Despite a chronic lack of sleep and a 10-hour hike ahead of me, it felt bloody great to be out of London, away from the daily grind and at the foot of the Atlas mountains.
Imlil is a small village that Toubkal trekkers use to start acclimatising to higher altitudes. The final pre-hike rest stop before starting the path to the base camp of north Africa's highest peak.
The sun was shining, we could see the top of Toubkal in the distance, and we even had a couple of donkeys to wave us on our way.
Bring it on.
The first couple of hours outside Toubkal were straightforward. Meandering paths through the valley, crossing the odd stream and scaling shallow hills.
The Atlas mountains are known for being challenging to hike through, but not too challenging. A good starting point for relative novices like me.
That first morning was a gentle introduction to what was coming next.
It was good to get to know the other people in our group as the hours passed.
Whether it was David, king of the Scottish Munro summits, or Gill the marathon runner, I always get inspired by hearing about other people's achievements, ambitions and challenges.
After a couple of hours we officially entered the Toubkal National Park, which was where the incline started to get steeper, and the terrain became less green and more grey.
I hadn't done any specific training for the hike - just my usual running a couple of times a week - so wasn't sure how tough the day's walking would be. Especially in brand new walking boots.
Our group seemed to have a good range of fitness, from the two Poles striding out in front (lads, it's not a race...) to others content being at the back and working at their own pace.
I guess I was somewhere in the middle.
Towards the end of the day, after a couple of re-fuelling stops and a cooked lunch from our guides, my legs were starting to feel the strain. But it was manageable.
At late morning we came across a stall selling freshly-squeezed orange juice. Wow, it tasted good.
A couple of hours later our guides took us to a small open-roofed building where they rustled up some energy-giving lunch, before I took a quick sit-down to recharge.
It's easy to see why people get the trekking/mountaineering bug.
Probably my favourite stretch of the day's walk from Imlil to basecamp was the final valley heading towards the camp.
Huge mountain walls towered over us on each side, the occasional local resident - normally with donkey in tow - skipped past us, and the views were fantastic.
Finally, some 10 hours after setting off from Imlil, we could see our home for the night in the distance.
There were a couple of buildings at the camp, and we were in Les Mouflons.
It was pretty basic - cold showers, top-to-toe in a 6-person giant bunk bed, minimal electricity.
Not sure I'll be leaving a glowing Tripadvisor review, but nothing like a bit of roughing it to keep you grounded.
We showered, ate and spoke to other hikers who were readying for summit the next day. I even managed a quick phonecall with Kate and the kids at home.
At 10pm I took myself to bed.
*****
At midnight I still hadn't slept a wink, partly because the foot of the bloke next to me kept jabbing my shoulder and face.
At 1am I'd had enough and went downstairs to the pitch-black communal dining area, lay on a bench and tried to sleep.
Somewhere between 2-3am I finally drifted off.
At 3.30am my phone alarm buzzed.
RISE AND SHINE CAMPERS!
It was time to reach the summit of north Africa's highest mountain...