We decided to go to the mountains of Rif, the true cradle of the best hashish in the world, despite the warnings that come with travelling in an area with neither king nor police where nobody is there to look over the safety of adventurers. Although we had tasted what we had come in search of, we would not leave in peace until we saw with our own eyes what it was and how it was made. The car journey through the pass plagued by very tight corners was not without incidents. The hashish from the mountains is mainly sold in Chefchaouen through intermediaries who are local to the town. This market is off limits to the people of the mountains by means of denuntiations and continuous blackmail of the poorest and most miserable due to which, upon seeing a car loaded down with tourists entering the area, they see potential clients with money to burn and so do not skimp on taking risks so as to make contact. All of a sudden you are in the middle of a car chase with dangerous manoeuvres until they force you off the street if you do not stop. It seems they are going to rob you but they'll just offer you hashish and invite you back to their house to meet their family. Although hashish is one of the pillars of the economy of the North of Morocco, the region made up of the Valley of Rif is a poor area, few people manage to make a fortune and what's normal is to live hand to mouth.