The High Atlas, on the far left of North Africa in Morocco.
There is something magical about being up in the mountains, in the knowledge of the sheer force with which whole landmasses, carried by tectonic plates, have collided to form raised scars running across our planet. The High Atlas mountains in Morocco are no exception. Every morning, I unzipped my sleeping bag and hauled my sleepy self upstairs to take in the view from the roof of our gite. Awe-inspiring. I was scared, almost, that I'd begin to take it for granted during the week we spent there. Now I am back on the flat terrain of eastern England, it seems but a dream.
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