Mara Vorhees

King Features Syndicate

The rugged Eastern High Atlas region of Morocco is breathtakingly beautiful, heartbreakingly poor and kilometres from anywhere. The region is in the geographic centre of the country, lying in the no man's land between north and south. The nearest population centre is Midelt, a dusty town of 35,000, located 19 kilometres to the south.

The Moroccan monarch has not been here, but a handful of travellers have, thanks to the Timnay Intercultural Tourist Complex. The complex promotes tourism that offers a personal introduction to Berber culture and contributes to improving living conditions in these impoverished outposts.

Timnay's founder, Youssef Ait Lemkaden, explained: "We take travellers to the villages to meet Berber families and live like Berber families. The traveller learns about the Berbers, and the Berbers benefit directly."

Youssef teaches in Rabat and travels frequently to Europe. He has come far from his Berber roots. But his heart remains in the village, which was clear when he spoke of Timnay's efforts.

Besides proffering tours, the complex finances small-scale, grass-roots development projects, such as constructing a simple irrigation system in the village of Mendayour. The system directs water from its source, more than three kilometres out of the village, to a central, communal fountain. "Imagine these women," Youssef said, "walking 3 1/2 kilometres each way, morning and evening."

With my guide Hafid and the muleteer Habib, I set out on a two-day journey to learn firsthand about the Berbers of the Eastern High Atlas. We trekked all morning to reach our first destination, the village of Sidi Amar. As it turned out, we were not the only visitors.

Hundreds of people had descended on Sidi Amar -- by donkey, mule and foot -- for the region's weekly souq, or market. Women draped in bright fabrics carried babies on their backs; heads wrapped in turbans haggled over prices. Sellers touted their wares -- oranges, dates and olives, spices of every color, all piled onto woven carpets and pouring out of plastic bags -- creating a sensory spectacle.

Wearing jeans and lacking a head scarf, I created a spectacle myself. "A European woman in the region," Hafid commented when he noticed I was attracting stares, "now that is something to see."

While Habib had the mule re-shoed, Hafid bought ingredients for lunch, which we shared at the home of a villager named Mamoud. When I asked Mamoud where I might use the bathroom, he answered, "C'est la toilette au sauvage." How, I wondered, does a "toilet in the wild" work in the middle of a village? I decided not to find out.

La toilette au sauvage, I later learned, is a serious concern. Contaminated water -- causing diarrhea, typhoid and other health problems -- results in high infant-mortality rates in many Berber villages. And this is not to mention the awkward problem I had faced -- discretion.

It is a concern that Youssef hopes Timnay can address. In a nearby village, Timnay had brought a French group of youthful volunteers to build latrines at the local school.

We exited Sidi Amar onto a vast plain marked only by rocky terrain and scrub brush. In the distance rose the snow-covered mountain ridge that was our destination, Jebel Ayachi. The sun emerged, turning the colourless landscape into a palette of blues and golds. I climbed on to the mule for the ascent into the foothills of the mountain range.

We had scrapped plans to climb to the 3,737-km summit of Ichichi n'Boukhlib because of the two metres of snow at the peak. That did not diminish the thrill of gazing across the valley as we wound our way around the mountain's base. Ichichi n'Boukhlib is the highest of five peaks that form the Cirque Jaffar. At its center, nestled in the valley, is the village of Jaffar, where we would pass the night.

Jaffar is home to 10 shepherding families. Our hosts' house consisted of two sides: On one, the family of seven lived in two rooms with dirt floors and no furniture; the sheep and dogs occupied the other. At least the surrounding hills were green with trees and brush (finally, a decent "toilet in the wild"!).

As the sun set and the temperature dropped, the focal point of activity was the stove, which served as the only source for warmth, cooking and the constant heating of water. The whole family crowded around, lounging on pillows and drinking bottomless cups of mint tea.

The matriarch, Hada, prepared a hearty tajine, which we ate together in the Moroccan way, dipping pieces of flatbread into one big pot. After dinner, we retired to the adjoining room, now icy-cold and pitch-black, where I crawled under a mile-high pile of blankets.

The next morning we commenced our return journey through the Gorge Jaffar, a deep ravine cutting through the Jebel Ayachi. Our host was ahead of us, his dogs barking wildly around the herd of sheep. We followed him until he climbed into the hills.

We turned to cross the plain, leaving Jaffar to its isolation and returning to the comfort of the familiar -- but bearing within the rugged riches of rural Morocco.

Getting there: From North America, visitors would normally fly into Casablanca or Fes, from where overnight buses run to Midelt. Ask the driver to drop you at Timnay, which is on the main road into town, or catch a taxi from Midelt. Treks run $35-$45 per person per day, including food and lodging with local families, for groups of four or more.

For more information: The Timnay Intercultural Tourist Complex: tel. 011-212-55-360188; timnay(AT SIGN)iam.net.ma; Route de Zadia, Midelt Region, Morocco.

- Mara Vorhees is the co-author of Lonely Planet's Morocco.

"Travels With Lonely Planet" is coordinated by Global Travel Editor Don George. You can e-mail him at don.george@lonelyplanet.com. For more travel information, visit LonelyPlanet.com.