Long Christmas Day with border troubles

Pulling out of Nouakchott in the early hours, we got a good start.  Hardly any traffic on the roads, we took a while to get out of the sprawling southern suburbs of the city with a quick stop for a coffee and omlette.  The N2 heading south wasn't in good shape, there were potholes all over and parts of the road vanished leaving us to drive along the side, our first bad road since leaving home.  We continued on with crazy minibus drivers racing down to the Senegalese border at Rosso, overtaking us at the most inopportune moments!  Apart from that there were sand dunes, camels and the odd beat up car to contend with; we had both forgotten it was Christmas day until about midday!

National road N2 in the centre of Tiguent heading south towards Rosso & Senegal, first real settlement after Nouakchott

Small Nomadic settlements dotted all over

We finally found our turning to the right, we knew it existed and would take us to Keur Macene but every small right road we found we wondered whether to take it.  Finally there was a fairly major turning with a concrete post (presumably for the police) with quite a few touts around who flagged us down.  They wanted to sell us ECOWAS insurance, the 'brown card' for Senegal and the rest of West Africa, we politely declined and headed west on an impeccably surfaced road.  Very straight, smooth just a few donkeys to contend with.  Franki's fuel gauge was getting rather low, so we tried to find somewhere to pull up and refuel her from the barrel in the back.  The landscape was so barren, there wasn't any shelter or windbreak to get behind the wind that was blowing the fuel out of the funnel. 

Desert refuelling stop

Christophe emptying the barrel, Franki was full again!

Finally we got to Keur Macene, Christophe went off to find lunchtime food and returned with a few bananas and bread.  We continued on, heading west on rough roads that had been graded, either at 15kph or 60kph it was fine, certainly better at 60kph as we entered the Parc National de Diawling where suddenly wildlife was abound in the form of birds and warthogs.  We were on the grated road that ran through the park but noticed Chinese involvement in the park.  We came across warthogs that seemingly weren't too scared of a vehicle then we were flagged down by Jah.  He was a park ranger and wanted a lift 12km away to the headquarters of the park. He gave us a brilliant explanation of the park, the seasons and what could be found in the park.  We had already seen flamingoes and all matter of wildlife, but it was a birdwatchers paradise.

Jah, a park ranger we picked up

Charged 2,000 UM, but tried to get 3,000UM for taking Jah to the HQ of the park!  But we were glad he had been with us!

Having dropped off Jah we only had a few kilometres or so to get to the border at Diama.  We went through Mauritanian immigration and customs fairly simply, however we found that we had to pay to park Franki at the border which intensely annoyed us!  

Getting to the Senegalese border was easy, across the bridge and we were there!  Passports stamped with a suggestion of money which we totally ignored.  Next was customs ... 

Customs was another matter, we knew we could get a 48h transit that could be renewed for up to two weeks in Dakar, we only needed 4 days or so to transit Senegal.  But immediately they wanted 250€ which we weren't prepared to pass over.  Over 5 hours, we even invited the head of customs to join us for coffee.  He came to the back of Franki, sniffed at our camping gas and kettle and walked off again,  I'm someone that NEVER pays any official without an official receipt.  It was Christmas Day but there was a guy in St Louis that would get us over the border with an official receipt, it was for 250€.  Having explored all avenues to get out of paying this knowing we weren't keen on parting with the cash, I've never paid before and I certainly wasn't keen paying now, but apparently the NGO donations were also susceptible and customs were getting sniffy about those too having inspected the back of Franki, we were at a dead end alley!  I managed to get a Senegalese SIM card and rang a few aviation friends in Dakar and just south of St Louis, all disappointed that we were stuck!

We waited a few hours for this man to show up, we were wondering if he would show up at all, St Louis is under an hour away.  Watching a lot of foot passengers passing us to board a boat that apparently was going to Bamako and trying to help out an American-Mauritanian family who spoke very little French. Eventually he arrived, just as Charlie arrived from Mauritania with his family, yet again we were amazed he was risking this trip.  However, he wasn't impressed there was more to pay, his van was also over the 8 year age limit. Having paid we were free to go, we left Charlie in the hands of the 'monster' customs official and hit the road, 5 hours after arriving at the border!

Again we ended up driving in the dark, amazingly I managed to remember the way to Mouit, where the overlanders campsite, Zebrabar, is located on the coast near my friend's house.  I'm not sure if Christophe was convinced by my directions but when we got to the village we were thrilled.  Finally pulling into Zebrabar, we parked Franki under the first tree and got out all our food, chorizo, ham and chocolate from Spain, avocadoes and tangerines from Morocco, bread and 'vache qui rit' cheese from Mauritania ... ordering a beer, we toasted ourselves on Christmas Day!

We also met Oleg, the Russian biker who was very interested in our border troubles!  He hadn't had any bother!  Charlie and family were nowhere to be seen, we wondered what had happened to them!

Southerly or Easterly Decisions

Cold but comfortable, in a bungalow with views to the sea at Camping Terjit

Beside the Atlantic ocean at Camping Terjit, just north of the Port de Peche with all the fishing boats back

Camping Terjit, excellent food prepared by Ivorians

We woke up deciding to have a day off from driving so I could catch up with my former bosses from Civil Aviation and we could decide what to do next.  Christophe had already made up his mind to continue with me, as far as Bamako hopefully.  We had slept reasonably well in a bungalow at Camping Terjit but it was cold outside.  The shower fortunately had hot water but the plumbing was something else, the base of the shower was almost two feet above floor level so getting into it was interesting, getting out whilst wet on tiles was just dangerous!

Setting off into town, we headed for Auberge Sahara knowing we could probably get advice from people there about the Route de l'Espoir.  It's the road that heads east out of Nouakchott, a road I'd never been on but heard lots about, essentially it was the quickest way to Bamako; we knew Ahmed our Ivorian friend from the border was heading that way too.  We also needed to get Malian visas but it was 24th December and therefore the embassy was closed despite several phone calls to consular officials.  However everyone at Auberge Sahara told us that crossing into Mali via Ayoun al Atrous/Nema and this route was off limits in reality, it could be done but could also be dangerous with AQIM in the region.  Christophe was still keen to go, I wasn't keen on dealing with Senegalese officials which was our other choice, to head south.  

My former colleagues joined us at Auberge Sahara, we all sat around the table for a while drinking mint tea and chatting with a French guy staying there.  Both of my colleagues were vehemently against the idea of us going east.  We were then invited for lunch at a colleagues house and drove off in their two cars whilst leaving Franki on the side of the road, the first time we had been parted from Franki!

Suburbian street view

Derby NHS screening outside Auberge Sahara?!

We drove across town separately in the two cars, my more senior colleague relayed recent updates of the aviation industry in Mauritania.  Finally we arrived at an extended family member's home and I was taken up the street to have my hands and feet henna'd, a present from him.  Christophe went off with my other colleague whilst I spent over an hour just getting my hands done, wondering if this will vanish by the time I return to work!

Arriving at my former boss's own home, the four of us sat chatting for some time then served a fantastic lunch of lamb, bread and various side dishes, Mauritanian style.  They were also unhappy we had spent the night at Camping Terjit saying it wasn't the ideal place to stay due to security.  We hadn't been at all worried about staying there but I was used to this hospitality of being safe in their country; it was agreed that they would pay for us to stay elsewhere for the night.

Beautiful henna with scruffy nails

We were taken back to Franki outside Auberge Sahara and told to wait for a call.  We noticed a Chinese registered vehicle, we presumed overlanders judging by the stickers all over it, but never saw it again.  Opposite Auberge Sahara was a cafe where we went and had some more coffee and waited ... for hours, to hear of where we would be staying for the night.  As it was getting dark, with cars screeching up and down the busy road in front of us, mostly boy racers; Christophe suddenly exclaimed 'there's Charlie' ... sure enough their little UK registered van had just driven past us.  So they had decided to continue south, we were shocked!  Expecting them to turn around as Franki was clear for everyone to see on the side of the road, we waited but they had obviously continued on into town.

Eventually my former boss arrived and called me to his car.  He had booked us an apartment next to Auberge Sahara, we were forever grateful, it was perfect for us and in retrospect similarly priced to Camping Terjit.  Christophe took the sumptious sofa in the sitting room, I got the bedroom.  We had a massive bathroom with hot water and a small kitchen, all we needed for our final night in Nouakchott.  We were still undecided as to which route to take, it had been the only topic of conversation between us all day.

Just before midnight, I was asleep but got a phone call, to be told that a Franco-Swiss woman had been kidnapped in Gao, Mali.  If we went via Route de l'Espoir, he would ensure the military turn us around ... the decision had been made for us, Christophe was particularly unhappy as he had no real desire to ever visit Senegal!  Tomorrow was Christmas Day ...

Chinese overlanders?

Stunning apartment next to Auberge Sahara for the night

Border Business

Setting off around 730am, we headed for the border, refreshed after a good night's sleep and lukewarm shower in Bir Gandouz.  Our remaining stale bread was thrown to the faithful guard dogs as we pulled out.  We got to the border at around 8.20am in time for the 9am opening on the Moroccan side, enough time to refuel Franki and fill the 209L barrel I'd brought along for cheap fuel (totally illegal but it wasn't totally full by any means, we just used the last of our dirhams).  Whilst at the pumps, we had a guy behind us who mentioned he had seen us at Tanger Med Port, listening to him I immediately asked if he was Ivorian.  Christophe's mouth was gaping that I'd picked up on his accent, Ahmed was from Odienne and immediately took to us.  We all went off in search of a coffee whilst leaving the vehicles in the queue to cross into Mauritania.  

Secondary queue for trucks that we had to get past before getting to the service station

Franki ready waiting to go to Mauritania

Waiting for the gates to open at 9am when there was a massive onslaught of everyone trying to drive through first!

The Moroccan side of the border was a pain.  We were again singled out for the scanner, so it took longer as we waited for a truck to go through it in front of us.  The customs guys were very polite and friendly but it didn't make our wait or paperwork any shorter.  Going from one office to another, the scanner cleared us for any dodgy material on board, we were allowed to leave, or so we thought. Suddenly there was yet another office to go and get paperwork stamped, some German Swiss guys were in front of me and then some Senegalese yet again tried to jump in front.  It was the first rain we had had since arriving on the continent and I took shelter in a doorway.  The customs officials in the final office soon sorted out the Senegalese and said I should have gone to the front of the queue anyway as I'm a woman!  All very sweet, but still didn't stop me being soaked through!

Finally we headed south!  The border has changed, the 3kms or so of 'No-mans land' was clean, no more wrecked vehicles.  This is also where the land mines are, the first kilometre or so was brand new tarmac, I was amazed by the change and upgrade since last crossing.  Then we went onto rock, the sand had virtually vanished, it was bare rock but the buzzing of a helicopter we heard earlier became very significant.  As the only vehicle passing through at the time (others were ahead of us & behind us by several minutes) we discovered that the Polisario were 200m from the Moroccan army, all with guns raised, a few UN vehicles were on a hill and their helicopter overhead.  We had to drive between the front lines ... all a little spooky, Christophe wanted a photo; I decided it wasn't the best idea in the circumstances!

Mauritania in sight, we got to the border control, immediately a gendarme tried to palm me off with a fixer.  I told the fixer I really didn't need him and I'd do it myself.  I had my paperwork from the Mauritanian government department that I used to consult for, which suddenly turned me into someone the gendarme wanted to look after.  He took Christophe and I through all the stages, told the customs agent not too look too deeply into the back of Franki (he tapped my fuel barrel but grinned!). We were through in under 10minutes, including sorting out the expensive biometric visa, complete with photos and fingerprints. Just a SIM card to buy and the Mauritanian vehicle insurance to negotiate, we were able to continue on our way! 

The rain continued anew and unabated, we drove on south to the crossroads for Nouabidhou and Nouakchott just seeing the last wagons of iron ore train from Zouerat.  I'd ridden on this train, believed to be the longest in the world at about 3km, over ten years ago as far as Choum.

Last wagons of the iron ore train from Zouerat to Kosando, the longest in the world at 3km

Road south, luckily we had moderate crosswinds, so not too much sand

More sand ...

Impressive military town just north of Nouakchott complete with solar panels for town lightning

The dunes had diminshed a lot since my last visit

We stopped not far south of the border for something to eat and drink at a small filling station.  The road was peaceful, hardly any traffic, the occasional stop for 'fiches' to hand to the police.  It was an easy day's driving of 535km since Bir Gandouz.  On arrival into Nouakchott we started looking for money, changing on the black market and somewhere to stay.  We initially looked for Auberge des Nomades, of which I had fond memories but it had been knocked down and was now a building site.  Then we headed off to Auberge Menata, the price was outrageous, I decided to sleep in Franki but on inspection Christophe refused to stay there too.  He'd previously stayed at this auberge and wasn't impressed by the new management.  I called my former bosses to inform them I was back in town, whilst we continued to look for somewhere to stay.  Eventually we went to Camping Terjit, a great place on the beach with two lovely Ivorian ladies running the restaurant, yet again their accents gave them away and we chatted for quite some time!  Tomorrow I would know if Christophe was going to stay with me, he had booked as far as Nouakchott & I would be sad to see him go!