Our vehicle wound ever higher up the earthen road cutting through Morocco’s High Atlas mountains. Below me, the red soil spilled like wine between green dots of forest and sheets of white snow. I lost myself in the dizzying beauty of North Africa’s tallest peaks, and as I nervously peered out of the window, I saw there was no guardrail separating us from the sharp ledge and distant valley below. A journey to a Moroccan Village frozen in time. BBC Travel.
While modern maps may have forgotten these towns, God hasn’t. Pray that foreigner would carry the Gospel to remote Atlas villages in Morocco.