Hiking the Djurdjura: An Unforgettable Introduction to Algeria’s Atlas Mountains

Article by Camilla Baier

Lupine Travel is kicking off their new Adventure Series: a set of trips created for curious, active travellers looking to go beyond the usual paths. Designed by Lupine’s Robert, each journey explores remote landscapes, challenging trails, and vibrant local culture. For this first exploratory trip, we headed to Algeria: a country of vast beauty, complex histories, and famously warm hospitality. And what better way to discover its wilder side than hiking through Djurdjura National Park, nestled in the lesser-visited reaches of the Atlas Mountains?

Day 1: Into the Green Heart of Algeria

We left the coastal bustle of Algiers behind and journeyed eastward into the lush, rolling hills of Kabylia. The roadside was lined with wild Mimosa trees, olive and fig trees, and cacti thick with prickly pears. As the hills grew steeper, the silhouettes of the Atlas began to rise behind them, quietly announcing themselves.

As our sprinter climbed into the mountains, we passed sleepy Berber villages with deliberately unfinished concrete homes and rooftop clotheslines strung with brightly coloured traditional dresses fluttering in the wind. We stopped for a bathroom break at a roadside grill, where a group of men had already fired up the coals. Across the road was one of the most scenic picnic spots I’ve ever seen: a sweeping view of the valley we had just ascended.

Not long after, the landscape offered up another surprise: our first monkey sighting. A family of Barbary macaques (yes, the same ones you might know from Gibraltar), perched nonchalantly by the roadside, barely blinking at our presence. We’d soon learn they’re a regular feature of these mountains – a delightfully curious audience to our journey through Kabylia. 

Into Djurdjura

Once we arrived at the start of the trail, we said goodbye to our lovely driver Khaled (who sent us off with an enthusiastic bonne chance) and entered Djurdjura National Park, starting at Tala N Yilef. At the entrance, a hand-tiled sign reads:

“Chaque parcelle du Djurdjura est une richesse accumulée patiemment depuis des millénaires et dont nous sommes les bénéficiaires et les dépositaires. Il est donc notre devoir à tous d’en garantir sa pérennité pour la transmettre en l’état aux générations futures.”

[Every part of the Djurdjura is a richness patiently accumulated over millennia, of which we are both the beneficiaries and the custodians. It is our shared duty to ensure its longevity and to pass it on, intact, to future generations.]

A poetic reminder that we are merely passing through and have a responsibility to preserve it for those who come next. 

Our guide, Raouf, whose family has been hiking and climbing within the Atlas Mountains for generations, pointed out our route and off we went. Shaded by pine, cedar, and fir, the forested path felt calm and inviting. Much like the hoards of macaques watching us from the pathside, perched on rocks or swinging from the low branches. Raouf told us they’re naturally wary but unbothered by humans, thanks to the low foot traffic in the park. As we started to ascend, we saw cows grazing lazily in sun-dappled meadows, geckos sunbathing on the rocks and eagles (possibly Bonelli’s?) soaring overhead. And the macaques? They kept popping up regularly, seemingly as curious about us as we were about them.

As we emerged above the treeline, the path turned stony and exposed, winding past rock formations and greyish-white boulders. Just beyond the summit, we came across a monument to Winfred Müller, the conservationist who helped establish the park, before crossing the Müller Bridge, named in his honour. A surprise patch of snow just past the bridge injected a jolt of adrenaline, but our mountain leaders guided us confidently across. Once safely over, it obviously turned into a spontaneous snowball fight.

The descent to our lunch spot, Lac Agoulmim, was felt on tired legs, but the spectacular views made it more than worth it. As we zigzagged down the mountain toward the pristine, sparkling lake, a choir of frogs welcomed us, their calls echoing around the magnificent stone walls that surround the water. It was there that we had one of the best cups of coffee ever brewed, courtesy of Raouf and his camp stove. The perfect pick me up, before starting the last third of the hike.

As golden hour approached, we trudged onward toward Chalet du Kef. The final descent was made magical by the sun casting a honeyed glow on Ras el Kelb (the “Head of the Hyena”), a striking, technical peak looming in the distance. A challenge for another trip, perhaps? Waiting at the bottom of the trail was our driver, Khaled, all smiles and applause. His heartfelt welcome sparked a ripple of tired but proud claps, handshakes, and a few well-earned hugs as we celebrated finishing our first hike of the trip.

Our night was spent at the quirky-but-comfortable Tikjda Mountain Resort, part set-piece from a Wes Anderson film, part 1980s time capsule. Tucked high in the serenity of the mountains, arriving at such a kitschy, characterful place felt both brilliant and totally unexpected. Usually a ski resort, it retains a certain off-season charm, which only adds to its surreal appeal after a day of hiking through wild beauty.

Day 2: Of Museums and Merguez

The next day we began with a visit to the Musée de la Nature Djurdjura Winfred Müller, just next to the resort, where Raouf’s enthusiasm brought taxidermied animals and geological history to life. Every time we pointed to a specimen, he nodded knowingly and pulled out a video of a recent encounter. Wolves, jackals, porcupines – you name it. In his many years exploring the area, he’s seen them all.

Outside, local vendors sold pottery and handmade baskets to us and to the Berber tourists wandering the open campus just beyond the resort. Their children played among yet more macaques, while one particularly charismatic vendor, who called himself The Barber (he’s brilliant, look out for him!) served us tea with lots of flair and good humour.

A short drive later, we were at Assouel, surrounded by families picnicking on blankets, teenagers galloping past on horseback, and curious cows nosing around the scene. It was chaotic, joyful, and quintessentially Kabylian. Khaled, our ever-affable driver (and apparent cow whisperer), even managed to befriend and pet a few.

The highlight, however, was undoubtedly the little Merguez grill van. We couldn’t resist the delicious wafting smells of this local delicacy. The owner promptly put one of our group to work, who expertly turned the sausages until they were ready for us to be devoured in delicious sandwiches. 

We made a brief stop in Lalla Tikjda for coffee and a leisurely hike up the forested mountain. A popular weekend spot for local youth, we passed teenagers relaxing in hammocks, their elaborate campsites set up and enjoying Algerian pop playing from tinny speakers. We’d been told we might spot a porcupine on the way (no luck there, alas), but we did find a porcupine quill as a souvenir instead.

After a peaceful hangout in a forest clearing, it was time to say goodbye to Raouf, which was bittersweet, of course. Later that night, he sent us a photo of himself relaxing in a hammock among the trees deep in the Atlas, along with a video of a jackal he’d captured on his phone. Definitely one he’ll be showing the next group to come on this trip.

Day 3: Roman Ruins and Wildflowers

On our way to Constantine, we stopped at Djemila, an incredibly well-preserved Roman city tucked into the mountains. Our guide brought its temples and forums to life, but what stayed with me most was the surprisingly vivacious atmosphere in this otherwise ancient place: schoolchildren running through ancient gates on their way home, wildflowers pushing up between crumbling columns. It felt less like a Roman ruin site and more like a place still very much alive, claimed not just by archaeologists, but by generations of local children.

Day 4: Constantine, City of Bridges

We were lucky to arrive in Constantine as the sun was setting, just in time to admire the aqueducts and the silhouette of its many bridges. The next day, visiting the Amir Abdelkader Mosque proved to be a quietly moving experience. Stepping inside, the gentle murmur of prayers from the women’s hall created an intimate, almost sacred atmosphere, perfectly complementing the mosque’s stunning architecture and intricate decorations.

At the Cirta Museum, we explored a rich collection of regional history and modern Algerian art. Then, wandering Ahmed Bey’s Palace, we stumbled on a rehearsal of young performers in traditional Constantinian kaftans, singing and dancing in the grand, intricately decorated patios.

From there, it was one last bridge, one last coffee, and onto the airport. Unless you’re joining the optional extension to Tamanrasset (and trust me, you’ll want to).

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Why join this new trip?

This isn’t just a hike. It’s a full immersion into local traditions, jaw-dropping landscapes, and a country whose hiking trails are begging to be trodden on. You won’t just see the Atlas Mountains – you’ll hear, smell, and feel them beneath your feet.

With Lupine’s expert guides and the perfect balance of challenge and reward, this trip is the ideal start to their Adventure Series.

Check out the full itinerary and join Lupine in April 2026. Algeria: Hiking the Atlas Tour

Camilla Baier is a German/Brazilian writer and researcher based in Edinburgh.
Follow Camilla on Instagram: @camilla_baier