The minibus rolls out of Marrakech before dawn and, as the city’s ochre walls blur into the rearview, the landscape loosens—olive terraces give way to folded ridges and a high, clear light that seems to sharpen the air. By mid-morning the sound changes: not the distant hum of traffic but a steady roar. Ouzoud announces itself with spray and a cool, citrus scent drifting through stands of olive and carob trees. The falls tumble in multiple tiers, the main drop plummeting roughly 110 meters into a plunge pool rimmed by sugar-colored rock. Walks that skirt the rim offer panoramas; a narrow trail curls down to the river and the short boat ride that pulls close to the base, mist daring you to step closer.