People live and work by the railway track. Not very many and it appears a bit of a fraught existence. There are a few rail workers maintaining the track. There are also some scattered nomads pitched up near the track. From time to time we saw some groups of huts and fenced off areas. Old steel sleepers are commonly used for construction. Rubbish abounds and many, if not most, of the buildings we saw looked to be deserted.
Track maintenance 
Sleeper fence 
Not far off the railway track, to the North, is Ben Amera. This is a monolith. A single lump of rock that is 633m high. It is the world’s second largest monolith after Uluru in Australia. Conventional wisdom has it that travellers should stay to the south side of the railway track to avoid the danger of landmines. I have read accounts to the contrary and certainly, the nomads and camels appear to wander freely. Some land mines are only intended to damage larger vehicles like tanks. These will not be set off by the weight of a camel but Baloo, which weighs in at nearly twenty tonnes, might well do the trick. I am not a fan of land mines at the best of times so we chose, without much discussion, to stay south of line and content ourselves with a few photos of Ben Amera in the distance.
Ben Amera 
Valley north of Atar
The next day we reached the road that runs north from Atar. This is in pretty good condition. Some of it looks quite new. For the first time in many days, we could re-inflate the tyres to their full road pressure. The route follows a broad, flat, open valley with an imposing wall along the eastern side. East was where we wanted to go but the wall is an impassable barrier so instead we needed to go south first to Atar. From Atar a track runs east over the pass to Ouadane.
The run down to Atar was relatively quick and easy. There were three police checkpoints along the way. We were waved through the first one and at the second only needed to hand over a fiche. This is from the French “Fiche d’identité “. It is a sheet of paper with our passport details, visa details and vehicle details. Checkpoints in Morocco and Mauritania often require these so we keep a small stock of them in the dashboard. The third checkpoint required a “petit cadeau”, literally a little present. In Morocco, there is a distinct begging culture. Children in particular appear to expect travellers to dish out pens, sweets and money. In Mauritania, this culture rises to a completely higher level. Everyone we encountered expected a handout. Adults politely asked for petite cadeau, women showed us their babies and the gangs of children just shouted “donnez moi” (give me) at us. We did our best to resist this but; in this case, the officer wanted some headache tablets and seemed quite prepared to prevent us passing for as long as necessary.
Atar is a dusty, desert town where the sand drifts down the streets and goats wander around freely. Most of the town was very poor. We saw one hotel with a clean, smart front door. The building was tightly enclosed by a wall topped with razor wire. Everywhere else was decidedly run down, poorly maintained and faded in the desert heat. Atar boasts several petrol stations. We stopped at the largest looking one in the centre and were promptly accosted by moneychangers. Everyone wanted euros. Eventually the owner of the garage appeared and we did a deal of diesel for euros. It had taken over a tank full of diesel to drive from Guerguarate so we needed to spend a few hundred euros. This got us quite a good deal.
The market in Atar was a bit of an ordeal. The pestering level was high and we had a small posse of children following us. Lumps of raw chicken were stacked next to peppers and potatoes. Everything was buzzing with flies. It was hot and smelly and we felt uncomfortable. We picked a few mixed vegetables, some fruit and what turned out to be the hottest chillies I have ever encountered. Everything got thrown into a single bowl and we paid for the combined weight. Shopping done we slipped out of Atar and started on the final leg to Guelb er Richât.
