Stopping for a roast chicken and chip roll on the way from Merzouga to Boulemane, we got chatting to a young French couple. They had already spent some time in and around the Dades Gorge, and recommended a nice guesthouse and a good trekking guide. Twenty minutes further down the road our bus pulled into bustling Boulemane. We were pleased with a bit more direction, but a little taken back when our French mate actually jumped off the bus and grabbed a well-dressed young Moroccan from the crowd of hustlers. They exchanged a few familiar 'bonjour, sa va?'s, then we were briefly introduced before the helpful French guy jumped back on the departing bus just as quickly!

We still weren't sure if we wanted a guide, but our new friend, Ahmed, was very patient. He helped us find a cheap share taxi going up into the gorge and followed us to our quiet little guesthouse in the village of Ait Ibriren. We met the nice, if slightly camp, owner, Muhammed (every second Moroccan seemed to share their name with the well-respected Islamic prophet). Over the usual welcoming round of mint tea, we quickly realised that our new friend Ahmed was really honest and genuine for someone in the tourism industry. We let him convince us to commit to a four day trek around the beautiful Dades Gorge and the Rose Valley for 2500 dirhams, food and accommodation included.

We're not usually that keen on tour guides, but since this guy was recommended and seemed really cool, we thought we'd give in. Later we realised we'd probably agreed on a price that was a little too much, but by the time we had finished, we'd seen so much and met some real genuine Moroccan families, and were quite happy to hand over the cash.

Over four days, Ahmed led us part of the way through Dades Gorge, and then across the Valley of Nomads and down through the Valley of Roses. Between the looming red rocks on either side of us, there were green river-fed fields lined with olives, oranges, apples, figs, walnuts, date palms and of course, roses. As usual, we were there in the wrong season and many of the trees were bare, but the scenery was still fantastic, and we were just about the only tourists in sight!

Most of the fields were being prepared for the next crop of wheat, with the odd mule helping out. We mentioned to Ahmed that we liked to get our hands dirty, so he lined us up a bit of work along the way. We stopped at one family home and Aidan tried to steer a plough behind a couple of overworked mules, which was a lot harder than it looked.. It was nice to get more of a taste of what life is like for a rural Moroccan family, and we were always rewarded for our efforts with tea, and more tea!

We stayed the nights in villages along the way, where we ate deliciously fresh vegetables and tender meat. The kids were always pretty excited to see some foreigners, even if we didn't have money or a backpack full of pens to give to every one. One night Jess sat down with a family to get a traditional henna tattoo, covering both hands. We all sat around a fire drying the work of art, and practiced all of the Berber and French that we could remember. This tradition is normally saved for women after they are married, but for tourists anything goes, as long as we have money to spend.

The scenery was beyond words, and the whole time everyone kept telling us how much more beautiful it was in the Spring. For hours we were trekking through vast stretches of rugged nothingness with only a few stray goats for company. Although the sun was still beaming, we were reminded that it was winter when we had to take our shoes off to cross a couple of rivers! With the water flowing straight off the snow capped Atlas Mountains, it was absolutely freezing! The peaceful isolation, intriguing landscapes and shear thrill of it, however made these moments easily bearable.

After a bit of horizontal rock climbing through a very narrow and slightly flooded section of the gorge, we were surprised when we heard a shout. Peering up, we could just make out the silhouette of a man sitting on a rocky ledge a hundred metres above us. He and Ahmed chatted for a while across the emptiness.. Apparently the man was missing a sheep, and wondered if we had spotted it during our wanderings!? Sadly the whereabouts of the lost sheep are still unknown..

It was comforting to get back to our guesthouse in Ait Ibriren, and have a nice warm shower. We were a bit confused at first about how the shower worked. Our host, Mohammed, didn't speak English very well, and pointed at the roof, telling us he needed half an hour to heat the water up for. We assumed he meant that it was solar-powered, but he insisted it was powered by the roof! Eventually we realised he was pointing at the wooden roof beams, and that he needed to prepare a wood-fire to heat water for a shower..!

We were the only guests staying at our guesthouse, although it still turned out to be a social affair. Two of Mohammed's cousins, Ali and Hussain, lived nearby, and would come around every night to hang out. Neither of them spoke much English either, but they seemed pretty entertained by these two Aussies trying to speak French. We helped cook, got dressed up in some traditional gear, played music and were even shown some painful Moroccan massage techniques! A bit awkward, but fun!

It's strange that most travelers, including us, spend their time trying to find a place of the beaten track and without tourists. This time we had, although we found ourselves a little overwhelmed by the attention we drew. On our way to Marrakech now, we're kind of happy that we won't be the only foreigners around. It feels strange to say it, especially in a place with a reputation such as Marrakech, but we're excited about the chance to blend in with the crowd.