Come to castle in the Kasbah

Before breakfast I told my son Richard I had discovered a dream castle. 'Yes, Mum. Where?' he said, not so much as looking up from his morning paper.

'It's in Morocco, in the High Atlas Mountains,' I said, spreading out my photographs and details on the breakfast table. Richard went through them, and by the end of that day I had his agreement.

The Kasbah Tamadot would be a bright new gem in the Limited Edition by Virgin hotel group. He would buy this imposing castle and, with the help of Luciano, the present owner, turn it into a palace of luxury. I was impatient to return.

I was joined at Heathrow on a grey, grizzly day by my six young friends for a weekend with a difference. I suggested they took walking shoes, tennis rackets, golf clubs, swimsuits, skiing and riding gear - our luggage wasn't light!

In the early hours of Friday morning and after only a three-hour flight, we were swept into a different world.

Soon after midnight, we were met by Brahim Den Dah, the Kasbah manager - tall, handsome, humble, always smiling and anxious to help. With two Range Rovers waiting, excitement took over thoughts of tiredness as we twisted and turned, climbing higher and higher into the mountains. Stopping at the final bend and with no other building in sight, Kasbah Tamadot stood supreme.

After six hours' sleep and with the sun peeping over the snow-capped mountains, I found my friends already exploring the Kasbah - shouts of excitement from parapet to parapet.

After a swim in the steaming indoor pool, a Berber breakfast and a stroll in the sunshine, we took the unsurfaced road to the village of Imlil. Even in February the half-hour drive was captivating with a river bed running beside us, its natural rivulets having been carved by large boulders which were brought down in floods in

1995. In May the valley is even more beautiful with walnut and apple trees in full bloom.

Below the towering mountains, Berbers were driving their flocks of goats. The small settlements of clay-built houses on the hillside were coming alive with colour as blankets and rugs were hung out-side to air. The road ended at Imlil, which we found basking in the midday sun. From now on the only form of transport was on foot or by mule on criss-cross mule tracks.

Hence, beneath each tree, a tethered mule patiently waited to be of service.

Never having ridden a mule before and feeling some trepidation, I was helped up by many willing Berbers - I don't expect they get many grannies mounting their steeds - but with no other tourists in sight, they seemed to be enjoying our odd little party. Then off we trekked, snaking higher and higher, twisting and turning, hanging on for dear life to the moth-eaten old saddle.

There was not a sound save the echo of a dog barking, a cock crowing and the odd donkey braying. Finally, to the sound of drums and singing, we arrived at Kasbah du Toubkal, a fortified house. Slithering off my mule, I was awed by the most spectacular panoramic view under the clear blue sky. Towering above us was the highest mountain in North Africa, Jbel Toubkal at 13,665ft, with the market village of Asni lying snugly below.

Mounting the steps, we were greeted by a little band of Berbers beating drums and covering us with rose petal water. I was handed a bouquet, not quite sure why I deserved it - perhaps having ridden a mule and arrived safely.

We were hosted by Chris and Mike McHugo, directors of Discover Limited which owns this old Kasbah. We also learnt more of the mystic culture of the Berbers who traditionally have not paid taxes, nor received state benefits.

One tradition I fancied happens in September when the women in the village of Imibtil meet in the market place to choose the man they wish to marry!

For lunch we had mechoui - lamb cooked whole in a mud oven. They drop an entire lamb through a hole into an upturned earthen beehive-shaped oven. The result - delicious.

After lunch we set off for a journey along even higher criss-crossing narrow mule tracks. Then our two Range Rovers came to gather us up and take us down the valley to La Roseraie, a hotel wrapped in peaceful seclusion within half-an-hour from our Kasbah.

La Roseraie is well worth a visit and after sitting in the warm afternoon sun sipping mint tea, we drove back to the Kasbah. As we rounded the final bend the light radiated from our castle - it seemed on fire with the many flick-ering candles. After a swim and shower, we all gathered around a large log fire, sipping Moroccan wine, tired but utterly content.

The next morning from my window I could see the sun rising beyond the snow-capped mountains. Donning ski outfits, we set off for a day on the slopes, first alighting in our local market town of Asni - a fascinating milling mass of Berbers jostling as they sold their wares. For the equivalent of less than £1 we thought it prudent to take a guide who helped us haggle for the best prices.

He also pointed out the sights, including the veterinary corner where every 15 days or so the mules - which the Berbers call their Mercedes - have their hooves shod in home-made, hand-beaten iron shoes.

It is a two-hour drive - although if young and fit it is possible to walk over the mountain - to the ski resort of Ockmaiden.

So we headed across the plains of Ourika to the slopes where an oasis of white snow lay before us. At 10,312ft, it is possible to ski from November to April. Not quite like St Moritz, but for less than £20 you can hire ski gear and passes.

As the rest of my party were advanced skiers, they were off to explore the six runs. Never having skied, I was left with Maurice, a Berber instructor, but after two major falls I gave up and enjoyed the hot sun instead.

While I waited for the others I watched the Berbers with their woolly hats and brown faces, the children on toboggans - and not another tourist in sight.

Brahim had suggested we had a picnic lunch, and to my astonishment to one side of the resort we found a long table laid for ten. Suddenly Hassan from the Kasbah appeared in his golden waistcoat, turban and white breeches (the Raj all over again!) and out of nowhere served us hot chicken, salad and fruit.

No need for ski lifts here - mules take you as high as your purse runs. Finally, sunburnt, well exercised and happy, we left the pink and mauve haze of the mountains, passing groups of Berbers strolling home. All of them dressed colourfully, as though their clothes had been snatched out of a dressing-up box - scarves, long, full cotton skirts, socks and sandals.

Dotted along the roadside were stalls selling eggs, mint tea and goodness knows what else. Unable to resist, we stopped at one selling carpets, trinkets, pottery and fossils, before arriving back for a swim in the indoor pool.

We changed into kaftans and jalabans for dinner, and later sipped cool Moroccan wine lounging in front of a roaring log fire. Then, one by one we drifted off to the fabulous individually designed bedrooms, tired but longing for another day.

I loved the early mornings, sitting on Luciano's self-designed swing seat, Brahim having brought me a glass of fresh orange juice. I also relished the pure morning air. Today my little party divided up - half off to the souk in Marrakech, the others to the D'Amelkis golf course.

After 18 holes of careering over the well-kept fairways in our buggies, we had lunch on the terrace. It was the perfect temperature for golf and with lots of sun we laughed our way round.

There is another golf course close by - The Golf Royal - which is kept private when the King is in residence, otherwise well worth a visit. Orange, walnut, lemon or date trees line each fairway.

We were glad to arrive back at our starlit castle in the mountain after the bustle of the souk and the golf, and more shopping. Having swum, we enjoyed drinks and dinner to the sound of the mullah calling in the valley below.

It was sad the weekend was over, but we were looking forward to returning for another long weekend in the Atlas Mountains. Perhaps next time to go horse-riding at Ourgane, hiking at Jbal Toubkal, mountain biking, rafting or just fishing in the glorious lakes.

The Kasbah Tamadot hotel is due to open in June next year. For information contact Limited Edition by Virgin (0800 716919).