Morocco’s best-kept secret? The ‘otherworldly’ village where community is everything

The arrivals hall at Marrakech Airport is an assault on the senses. Horns honking, drivers shouting, lines of bleary-eyed Brits in plane-stale tracksuits, queuing for a ride to the ‘Red City’.

Marrakech is a marmite destination: a warren of vibrant souks, lavish architecture, and sensory overload. It is a place you love or hate.

But if you leave the airport and drive in the opposite direction, you will find Imlil, a tranquil Berber village in the foothills of the High Atlas Mountains.

Here, life is simple. No chain stores or modern coffee shops, just fresh mountain air, mud-brick homes and rolling fields of walnut and cherry trees. Electricity only arrived in 1997.

Winding our way around the High Atlas’ orange rock-strewn slopes, a wall of heat gives way to cavernous gorges and snow-dusted peaks.

The Mars-like plateau that stretches 2,500km across northwestern Africa harboured ancient caravan routes that saw enslaved people and goods transported by camel, from northern Morocco across the Sahara to Niger and Sudan, well into the 19th century.

Time marches on, but it has almost stood still here in this valley that is the main base for tourists climbing Mount Toukbal, the highest peak in North Africa at 4,160m (Ben Nevis is 1,345m).

I was there to see if Imlil, with its dusty streets, humbling views and famous Berber hospitality, is about to be Morocco’s next big thing — and if the people who call it home really want it to be.

A warm welcome

Our first stop is Kasbah du Toubkal, an award-winning lodge that exists to serve the local community first, tourists second.

The lodge employs 34 staff, all from neighbouring villages. The rooms are built using traditional Berber techniques and local materials such as mud, wood and adobe, a fire-resistant mix of clay, silt and straw.

At reception, a mule is waiting to carry our bags.

From the outside, the Kasbah’s terracotta walls, ornately wood-crafted doors and uneven stone paths are at one with the landscape.

My digs for the night, the Garden House Apartment Suite, brought the outside in – through the 12-metre glass wall capturing a sweeping panorama of mountain, but also the bamboo ceiling, oak furniture and fossil-marbled bathroom.

Before long, we are sipping green tea and breathing in the fresh mountain air.

A pillar of responsible tourism

Opened in 1995 by Surrey-born Mike McHugo and Omar Ait Barmed (Mike’s mountain guide in the ’80s), the lodge has always had slow, community tourism at its heart.

‘Everyone’s got to gain from what you’re doing in another country, you cannot keep it all for yourself,’ says Mike.

All guests staying at the Kasbah are charged a 5% fee on top of their bill, which goes directly to the Imlil Community Association. The money has been used to set up the village’s only ambulance, a rubbish disposal system and an education programme for women and girls.

Omar, clad in a dark emerald tadjellabit– a long, loose-fitting Berber robe – sits with us at breakfast.

‘The Kasbah is not for money’, he explains. ‘It is for the people. Both the people who travel here, and the people of Imlil.’

When a devastating earthquake hit the valley in September 2023, buildings were destroyed, including the Kasbah. Omar and Mike rebuilt it, as well as local schools and their employees’ houses.

One of them was Mohammed, our Berber guide who knows the land he was raised on and can see warning signs ahead.

‘For five years, we have had much less snow. This means we rely on tourism more, because there are less crops.’

How to spend a stay in Imlil

While Imlil has surprisingly good phone signal, in the Kasbah at least, there are no TVs and patchy WiFi.

Aside from hiking – the biggest drawcard for the region – there is plenty to do.

Browse the authentic souvenir shops in Imlil town, see the transcendental Imlil waterfalls you can hear from the hotel, or, most advisable, arrange to visit a Berber home.

For this, we trekked to Armed, the largest and highest village in Imlil(2,000m), home to 1,800 of the 6,000 population.

Next door is Arghen, a tiny hamlet where Sayeed and Fatima – 13 days away from being 100 – welcomed us into their stone-walled house.

Fatima does not speak English, only the Berber language Amazigh, but her henna-coated hands do the talking as she shows us how to make chicken tajine and traditional Tafarnout bread.

Later that day, she is going to the neighbouring village. Our guide Mohammed explains: ‘When one person in Imlil dies, people from all villages mourn. Here, it is a slow life.’

A complex history

Morocco’s tourism has been on the rise since 1999 when King Mohammed VI took the throne and transformed the industry by investing in new coastal resorts, upgrading airports and expanding transport networks.

In places, the country has become a victim of its own success.

One 2024 report ranked Marrakech as one of the world’s most overcrowded travel hotspots, worse per capita than Paris and Rome.

Rapid growth has led to increased pollution, water scarcity and overdevelopment in coastal and urban areas. The influx of mass tourism often fails to benefit local communities, pushing rents up and pricing out residents.

Yet in Imlil, the attitude towards tourism seems overwhelmingly positive.

Aside from money it brings, Mohammed explains that hosting is an integral part of Berber tradition. The people here, he says, want to share their culture and history.

Descending the mountain, Mohammed took my hand. Perhaps my proudest moment of the trip was when he – only once – lost his footing himself, and chuckled ‘you saved me’.

That’s the main thing I took away from Imlil: the sense of community. It’s to be admired and inspired by.

If you’re lucky enough to be welcomed into it, leave nothing but footprints.

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