This time I headed south my mind made up to go to Mauritania. It had been a plan before but some pangs of doubt had made me dither. The plan was to sell the car but the length of the journey and the insecurity of whether we would get a buyer made me think twice. But buoyed by the film success and the confirmed company on the trip of Mohamed and Henry who had arrived recently from Germany, the adventure was on.
Leaving behind the civilization of Agadir and after another memorable stop in Taroudant to see Khalid, we set off south soon getting to the gate of the Sahara, otherwise known as Goulmime. From there we set off through the immensity of the desert plains through Tan-Tan where Med
showed us that he was a keen footballer as well as a stoner. I don't think me or Henry had ever seen him move so fast!! We then ate some harira soup and headed south. We stayed with Med's cousin in Laayoune a night, filled with army personnel and secret police. I am told the UN base there is fully tapped and that their work is altogether hampered by Morocco. (Historical Note. Morocco occupied the territory peacefully when 300,000 people walked into the area in what has been called the Green March. Ten years of war ensued with the unofficially elected government of the Western Sahara, the Polisario being backed by Morocco's neighbour, Algeria. An uneasy peace was reached under the tenure of the UN and still holds to this day, though 200,000 refugees in Tindouf and increasing human rights violations by Morocco on the native Saharauis have the Polisario on the brink of war again).
We rode the next few police checkpoints where the cops ask you your job to check if you are not a journalist (as if you would tell them at all!) and also to make sure you don't die in the desert. We never had any real problems and getting to Dahkla at night a fruitless search for a hostel for 2 hours led to us sleeping at the beach outside town. Some drives around town and a day more at the beach and soon it was time for the guys to head back to Ouarzazate. We embraced and I headed south, alone...
Obviously I am not as good a timekeeper as I would like to be and I soon found that out to my chagrin as I got to the last filling up station a bit too relaxed!! My casual style showed me up as I
decided I would have no time to reach the border where I was to sell my car. I then decided to visit a nearby fishing village which was prettily endowed with colourful fishing boats straddled on the seashore and its own cute little harbour to shelter it from a passing storm. Soon. I started chatting to the local nurse and he got me in touch with the naval officer in charge of the port. Between them they furnished me with a sizey fresh fish and a homemade barbie. I put them to good use outside my car and put up my tent, staying right beside their quarters and overlooking the beach. Cooking the fish, which I ate with bread and oil, I thought how lucky I was and soon was in deep sleep again.
The next morning I awoke and having said goodbye set off for the frontier, but not before a long walk over the dunes which was fascinating apart from the rubbish strewn across them
unfortunately habitual along Morocco's coastline. After stopping to check a few more things and getting offered more money I drove to the frontier arriving there with an hour to go before they shut the frontier for the night. That meant I ended up chatting to some of the taxi-drivers and getting invited to tea as I started to gel in to my surroundings and find a spot to sleep for the night. I thought if I gave myself the whole day it would bode well for selling the vehicle in the no man's land and then returning.
It was then that I met a really cool French couple who had just come from hitching through Senegal and Mali. I took to them right away, as I do quite easily with the French travellers, who are clearly the coolest, especially in Francophone countries, and soon we were chatting and laughing into the night as we sat eating some food donated to us by the Moroccan military at the border control.
The next morning I would have returned with them northwards if I had only sold the Clio at the frontier, for which I was immediately offered 5000 dirhams. I rose the price to 6000 after this endless tactic of just shaking your head and walking away only for the prospective buyer to come running back and offer you a higher price. It works both ways for buying and selling I suppose, except they are the ones who do the running all the time.
We carried on this process encouraged by a Senegal-residing French expat obviously making big money with a brand new humvee waiting for him at the frontier on his way to Marrakesh.
In the end we got stuck at 5000dirhams and I thought I would make my decision at the
no-man's land itself as I awaited it with a mixture of apprehension and excitement. A land without law or identity seemed to encourage my furtive imagination but as I went through yet another control I met a Moroccan guy who was to change my direction altogether. Proposing I drive with him to Nouakchott, the Mauritanian capital, he said he would get me the best price. I was soon convinced and as we passed through the frontier he brokered the deal at 650 euros, at least a third more than what I was going to receive from the other guy. All we had to do was pass the frontier (itself a time-consuming process as these big black customs officers in army apparel badgered me about offering me a measly 300 euros for the car) and then drive to the capital. After driving through endless desert that spanned on all sides for 400km we got to the capital of the relatively new country of Mauritania.
Here we were greeted with machine-gun toting soldiers looking for escaped terrorists. Without insurance we were feeling awkward until our inside police contact met with us at the first of three checkpoints and in his long flowing white Saharaui robes indicated for us to follow him. Getting waved through the controls we were eventually led to a hostal where we were given the cash and had our passports confiscated.
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