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Title: THE VALLEY OF A THOUSAND KASBAHS
Stand-First: Will Hurrell travels deep into Morocco's High Atlas Mountains to discover a movie legend.

The blistering Moroccan sun is baking our hire car as we speed along motorways cut through the country's High Atlas region. The time is still only 9am but already the temperature is rising fast, thanks to the late summer heat wave gripping North Africa. My two companions and I had decided to brave the insane Moroccan motorways to escape the westernised bubble that is Agadir in favour of a more authentic Moroccan experience. From the window I notice a landscape growing more barren and elevated as we travel west. The colours of the earth are striking. Layers of scorched sandstone with multiple browns and reds decorate a land a million miles from the green fields of home.

Throughout the journey, we have been talking eagerly of our destination, the valley of a thousand Kasbahs and, within it, the fortified city of Ait-Ben-Haddou. One of the girls I'm travelling with is Fiona, an Irish girl I met at the hotel. "The place is ancient," she tells me. "It's a mud-constructed town first established in the 11th century and once serviced travellers along the old caravan route between the Sahara and Marrakech. They filmed Lawrence of Arabia, Gladiator and Alexander here." After four hours driving, I spot its dusty walls and the green oasis clinging to its flanks. The still rising sun is catching its many towers, casting a thousand shadows over this Arabic Camelot.

We find the car park and drive in, managing to park under some shade. I step out, stretch my limbs and look up at the walls of Ait Benhaddou and with immense anticipation, imagine what lies on the other side. Fiona steps out of the car wearing her hat and sunglasses. Her fair Celtic skin was not made for the High Atlas but her factor 50 is saving her from the lobster look. She opens the boot and gathers our things together. Fiona points to the main entrance of the walled city, "The main gates were restored by a film company to feature in a film" she tells me.

We walk towards the gates, now bustling with tourists and stop to take a closer look. A voice comes from over my shoulder, "Very nice isn't it." I turn and find a tall Moroccan dressed in a green and white kaftan beaming at me. "It's beautiful," I reply. "My name is Abdul-Ghani," he tells me. "I was born in this area. Most of the people living in Ait Benhaddou moved to a new village over the river but there are still around

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