07/07/2026
Day 7 - One Last Adventure
Our last full day in Morocco and we had one final excursion booked to make the most of it.
It was an early start so we grabbed a quick breakfast, collected everything we needed for the day and headed out to the front of the hotel for our 8.20 pick-up.
I'd booked a trip to the Ourika Valley, which included a guided hike to the waterfalls. Yes, you read that right, a “hike”! In this heat! I don't know what possessed me when I've spent the previous six days complaining about the heat, but the photos looked so beautiful that common sense clearly took the day off.
Our minibus arrived right on time and we climbed aboard. We collected more guests on the way before finally leaving Marrakech behind and heading towards the Atlas Mountains. As the city disappeared behind us, the scenery gradually changed to dusty villages, winding mountain roads and wide open valleys, with the mountains becoming more dramatic the further we travelled.
When we arrived in the Ourika Valley we were handed over to a local mountain guide who was leading the hike to the waterfalls.
Almost straight away he singled me out, questioning whether I'd manage the hike. Whether it was because of my age, how I looked, or simply because everyone else on our minibus was in their twenties, I honestly don't know. Whatever the reason, it was said in front of the whole group and I suddenly felt quite self-conscious and uncomfortable.
The walk itself wasn't a concern for me. Before booking I'd read plenty of reviews and knew it was about an hour and a half and a reasonable difficulty. I live in North Wales, I mean walking in the mountains isn't exactly unfamiliar territory. I was concerned though about doing it in extreme heat.
I assured him I was fine and set off with everyone else. The route wasn't really a mountain trail at all. It was a steady climb over uneven stone steps, weaving between little cafés, market stalls and shaded resting places. As we climbed, the guide continued making comments about needing a good heart and being fit enough for the walk.
By then the heat was really starting to get to me and to make matters worse, Jason had accidentally left my sun cream and cover-up on the minibus, so I knew every step higher meant more time in the full sun.
After a while we reached one of the little stopping places dotted along the route and I thought to myself, what on earth was I doing? The heat was too much, and I wasn't climbing because I wanted to anymore. I was climbing because I felt I had something to prove.
I didn't!
So I said I'd rather head back down. The guide wasn't keen on the idea of me walking back alone and insisted on taking me to one of the little cafés where I could wait while everyone else continued to the waterfalls.
As it turned out, I think I got the better deal. All curled up on one of the benches was a family of tiny kittens and their mum, so while everyone else was climbing to the waterfalls, I sat in the shade making friends with them.
I don't think either of us minded the arrangement. By the time Jason and the rest of the group returned, I'd been thoroughly entertained.
Jason admitted the climb had been much harder to do in the heat than he expected, and also once I'd left the group he was the one the guide kept fussing over, so I think I made the right decision.
We all made our way back down together before our mountain guide, or mountain goat as Jason had now christened him, handed us back to our tour guide.
From there we walked down to one of the riverside restaurants for lunch, and what a setting it was.
Little Moroccan seating areas lined both sides of the river, with colourful rugs, low tables and cushions set right alongside the flowing water. People were sitting with their feet dangling in the river while they ate beneath the shade of the trees. It looked absolutely beautiful.
Lunch was included in the trip and I chose the chicken couscous tagine. It was really tasty and definitely one of the nicest lunches of the week..
After lunch it was back aboard the minibus for our next stop, a visit to traditional Berber family home.
Our host, Ibrahim, showed us around and explained how generations of his family had lived there. The thick earthen walls kept the house surprisingly cool despite the baking temperatures outside, and stepping through the doorway felt like entering another world.
It really was an interesting visit and gave us a genuine glimpse into Berber family life. That said, they hadn't missed a trick either. The tour finished by steering us through the family's own souvenir shop. Fair enough really, we'd probably all do the same!
It was a long, hot bus ride back after that. By the time we got back to the hotel it was a little after 4pm.
Before heading up to our room we stopped at reception to arrange a late checkout for the following day. Our flight isn't until 10.30pm and when we'd asked earlier in the week, we'd been told to come back the day before to book it.
But that plan didn't quite work out because computer said No! Our room had already been allocated to another guest, so there would be no late checkout after all. Not exactly what we'd hoped to hear, but there wasn't much we could do about it.
We headed up to the room for a bit of a rest before getting ready for one last evening in Marrakech.
At 7.30 we caught the hotel's final shuttle into the city, planning to get a taxi back later.
Jemaa el-Fna Square after dark is a completely different world. The daytime heat had eased and the square was buzzing with activity. We wandered around picking up a few last-minute souvenirs before finding a rooftop restaurant overlooking the square.
Neither of us fancied any food after our late lunch, so we ordered coffees, cold drinks and, later, some fresh mint tea, then spent the next hour simply watching everything unfold below us.
As the sun went down, the whole square came alive.
All manner of stalls appeared almost as if by magic, smoke drifted into the evening air and the sounds became louder with every passing minute. Drummers gathered crowds, acrobats tumbled through the square, the sounds of snake charmers playing their tunes drifted through the air , monkeys waited patiently with their handlers, peacocks and owls posing for pictures among the crowds and fruit sellers called out to anyone who would listen. Everywhere we looked there was something happening.
Before we knew it, it was after ten o'clock, so we headed back down for one last wander through the square before finding a taxi.
Now, it had to happen eventually. We fell for it! Apart from the henna incident, we'd managed to avoid getting caught out too badly all week but then I stopped at a stall for just a little too long..
it was burning the most beautiful raw incense and I was fascinated by the burner so I pointed it out to Jason and, before we knew it, we were chatting to the stall holder about what was burning.
It turned out to be raw frankincense. I'd never actually seen it in its natural form before and it really was fascinating. We asked how much it was and he casually replied, "Five dirham per kilogram."
That sounded perfectly reasonable.
Before either of us quite realised what was happening, he'd picked up a small jar, broken up a lump of frankincense, filled the jar almost to the top and then added a generous sprinkle of myrrh for good measure.
Very kind of him.
Then he placed it on the scales. It came to over 400 dirham. That's about £40!
Cue the awkward smiles and frantic bargaining. We eventually got him down to around 370 dirham, which still worked out at about £33 for one small jar of incense.
To make matters even more ridiculous, we'd already spent most of our Moroccan cash on souvenirs and didn't actually have enough left to pay for it.
So instead of looking for a taxi, we found ourselves being searching for the nearest cash machine.
Looking back, we probably should have walked away, but once he'd filled the jar it somehow felt impossible to say no. Let's just hope we get it through customs tomorrow.
Eventually, all spent up, we found a taxi back to the hotel.
We stopped at the bar for one last drink, where we were certain we'd bump into Terry and June but to our surprise there was no sign of them. That's two days now, should we be worried?
We did however come across one of the sisters we'd met earlier in the week. We said hello and ended up having a good chat, it turned out she is on the same flight home as us tomorrow.
By now we were running out of steam so we headed back to our room, collapsed into bed and, for once, I don't remember lying awake for very long at all. Tomorrow it will be time to say goodbye to Morocco.
