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Get Sleepy: Sleep meditation and stories
A Dreamy Hike to the Akchour Waterfalls (Morocco #1)
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Get Sleepy is a production of Slumber Studios and is made possible thanks to the generous support of our sponsors and Premium members. If you'd like to listen ad free and access weekly bonus episodes, extra long stories and our entire back catalogue, you can try out Premium free for seven days by following the link in the episode notes. Now a quick word from our sponsors. Tonight's episode is sponsored by BetterHelp. May is mental Health Awareness Month and we want to remind you that no matter what you're going through, you don't have to go it alone. And sometimes it's what we hear from others that can make all the difference. Whenever I notice myself fall into a bit of a slump or if I'm struggling with anxiety, it feels so much better to be able to talk about it and get it out of my head. Whether that's with a loved one, a friend or a therapist. So take this Mental Health Awareness Month as an opportunity to check in with yourself and with those you love and trust. As the old saying goes, a problem shared is a problem halved. BetterHelp is the world's largest online therapy platform, having served over 6 million people globally. Getting started is easy and stress free with their short questionnaire to match you with the right therapist. You don't have to be on this journey alone. Find support and have someone with you in therapy sign up and get 10% off@betterhelp.com getsleepy that's betterhelp.com get sleepy. Welcome to Get Sleepy where we listen, we relax and we get sleepy. I'm your host Thomas. It really does mean the world to everyone on the Get Sleepy team to have your company. Your kind comments and support never go unnoticed and it makes our efforts feel all the more meaningful in those moments when we hear from you about how the show may have helped you rest a little easier each night. So please do keep your comments and emails coming because it really is so special for all of us on the team. We're about to embark on the first of a two part journey exploring some of Morocco's natural wonders. Our story tonight takes place in the Rif Mountains in northern Morocco. Nestled in these mountains is a hidden gem, the U waterfalls. Soon you'll make your way there, enjoying a leisurely hike through beautiful scenery. A big thank you to Kathleen for writing this lovely two part story which I have the pleasure of reading for you all. You can hear part two this Wednesday night before we begin and travel to the Rif Mountains. Make yourself comfortable in your bed. Allow yourself to relax, settling deeper with Each breath. Feel the weight of your arms and legs as they sink into the soft mattress beneath you. Then close your eyes and focus on the rhythm of your breathing, the rise and fall of your chest. Now imagine a warm light spreading from your toes, gradually moving up your legs, into your belly, your arms, and finally, your neck and head. This warm glow soothes and eases you. It melts away any tightness, leaving only calm. In this quiet moment, imagine yourself standing at the foot of a mountain trail. A soft breeze whispers through the nearby trees and the sunlight filters gently through leafy canopies. Ahead lies a trail leading to a waterfall. You can almost hear the faint murmur of water from somewhere high above, mingling with the sounds of rustling leaves and distant birdsong. Fill your body with light and ready as you prepare to take your first step on the trail. This is where our story begins. The dawn has broken and the air is crisp and cool. A deep inhale fills your lungs, and as you exhale, any worries disappear. Lowering your hat slightly to shield your eyes, you step onto the trail. You're on your way to the Akshaw waterfalls, one of Morocco's most iconic natural wonders. The cascading waters are said to be simply breathtaking, something that has to be experienced in person. And so your journey begins. Each footfall connects you to the cool, packed earth and is shaded by clusters of towering pine and olive trees. Their branches form a canopy, sheltering you from the bright Moroccan sun. As you walk, the scent of fresh pine mingles with the earthy aroma of damp soil, grounding you with each breath. The journey to the Uxore waterfalls is a relaxing one. It's not one of those hikes that demands great exertion. Instead, it lends itself to the idea of a leisurely amble. The path winds gently along the mountainside, offering glimpses of the blue sky above and the forested valley below. Rich contrasts of a pale blue and a deep, verdant green. You feel a kinship with this land, a place where the rugged beauty of nature is left undisturbed, welcoming those who come with a sense of respect and wonder. The Akshor waterfalls are located in northern Morocco, just a 45 minute drive from Chefchaouen. Nestled in a small, enchanting valley, they are surrounded by the lush beauty of Talasumtan National Park. This protected area is dedicated to safeguarding the natural heritage of Morocco's Rif Mountains. The park is home to a diversity of wildlife, ancient forests and plants that bloom only in this part of the world. The morning air is still cool and the breeze is laden with the refreshing scent of wild thyme and rosemary, which grow along the path. These herbs, native to this region, have thrived in the mountains for centuries. Both herbs have long been valued for their medicinal properties. As you breathe in their scent, you reflect on their traditional uses. Thyme, with its earthy, slightly sweet aroma, has been used to treat respiratory ailments, to soothe throats, and to support digestion. Its calming qualities also make it a remedy for stress and sleeplessness. Rosemary, sharp and invigorating, is a natural stimulant for the mind. Its leaves, steeped in hot water, produce a tonic known to improve memory and concentration, earning it the nickname herb of remembrance. Rosemary has other traditional uses, too, from relieving muscle pain to protecting the skin. These herbs, flourishing amidst the rugged beauty of the mountains, offer healing. As you move further along the path, the faint sound of water becomes clearer. It's distant yet constant, a gentle invitation to keep moving forward. There's a hint of moisture in the air, and you know that this is a signal that the river is nearby. The river Farda flows here, its waters weaving through rocks and spilling into pools where fish swim lazily in the cool depths. The fada has carved this valley over millennia, patiently sculpting smooth stones and nourishing the plants that cling to its banks. Its waters are fed by rain that gathers in highland springs. Each drop is part of an endless cycle, winding through the Rif Mountains before flowing out to the Mediterranean Sea. This river, humble though it might seem, is the lifeblood of the valley. It's a quiet companion on your journey, guiding you to the waterfall. As the river comes into sight, you walk towards the bank. You pause to kneel by the water's edge, reaching down to trail your fingers in its icy flow. The cold surprises you. Sharp and clear, it awakens your senses and pulls you forward fully into the moment. Sunlight filters through the canopy, catching on the river's surface in sparkling patterns that dance across your hands. You linger there, feeling a quiet connection to the earth. It's as though you are rooted, like the trees and rocks that embrace the riverbank, held steady in this place of timeless beauty. The coolness seeps into your skin, a balm that steadies your breath and refreshes you for the climb ahead. The air hums with life as the whisper of water deepens into a song, a melody woven with the flute, like trills of unseen warbless and the rustle of creatures in the undergrowth. Along the banks, turtles gleam like ancient coins in the dappling sun, while herons stand still, their reflections quivering on the glassy surface. Somewhere in the shadows, a little otter slips quietly into the stream, leaving only a ripple in its wake. Slowly, you move towards the trees. The path narrows as you walk and the forest thickens around you. It creates a world where light and shadow dance together, flickering over rocks and roots. As you go uphill, the trail beckons, winding sharply along the mountain. Your steps are measured now, each one an echo of your steady heartbeat, each breath deep and grounding. The sounds of the valley soften with your ascent, replaced by the quiet rustle of wind through sparse trees. Every now and then, you glance over your shoulder, catching glimpses of the river far below. It winds its way through the rich green valley like a silken ribbon. As you climb, you think of those who have walked this path before you. Long ago, Berber tribes travelled through these mountains, living in harmony with the land and finding sustenance and shelter in its forests. The Berbers, or Amazigh, are the indigenous people of North Africa, including Morocco. Their history stretches back thousands of years. In Morocco, they have traditionally inhabited regions such as the Rif and Atlas Mountains and the Sahara Desert. Adapting to diverse landscapes, Berber culture is rich and distinct. It's characterized by its Tamazik language, vibrant textiles, intricate silver jewellery and unique architectural styles like kasbahs and Ksarz. Historically, they were skilled traders. They played a pivotal role in trans Saharan commerce, connecting the Mediterranean to sub Saharan Africa. Over the centuries, Berber identity has endured through waves of influence, including Roman, Arab and French. Islam became central to their culture after the Arab invasions of the 7th century. However, Berber communities often retained distinct cultural practices and a strong connection to their ancestral traditions. Today, they remain an important part of Morocco's cultural identity. As you stroll, you imagine their footsteps mingling with your own. And you reflect on the resilience of those who have learned to live with the mountain's gifts and demands. You meander onwards, your thoughts flowing freely. Then the sound of a waterfall comes into focus. It's strong and steady, a deep rhythmic roar that resonates in your chest. The crash of water meeting stone is layered with subtler notes. The hiss of spree rising into the air, the splatter of droplets striking nearby rocks, and the gurgling of streams forming where the water spills over. It's a symphony of movement and power, underlined by the rustle of leaves caught in the mist's embrace. As you draw closer, the roar grows fuller, drowning out the whispers of the forest until it becomes an all encompassing pulse as if the earth itself is exhaling in endless motion. You round a bend, and there it is. The waterfall, cascading from high above, spilling into a clear, shimmering pool. The sight is mesmerizing, a veil of water pouring gracefully over dark moss covered rocks. The droplets catch the sunlight in tiny rainbows that hang suspended in the air. The force of the water creates a cool mist that drifts over you. It is refreshing and invigorating, as though the mountain itself is breathing out a sigh of welcome. As you walk closer, the roar of the falls fills your ears, drowning out every other sound. The air is thick with the scent of damp stone and fresh water. You sit by the pool's edge, letting the spray settle on your skin. Then you close your eyes to listen to the symphony of the force to fill the pulse of this hidden oasis. In this moment, surrounded by nature's beauty and power, you feel yourself letting go, surrendering to the peace that only a place like this can bring. You breathe deeply. With each breath, you let the energy of the waterfall fill you, grounding you in a place where time seems to stop, where you are simply part of the mountain, the river and the world. Drawn by the irresistible allure of the water, you change into your swimwear, slip off your shoes and wade in. The coolness rushes over your skin like a soothing balm. The pool is deeper than it appears, its emerald depths swirling with the ceaseless energy of the falls. You plunge in the wash of the cold current, stealing your breath for a moment before it gives way to a deep, calming stillness. Beneath the surface. The roar of the falls becomes muted, a distant hum that wraps around you like a lullaby. Floating there, you feel weightless, cradled by the water. As the spray above dances in golden light, the world beyond this place fades away entirely. There is only the rhythmic churn of the waterfall, the gentle tug of the current, and the quiet joy of being fully alive in this moment. You swim towards the thundering cascade, the current tugging at you with playful insistence. As you near the falls, the spray thickens, clinging to your skin in a cool embrace. With a final push, you slip behind the shimmering curtain of water, emerging into a hidden grotto veiled in mist. The sound here is different. It's softer, almost melodic. As the water crashes down in front of you, its silvery flow catches the light in dazzling streaks. You find a smooth rock to rest on. Its surface cool against your skin and watch the waterfall. From this secret vantage. It feels like peering into another world, a shifting, glistening wall of liquid glass. Drops of water leap and scatter like tiny stars, while the steady roar transforms into a hypnotic rhythm, echoing against the rocky walls. Here, behind the veil, you close your eyes. The ceaseless rhythm of the waterfall blends with the faint trickle of droplets running down the walls, a soothing cadence that quiets your. Wrapped in the misty air and the steady hum of the water, you drift into a sleepy daydream. When your mind awakens to the present moment again, the world feels hushed yet alive. The falls still crash, but the light has softened, filtering through the water like liquid gold. You stretch lazily, your limbs heavy with the warmth of rest, slipping back into the pool. The cool water welcomes you, a contrast that sharpens your senses. You glide back through the clear depths, each stroke smooth and steady, until you reach the shore. Lifting yourself out of the pool, you stand quietly for a few moments. The sun warms your shoulders as you pull on your clothes, the fabric clinging slightly to your damp sk. The world feels clearer, quieter, and there's no sense of urgency for the climb ahead. For now, you linger in the calm that this place has left within you. As you turn from the waterfall, you take in the surrounding landscape. Beyond the pool, the trail continues. It weaves through a thicket of ancient olive trees and low, scrubby bushes, their leaves dusty green and silvery under the sunlight. The trees stand upright and poised, their twisted roots gripping the rocky soil. Some of these trees are centuries old. Each one is a living record of the region's dry summers and and cool winters, of the wind and rain that have shaped them over time. The quiet strength of these olive trees, weathered yet thriving, fills you with awe. You follow the path deeper into the grove, the earthy scent of crushed pine needles and wild rosemary mingling in the warm air. Unlike the rush of the waterfall, the grove holds a different, more hushed kind of life. Small lizards dart across the stones, their bodies catching the light in flashes of green and brown. And tiny flowers in shades of yellow and purple bloom among the rocks, filling the air with a faint, sweet perfume. The trees and plants here have evolved to survive in this tough environment, adapting to the dry soil and intense sunlight. The wild rosemary, for instance, has narrow, spiky leaves that help conserve moisture, while the olive trees can send their roots deep into the earth, drawing water from hidden reservoirs far below. Each step forward reveals another marvel of nature's ingenuity, a reminder that life can be sustained even in the harshest of landscapes. In the branches above, birds sing in short, bright bursts, their calls echoing through the stillness. You pause to look up and catch sight of a pair of maghreb magpies. Their feathers are iridescent blue and black against the olive green leaves. These birds are native to North Africa. They've lived in these mountains for generations. Their cause are bright and lively, a song that fills the grove with a sense of movement and life. Watching them, you feel a sense of companionship. Happy to be sharing this hidden paradise, You continue along the path. As you leave the grove, you step into an open clearing where wild thyme and lavender grow in fragrant clusters,
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leaves bright against the ochre soil. You breathe in deeply. The scent of the lavender is calming, a natural tonic that seems to flow through your body, releasing any remaining tension. The time, strong and herbaceous, feels grounding, connecting you to the earth beneath your feet. Ahead, the path rises again, winding towards a rocky outcrop that overlooks the valley. You climb carefully, feeling the rough stone beneath your hands as you steady yourself. When you reach the top, you're rewarded with a panoramic view of the valley below, a sea of green and silver that stretches towards the distant mountain, their blue peaks softened by a faint haze. The view is vast and humbling, a reminder of how small you are in the grand scheme of things. As you look out across the land, you remember an old tale you heard. The story tells of a young girl who lived in a mountain village not far from where the waterfall flows today. This young girl was known for her kindness and bravery. She often helped her family tend to the land, and she ventured into the forest to gather herbs and wild fruits for her village. One year, however, a drought struck the mountains. The river dried to a trickle, leaving fields barren. The villagers prayed for rain, but the skies remained stubbornly clear. One evening, as the girl wandered near the dry riverbed, she noticed something. A faint shimmer beneath a large stone near the place where the river should have been flowing. Intrigued, she pushed the stone aside and uncovered a tiny sparkling spring, just large enough for a trickle of water to escape. But that wasn't all. She saw a delicate figure emerge from the water. A beautiful spirit, cloaked in blue and green, her skin glistening like the river itself. This was the spirit of the river, bound to the mountain waters. She was also the guardian of the land and all who lived there. The spirit spoke, her voice like the flow of the river in full flood. She told the girl that the drought was not an accident. The villagers had neglected the ancient custom and respect owed to the land. They had forgotten the offerings they once made to the waters and had become careless in their treatment of the forest. The girl, moved by the spirit's Sorrow pleaded for her people, vowing to help restore the balance between nature and the village. The spirit agreed, but with a warning. Bring your people to the waterfall at dawn, she said. And I shall return the river to them, but only if they honour it. From that day on, the girl raced back to her village and gathered the people, explaining what she had seen. Though some were skeptical, they trusted the girl's courage and set out with her towards the waterfall. Just as dawn broke, the villagers gathered by the waterfall and the air filled with a strange, luminous mist. The spirit appeared once again, standing at the edge of the cliff where the waterfall would flow. In her hands, she held a glistening jug. It was filled with water from an eternal source deep within the mountain. As the villagers watched, she poured the water from her jug and the flow cascaded down the rock face, roaring to life. Once more, the waterfall gushed and surged. The river was reborn, and the valley was saved from drought. From that day on, the villagers honored the river with offerings of wild herbs, flowers and freshly baked bread, thanking the spirit for her mercy and her gift. Even today, some say that on quiet mornings, just as dawn breaks, you can glimpse the spirit in the spray of falls, keeping watch over her precious river and the people who depend on it. After a while, you decide to walk on. The trail begins to slope downwards with the gentlest of inclines. It weaves through patches of light where the trees part, allowing the sun to spill freely onto the earth. The warmth is a welcoming contrast to the coolness of the mountain water that still clings to your skin with each step. The sound of the waterfall, once thunderous, gradually softens. It gives way to the rhythmic crunch of your boots on the earth and the occasional bird call from the trees. You pull out a sandwich from your backpack and take a bite, the flavors unfolding with comforting familiarity. The taste lingers, rich and satisfying. And with every slow chew, you allow yourself to to be wrapped in the simplicity of it all. The mountain air, the rustling leaves, and the sense that the world has momentarily slowed to match your pace. The descent is effortless. Each step feels lighter than the last, your body moving almost of its own accord. It's as if the very earth beneath you is guiding you forward. The further you go, the more relaxed you become. Your thoughts quieten in the stillness as the landscape unfolds around you. After a while, the path evens out and the trees give way to the wide open fields. Your heart feels as if it has shed its weight, and the softest of breezes stirs the tall grass, carrying with it a sense of ease and lightness that settles in your chest. The world around you seems to soften, its edges blurring in the warmth of the sun. As if it, too, has found a moment of peace. And with that, you carry the quiet comfort of the mountains back home with you. The world seems just a little brighter, the edges a little softer. And the call of sleep a little closer.
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