When I’m asked, as I am with rather surprising frequency, ‘Where’s your favourite place in Morocco?’, I always give the question just consideration. Then, despite the many wonderful spots which jostle for my affection, I concede that there is one place above all others in this country where I love to be, and my answer is definitive: M’harech.
Eyebrows are sometimes raised at this confession. To most Moroccans, it’s unfathomable. ‘But there’s nothing there,’ they protest. ‘Exactly,’ I reply. The truth is, of course, there is plenty there. For a nature-lover and painter, anyway. The sheer emptiness and silence of the plains is an actual thing; it’s just not the kind of thing they think a tourist should want.
I was first introduced to M’Harech during the brief time I lived in Erfoud, when the auberge had just a couple of very simple rooms and an outside, shared toilet, cold water shower and no electricity. We landed there after driving for the best part of a day through inhospitable-looking, rough desert landscapes which took my breath away, to find we were the only guests and dinner was served by candlelight. It was like camping, but with someone else doing the cleaning up; I was in heaven.
From the beginning, even before the birth of Vistas (or Painted Desert, as it was in its first incarnation), I felt the desire to bring others here, so they could experience the magic I was feeling, though I knew they’d need to be very special people. Years later, a two-night stay was added to the Discover Morocco itinerary. Almost everyone arrives in a state of slightly shocked bewilderment which morphs, slowly but surely, into blissful resignation and peaceful contentment as the realisation dawns on them: there’s nowhere to go, and nothing to do except relax into the timeless rhythms of the desert. Most find they would like to stay longer. A couple of years ago, one or two expressed agreement that it would be an amazing place to spend a week – or two, or three. Excited by this vindication, I designed the Far Horizons artists’ retreat, and waited for likeminded souls to sign up.
‘Imagine a place where stony desert plains stretch for miles in every direction, ending at distant mountain plateaux shimmering blue on the far horizon. Imagine a silence so intense, disturbed only by the buzz of a lazy fly, or a donkey’s hoof on a flat rock embedded with ammonites. This timeless landscape, altered only by wind and sand sculpting rocks and twisting the trunks of the acacia trees, feels so far from life’s usual chaotic bustle that you would be forgiven for thinking you had landed on another planet.
Once a stop along the Paris-Dakar rally route, this exquisite spot is now more frequently visited by camels and goats than by humans, except those who share the secret of its charms, and have time to explore this remotest of regions. There is nothing to see here, besides vast, empty desert stretching towards the Algerian border; the ancient rocks, prickly plants with delicate flowers clinging to their crevices and the traditional adobe walls of our auberge harbouring small lizards and cascading bougainvillea. A stroll up the escarpment for sunset would be an unforgettable experience while a clear, starry night, well away from light pollution but with perhaps the low, hypnotic beat of desert drums will be stored away as one of life’s most precious memories.
There is nothing to do except soak in the atmosphere, become lost in time and space and reconnect with your inner self.‘
This October, I hosted the first Far Horizons artists’ retreat, with four guests enticed by the description. It was a priviledge to have five whole days immersed in the warmth and stark beauty of this oasis, nestled under sharp rock escarpments between two wide, sandy plains, and to have so much time for painting and wandering. We had a fabulous time, learned a lot and produced some truly inspirational artwork; my thanks go to the four lovely guests who braved unseasonal heat, pesky date flies and all those complicated archways. And to Clifford for his tireless efforts at teaching the theory of perspective. You were all great company.
The fruition of this retreat, in my favourite Moroccan location, had been a dream for me. Yet in my eagerness to maximise the time spent at our destination and to balance the overall cost of the trip, I overlooked certain factors which I must now address. M’Harech is a very, very long way from any city you would arrive into. This is its beauty: it’s remote. It does mean, though, that we have very long driving days to get there and back. The choice is to break the journey in both directions and experience more of Morocco while we’re at it, or to sacrifice two or more whole days to sitting in a car with little or no chance to paint.
With the first option, the temptation is to emulate the trip I already offer, Discover Morocco, which takes five days to reach M’Harech and three to return. Without making it a month-long trip, I see little point in this, and with all that frenetic travel it ceases to be a ‘retreat’. The second option is feasible, as the scenery scudding past the window is awesome indeed, and a fascinating part of the journey for a newcomer to Morocco. But without the time to stop and explore what we’re passing, it almost begs the question: why do we need to go so far?
I wish I could find a magic carpet to transport us instantly from Marrakech to M’Harech in a matter of minutes. Until I do, and with a heavy heart, I have to disconnect from my (perhaps unreasonable) attachment to the place and admit it’d be better to hold the retreat elsewhere: somewhere equally special, but not so far from a city. So I’m looking at locations inland from Agadir, where the argan trees grow, and there is some awesome scenery I don’t currently cover.
Far Horizons will be off the menu until it finds a new home – hopefully for 2026. Please keep watching for updates if you have been considering this itinerary, and all comments on the subject are very welcome. Send me a message!
