27 to 31 - 12-2003 Atlantic route to Nouakchott in Mauritania.

Let me start by saying that the last few days have been some of the most demanding riding that either Lisa or I have ever done, both physically and mentally – here goes…

We left Dakhla at 7:30am back on the same road we came in on (there’s only one!) and soon arrived back at the same police checkpoint we’d met a few days earlier and passed this time with no hassle. The twice weekly convoy that used to run down to the Mauritanian border finished two years ago. With the usual formalities complete we were on the road again. Within ½ hour and prior to entering a tiny town of no more that 20 buildings we met our next police checkpoint.

The route is fast asphalt but look out for the dunes moving across the road, on a bike they’ll easily have you off. We’d read that there was no fuel between Dakhla and Nouâdhibou but found food and petrol at a new looking station at N 22º 03.271 W 016º 44. 836. After stopping for 45 min's we set off again and by mid afternoon were at the police checkpoint (described in Sahara Overland by Chris Scott). An hour of so later we crested a small hill and I promptly flew by Fort Guerguarat on the left. Lisa had managed to stop but I was doing my best to turn round as the Moroccan police/military at the exit point waved and shouted in my direction. Joining the queue of land rovers I tried to play it down. At the Fort we handed over passports, vehicle documents and driving permit at the first building, 40 min's later they were handed back, the border was raised and we rode the 20 metres to the next building which I think was customs. 30 min's later and with documents in hand we were waved off into no-mans land.

The asphalt finished and we met our first Mauritanian border post (earlier than we had read) with passports checked we were sent on our way. At this point we still had road pressure in our tyres and were carrying full luggage. This was a mistake! We were already tired and the soft sand tracks start immediately. Lisa had fallen 3 times within 15 min's and I'd already come off once with a couple of ‘almosts’. A quick decision to off-load our luggage to the 4 landys was made. Letting some air out or tyre's helped immediately.

This sections lasted 7km before we met an old wooden sign, which directs the traveller wishing to enter Mauritania to the right, where we met the old Spanish road. The Spanish road is about 1 ½ cars wide and certainly isn’t a road just very badly pitted old tarmac in chunks!

The tarmac twists continually for 3-4 km where we met the second Mauritanian border post N 21º 17.127 W 016º 57. 955. As we came to a halt we saw the twisted wreckage of a land rover blown up by a mine only 15-20 metres from our track. This brought the reality of our situation into clear perspective. A lone guard in a dirty low stone building checked our documents. He asked for a ‘cadeux’ but didn’t seem to mind too much that we said we didn’t have anything. As we left him our route took us to the left over soft sand and very quickly we came to the next two checkpoints (again sooner than we had read). The first building was customs which cost us 50 dirham each and for which we received a small white printed receipt. The next building (hut) was a different story – here documents were checked and the first page of our carnet’s used – the guard also insisted that we pay 10 euro each. Initially we all resisted but their story was that it was a new(ish) law to help pay for the increased administration. After holding out for 1-½ hours and with daylight now fading fast we finally all paid up.

Although the Carnet was handed back immediately the official stamp required on the currency declaration form was only given when we paid our 10-euro (each). With things sorted and papers stamped we got under way again. It was now almost 6pm and we’d been going for 11 hours and had been stood on the pegs since leaving Fort Guerguarat. The sun was sinking behind the horizon and soon it would be pitch black – not the best time to ride through a minefield! With the GPS checked we still had 45 km to go before reaching Nouâdhibou. With this in mind Jose, in the leading Land Rover, picked up a guide. As we left the two huts the going again got soft and this time we were trying to keep up with the Land Rovers. At this stage we could not take the slightly harder ground left or right for fear of mines. As the night became black the distance between Lisa and I at the back of the group and the taillights of the landys in front increased, until finally as we hit another long very soft section all the lights disappeared. Shit...shit..shit...I’d been flashing my lights like crazy in order to get their attention. Now all we could do was hope they had seen and realise our predicament. Lisa’s bike had gone over in a deep rut and both of us felt pangs of concern. Here we are in the darkness surrounded by landmines and we have no idea if our group even know we’re back here. With Lisa’s bike righted she drew up alongside mine and we did our best to reassure one another and resolved to just sit on our bikes until sunrise if our group didn’t return. 5 min's later the reversing lights of a land rover appeared 1km ahead and the beam of a strong flashlight confirmed we’d been seen. The relief was immense. We soon caught up and put ourselves in the middle of the four vehicles. We were stopped at two more checkpoints along the way – one before we crossed the railway track and one about 20km after. After crossing the railway track we travelled 2 km to the large piste that runs into Nouâdhibou. The piste is good but is being repaired so we criss-crossed it almost all the way to town until reaching asphalt a few km out. At one point the iron ore train passed us – its meant to be the longest in the world, it's certainly the dustiest.

The glow of town lights through dusty goggles was more than welcome and we finally pulled up on Nouâdhibou main street at Auberge Chiguetti at 9:45pm. We’d been riding for 14 hours – and for almost half of this stood up on the pegs. With food and fluid taken on board we found a dormitory with bunk beds already housing two Americans – we climbed into our sleeping bags- it was almost too much effort.

The others had left us at the Auberge and driven another 3km to a campsite where we joined them late in the morning. Camping at N 20º 54.500 W 017º 03. 216.

The round of applause we received when we entered the campsite was a nice gesture.

Kit off ( ohh err) tent up, coffee was the order of the day – with David and Katja acting as the coffee bar! The day was spent checking over the bikes – the ride down had shaken loose nuts and bolts all over the place on the 1100gs, including the back wheel and swing arm! The 650GS was surprisingly OK – it’s a tough bike. Having changed some Moroccan Dirham for Mauritanian Ougiya we needed to buy some insurance which cost us 3095Ougiya (otherwise known as oogly-boogliesss) for each bike – the insurance lasts for 10 days. We also had to buy two, 2-day tickets for the Parc National Du Banc D’Arguin. Park tickets were 4,800 Ougiya for the two of us for two days.

Like magic both the insurance guy and the National Park ticket guy turned up at the campsite where we proceeded to buy all the necessary tickets.

We left Nouâdhibou with our bags already stowed with the Land Rovers and having squeezed as much fuel into the bikes as possible.

We rode back up the peninsular and stopped at the checkpoint at N 21º 06 W 017º 02., here paperwork was sped up by giving the guards small phials of eye drop liquid. With a few drops in each eye he was as ‘happy as Larry’ and we were all through in 10mins. We were now heading for the top of Leurier Bay where, as described in our books, we crossed the Sebkha Aoueïtal at N 21º 14. W 016º 56. – a stretch of salty sand flats.

As we reached the other side the route took us up to firmer ground. We ended up finding some firmer ground for a lunch break at N 21º 06 W 016º 42. Rough piste interspersed with soft sand is the norm for quite a while. We finally made camp just off the piste at N 20º 48. 714 W 016º 16. 231 at 6:30pm

Up early and on the way again. The going is very rutted and very soft with small dunes at N 20º 18. W 016º 12. and a sand corridor (as described in Sahara Overland). Our goal for today was reaching Nouâmghâr. At N 19º 58. W 016º 13. We reached the National Park entrance and tickets and documents were checked. The going is relatively quick, as it gets softer until we reached bigger dunes at N 19º 49. W 016º 12. Along this stretch there is no real piste but lots of tracks spread out over the plain at N 19º 41. W 016º 15. the area again becomes wide with very soft sand. We were again up on the pegs with our weight as far back as possible – we didn’t want to get dug in here, as it would be very tiring.

We reached Nouâmghâr at around 3pm. The exit for the park (where your tickets are again checked) is just before Nouâmghâr. If you are running low on fuel there is a shop that occasionally has some, although they only sell in quantities of 20 litres (plastic drum size) and its very expensive.

Riding on 1km outside of town we made camp right on the beach at N 19º 20. 745 W 016º 30. 538. We had a great night as the group recounted its individual adventures for the day and cooked a huge lobster that had been caught 30mins earlier by a local fi9sherman. With the moon shining brightly and an early start needed for the next day (the beach crossing) we once again slept outside with the Land Rovers parked around us like a corral as protection during the night against the strong wind.

Our information showed that we would need to leave Nouâmghâr no later that 7:30-7:45 am in order to make it to Nouakchott without getting caught by the sea. So, by 8am we were riding down the beach as close to the water as possible (firmer sand)

We measure the distance from Nouâmghâr to Nouakchott as 183km and realised very quickly that we were going to have to get a move on as the tide comes in very quickly.

Lisa and I managed to ‘fly’ quite a few times! We are pleased we didn’t spend too long photographing the rusting hulks of the shipwrecks, as the last 10km for us was a race as the sea came in and the beach became steeper. Hitting the water frequently made it even harder going. What’s the saying…? ‘Time and tide waits for no man’…absolutely true!

The amount of birds that we saw along this stretch of coast was unbelievable – but with having to concentrate on riding it was impossible to enjoy them as much as we would have liked. However, as we left the Landys behind we managed to see many flocks of pelicans before they took flight. At one point Lisa was approached by one huge pelican that was protecting its young – it was almost as big as she was! Just a bit unnerving as I’m sure its huge beak could do a lot of damage!

As we approached Nouakchott the number of fishing boats on shore increased and we made sure we slowed down as hitting mooring ropes at chest or head height didn’t seem like a good idea – and there were lots so be warned!! Finally, as the first white brick building comes into sight (campsite at N 18º 06. W 016º 01.) we took a left through very, very soft sand to the asphalt. We rode another 2km to the vehicle wash facility in order to get the corrosive slat water off the bikes and Land Rovers as quickly as possible, before returning to the beach campsite. ………Welcome to Nouakchott!!!!!………

Personal note: watching my wife fight her heavy bike at speeds of 60-70mph stood on the pegs crossing kilometres of soft rutted sand was one of the proudest moments I can remember. As she overtook the Land Rovers and covered them in sand dust all I could do was grin…a lot!

To Charly Rodriguez, Elisabete Jacinto and George, thanks again for all your help and encouragement in the dunes at Merzouga.

OK – I’m not going to write loads ‘cause I’m completely knackered and it’s New Years Eve. We have set up camp only a few hundred metres from the sea at camping Tergit Vacances at N 18º 06. W 016º 01. The sites white washed buildings are the first stone/brick structures you come to as you arrive on the beach to Nouakchott. Another easy landmark to note is the cream- coloured roof of the domed fish market another 3km down the beach. If you get to the market you know you’ve missed the camping and the entry point to the asphalt, which is at N 18º 06. 176 W 016º 01. 236. Just thought I’d give anyone interested the GPS coordinates for some good places in town. There’s a great run French bar which is open until late and sells beer and wine ‘to go’ at N 18º 06. 120 W 015º 58. 198 Novotel is at N 18º 06. 039 W 015º 58. 508. After two bottles of red wine enjoyed on the beach with David and Katja, and being knackered and also unable to get a mobile signal (so we couldn’t’ wish anyone back home a Happy New Year!) we finally resigned ourselves to not seeing in the New Year and went off to bed at 10:30pm. Talk to you all next year!

Happy New Year!

Unsurprisingly we didn’t get up early and woke slowly as the sea breeze gently flapped the canvas of the tent. As life returned to our limbs and we finally surfaced we both began to realise how much the last few days has taken out of us. The whole journey from Dakhla down was a massive effort for us, mentally and physically.

As the day became hotter and we steadily re-hydrated, we also began to relax. No great plans for today but we are eating out tonight at the French bar we mentioned earlier.

By 12pm it was time for us to make our own departure and so with David and Katja we said goodbye to Nouakchott and got on the road to St Louis, Senegal. After the rigours of the desert the asphalt was luxury and as we continued south the temperature climbed and the landscape became noticeably ‘African’ with canopied acacia trees dotting the otherwise sun-baked landscape. Police checkpoints came and went with no problem with the stops being formalities rather than ‘real’ checks. The mandatory ‘cadeux’ (gift) was asked for at the end of each stop but with only smiles and handshakes exchanged we left each stop no worse for the encounter. By late afternoon it was apparent we weren’t going to make St Louis today.Now, there are two ways from the north of entering Senegal with the Senegal river acting as the natural and official border/frontier. The main road coming down form Nouakchott ends at Rosso where a ferry service runs to the other side, or alternatively, there is a piste that runs along the north shore to the river going west, which brings you to Diama and a bridge crossing. We would heartily recommend the bridge crossing. We had initially driven past the entrance to the piste and found ourselves in Rosso. We were set upon immediately with the Landy and both bikes surrounded. The feeling was decidedly uncomfortable with the swarms of touts/ guides and ferry ticket vendors aggressively demanding our attention. A swift u-turn on the bikes was made all the more difficult by the clambering hands holding firm to handlebars and panniers. With our escape made we headed 3km back up the road and took a left into what looked like a car market. After navigating the rusting shells of cars that should have been condemned and the sweating piles of rubbish, we finally found the start of the piste on the other side. Our initial concerns of soft, muddy going were soon dispensed, as with no recent rain the piste was hard packed and easy. With two police checkpoints crossed, ‘cadeux’ asked for and politely refused by us and with the sun starting to set, we left the piste and made for the pone plain in order to set up camp for the night. The trees and vegetation would hide our presence from inquisitive eyes. We bush-camped at N 16º 29. 842 W 016º 02. 644 and as we set up camp we watched families of wild wart hogs cross the sand and disappear into the undergrowth. The sighting of our first ‘real’ African wildlife was celebrated around a roaring fire of dried acacia branches with dinner (soup!) cooked on the red-hot embers that would continue to burn until morning.

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