The Daily Telegraph - Saturday - Travel
Allez! Learn to ride the crest of Morocco’s ‘green’ waves
has a swell time learning the surfing ropes thanks to some expert advice at Surf Maroc’s new hotel
‘Allez! You’re wasting good waves!” It was only 10am, and I’d been thrashed by an unforgiving swell for the past hour. My latest face-plant into the water generated this exclamation from Yussuf Amzil, my animated surfing instructor. A pep-talk followed back on the beach: “Remember, front foot, back foot, get low, and keep that back foot down!” I stomped back into the water, dejected.
Fast-forward a few hours and I was gliding across the water and beginning to turn, ignoring my aching muscles and hunger pangs, and prompting approving hollers from my fellow surfers and high fives from Yussuf.
Oh, the fickle nature of surfing – a bad run can have you ready to quit, but fortunes (and winds) change, and you feel like you could be the next Laura Enever, a professional, sometimes blonde, sometimes blue-haired, surfer whose Instagram account makes wave-riding look as easy as walking.
It wasn’t my first time on a surfboard. I’d had dalliances with the waves before, born more from dreams of emulating the cool girls in the film Blue Crush (first seen aged 14), than any real desire for extreme sporting. It was seven years later, travelling in South America, that I had my first surf lesson. Since then, I’ve dabbled in a few classes, but I’d always been put off at the thought of a surf camp, which to me have always reeked of school trips and rickety top bunks.
That was until I heard that Surf Maroc, one of the first operators of its kind in Morocco, had recently opened Amouage, their first hotel and – from the photos – a very stylish one at that. Less surf commune, more boutique Berber design. The brand, founded by British friends Ben O’Hara and Ollie Boswell, have been teaching beginners and guiding moreestablished surfers for more than 10 years. I was sold, and signed up for a week’s course.
Amouage is in Taghazout, whose year-round swell – including the headline spot, Anchor Point, which is a few minute’s walk from the hotel – and endless summers have caught the attention of the European surfing set. It’s a place where the sound of the ocean is always in earshot and the streets are lined with friendly shops such as “The Surfboard Surgery”.
The hotel itself has the community soul of a surf camp with the comforts of a top hotel. Lily, Ben’s wife, designed the interiors and sourced most of the furniture from local souks. The mustard-coloured velvet desk chairs in rooms, she told me, are traditionally used for seating at Moroccan weddings. It’s exactly what you want after a day being barrelled by waves: shaggy rugs underfoot, soft sheets on beds, a roaring fire and good local wines. Add to that sunrise and sunset rooftop yoga, 15-minute post-surf massages, a hammam and an infinity pool with views of surferdotted waves.
Throughout the week Yussef ’s instruction was ever-encouraging and patient. He drew us diagrams of wave formations on the sand; in the water he helped us with timings, filmed us to show us bad techniques, and even pushed us into waves when paddling got too tiring. I also discovered that I ride “goofy” – with your left foot back and right foot in front.
Days spent conquering the waves were followed by a hearty spread of salads and tagines across canteen-style tables, and I soon found that the Catch the waves at Imsouane, above, where Surf Maroc has plans to open another camp communal-style dining arrangement was the best place to pick up surfing lingo. On one night I met two 18-yearold “bros” from Switzerland (“as long as you’re, like, having fun out there man, that’s all that matters”); on another, a group of older Welsh surfing veterans, who would leave the property at dawn.
From them I learnt that “white water” means the froth generated by broken waves (which is where most novices start); and that waves which are “green” or “clean” mean they haven’t yet broken (which is where you’ll find the pros).
Like Yussuf, most of the hotel’s instructors are local. “I’ve been surfing since I was eight,” he told me. “I’d come to the beach instead of going to school.” And as such, his knowledge of the waves is almost psychic. Together with his colleague Yassin Bellqber – who is sponsored by Surf Maroc and is one of the best young talents in Morocco – the pair drove us to beaches up and down the coast, analysing the water like watchmen, in search of the best waves.
The last day was spent in Imsouane, an hour’s drive from Taghazout, and, incidentally, where Surf Maroc currently has plans to open another camp. It’s a tiny fishing village with a coral-pink lighthouse and some beachside shacks barbecuing the catch-of-the-day. Its wide harbour offers clean, fat waves, at its best one of the longest in Africa – when conditions are perfect, you can surf it for up to 600m.
Yussuf decided that it was time to go “out back”. For novices like me, this is the Shangri-La of beginner surfing. To go “out back” means to paddle past where the waves are breaking so that you can catch waves from their inception, and ride them all the way back into the shore.
“You first!” said Yussuf, board under arm, pointing at me. I tentatively paddled out after him. When we got there, I finally understood the fuss and the fervour. It’s peaceful out back – you’re not constantly struggling through foamy white water – and as you lie on your board waiting, you rise and fall with the soporific swell.
A huge wave was rolling in. “This one?” I asked, wide-eyed. “No. Too big. You’ll have to go under it. Ready?” There is nothing more menacing than jumping off your board, which is still attached to your ankle, to dive under a six-foot wave.
But I did it. After resurfacing, the next wave was mine. I went through the newly learnt motions in my head. Wait until you feel the push of the wave. Paddle. Get up. Back foot down. Get low… and then speed and weightlessness nirvana. There is no better vantage point of the world than from the top of a wave… until