Western Sahara

Leaving Nouadhibo we were now headed for Morocco. Once we had crossed the Mauritanian border we were officially in "Nomansland" - an area between the Mauritanian and Moroccan border, that due to an age-old and ongoing debate about who owns Western Sahara is completely neglected. It's a rocky over pass littered with tires and old, wrecked out cars. Another scene out of Mad Max ;-) 

   Once officially on Moroccan soil we were back on paved roads and had one of the most relaxing and enjoyable days of the trip on the bikes. The route is hugging the coast all the way with amazing views of the ocean and impressive cliffs. The landscape is otherwise very dry, flat, a mix of rock and sand, with the occasional bit of green dotted here and there. A beauty only Connemara can compete with :)

   We had best intentions to find a nice, sheltered spot to pitch our tent and enjoy the surroundings. But as we rode on we didn't see anything that would have offered enough shelter and the winds were just too strong. Our tent would have probably blown into the ocean (with or without us).

   Having a look at the map we thought we might have more luck if we got to the next village of Imily which turned out to be like a newly developed housing estate in Ireland - empty! The community of Imily is fully developed with houses, shops, street lighting, paths even Moroccon flags on top of the government buildings. Yet, no one lives there - except for a bunch of wild dogs that appeared out of nowhere (they looked hungry too). It gave us an eery feeling and we quickly abandoned our plan of camping there and decided to keep going to next village on the map - El Argoub.

   In the meantime we were distracted with one of the most majestic sunsets we both have ever seen. Breathtaking! 

   The first estate we encountered in El Argoub looked exactly like Imily, only this time we saw 2 guys in military uniform outside a house busy with detangling the line of a fishing rod. We pulled in and asked politely if it was ok if we camped in the near vicinity. We were ignored at first so we asked again thinking they mightn't have any English and than one of the guys said in perfect English "no, not here" and not a word more. It was about 8 pm already and getting dark quickly. 

   We didn't waste any time lingering around and moved on. The next settlement - still part of El Argoub - looked friendlier but also here we were told we wouldn't be able to camp as the whole area is a military zone. That at least explaines Imily -  we presume it's all built for military personnel. 

   At little disheartened we trucked on. It was dark by now. A few kilometres outside of El Argoub and the last building for another 40 km we saw a petrol station. As a last resort we stopped. The owner and a bunch of men where watching soccer (Dortmund kicked AC Milano's arse). A little confused but more than willing to help out the owner showed us around the back of the building where we could camp. He must have felt sorry for us having to pitch a tent so late and with the wind blowing so high - or this was an epic example of Moroccan hospitality as he went on to show Rory a simple room with 2 mattresses and insisted we should rather sleep there. He wouldn't accept any money and our suspicion that he had given up his own room was confirmed the next morning when we saw him coming out of an office, with a small sofa inside that he must have slept on. 

   Next thing a truck delivering bread stops and when the driver spots Rory he immediately hands him 2 loafs of fresh bread for free. What amazing gestures and what a great country!

Heading to the Moroccon border

Nomansland - everybody's dumpster :-/ 

Next best thing to camping in the open :)

Equally stunning sunrise

Nouadhibo

After the mandatory top up on breads and pastries at the Patisserie in the morning we continued our journey north to Nouadhibo. We were in for a long haul as the distance between Nouakchott and Nouadhibo is just under 500 km with literally nothing but a few tents of locals and petrol stations between cities. 

   This day would also turn out to be one of extreme climates. An hour into the trip it got very misty and the winds picked up. It looked like a sandstorm but a wet one if that makes any sense. We had to wipe the mist/sand of our visors every few minutes. This was also the first time during the entire trip both Rory and I were absolutely freezing and had to stop to close the jacket vents and put on a scarf.

   How thankful were we when we finally got out of it and felt the sun warming us up. Only until it turned to the other extreme.

   As we had already experienced the day before, Mauritania is definitely the hottest of all the countries we have travelled through. It had been very hot and humid in the previous countries of course. Though a different kind of heat which we're probably used to from Ghana. The Mauritanian heat is dry, with even the air feeling hot on the skin while riding. 

   The bones and behinds were aching (understatement) when we finally arrived at the Peninsula of Noudahibo. We admired the long iron ore train as well as the stunning view of the turquoise Atlantic ocean. We passed a beautiful arch riding into the city. Looking for food we found an inexpensive Polish run restaurant where we treated ourselves to Roulades :) 

Gaffney being Daffney

Sand and humidity in the (cold) air 

The difference in temperature only an hour later... even the camels put a smile on

To da wesht of Galway

Escape from the midday heat and pit stop at a petrol station

Iron ore train at Nouadhibo - the only rail line in Mauritania. It can be as long as 3 km.

Enroute to Nouakchott

The areal after crossing the border is a national park consisting of wide open marshlands, lakes, swamps and grasslands with a variety of birds, camels, warthogs and cattle. A short stretch into the route we got into our first Mauritanian police check, one of many more to follow. We also were stopped by park staff who demanded a 6 EUR fee per person for passing through. Not that we had a choice in the matter as this was the only way we could have taken in any case. Small bit frustrating by principle although fabulous scenery and views of wildlife made more than up for it.

   Even after we had left national park terrain the route continued on with deep gravel and sand pits of all sizes. Very challenging and physical as you had no opportunity to get the into the groove of either one of the conditions. Eventually I fell into the sand. While struggling to pick up my bike in the heat, Rory acted all tourist on me and took his time taking snaps :)

   By the time we finally hit paved roads again we still had a journey of 150 km left to Nouakchott, the capital of Mauritania. 

   On arrival into the suburbs of the city we got worried at the sight of a large, fully armed police force trying to get a fire on the middle of the road and a demonstrating crowd under control. We were waved through by the police though without any trouble. As we were told later and understood there is a dispute between local port/dock workers and the government on salary rates.

   When we got into the centre the usual hunt for food, accommodation and topping up on local currency began. It didn't take long to find the moneychangers though. Rory was surrounded by a crowd of Mauritanians in their traditional clothing in no time and did his usual bartering for good exchange rates. Entertaining to watch as always. We found cheap accommodation where despite the condition of the place we probably had the best nights sleep ever.

Mauritania

We decided to follow the advise of various travellers who had been there before and to avoid the border crossing at Rosso. It is renown for being a painful experience and officials are said to be generally on the corrupt side. Instead we went via the Diama Dam about 40 km north of Saint Louis and hence also much closer than Rosso.

   Because we thought this border crossing would be smooth and effortless we had taken our time with breakfast and a blog update that morning. It was about 11 am by the time we arrived at the Senegalese side of the border. 

   First stop customs. This took less than a minute as all we had to do was to return the temporary import documents for the bikes. The officials couldn't even be bothered to have a closer look at the bikes such as chassis and the likes. With customs done I headed over to the Police officer to get our Passports stamped before heading over to the Mauritanian side. This is where the (at this stage of the trip) unbelievable thing happened. The officer insisted I had to pay 10 Euro per person for the usual (!) registration of our details and stamping our Passports. Having crossed 9 borders previous to this one we hadn't once been asked for any money and it was quite obvious to us that this dude was looking to fill his pockets. Especially after I explained that I didn't understand and repeatedly asked him calm and politely what this fee was for. He came up with lame excuses and none of them offered a real explanation. At some stage he got louder saying I was complicating things and not showing him respect. Stay calm, stay calm. Rory eventually got in on the game and we both insisted that we had no money to give, which is somewhat true as we certainly didn't have any Euros on us. This whole thing went on for about an hour. We even asked the officer where we could pitch our tent as we were obviously not going anywhere. Eventually he gave in and made up stories of his generousity as he was going to pay the "fees"for both of us out of his own pocket. Thank you so much! 

   Good thing we had just saved ourselves 20 EUR as we were now faced with having to pay outrageous 8000 CFA (roughly 13 EUR) just to cross a silly 100 m long bridge across the dam. We had an amazing time in Senegal. Both people and country have been beautiful. Could have done without the last experience though. Or maybe that just rounded the collection of experiences of our trip up and made it complete :)

   Crossing into Mauritania was easy. We even got invited to join the officials at their lunch break which looked like chicken that had been freshly killed and prepared inside their offices. Err, no, but thank you :) One of the customs officers upon realising that I am a woman offered a broad smile, thumbs up and tapped me on the shoulder. Nice first impressions of a very muslim country! 

Entering Mauritania we were greeted by curious Camels

Plenty of Warthogs with young along the way which made us a little nervous as they're known to attack when they feel threatened.

Loads of cattle... err "grazing" I guess

Saint Louis

We had hoped the strong crosswinds would settle down after leaving Dakar. Unfortunately they got even stronger as we were headed north to Saint Louis, the first French settlement in West Africa. After speaking to some by-passers we were told the strong winds will be probably our companion all along the coast to Tangier in Morocco. Dislike! It takes away from the enjoyment of the scenery around us, as you got to focus a lot on your road positioning and trying to keep head and helmet straight. Rory checks his rear view mirrors every time a truck passes by to make sure the whirlwind it creates hasn't whisked me off the road. Not a far fetched worry either, trust me!
   On arrival at the hotel of our choice the Watchman and Receptionist insisted we park the bikes in their courtyard. Sound we thought. Until we figured, this actually meant driving the bikes past the reception through the main entrance. This was a first! Our bikes were constantly passed and admired by kitchen staff as we had parked right outside the hotel kitchen. Checking out the next morning "by bike" was great fun.
   Saint Louis is yet again a bit like a time travel. It has a very relaxed vibe about it. We enjoyed wandering about town and didn't mind the occasional hordes of homeless children following us around. We donated tissues, sweets and loose change. We had a lovely dinner at the hotel and relaxed colonial style to bet fit for the border crossing in the morning and the next stage of our journey. Country no. 5: Mauritania.

Stocking up on supplies for the trip to St. Louis. The boy does love his bread :)

   Faidherbe bridge connecting Saint Louis to the mainland

Dakar

About an hour from Dakar the Atlantic breeze nearly blew us off our bikes with strong cross winds. The ride into Dakar was no different to other major city, dirty suburbs, heavy traffic and people trying to sell you stones off the road or their grandmothers :) Ducking and diving between the traffic was enjoyable and Rory's hobby of competing for road space and aggravating bus drivers by slowing down right in front them was exercised to large extend. 
   On arrival into our location in an area called Yoff, we checked into a lovely  little family run hotel where were treated to a room with sea view. We decided to enjoy Dakar and chill out for a few days. My bike had started behaving strangely and would suddenly stall. A mechanic at a petrol station reckoned it was the spark plug. Turns out he may have been dead right. We changed the plug and it's been running fine since, although the fuel filter may need some attention too. 
   A good way of getting to know a city is hunting for KTM tires in dimensions no one seems to have in stock :) We spent a good 2 days trying to find Rory a new rear tire as it has gone down to nearly 2/3 of thread between Togo and Senegal. Unfortunately we were unsuccessful and decided to truck on with the tire as is. The road from here on to Morocco is mostly paved and it just means we will have to be more aware.
  We were spoiled for choice with food (Rory's first word in French is "Patisserie", who would have thought it has to do with food?!). From local Senegalese cuisine to a savage Chinese it's all there. Growing bellies after only 3 days in Dakar says it all.
  The city views of Dakar are spectacular, especially the African Renaissance monument towering over the city. An enjoyable stay all together.

Le Plateu in Dakar

Lend the poor woman some clothes...