How is it even possible to describe a place like the Ameln Valley? The answer; you can’t. There is no word worthy enough to describe this overwhelmingly beautiful landscape, with it’s fertile valleys and the rough mountains shining in gold in the sunlight. One of the formations on top of a mountain resembles a lion, and the local legend says that it’s there to wattch over the women while their men are away for business. Another man said that the lion had another purpose, which he wasn’t sure exactily what it was. But he was sure that there was something about it and that there were no coincidence that tourists and other people were drawn to the magic of this place.
We walked the valley for some time, admiring the ancient villages on the mountainside which there was no road access to. Amongst palms and almondtrees we lingered and soaked up the atmosphere that surely as the earth is spinning, was curing my soul from any bad thoughts. How wonderful it was! Ameln Valley… I had read about it, seen pictures of it, heard about it, but there’s no way on earth that I would expect the beauty of this place. It was simply magnificent, so despite the bitter cold that were freezing my marrow and bones that night, I slept like a baby, just to wake up to the day when it was time to leave Tafraout.