Nouakchott, Mauritania to St. Louis, Senegal
210 miles / 335 km
Wx: Clear skies, mild.
As we were staying at a fairly nice Auberge in town I though I might be able to get a decent nights sleep for once. However, thanks to the f’kn rooster that started crowing at 3:30 am that’s not going to happen. Where is a Colonel Sanders when you need him? Well about the time the rooster settles down from his sudden surprise that the sun is coming up yet again today, it is time for, you guessed it, the bloody mosque to start blaring the 5:00 am call to prayer. At least in a tent in the middle of nowhere it is quiet. Oh well I might as well get up.
The plan for today is to head south out of Nouakchott to the border with Senegal, cross into Senegal and head for the town of St. Louis where we will be having a rest day tomorrow. The only catch is to avoid the border crossing at Rosso which apparently is very seedy and full of corrupt officials who like to hassle well off looking folk until they get their bribe money. Showered, packed and off for some breakfast from the truck. I am sure my fowl induced foul mood will get better once I turn the key and twist the throttle.
We gas up at a nearby petrol station and then wend our way out of town through the absolutely manic morning traffic in Nouakchott. More military checkpoints. It doesn’t take long for the signs of the city to disappear and we are into sandy rolling hills, passing through picturesque little villages along the way. At one point I am following behind a station wagon with four live goats on the roof luggage rack tied in hessian sacks with just their heads sticking out. You gotta love Africa!
Mauritania Village
We have a very pleasant mornings ride through southern Mauritania as the terrain starts to give way from sandy desert to African savannah. We have all been thoroughly warned, numerous times, that we should not go into the border town of Rosso. The guides being sure that trouble will ensue if any of us stray too close to the border crossing. We have all arranged to meet at a petrol station just short of town. We will gas up there and take the sneaky back way out of the Mauritania, down a dirt piste to an alternate border crossing to the west that is not heavily used.
We all stop and gas up at the designated meeting point and take the opportunity to have a little break and get some drinks down our throat. While we are taking our little respite the nearby school lets out for a break. Seeing as 8 motorcycles and riders are a bit of novelty in these parts we are soon surrounded by a mob of children begging for anything and everything. We play with the children for a while, but our guides are getting a bit nervous as it doesn’t take much for a crowd to turn ugly in these parts. So we mount up and head west out of town down the dirt piste.
Kids Gather Around Near Rosso
It is good fun to be back in the dirt after so many miles on the bitumen. We head west until we are well out of town and away from all the people, then stop for lunch where we are sure we won’t draw another crowd.
After lunch we continue down the piste and everyone is having a great old time. Mihir almost has another ‘off’ as he nearly loses control going over a dirt berm on the trail. Matt and I take the opportunity to get some air on a few small jumps. Great fun!
Wern Looking For The 4×4 Through The Blowing Sand
We eventually come to the end of the trail where it winds through a national park then on to a border crossing station between Mauritania and Senegal. The park guides extort a small ‘entrance fee’ from us as we pass through, finally getting to the border crossing.
Approaching The Mauritania Border Post
The strategy by the officials at these border crossing seems to be to tell us there will be a long wait and try to wear us down until we cough up a bit of bribe dosh to hurry the process up. It is no different here on the Mauritania side and we end up waiting around before finally coming across with bribe money for no less than three different sets of officials and that is just to get OUT of the country. Once through the Mauritania crossing it is on to the Senegal side and more waiting around. More children, in lesser numbers, gather around to play as Wern goes inside to sort out all the paperwork. Finally through, we head south towards St. Louis the former colonial capital of Senegal.
Senegalese Children At The Border
We have been told the police here are very strict with the tourist types. They are not as corrupt but the will get you the every extent the law allows, like not putting on your indicator as you pull to the side of the road for a paperwork check. So forewarned we all proceed towards St. Louis in an orderly fashion sticking below the speed limit, which seems a hideously painful exercise.
As we near some towns and villages the contrast between ‘Black Africa’ in Senegal and the ‘Arab Africa’ is like night and day. Arab Africa seemed glum and restrained and you rarely ever saw any of the women. Here is Senegal it is like we are in a different world, everyone is dressed in bright colours, there is music everywhere, people are dancing and enjoying themselves, and the women are gorgeous! Go Senegal!
Well sure enough, on the way into town we are pulled over by the police who want to check all our paperwork. We all politely signal as we pull to the side of the road. The cop is friendly, polite and officious as he checks everyone’s documents. Bingo, paydirt! Seems Mihir does not have his international drivers license with him. A nice hefty fine for the officer.
With all the hold ups at the border we are running a bit late and it is starting to get dark as we pull into St. Louis. The streets are mayhem, with people going in every direction. We stop to take in the city skyline as the sun sets. Beautiful.
St. Louis At Sunset
Getting Dark, More Miles To Cover
Unfortunately, we are not staying in town and we have a few more miles to go to get to Zebrabar, our camp ground for the next couple nights. Now it is getting very dark and difficult to see. We head out of the city until the tarmac runs out and we are back onto some very badly potholed dirt roads, always fun in the dark. Wern’s strategy seems to be let’s go infuriatingly slow on the smooth tarmac and crazy fast in the dark over the pot-holed dirt tracks. What the?
Well we finally arrive at our campground and dump our stuff in our bungalows and sit down to some dinner and a few beers. I trundle off to bed at a reasonable hour with the fervent hope that there are no roosters in the area. Since we have a rest day tomorrow some of the lads stay up for a bit of madness knowing we don’t have to be up early in the morning.
Ahhhh another fun day on the bikes.
The Lads Having Some Late Night Fun.
Don’t worry if you can’t understand Niall. Nobody can understand Niall.
