Apples, Saffron and Dinosaur Tracks: Impressions from Morocco’s Central High Atlas landscapes

Accompany our postdocs Emmeline Topp and Laura Kmoch on their reconnaissance trip through the biocultural landscapes of Azilal Province, visiting famous apple orchards amidst rugged terrain.

Laura Kmoch
People • Nature • Landscapes

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Harvest season in Aït Bouguemez

It is harvest season in Aït Bouguemez. A sweet and earthy scent of ripe fruit in crisp air lingers over the town of Tabant, as we arrive in this lush and beautiful High Atlas valley in the late autumn sun.

A crate of apples in the fields of Aït Bouguemez. Photo: Malte Øhlers.

Plastic crates, packed to the brim with red, green, or yellow apples — large and small — line the roads, are stacked on trucks, or piled-up high in nearby fields.

They will be delivered to souks and supermarkets throughout Morocco tomorrow and later this week.

Exploring the High Atlas social-ecological context

For the moment, our focus is elsewhere, as we stride past stalls selling clothing, tents, housewares, second-hand tools, and even a pair of skis looking for a daring new owner. It’s five o’clock in the afternoon, we are hungry, and it’s clearly the wrong time of day to eat in a local restaurant, as most places have stopped serving food.

Searching late lunch in the streets of Tabant. Photo: Malte Øhlers.

Fortunately, a small café comes to our rescue. We have strong tea, tuna sandwiches and freshly baked Msemen crêpes. Our energy restored, our attention returns to the surrounding agricultural landscapes.

Our aim is to explore the land-use systems and develop research questions in the social-ecological context of the Central High Atlas.

Following Road 302 into the mountains

Our route up to the valley followed Road 302 — a winding, three-hour drive from the now distant city centre of Demnate. The road passes through juniper stands on steep mountain flanks, settlements of newly built concrete buildings, and older houses that have been crafted through hard labour from the earth and soil of the land.

A village near road 302 on our way to Aït Bouguemez. Photo: Malte Øhlers.

Some of the houses look like they have been there forever, although severely eroded gullies and river channels speak of a dynamic, physically changing landscape that poses challenges to its inhabitants.

Making a living from migration and terraced land

We ask ourselves how people here eke out a living from the land, where the slopes are steep, terraces are small, and water is often scarce. It seems clear that the traditional farming practices that once substantially contributed to sustaining these communities no longer suffice to meet households’ rising living costs that come with rural change — including electrification and altered consumption patterns.

Looking out over Aït Blal and its terraced fields. Photo: Malte Øhlers.

We wonder how many of the people here have a story of outward-migration. Who would like to leave the area, who aspires to stay, and why?

What role do remittances play in people’s livelihoods, and what role will agriculture have in the future of these mountains? Will people continue to sell specialist agricultural products — almonds, olives and aromatic herbs — or will that become a distant memory from the past?

Apple orchards and agroecology

The next morning, we set out to see more of the valley — after a good night’s rest, and amazing stars over our hotel right across from the village mosque. We walk on small trails through apple orchards and alongside barren stony hills on the valley’s edge. It’s clear that most of the orchards we pass are recently established.

Tea break in the valley’s apple orchards. Photo: Malte Øhlers.

A conversation with apple producers, who invite us for tea, confirms that until a decade ago, people mostly used to grow potatoes here instead of fruit trees.

Yet, what drove this change? Which role did local development initiatives and outside investors play? And how do people manage their tree stands now? From an agroecological perspective, it would be interesting to understand more of such topics — such as the choice of apple varieties to plant, whether farmers are using agrochemicals, and how grazing and mowing are integrated into the orchards. These decisions all have implications for agrobiodiversity, including wildlife of important functional value, such as pollinators.

Further along the way, we meet a local woman who is harvesting the last violet-coloured saffron flowers under the apple trees on her land.

Yesterday, we already saw such a field on our drive through the Central High Atlas Mountains — in the village of Aït Boulli. Local people told us that this is one of the crops that could be expanded to allow people to make a better living from the land.

Moroccan saffron in full bloom. Photo: Malte Øhlers.

Climate resilience and landscape change

Otherwise, we do not see many crops among the apple trees, but are told that alfalfa is sometimes grown there for the sheep. Right now, livestock mostly grazes on the grass and stubble of fields that have not been planted with apples, while the farmers still wait for the rains that signal the start of the planting period here in the mountains. If and how much rain will come this growing season is not yet clear.

Dry agroforestry landscape in the Central High Atlas. Photo: Malte Øhlers.

People here, as in other nearby villages, have noticed climate-related changes in the landscape during the droughts of the past years.

Do they see a future in farming nonetheless?

How could they best be supported in this? Are apples enough, or would it be wise to diversify their income sources? And how can the apple sector further develop in an agro-ecologically sound way? These are some of the other questions we are asking ourselves now.

Human-nature connections and dinosaur imprints in time

Pondering over possible answers and hypotheses, and over which research approaches could be most interesting and suited to the area, we still find time to enjoy the region’s tourism highlights:

An old Kasbah among the valley’s apple and walnut trees. Photo: Malte Øhlers.

At the end of the valley, there is a stone cliff with ancient footprints of two dinosaurs: one with big round feet — you can almost picture him plodding across the landscape; the other made an imprint of three claws that look more suited to running and hunting. The legacy of these creatures places the human-nature connections of the valley into the context of geological time.

The fossilised dinosaur imprints of Ibaklioun. Photo: Malte Øhlers.

Human presence here is so comparatively brief, and yet has changed the earth’s surface so comprehensively.

Cultural values and tourism as a livelihood pathway

We also consider the different values that make up our human-nature connections, and wonder how the changes facing the local people are reflected in their spiritual, cultural and relational ties to their landscape. How can these ties be supported in future livelihoods?

One potential future pathway is tourism. How does it fit with local people’s aspirations for change, with their other livelihood activities, and which consequences does it already have? Will the income from tourism keep people in the mountains or allow them to leave? Does it accelerate the abandonment of the valley’s traditional clay houses that we admire so much?

Clay house among walnut trees at the valley’s edge. Photo: Laura Kmoch.

These houses are nestled under walnut trees — another tree crop that contributes to people’s incomes here.

Could the visits of curious tourists — such as ourselves — help to maintain the traditional building style in the valley, but with more modern comforts? These questions link to communities’ local knowledge and built heritage, other aspects of the social-ecological system that may be affected by outward migration.

Mountain vistas and research ideas

We don’t know the answers — and we won’t find them on this short trip to the mountains. We came to see and explore potential research avenues, and it is clear that we found many. As we set out the next morning, we take rich impressions with us, and good memories.

View towards the M’Goun range on the mountain pass. Photo: Malte Øhlers.

We leave the valley through the mountain pass at the eastern end, with a spectacular view over the peak of Jebel Azourki (3677m).

On our way back to Demnate, we decend into another diverse landscape of stone oaks, ash and juniper trees, passing through Azilal with a quick coffee break in Ait M’Hamed. Thinking ahead, we would love to return next year, and develop clear plans for research with our team and some of the organizations working in the area.

Gofous nrebbi artikelt yadnin

Be salama, gofous nrebbi artikelt yadnin and goodbye for now — we hope you enjoyed getting to know the biocultural landscapes of Azilal province just as much as we did.

Sunset in the valley near Aguerd N’ouzrou. Photo: Malte Øhlers.

This article was written collaboratively by Emmeline Topp and Laura Kmoch, with editorial support from Imke Horstmannshoff.

If reading has sparked additional thoughts or research questions in your mind, please share them below! We will be glad to hear them.

To learn more about our partners’ work: Moroccan Biodiversity and Livelihoods Association (MBLA) and Global Diversity Foundation (GDF)

MBLA Official website: https://www.mblaassociation.org/

MBLA Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mbla.highatlasmorocco

MBLA Facebook: Moroccan Biodiversity and Livelihoods Association

GDF High Atlas Cultural Landscapes Programme: https://www.global-diversity.org/programmes/mediterranean/

View across the valley from the historic communal granary near Tabant. Photo: Malte Øhlers

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