Laura and I huddled ourselves in front of the only fire in the refuge, leaving behind the 100 km/h winds and freezing temperatures outside. It was a moment of tranquility after our epic and eventful Mount Toubkal Trek.

Moments later, the peace and tranquility of the refuge was shattered. From nowhere, the doors to our right crashed open as a poor soul on a stretcher was brought hurriedly into the refuge room. We recognised him immediately.

A couple of hours earlier, we had met him towards the end of our 2 day Toubkal trek. There he was, perched in the middle of the valley, a small black dot on a crisp white canvas. He was an anomaly in the epic scene in front of us. As we got closer, our guide approached him to query why he was sitting in the valley all alone. A minute later we had our answer: “Broken leg – wait there”.