The Vuvuzela Diaries

No mans land between the Western Sahara (Morocco) and Mauritania is a maze of rough, rocky tracks crisscrossing the land mined hamada (stony) desert. Bumping and crawling along in 1^st gear for 5kms (whilst watching massive trucks and others do the same) highlights the fact that there is beautiful tar on both sides of the border posts and shows it as yet another piece of crazy governmental non-cooperation. It also comes complete with its own second hand car dealers, black market money changers and general wheeler dealers and it was easy to see how the likely stolen Mercs we had done battle with the day before had quickly changed hands (the driver of the car I had driven into at the border had shown me the Italian registration plates he was taking back north an hour after the border closed for the evening).

After clearing Mauritanian customs and immigration, buying 3^rd party insurance and changing some Euros for Ouyigiya we entered Maurtiania well rested and in surprisingly good spirits given the 25 and a quarter hours (!!) it had taken us to cross the border. We quickly covered the 40kms to Noudhibou and settled into our oasis of a campsite  (Camping Baie du Levrier) in the middle of the dusty town. A fantastic, clean and well run spot the owner informed us that his previous South African guests included a group led by a very memorable big bearded man giving out mosquito nets!

That afternoon we explored the tiny portion of the Park Banc d’Argin located on the tip of the Nouhibou peninsula. It’s a beautiful if strange feeling spot with small dark red sand dunes and numerous ship wrecks lining the lagoon side of the peninsula (given lax maritime laws, Noudhibou became a ship grave yard and the EU funds earmarked to be used to remove them don’t appear to have been done too much good just yet). The park has been specially created to protect the “le Phoque Moine” (yes, it is quite awkward to say aloud) – the much endangered Mediterranean Monk Seal, of which, according to the information centre there, there are only 400 to 500 left. Luckily for us, the ranger there managed to call one up for us by whistling from the top of the cliffs and it was great to see a local person so passionate about the animals that he was protecting. The Maude crew also braved a quick swim in the sea below a huge wreck placed on a sandbank right at the end of the peninsula.

Unfortunately, given the recent foreigner kidnappings in the region and the British foreign office’s continued advice “against all travel to Northern and Eastern Mauritania” we (like most other tourists) decided that it would be wise not to spend more time than necessary in Mauritania and to cross as quickly as possible. So, the next day we completed the stark but beautiful 500km black top desert drive from Noudhibou to Nouakchott. I, for one, certainly travelled very wistfully looking down the desert piste turn-offs that would have taken us to the Adrar and Chinguettii or the down the coastal route through the Park Banc D’Argin. Although the stong hot wind was inhospitably blowing the sand in lines across the road, beautiful desert scenery taunted us the whole way down – well, we will just have to come back another time! After all our concerns about Mauritania, we were quite surprised by the number of tourists and passed a few convoys of French retirees in motorhomes, banger rally vehicles and other 4×4’s. There was also a reassuring military presence and we had to stop 8 to 10 times to dish out fiches along the way.

The northern edge of Nouakchott is dotted with nomad’s temporary camps as their camel caravans arrive in town and it certainly felt like we were arriving at a frontier town. It was also interesting to see water stored in large portable (when empty!) pvc sacks at each camp. We spent one night in town, camping at the beach in an expat bungalow hotel (Hotel Sabah) next to the fishing boat port. There was more and more vegetation as we travelled south towards the Senegal River and for the 1^st time we saw cows – a definite sign that we had crossed the desert and were approaching sub-Saharan Africa! The area just north of the Senegal river is dotted with acacia trees and we could just have been driving in the Kalahari.

Rather than cross the river into Senegal at the notorious border point of Rosso, we decided to cross further downstream at Diama and spent our third and final night in Mauritania at a magic bush camp on the Senegal River flood plain in Diawling National Park. The flood waters were mostly dried up but the wetland birdlife was fantastic with huge flocks of pelicans, flamingoes and white-faced whistling ducks. We also saw (and walked into at camp) many “Phacochere” or warthogs – our first mammalian wildlife. A fantastic spot, it was great to camp in relatively familiar bush surroundings and sounds.

The next morning we birdwatched our way to the border, avoided paying our Euro10 per vehicle fee to the customs official, I was instructed by the immigration official that Danielle is my “femme” not my “mari”, we paid our community tax and then bid our fond farewells to Mauritania.

It really struck us that Mauritania has so much to offer tourists and that a couple of attacks have done so much to damage its infant tourism industry.  Our visit was uneventful, thank goodness, but fleeting – hopefully things stabilize soon, we would love to return to explore properly someday!

Wild coast meets Saharan dunes. This should be enough to lure you to Mauritania. If you’re still diffident, a limited amount of hyperbole may strike a chord: think grandiose dune fields, ancient cities scoured by sandy winds, giddily deep canyons, eye-popping plateaus, sand seas larger than many a small European country and a phalanx of enchanting oases.

Sure, you may find similar landscapes in other parts of West Africa, but few are on the same scale as those in Mauritania. And few are as varied. Where else could you find such a startling interplay of dunes and ocean? If it’s tranquillity you’re after, fear not: the Mauritanian coastline is completely virginal – expect kilometres of sandy beaches without a resort in sight. And it will remain forever: an immense stretch of seashore is protected, with Parc National du Banc d’Arguin ranking as one of the best bird-watching spots in the world – Nouadhibou, a fishing port on the Atlantic Coast, is a good gateway to this region. Nouakchott will lure you after a spell in the desert with its bountiful fresh seafood. For outdoor-adventure types, Mauritania offers the full slate of trekking options as well as exhilarating camel trips amid surreal landscapes, not to mention hot-air ballooning in the The Adrar.

But it’s not all about nature, landscapes and adrenaline: Mauritania is also of strong historical interest, with a sprinkle of World Heritage–listed caravan towns, all testifying to ancient civilisations. Culturally, Mauritania is a place apart; the population is almost equally divided between Moors of Arab descent and black Africans. It’s a Muslim country with a black African twist. This striking combination is part of its appeal.

If you’re more inclined to ecotourism than mass tourism, Mauritania is your Shangri-la.

With thanks to the Lonely Planet

We set off from Dakhla at 6.30 AM intent on hitting the Morocco-Mauritania border by 11.00, stopping only briefly for a photo at the Tropic of Cancer. But nothing, not even our early start or our lovingly prepared egg-mayo samies could prepare us for what followed over the next 25 hours!  Grant and I scouted out the scene:   We were 80th in the “queue”, which resembled a Sowetan traffic jam in rush hour and made Beit Bridge look like an efficient toll-road. The queue was comprised largely of Moroccans, Mauritanians and Senegalese, most of whom were driving clapped-out Mercs (some stolen!) which would be sold in no-man’s land. Huge trucks queued up adjacent to the cars, leaving little space for on-coming traffic!  At one stage an emormous truck, trying to skip the queue got stuck in the sand on the side of the road and was being winched very unsuccessful back in line!  This was just the beginning of a very long wait…. One of the reasons we were moving so slowly was due to people (mostly Moroccans and Mauritanians) pushing in or paying bribes and skipping to the front of the queue!  We were not the only ones angered by this as we witnessed many fiery disputes as the fiesty Senegelese stood their ground!  Fortunately we had a convoy of Senegal’s finest behind us in the queue and before we knew it  we too were fighting the struggle.  It reached a climax when one of the Mauritanian Mercs, trying to push in, felt the wrath of Andrew’s bull-bar.  When the driver accused us of not having any respect, Andrew tapped his bull-bar and said ‘”this is respect my friend!” 

We finally made it to the front of the queue at 6 o’clock, just as they closed the gate. This was fortunate in that it meant we didn’t have to spend the night in no-man’s land.  Amazingly,  by 10:00PM everything had quitened down as everyone had returned to the sanctury of their vehicles, resting before another chaotic day at the border. At last we made it through at 11:00 the next day, exactly 24 hours after arriving!   We  stuck to the road through the perilous 8km of  no-man’s land, which was littered on either side with the burnt-out shells of cars – a constant reminder of the landmines.  We made it swifly through the  Mauritanian side and were soon on our way to Nouadibou.

We left the flood plains of Essaouira braced for a few long days of driving. We were aiming to spend the night in Tan Tan but were delayed by a long stop over at the Majane store to stock up on supplies for the days ahead – it was the last Majane we would see! As night fell we decided to stop at a campsite outside of Goulimina. The place was run by a bunch of very chilled out Moroccan hippies and although there were no showers there were hubbly-bubblies (shisha pipe)! We had our first braai of the trip and spent the evening smoking hubbly under the clear night sky.

On Saturday morning we crossed the Drâa River for the final time and then drove into Western Sahara – the disputed country which Morocco claims as “Moroccan Sahara”. The first thing we noticed was the increased military presence as our Fiche’s were used up rapidly! The terrain was incredible. It was much flatter than anything we had seen before. On the left we had rocky desert and on the right the desert fell off a steep cliff into the Atlantic. At times we moved away from the sea and for many kilometers it felt as if we were driving through a giant construction site. At dusk we pulled off the main road about 30km before Laayoune and followed the track for a long way into the desert. Eventually we arrived at a small but immaculately kept campsite on the edge of a giant chott (salt pan). It was run by a friendly French woman and her husband and was completely self-sufficient. It was great to be in a secluded place away from the regular camper-vans. We enjoyed a peaceful night and awoke to colourful sunrise over the chott the next morning.

The drive to Dakhla was long and much the same as before with stunning, barren scenery, blue ocean and many check points! Dakhla, situated on a peninsula, is the last major town before the border into Mauritania. This bustling fishing town has a very chilled surfer atmosphere. We were unlucky in that we were three days too early for a large music festival and kite-surfing competition which apparently attracts up to 30,000 people! That night we free-camped on the edge of the ocean.

We used Monday for some much needed R&R! This involved a long run on the beach followed by a swim and lunch at a bougainvillea-terraced seafood restaurant. We also snuck onto the free wireless internet offered by the Great Western hotel and found the most amazing French patisserie and ice-cream café next door. “La Maison du Thé” comes much recommended for any African traveller seeking a little bit of extravagance! That evening we went to the Dakhla’s central market to buy fish, meat, vegetables and water. Finally, before setting up camp on the eastern side of the peninsula (for our quick get away the next day) we filled our jerry cans with diesel which is far cheaper in Morocco (Western Sahara) than Mauritania.

We all said a fond farewell to Marrakech – having had a fantastic weekend there with our fly-in visitors. Thanks for joining us, it’s definitely a treat to have some folk from the first world for a bit! Neil and Mikaela drove via Casablanca to drop Richard and Chippy off at the airport, as they were flying back to SA early the next morning. After a pricey beer for the men, a tear or two for the ladies, Maude continued on to Rabat; sadly two passengers down. We met up with the Mr Bling just before Rabat and headed to our campsite (Camping Rabat in Sale) for the evening. It was now about 8 o clock and dark and we circled around the spot that our GPS had directed us to – nothing! After asking a local if he knew where the site was he told us that it had recently been demolished. We searched the coast line for suitable camping spots and were very limited in our choice but eventually found something far from ideal but it would have to suffice.

The next two days in Rabat were focussed on getting our visas – we managed to get our Mauritanian and Malian visas, so it was successful in that sense. If you’re ever in the area doing the same thing, definitely treat yourself to delicacies from the fantastic bakery down the road. Really helped us to get through the laborious task of waiting for visas! We also dropped into the SA embassy and briefly meet the troops there. It’s always great to ‘praat die taal’, have a name and number in case of emergency and we got some good shots of the fantastic World Cup paraphernalia that had been sent to the Embassy.

The weather we have been experiencing has been fairly extreme, to say the least – high winds and loads of rain. This does not make for happy campers! We pressed on to Essaouira in search of the surf spot the guide books eluded to. No surfers or kite surfers were crazy enough to be braving the rough seas that presented us. Essaouira was a short break for us and we chilled out – due to the terrible storms we stayed indoors most of the time – eating, drinking and catching up on the internet! The roads have been flooded and we couldn’t get back to our campsite on the final night, but luckily there was an alternative road that got us there in the end. It was time to head south – out of the storms and in to the sunshine.