Nouakchott, Mauritania

We have reached the capital of Mauritania, and civilisation of a sort, after four wonderful days of desert driving. Western Sahara became emptier, the checkpoints fewer until we reached the border, the place all bad officials are sent for punishment. It took an hour for them to stamp the passports, then a customs check, then Officer with Big Hat check, then final check from Man in Uniform Under Tree.

 First Camp

There followed about 5km of appalling wasteland, the track unmaintained due to bad relations between Morocco and Mauritania. The surface is rock and sand, and for added interest, runs through a minefield. Naturally this is where Land Rover chose to get bogged. We risked being highly embarrassed by the French convoy of 2WD vehicles we knew was following, so we were very fast with shovel and sand ladders. 

[ P.S. When we reached Nouakchott we heard the news that another Discovery, driven by two French men, hit a land mine less than a week previously, and the passenger died; apparently due to a navigation error in the border zone].

On the Mauritanian side, the routine was repeated, the officers friendly, barefoot in huts full of flies. First hut asked for a present; second sold visas; third sold customs clearance (and a free rundown on all the Irish football players they knew). Insurance would wait - we were free, and wasted no time getting to the coast and a nice spot on the beach to camp.

There is a well paved road to the South now, but the next day we left it find a camping spot behind a dune 6km from the road - the best spot yet, with shelter and a line of dunes for Jason to run in the morning. 

We continued off-road the next day, knowing that if we turned East we could pick up the paved road. We made about 65kms, occasionally getting stuck, but nothing too bad. Sometimes there were tyres or other markers of an old piste, but with the new road, it is not in use much.

It was worth the diversion for a meeting with a desert traveller, dressed in sky blue on a fine camel. He jumped down to shake hands. We had no language in common, but he accepted an apple, then went to his camel and took a metal bowl and rinsed it, then half filled it with camel milk. It was quite nice, a bit sweet and tangy. I took some Polaroids of his camel, and he insisted on one of himself without the beast and was delighted with the result.

Later we ran into serious dunes and had to back track, using the GPS. In the end, when we got to the tarred road we were only 40km from our morning camp, but had a great Sahara day. Now we will stay overnight to get our Mali visas in the morning, and turn East.

Spanish Sahara

Agadir is Morocco's Costa del Sol, in other words the fifth circle of hell. The best that can be said is that we enjoyed our first beer since arrival in Africa, and the sunset. 

Steffi's last evening in Morocco, on the beach at Agadir

After Monday night at a hotel on the tourist strip, Jason and I dropped Steffi to the airport, and then visited a big Cash & Carry to stock up. It rained during the night, and the earth is an even richer red than usual. We made good miles South on a narrow but well surfaced road, and overnighted at Tan Tan beach. We'd intended to camp, but the wind was too strong for the roof tent, and rather than seek shelter it was easier to take a room at a fairly basic camp site, Sable d'Or. 

Today there are less villages, less goats, and more camels. Drifts of sand come across the road and there are multiple police checkpoints as we enter the Moroccan occupied territory of Western Sahara, formally Spanish Sahara. Diesel is much cheaper here (about 40c per litre). We are now in Layoune, but will make a few hundred more km today, and camp on the beach I hope. Internet access will probably become less easy as we approach Mauritania.

 

Tight Squeezes in Marrakesh

The Riad Caed Rassou is the fanciest place we have stayed in Morocco, costing about as much as all the other lodging together. It has rose petals on the bed, and a standoffish black scottie in the courtyard. From the roof we had the wonderful sight of forty storks wheeling above. 

Marrakesh does not have the charms of Fez, but it used to have a wildness that made it fascinating. Unfortunately some of that is gone, with the main square, Jemaa El Fnaa, tarted up beyond recognition. It still has Berber bands, child boxers and the like, but is now paved and the food stalls are organised and brightly lit. They are strictly segregated by menu and price - tourists sticking to the kebabs and tajines, and avoiding the goats' head. 

On the way there we got stuck in a human traffic impasse in one of the narrow streets. A cyclist lifted his bike over his head to push through, while those with mopeds just pushed. Just when it was at its worst, a carriage and two horses joined the crush. 

Leaving Marrakesh for Agadir, we have three in the car for the first time. With no back seats, Steffi arranged herself on baggage and pillows and decided it was far more comfortable than sitting in the front.

To Marrakesh

We filled our tank with water from a tap outside the desert lodge. It is pumped up from under the sand and is probably far superior to the bottled stuff. The car drives better with the 70litres, which sits mid-car, good for balance and stability. 

Every so often shepherds wave at us and signal that they want water. Since they've been in the business for thousands of years without depending on passing tourists, I suspect the real reason is boredom alleviation. On the other hand, we found one young chap with a bicycle in the middle of nowhere who was clearly parched and very grateful. 

There has been good rain recently, and the desert looks most un-desertlike, as this photo shows.

We dug out the GPS for the first time to follow a 60km piste that links two tarred roads. It was reassuring to have it pointing ahead at waypoints taken from the guidebook, although in this case, following the line of the valleys, we could not go badly wrong. 

By late afternoon we were following a river valley that runs north/south on the eastern side of the Atlas. It is incredibly fertile, with palms and paddies and orchards where every tree is in bloom. It also has a great collection of kasbahs or fortified homes, and most are picturesquely ruined. We stayed in a restored one near the town of Skoura, which was really fabulous. Our room was high in one of the towers, our bathroom the room beneath; about the only occasion I remember where the bathroom is bigger than the bedroom. The high ceiling is made of rough beams and woven reed. Less than €30 for dinner, bed and breakfast and incredibly peaceful, without even a nearby mosque to disturb the night.

 View from the roof of the Kasbah hotel in Skoura

On Saturday, we continued our journey to Marrakesh, stopping only for a quick visit to the village of Ait Benhaddou, used as a location for various movies, but now a B-grade tourist trap, where most of the inhabitants look (and act) like the mother from The Life of Brian. Still, nice from a distance.

After an extremely torturous journey - four hours for 120km - over the mountains, we arrived at Marrakesh with a couple of hours to spare before Jason flew in. It was enough time to get installed at a fine riad in the old city. It just has a few rooms, run by a French couple. The streets outside are clogged with people, scooters, fruit stalls, stray cats and piles of rubbish so it is wonderful to duck in through the heavy wooden door to find a serene blue-tiled courtyard with a fountain and four orange trees.

Jason has arrived to take over as co-driver

Sahara

East of the Atlas mountains, the sheep and goats have less green stuff. There is hardly a tree to be seen, and the hills show sedimentary folds. They are full of fossils, judging by the number of roadside stalls selling them.

Near the town of Erfoud we turned off the tarred road onto sandy piste, and headed for a mobile phone mast. Beyond we could see white hills, the first big dunes of the Sahara. As we got closer they became red and filled the horizon - this was Erg Chebbi. It was a fine introduction to the desert, if diminished a little by the presence of half a dozen French camper vans. We stayed at Auberge du Sud, being rebuilt after destruction by floods last year. 

By sunset, a couple of obliging camels had delivered us to the highest dune, where we stayed until the evening star appeared.

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Driving into the Atlas

On Wednesday we set off due South from Fes, into the middle Atlas Mountains. We passed some time discussing what we had eaten differently (as I was ill and Stefanie not) and there were pleasant scenes of Cyprus forests as we turned off onto smaller roads. 

Steffi got ticked off by a policeman for not coming to a complete halt at a stop sign, which I admit I did not see either. And in the very next town she got pulled over for apparently doing 72kph in a 60 zone. This was very unfair, as we had just been passed out by every other vehicle on the road, including a bus, and had been driving very slowly all day. Anyway after some discussion the proposed €40 fine was negotiated to €10, and the police directed us to a castellated hotel, where we were the only guests. Behind are orchards, then snow capped mountains and Berber country.

 

Shopping in Fes

The only bad thing about Fes was the attentions of "guides", which became quite tiresome. The first thing to do after parking is to identify the genuine guardian and not the imposters: These will greet you in French, Italian, Spanish etc. You would think that if you are planning a career in annoying tourists one of the basics would be the ability to identify the nationality of a licence plate. 

Pea soup - so good we went back next day

We spent a long time in a perfume shop; Stefanie sampling various oil; I chatting with a young man who wore the clothes and beard of an observant Muslim. He was critical of the political situation in Morocco and the rich/poor divide, but blamed it on the West, and the US in particular. Like many he believes that the US wants to wage war on Islam, for oil. The terrorist attacks in the US and Madrid and London are the work of those governments, as an excuse to invade Muslim countries. I tried to argue that western countries have a free press and independent courts that keep governments from behaving like that, but he just asked how do I really know. 

Mint tea was consumed of course. Whenever we say "sans sucre" there are slightly incredulous looks; and the tea will arrive with four sugar lumps on the side in case we change our mind.

Fes, Morocco

Very leisurely drive to Fes, with plenty of excuses to stop - oranges, pomegranates and olives, all direct from the orchard.

It was Steffi's turn to drive and she soon adjusted to driving a right hand drive car - at least it is 'her' side of the road. The high suspension and roof weight takes getting used to.

Amongst the olive trees, the ground is carpeted with fragrant red/ orange/ white flowers, and teeming with butterflies and birds.

We are staying in the middle of the old part of Fes, no driving today.

Chefchaoen, Morocco

We overnighted at the Queen's Hotel in Gibralter and I'd say it saw its prime at the time of her coronation; we were happy to leave. The crossing to Ceuta, a Spanish enclave in Africa, was smooth, the town Sunday quiet. 

The same cannot be said of the border, which seemed to be under the management of the Marx brothers. One hour and many forms later we were on the road South and could start to enjoy the day. The Rif mountains rear over green fields with sleeping shepherds, almond trees in blossom, cattle ploughing in pairs. It is quite a change from France and Spain, where the countryside is deserted, with even the animals indoors. 

We were flagged down by a family who were out for their Sunday picnic and managed to get their little Renault van wedged in a ravine. I was looking forward to using the winch for the first time, but it was not possible as the nose of the car was a bit buried. In the end it was easy enough to just bounce the car into a better position and drive it out. 

We turned off the road to this little mountain town, which is like a white and blue painted anthill. We parked right outside the medina, the warren of stepped streets in the centre, and found a pension with a bright room on the roof terrace; €10. The owner claims to recognise Con, who's passport copy is on the same page as mine. It's possible. 

The place is completely relaxing, only 10% touristy, the rest full of little workshops and hole-in-the-wall shops. Lovely cafés, no beer, but mint tea and fresh orange juice. This is the view from our room, and the main square.

Unplanned Pause in Guadalajara Garage

The first indication that something was wrong was the dropping fuel guage. I seemed to be using a lot of fuel, even allowing for a strong wind and less than ideal aerodynamics. Then I noticed a suspicous cloud in the rear view mirror.

I pulled in at a petrol station, and found diesel literally pouring from under the car. A fuel line had sheared, and I must have left one third of a tank on the rather nice road that runs south from Soria towards Madrid. It turned out to be the line that returns excess fuel to the tank from the injectors, which is why I had been able to keep running, obliviously.

The station owner was very helpful. No running repairs were possible, and an hour later there was the sad sight of the car up on a transporter for the short run into the Land Rover dealer at Guadalajara. Like yesteray, I arrived just in time for the two hour lunch break, so there was plenty of time to explore town. Slightly down-at-heel, graffitti, chill air, smokey cafes, it felt like Ecuador.

By 5pm a new fuel line had been found and installed and I was on the way. There was no particular reason for it to break, just nine years of vibration at a bend in the metal. I´m happy it happened now and not somewhere remote.

So I was a bit later than planned on the A4 south of Madrid, driving in darkness, which was horrible. For a motorway it has some terrible bends and surfaces, and the combination with speeding cars is not good. I saw several accidents, and one spectacular one must have happened sixty seconds before I arrived- a fuel tanker had jack-knifed in the opposite lanes, come through the barrier, and the cab was lying across the fast lane on my side.

This morning I took back roads through fabulous olive plantations, and have reached Granada, on track to meet Steffi at Malaga airport in a few hours. Tomorrow, Morocco.

Car Stuff

Five countries on one tank. The fill in Naas got me to Spain, just. The low fuel light had been on for about 80 miles when I crossed the bridge to Irun yesterday. There was no sign of a border, but the diesel was suddenly 20c/litre cheaper than France. Managed to get 156 litres into the 150 litre tank, so I think it was pretty empty (surely the pump could not be wrong?). That´s 8.2km/litre, or something less than 20mpg, over the first 1000km.

The coast road to Bilbao twists through the pyrennean foothills, and it worked the suspension hard, resulting in some new and interesting sounds. So today I looked out for a Land Rover garage to have a look at the underside. I found one in Vitoria, and after a couple of hours waiting (a long lunch), they put the car up on the lift. When the mechanic called two others in for a look I suspected the worst, but it turned out they were just admiring the heavy duty engineering, and annouced that it was built like "an armoured car", and the sounds were just the effects of a lot of weight on the back - the sooner I get a good fat passenger up front for balance the better!

Tonight in Soria with Ana and Oscar (and Naas the dog) who send a big ¡hola! to anyone reading who knows them.

Some snaps

Dawn Arrival in St Malo

On the beach near Guernica

The fleet at Bermeo, near Bilbao

Guggenheim Museum, Bilbao

Driving in France - at this time of year anyway - is a real pleasure. Today I covered about 600 miles from Brittany to the Basque country, and am less stressed than by a typical trip from Naas to Dublin. It would be nice to linger in some of the towns I could see beyond the vineyards, but I'm even more keen to get to Africa.

Tonight Biarritz feels very off season, but the Youth Hostel (I'm minding the budget!) is livened up by a school group singing I Will Survive at full volume. Tomorrow looking forward to the coast road to San Sebastian and Bilbao.

If this is Tuesday it must be France

Irish Ferries have redeemed themselves. Although the original ticket to France was 100 euro, because of the cancellation they 1. put me on the ferry to Pembroke in Wales (€127); 2. Gave me €100 for fuel; 3. have agreed to refund for my ferry from Portsmouth to St Malo (£175).

So I had a peaceful night in a cabin on the very impressive MV Pont Avon from Brittany Ferries. It was so calm it felt like we were docked all night.

P.S. My passport arrived from the Algerian embassy a few hours after I left home. So it has been couriered to Stefanie to bring to Malaga. It will come in handy.

Ups and Downs

Cracking win by Ireland over Wales, but sadly Irish Ferries are off their game. The ferry is quite unwell and will not go before Wednesday at the earliest. They offer a "landbridge" alternative which involves a horrible drive from Plymouth to Dover, but it seems the only alternative to stand a chance to get to Malaga by next weekend.

So instead of a leisurely lunchtime departure, it'll be at a dark and icey 5am tomorrow.

"Technical Difficulties"

No passports arrived in the post yesterday, and so I tried visiting the mail centre this morning and the staff had a look, but nothing there either. So it looked like I'd be leaving without the passport and hoping it would catch up.

But, just now Irish Ferries have sent a text message - "due to technical difficulties, tomorrow's 1700 sailing is postponed to Monday...", so there will be a good chance of having the passport after all. And it also means getting to watch the Ireland-Wales rugby match in peace tomorrow.

Luckily I have some flexibility in the schedule, with the first deadline a rendezvous with Stefanie in Malaga next Saturday. But I hope that the MV Normandy is not suffering anything serious after its winter break. Perhaps it's a flat battery or someone has mislaid the keys.

Itinerary

This has been updated after the trip.

I drove the first and last legs alone, and otherwise had co-drivers who flew in to join the adventure at various points.
 

Day		Date		Where		Co-Driver
1		6/2/07		Irl/UK	Ferry to France
2		7/2/07		France	Biarritz
3		8/2/07		Spain	Bilbao
4		9/2/07		Spain	Soria
5		10/2/07		Spain	Gibralter	Steffi
6		11/2/07		Morocco	Chefchouen	Steffi
7		12/2/07		Morocco	Fes	Steffi
8		13/2/07		Morocco	Fes	Steffi
9		14/2/07		Morocco	Midelt	Steffi
10		15/2/07		Morocco	Erg Chebi	Steffi
11		16/2/07		Morocco	Skoura	Steffi
12		17/2/07		Morocco	Marrakesh	Steffi
13		18/2/07		Morocco	Marrakesh	Steffi/Jason
14		19/2/07		Morocco	Agadir	Steffi/Jason
15		20/2/07		Morocco	Tan Tan Beach	Jason
16		21/2/07		Western Sahara	Camp	Jason
17		22/2/07		Mauritania	Camp	Jason
18		23/2/07		Mauritania	Camp	Jason
19		24/2/07		Mauritania	Camp	Jason
20		25/2/07		Mauritania	Camp/Nouakchott	Jason
21		26/2/07		Mauritania	Camp	Jason
22		27/2/07		Mali	Camp	Jason
23		28/2/07		Mali	Camp	Jason
24		1/3/07		Mali	Camp	Jason
25		2/3/07		Mali	Bamako	Jason
26		3/3/07		Mali	Bamako	Jason
27		4/3/07		Mali	Bamako	Steffi
28		5/3/07		Mali	Sévaré	Steffi
29		6/3/07		Mali	Niafunké	Steffi
30		7/3/07		Mali	Niafunké	Steffi
31		8/3/07		Mali	Sévaré	Steffi
32		9/3/07		Mali	Sanga	Steffi
33		10/3/07		Mali	Sanga	Steffi
34		11/3/07		Mali	Sanga	Steffi
35		12/3/07		Mali	Douentza	Steffi
36		13/3/07		Mali	Camp	Steffi
37		14/3/07		Mali	Sévaré	Steffi
38		15/3/07		Mali	Sévaré	Steffi
39		16/3/07		Mali	Segou	Steffi
40		17/3/07		Mali	Bamako	Steffi
41		18/3/07		Mali	San
42		19/3/07		Mali	Djenne	Con
43		20/3/07		Mali	Camp	Con
44		21/3/07		Mali	Camp	Con
45		22/3/07		Mali	Timbuktu	Con
46		23/3/07		Mali	Timbuktu	Con
47		24/3/07		Mali	Timbuktu	Con
48		25/3/07		Mali	Camp	Con
49		26/3/07		Mali	Camp	Con
50		27/3/07		Mali	Camp	Con
51		28/3/07		Niger	Niamey	Con
52		29/3/07		Niger	Camp	Con
53		30/3/07		Niger	Tahoua	Con
54		31/3/07		Niger	Agadez	Con
55		1/4/07		Niger	Agadez	Con
56		2/4/07		Niger	Agadez	Con
57		3/4/07		Niger	Agadez	Con
58		4/4/07		Niger	Agadez	Con
59		5/4/07		Niger	Camp/Arlit	Con
60		6/4/07		Algeria	Camp/An-Guezzam	Con
61		7/4/07		Algeria	Tamanrasset	Con
62		8/4/07		Algeria	Tamanrasset	Con
63		9/4/07		Algeria	Camp	Con
64		10/4/07		Algeria	Camp	Con
65		11/4/07		Algeria	Djanet	Con
66		12/4/07		Algeria	Djanet	Con
67		13/4/07		Algeria	Djanet	Con
68		14/4/07		Algeria	Camp	Con
69		15/4/07		Algeria	Camp	Con
70		16/4/07		Algeria	Camp	Con
71		17/4/07		Algeria	Camp	Con
72		18/4/07		Algeria	Camp	Con
73		19/4/07		Algeria	In Salah	Con
74		20/4/07		Algeria	Ghardaia	Con
75		21/4/07		Algeria	Ghardaia	Con
76		22/4/07		Tunisia	Tozeur	Con
77		23/4/07		Tunisia	Kairouan	Con
78		24/4/07		Tunisia	Hammamet	Con
79		25/4/07		Tunisia	Hammamet	Con
80		26/4/07		Tunisia	Hammamet	Con
81		27/4/07		Tunisia	Ferry to Sicily	Con
82		28/4/07		Italy	Cinisi, Sicily	Steffi
83		29/4/07		Italy	Giardine Naxos	Steffi
84		30/4/07		Italy	Taormina	Steffi
85		1/5/07		Italy	Palermo	Steffi
86		2/5/07		Italy	Cosenza
87		3/5/07		Italy	Agerola
88		4/5/07		Italy	Amelia
89		5/5/07		Italy	Scofiano
90		6/5/07		Switzerland	Lugano
91		7/5/07		Germany	Black Forest
92		8/5/07		Germany	Rhede
93		9/5/07		Germany	Rhede
94		10/5/07		Germany	Rhede
95		11/5/07		Germany	Rhede
96		12/5/07		Germany	Rhede
97		13/5/07		Neth/Belg/France	Ferry to Ireland
98		14/5/07		Ireland	Home