-blog days, folks. As with the first few, I found them to be pretty and endearing as opposed to oh-my-god-wow. Which isn’t always a bad thing.

By the time we’d got all the way back down to the village we were more than ready for dinner on the Ourika River. There were nearly half a dozen restaurants open and naturally they’d all been eagerly awaiting our descent. On the last stretch of the way down we befriended an English couple. Having swapped a few travel stories, we decided to share a table at the restaurant with the least annoying tout. A round of coffees and mint teas swiftly followed.

All four of us went for the lamb tajine, an absolutely delicious stew where the meat sat in a rich tomatoey gravy alongside nuts, dried fruits, vegetables and potatoes. Our dishes were slow-cooked, so took a while to arrive. But with well over an hour before we had to be back at the van, we were in no rush. Instead, we talked some more and lapped up the calming riverside vibe. It was the perfect conclusion to our little window into rural Morocco, and a fine way to celebrate the end of our time in Marrakesh.

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