The Todra Gorge rapidly proved to be a worthy sport-climbing destination. Of the roughly 350 routes, spread over twenty-nine crags along the eight-kilometer canyon, three-quarters are bolt protected. Twenty-five of the sport routes are three or more pitches, with the longest being eight pitches. The easiest multi-pitch excursions start at 5c (5.8) and range all the way to 8a (5.13b), making it possible to get off the ground at almost any level of difficulty.
The gorge is host to roughly seventy-five established multi-pitch “adventure” trad routes, so called because of their reputation for loose rock. Many of the obscure — as well as the harder — trad routes haven’t received enough traffic to give them a proper cleaning. Local climbers reported that there were at least another hundred established multi-pitch trad lines that weren’t published in any guidebook, and plenty of would-be routes still waiting for an ascent.
Cragging in Morocco provides a range of unique experiences. On the downside, you can’t always climb your intended route, as vendors set up their stalls directly beneath the starting jugs, sometimes even using the first bolts as a tie-in point for their tarps. The rumble and fumes of diesel trucks, so packed with people that they’re hanging off the sides, provides a noisy spectacle. Veiled and tattooed Berber nomads graze their herds in the distance and are a pleasant distraction. But the sounds one hears echoing up the canyon are truly enchanting: vendors play strange polyrhythmic beats on dindla and tabel drums, and at regular intervals the call to prayer emanates from the mosque’s minaret with eerie and captivating atonal melodies.
Climbing near the hotels was a surreal experience. As we walked to the climbs we were merely tourists being barraged by vendors and panhandlers. Yet once we started climbing we suddenly became an attraction. The guides would stop and tell the other tourists about climbing and encourage them to take pictures. The change from audience to performers was abrupt and humorous every time. Luckily, a ten-minute walk took us out of the gorge entrance’s hustle and bustle. With either a short, steep uphill hike or a kilometer or two of walking it was easy to find ourselves completely alone.
On lazy days we took advantage of the fact that there were routes directly across from our hotel. The short approaches, however, weren’t always easy. The road was flooded for a few days during our stay, and there was always vehicle traffic and congestion at the crags closest to the gorge’s entrance. Many of these routes started directly out of the river on steep slabs, requiring a giant running leap and a quick catch of balance. On one occasion I wasn’t successful at the long jump, much to the great amusement of the tourists and locals.
A few weeks after arriving in Morocco we had an experience of truly biblical proportions. We were hiking up a short trail to a superb cliff formally known as Jardin D’Hiver (The Winter Garden) but nicknamed Trainee Blanche, when we noticed that the sky was darkening. We discovered it wasn’t clouds, but rather a massive swarm of locusts. Soon the whole sky was filled with their beating wings. As we walked higher up the trail we noticed that the locusts had carpeted the ground, blanketing every plant, rock, and dirt patch. With every step we took, swarms would leap into the air and soar away. The effect was mesmerizing. The sun caught their translucent wings, turning the reddish explosions of insects into glowing jewels gently floating away.