Back to Morocco

Just south of Guelb er Richât is a massive area of sandy dunes. Sand as far as the eye can see. We wanted to experience this so we drove right out, deep into the sand and parked up. It was a bit like being on a giant beach. The sand was soft and golden. The sun was warm. I pottered around in bare feet for a while feeling the sand between my toes. Then I thought about scorpions and put my shoes back on. We had a very pleasant afternoon and evening just hanging out there and relaxing a bit after several days of continuous driving.

We are in the desert, the Sahara, largest and baddest of them all. You would expect it to be hot and dry. Indeed, during the day, it gets up to 32°C and some nights does not drop below 20°C. At times the relative humidity is in single figures. However, this is the middle of winter. This is as cold as it gets. We find it a bit too warm and dry but bearable. In the summer, the heat soars over 40°C every day, there is no air conditioning, little shade and water is hard to come by. To my mind, life must be close to intolerable for the Nomads and others that live out here.

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Next day we passed through Ouadane. Approaching from a different angle, we managed to avoid the built up area and went straight to the checkpoint. Here we handed over another printout of our details. The same details we had given to the same officer three days earlier. He was happy though and waved us through to start down the long corrugated road to Atar.

On the way out to Ouadane a hand painted sign featuring a giraffe and an elephant had piqued our interest. When we passed this sign on the way back to Atar we decided to investigate. At the end of a track, was found a nomad’s tent, a man and a sign proclaiming the Cave Paintings of Agrour. For 100 UM (each), he removed the piece of string between two rocks and showed us to the edge of the cliff. From here, we had a great view of the valley and the old track down to the ruins of Fort Saganne. He gave us a terrific explanation of what we looking at but unfortunately, his Mauritanian French was completely beyond me. For another 100 UM (each), we were shown past another piece of string and taken to some rocks with water worn hollows in them. Here, at last, were the paintings of the giraffe and the elephant. I took a picture of the giraffe. It is there but you need to look very carefully. I wanted to imagine that ancient man made these paintings at a time when giraffes and elephants roamed these parts. In all honestly, I have no idea where they came from or how they were made. The man was very friendly and when, in my terrible French, I asked about parking up for the night, there was no problem at all. Just a modest 300 UM (for both of us). There were no facilities but it made for a quiet night because there was no way he was going to let any unpaid visitors past his piece of string.  A pleasant view and some peace is all we really need for a perfect sleeping spot.

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Next day we arrived back in Atar for some fuel and then set off on the long desert trek back to Morocco. Part way through the afternoon there was a hissing noise. We had left the road and were cutting NW back towards the train line. 500km of open desert, dunes and rocks lay in front of us and we had a puncture. We drive on Michelin XZL tyres. They are tough, ideally suited for the terrain and in 18 months of driving, we had never had a problem. But, a couple of months earlier, we had gouged a lump out of the sidewall of one of the tyres. The sidewall can be a bit vulnerable, especially when using deflated tyres off road. This one looked to have survived the damage up until now when, of all times, it finally let go. Find some level ground. Park up. Handbrake on (called a parking brake on a truck). Jack up the wheel (25t bottle jack). Changing a wheel on a truck is like doing one on a car except that everything is bigger, heavier and takes longer. Unicat had taken me through the procedure (thanks Valentin). All I needed to do was remember the instructions and not feel too intimidated about being so far out in the desert. It all went well. I even lifted the wheel onto the studs first time. Finally, just as the sun set, I tightened up the wheel nuts with the truly massive torque wrench. It is over a metre long. We were both tired, grubby, hot and sweaty but happy. By the time we had packed everything away darkness was falling so we cracked open a celebratory bottle of wine (technically illegal in Mauritania) and settled down for the evening.

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Just after lunchtime the following day, we reached the railway line. It felt like an old friend here to show us the way home. Three or four trains a day rumbling past held out the possibility of rescue. I have no idea if it is really feasible but I imagined that if we got into trouble then somehow we could wave down a train and be saved. Because of this, the noise and vibration of the trains became a source of comfort, a friendly sound. We knew the way and what to expect. We waved at a few nomads and glimpsed some Polisario on the far side of the track. They beckoned to us but were clearly carrying rifles so we waved back but pressed on. Now that we had changed a wheel we no longer had a spare so it was vital we did not get another puncture. Careful, steady driving. Avoid the rubbish by the side of the rails especially the discarded suspension springs, bolts and the shards of steel that flake off the tracks.

The route steadily unwound before us. The Dunes of Azeffal were magnificent like before. We sneaked past the villages like locals and politely handed over our details at the checkpoints. Two days later, we were back on tarmac approaching Nouadibou and the Moroccan border. The crossing would be best tackled in the morning so we started looking for a parking spot. Just then, we bumped into Dwight and Lucy coming the other way in their Unicat. We knew they were in the region and it was great that our paths actually crossed. We stopped and chatted for an hour or so. They have a beautiful 4WD truck that they are driving to South Africa before shipping it to South America. An epic trip is ahead. We wish them a safe and enjoyable journey.

Next morning our Mauritanian fixer was on a mission. He literally ran between the various buildings to get our exit sorted. Half an hour later we picked our way through the ever-disconcerting no-man’s land to the Moroccan compound where we were directed to the scanner. A big x-ray machine designed to scan a whole truck. We queued. We drove into the shed and we were asked for papers that we did not have. So, the whole queue of trucks had to back up while they got us out and we set off in search of the correct papers. A couple of hours and much asking around later we were ready and back in scanner queue that was much longer now. Then entire border was closed for an hour while they had lunch but eventually, after about four hours, we were through and back into safe, friendly Morocco.

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