--- title: "Telhou Belâawane Leads Family Trek in Morocco's High Atlas Mountains" url: https://newscentral.site/telhou-belaawane-leads-family-trek-in-morocco-s-high-atlas-mountains/ language: en publisher: "News Central Site" section: "Travel" published: 2026-10-15T21:28:48.000Z updated: 2026-10-16T03:49:12.227Z id: c9f9c0bd-8f56-4598-a2a2-844b13e12836 source: "Conde Nast Traveler https://www.cntraveler.com/story/in-moroccos-high-atlas-mountains-joining-one-of-the-oldest-migrations-in-africa" attribution: "Link to https://newscentral.site/telhou-belaawane-leads-family-trek-in-morocco-s-high-atlas-mountains/ and name News Central Site when you quote or summarize this story." --- # Telhou Belâawane Leads Family Trek in Morocco's High Atlas Mountains A group of tourists joins the Aït Atta tribe on a 180-mile journey through the Sahara Desert. The high-pitched calls of goats echo through the rugged landscape of Jebel Saghro in Morocco's High Atlas Mountains, a region steeped in history and tradition for the Berber people. I'm traveling with Telhou Belâawane and her family from the Aït Atta tribe, who have lived in this area for generations. The family's ancestral homeland is nestled between the mountains and the Sahara Desert, an unforgiving yet breathtaking terrain that has shaped their way of life. This region is home to one of Africa's oldest migrations, with families like Telhou's making a 180-mile journey twice a year. They move their livestock from the summer grazing grounds in the High Atlas Mountains to the winter pastures of Jebel Saghro. This seasonal pastoral journey is known as transhumance and has defined the semi-nomadic lifestyle of Berber families for millennia. I'm on my way to meet Telhou's family, who are 10 days into their trek with a support team from travel operator Black Tomato. As part of The Keepers collection, this trip offers an immersive experience that allows travelers to learn about and connect with people whose traditional knowledge is still practiced today. This unique approach to luxury travel focuses on human connection and the preservation of ancient skills. Jebel Saghro's rugged landscape makes it difficult to spot the family's herd without a trained eye. The volcanic terrain and rocky peaks provide a challenging backdrop for the goats, who blend seamlessly into their surroundings. As I squint against the midday sun, I'm grateful for the guidance of Telhou's husband, Hmad, and daughter, Saâdia, who know these mountains like the back of their hand. The Aït Atta tribe has a rich history in southeast Morocco, with Telhou's family being part of one of the region's most powerful Berber tribes. Their ancestral homeland stretches across the High Atlas Mountains to the edge of the Sahara Desert, an area that has been shaped by centuries of tradition and migration. This semi-nomadic lifestyle is slowly disappearing, making it all the more important for travelers like me to learn from and appreciate these traditional ways. As I join Telhou's family on their trek, I'm struck by the beauty and resilience of this region. The harsh climate and unforgiving terrain have honed the Berber people into skilled herders who live in harmony with nature. Their traditional knowledge is a testament to their resourcefulness and adaptability in the face of adversity. The Keepers collection from Black Tomato offers travelers like me a chance to experience these unique traditions firsthand. By immersing ourselves in the lives of people like Telhou's family, we can gain a deeper appreciation for the rich cultural heritage that exists across the globe. With The Keepers, luxury travel has taken on a new meaning, one that prioritizes human connection and the preservation of ancient skills over mere indulgence. The Belâawane family's caravan was already on its way when I arrived in Morocco's High Atlas Mountains, comprising 200 goats, two dogs, and three donkeys carrying essential supplies. In addition to the animals and their handlers, Black Tomato had added five mules and a dozen more people to support my stay, including drivers, logistics men, a chef, and mule handlers who would carry food, luggage, and extra comforts. Among the newcomers were some relatives of the Belâawane family, who have been forced by climate change to abandon their nomadic lifestyle for village life. Head mule handler Zaïd Oukhazaid, however, has chosen to remain a nomad, albeit one with a more sedentary schedule, and still proudly carries on his Aït Atta heritage. He greeted me warmly in Tagdilt village at the edge of the Dadès Valley, meeting me roadside along with another mule handler who shared Zaïd's coarse djellaba and plaid shirt attire. Zaïd's warm smile and sturdy handshake belied his missing front teeth, while his expansive personality made up for any language barrier we might encounter during my stay. With rain forecasted, the family had gotten a head start with the herd, and would meet us at camp later, explained my translator Nouri Bachar. The landscape before us is a testament to the harsh conditions that define Saghro as the Land of Thirst in Berber tongue. Endless expanses of flat-topped mesas and dry riverbeds stretch out as far as the eye can see, punctuated by umber cliffs that seem to rise up from the earth itself. Zaïd's words offer a glimpse into his own experience with urban life. "Drop me in a city," he says, "I'd be lost. The contrast between this rugged landscape and the bustling streets of a city is stark, and it's clear that Zaïd feels more at home among the rocky outcroppings and scrubby vegetation. The hike ahead will be a challenging one, with days of trekking for five or more hours through terrain that can be unforgiving. The two-hour warm-up we've just completed is merely a precursor to what's to come, and I can feel my body beginning to tire already. As we reach the Tircht pass at 6,100 feet, the team is finishing up setting up camp. It's a welcome sight, and one that offers a brief respite from the physical demands of our journey so far. Each Aït Atta family has traditional rights to specific migration routes, including camps like this one where they've built stone pens known as azib to shelter their herd. Zaïd heads off to fetch water from a well, returning with a large bucket and making his way over to start a fire. He heats up a kettle for tea, and I stop him just as he's about to add an enormous amount of sugar to the pot. I'd like it unsweetened, I explain, earning a chuckle from Zaïd. After the sun sets, we gather in a goat-hair tent for a communal meal by candlelight. The atmosphere is lively, with the men engaged in good-natured gossip and banter. Telhou and her daughter sit quietly together, observing the scene around them with a quiet dignity. Traditionally, it's the man of the house who leads the caravan and sets up camp each night, while the wife and children are responsible for moving the goats and handling household duties like cooking meals. My presence here means that the women get a rare break from their usual responsibilities, and they're making the most of it. As we sit down to eat, our chef ladles out bowls of harira, a thick tomato-y soup spiked with beans, herbs, and spices. I follow Zaïd's lead and pick up my bowl with my hands, taking a long slurp as he nods in approval. The nomad way, he says, a smile spreading across his face. The nomadic lifestyle is being passed down to younger generations in Morocco's High Atlas Mountains, but it's a challenging task for families like Hmad's. Four out of six children are currently in school, and one daughter has already married, leaving Saâdia as the next to find a husband. As modern conveniences become more accessible, it's difficult for young people to return to the hardships associated with living off the land. The number of families making the trek to Jebel Saghro has dwindled significantly in recent years, from around 80 to just six in Hmad's sub-tribe, the Ait Slilou. This trend is not unique to Morocco; similar stories are unfolding globally, as traditional ways of life dependent on family and land continue to disappear. The nomadic lifestyle requires a great deal of physical labor, with tasks such as herding goats and managing donkeys falling squarely on the shoulders of the women in these families. As we set out with Hmad's family, I'm struck by the agility and ease with which Saâdia navigates the rugged terrain, effortlessly scrambling up steep cliffs alongside the hardy mountain goats. The 5-mile trek takes us over Tizi n' Tircht, a mountain pass that sits at an impressive 8,200 feet, offering breathtaking views of the surrounding High Atlas landscape. As we continue on our journey through Morocco's High Atlas Mountains, I've been welcomed into the group as one of their own. Last night's dinner was a testament to this, where a goat was sacrificed" in my honor and every part of it was served. The chef prepared an impressive spread, with skewers of heart, lungs, intestines, and other delicacies that I sampled with curiosity. The conversation at the table turned to politics, with a sense of excitement and hope. Nouri mentioned that it's a historic day - the king has appointed the first female prime minister. I asked the group about their emotions on this momentous occasion. Zaïd joked that it signals the end for men, while Saâdia said she doesn't care about politics, only the goats. Telhou cracked a smile and said she's happy. On our third morning, I asked Nouri if I could follow the women off trail to help with their daily tasks. Our route was just under seven miles, but steeper than previous days. As we walked, I began to notice the subtle differences between the goats - twisted horns, a shaggy beard, and even white ears on one-year-old kid that I'd named Mittens. Telhou used primal shouts to keep the herd together, while Saâdia skillfully threw stones at straying goats using a contraption she called a slingshot. She let me try, but my rock launched backwards, causing us both to burst out laughing. Telhou was impressed with my stamina and asked Nouri if I liked this work. I have to admit that I do - what would otherwise be an epic hike has taken on a new purpose. We're not just trekking for the sake of it; we're helping care for the herd, which adds a human connection to this breathtaking landscape. The scenery today was stunning, with red rocks and flat mesas that could have easily passed for Utah. As we continued on our journey, Nouri pointed out rock formations that resembled elephants and camels, making me feel like I'm on a geologic safari. By the time we met up with Hmad and descended into camp, I was physically exhausted - but in a good way. It's satisfying to do hard things, especially when it feels like you're contributing to something meaningful. As I rinsed off the day's dust in my bucket shower, I couldn't help but wonder if I could handle this lifestyle. In many ways, it's blissfully simple - almost like an annual hiking trip with friends and family where everyone is forced to disconnect from their screens due to limited cell signal. But modern-day stresses are replaced with real-life concerns for the tribe, like finding water, staying warm, and protecting the herd from predators. The reality of life in the High Atlas Mountains is a far cry from our comfortable lives back home. The tribe faces challenges that we can hardly imagine - finding food, shelter, and safety in this rugged landscape. As I reflect on my experiences so far, I'm grateful for the opportunity to see things from their perspective. As I continue to immerse myself in the nomadic lifestyle, I'm learning the intricacies of traditional cooking from Telhou. She patiently teaches me how to make aghroum, a flatbread that's an essential part of their diet. Telhou's hands move with ease as she tosses the dough back and forth between them, while mine struggle to replicate her technique. My breadmaking skills leave much to be desired, but Telhou remains encouraging. In the evenings, we gather around a large bowl filled with couscous, goat meat, carrots, and zucchini. The communal meal is a highlight of our day, with Zaïd expertly portioning out the meat so everyone gets an equal share. There are no plates in sight as we eat directly from the bowl, a practice that emphasizes the importance of sharing and community. Before retiring to my tent, Saâdia asks if she can decorate my hands with henna, adding another layer to our bonding experience. The final day with my adopted nomad family is bittersweet, but I'm grateful for the opportunity to join them once again as they herd their goats across the mountain pass. My confidence has grown since the previous days, allowing me to focus on the task at hand and spot any stragglers from the herd. As we prepare to part ways, I reflect on my experiences so far, and it's clear that this trip has been a transformative one, it's not just about the stunning landscapes but also about the people and their way of life. --- Source: [Conde Nast Traveler](https://www.cntraveler.com/story/in-moroccos-high-atlas-mountains-joining-one-of-the-oldest-migrations-in-africa) Published by News Central Site: https://newscentral.site/telhou-belaawane-leads-family-trek-in-morocco-s-high-atlas-mountains/