The Highest Peak in North Africa and the Untimely Demise of My Camera

My lovely little Lumix, Rest in Peace. Our three months together were short, but beautiful. Thank you for everything.

It seems that I am fated never to end a trip with my camera intact.

Two months into my last four-month trip, when I was in Bolivia, my camera and all my photos were stolen. And now three months into this trip, my camera took an unlucky dive off a cliff in the High Atlas Mountains as we were hiking Toubkal, the highest peak in North Africa. It was during a bad hand-off when Dustin was giving me back my camera. It never quite made it into my hand before he let go. My screams echoed through the mountains as I watched it careen off the rocks down a rocky cliff and into a pile of snow.

This is the last photo my poor camera took, above the Refugios of Toubkal,
before it got dropped off this very rock

I was really upset for a couple of hours, but it’s harder to be upset with someone else over an accident than yourself.

The funny thing is every time this happens, I am reminded of how simple life can be when you are not busy trying to record every moment or get the best shot. I feel myself living each moment in a different way. Being fully present. Is this what needs to happen every trip to remind me to be this way?

I spent the last five nights in the High Atlas Mountains. Along with the camel trekking in the Sahara, this was one of the places I was most looking forward to in Morocco. So it felt strange that when I finally got to Imlil, all I wanted to do was leave. It was cold and damp. Coming from the desert heat, my body seemed to want to hibernate. I felt so tired. The second day, it rained and snowed. I crawled into bed under a pile of blankets and did not come out for two nights. I was starting to wonder if I had mono. Or maybe my love affair with mountains had permanently ended? As I lay huddled in bed, I considered just turning around and heading for the beach.

But on the third day, I shook myself from my stupor and went for a day hike with Dan, Anneke, and Dustin. Thankfully, my body and legs remembered what to do in the mountains. I had met the three of them taking a grande taxi from Marrakesh. Dustin was staying with a friend on a farm in Aroundt, a neighboring town. I had followed Dan and Anneke to their hostel, and ended up staying there with them. It had snowed the day before, leaving a dusting of snow on everything around us. The white mountains were stunningly beautiful. Looking over the white powdered mountains, it was hard to believe that a few days earlier, I was in the brown/orange/yellows of the desert.  

Day hiking with Dan, Anneke, and Dustin

My newfound energy still felt fleeting and the thought of summitting a mountain too abstract and hard to imagine. I knew I had to make myself accountable to someone. Enter Dustin, from my grande taxi, and Dave, a British guy who had just arrived at the hostel. Neither Dustin nor Dave had been planning on doing Toubkal, but I convinced them to come with me. I couldn't have imagined hiking with a nicer more laid back couple of guys.

At the Refugio of Toubkal: Dustin and Dave hamming it up over looking like gangsters while everyone else was outfitted with their fancy outdoors gear, ice axes, and mountaineering boots. 

As I said to Dustin, doing Toubkal with them was even worth my camera taking a dive. He laughed and maybe he didn't think I meant it. But I meant it. Well, at least after the first two hours post-accident. 

Summit photo of Toubkal with Dustin. Dave didn't make it all the way
but was sweet enough to lend me his iphone, which took this photo

Traveling is about experiencing things, not trying to record them.

That I am reminded of every trip.