Today has been one of the most interesting and challenging days of adventure riding. We left Dakhla in the predawn, expecting to fill the tanks and bladders about 60km out and then set a route for the Mauritanian border post.
Riding out along the peninsula was ethereal as dawn broke, with the rock mirages slowly taking form over the quicksand and the dunes imbued with a soft champagne hue. The desert is at its best in the mornings, before the harmattan winds wake and tear the surface off the landscape. Rounding one bend in the track we came across a wild dog and its pup eating something just off to the side. Standing the size of an Alsatian and with dense, shaggy coats and heavily lidded eyes, they were ideally clothed to resist the daily sandblasting. They looked quite lugubrious as we passed, but I'm sure it is just the 20kg of sand that they must permanently carry in their coat that makes them feel that way.
We enjoyed this portion of the ride, stoping frequently to take photographs and cavort on the sand dunes. As a result, the Mauritanian border did not appear on the horizon until just after lunchtime.
As we approached the flags and stone arch of Moroccan emmigration; caution set in, radio chatter quietened, and we were conscious that this is considered a difficult and occasionally dangerous border crossing.
Moroccan formalities would have been straightforward had Ty not lost his number plate sometime during the day. With constant shaking and rattling, anything not screwed on super tight and then sealed with Loctite (a thread locking gel) quickly comes loose. This was the case with Ty's number plate, and it lay somewhere in the 300km of desert between Dakhla and the border.
We decided to try and make the best of it by bluffing our way through. For the half a dozen checkpoints in the last few kilometres approaching the border, Gary pulled up tight behind Ty to obscure the empty plate holder. With just a cursory glance at the bikes, we were waved through each time.
That all changed at the border post, with the Moroccan officials taking a great interest in the missing number plate. Eventually a swathe of paperwork and pleading convinced them that the bike was legitimate, and they released both us and the bikes into no man's land.
No man's land between Morocco and Mauritania is one of the most heavily mined stretches of land in the world. As you enter the sandy and rocky ten kilometre stretch, tracks crisscross in a multitude of directions. Torn apart and wrecked vehicles litter the landscape, testimony to those that made a poor judgment call.
Immediately on entry, you are set upon by a small horde of unfortunate stateless people caught in this region who are desperate to offer their services as guides through this treacherous stretch. We have heard stories of exorbitant demands for payment from these people and attendant violence when this is declined. We dodged their attempts to intercept us and sped quickly along one of the tracks.
It quickly became apparent that some of the tracks were well defined and clearly well used. Staying within existing tyre tracks as much as possible, we made our way through the minefield to the Mauritanian point of entry.
Sheer mayhem awaited us. This dusty and dirty outpost is a riot of shysters and conmen, all keen to make a quid at your expense. Realising that we could not possibly hope to navigate the convoluted process by ourselves, we selected one of the least villainous looking fixers and engaged his services. Over the subsequent four hours, we traipsed back and forth between cinder block cells posing as offices to acquire a bewildering array of stamps, forms and documents. Some of the officers we came to know quite well as we saw them on a number of occasions for different forms and stamps. We even built an affection for our smooth talking Gambian fixer; who truly knew how to wheedle, cajole and grease officials with the best of them.
We did have one light hearted moment during the process. Gary desperately needed to use the toilet and there were none available, so he grabbed his roll of paper and headed across the sand. The four African guys I was chatting with all went still and watched him. About 25m away, Gary squatted behind a small clump of vegetation to do his business. I asked the guys if anything was wrong, and one of them laughed. He said "out there is mines, another twenty steps and maybe his a'hole will go boom". They had been watching carefully, and about to sprint after him if he went any further.
By the time we cleared the last checkpoint and drove into Mauritania, it was close to 5pm and the wind was ferocious. Sand stung everything, rattling against the visors and coating nose, mouth and ears in a fine grit that crunches between the teeth like ground glass. It burns on the skin and rubs everything it can lash red raw. Sand wraiths cut swirling paths across the road, confusing the eye and looking like a liquid in their motion.
Despite the horrid conditions, the ride from the border into Nouadibou offered some gorgeous scenery with endless red sand plains and creaky white dunes. It was impossible to use a camera in those conditions but we will try again tomorrow.
The final approach into Nouadibou is a stark reminder of the tribalism that has always beset Africa. The Nouadibou peninsula is on a long thin spit of land spearing down into the Atlantic ocean. Less than a few kilometres wide at some points, it is divided down the middle into Mauritania on the east and disputed Western Sahara on the other side. The Mauri side has evidence of new housing developments, civil infrastructure and commerce. This is juxtaposed against the Sahwari people living on the other side of a razor wire fence in camp slums an desperate poverty.
All heads turn in the street as we ride in on the bikes, with a mixture of wide smiles and menacing glares. It's a hard place to read. We have found a local hotel that will lock the bikes up underneath to be less conspicuous, and intend to venture out for food after a proper clean up.
What a fascinating day.
(photos to follow in a subsequent post when I can get a wifi connection)
