Enter Sand Land

Charlie looking for beer. There was none

Joep&Angelique

We spend the last day of the year at the free camperpark in  Dakhla, which sits at a beautiful sandy bay and is just perfect for kitesurfing, atv riding or strolls at the beach. That day, there was a perfect mix of  young and older people and after Tony & Charlie improvised a delicious fish and chicken bbq, we had a great night at the fireplace together with Joep & Angelique, who arrived in their red minivan, and a truly international mix of mostly surfers. Luckily for us, there was plenty of alcohol, because we were unable to find some.

New Year at Dakhla

Next morning I broke up camp, but I didn't succeed in waking the other 2. Tony Gahegan was in some sort of a coma, probably induced by drinking too many of the strange brew with suggarcubes some hippie frenchmen fed him. This guy all fed us a alcohol soaked suggarcube to put on our tongue, but as the taste was realy awful and it actualy burned your tongue, most of us just spit it out. Not so Tony, he loved the stuff.
So off I went, to the border of Mauritania, I would see the guys in a few days surely, and it's nice to be on the road alone.

The Moroccon side went easy and quick and I passed a group of about 10 Italians on BMW's into the no man's land. I passed here last year so I thought I knew what to expect, but as there are about 20 different tracks and I had taken a different track from last time, it all went wrong. This time there was nothing but sand. It went alright till the 3rd sandpit, then the bold rear tire spinned out, but luckily the sand made for a soft landing. I wasn't able to get the bike up by myself and this could be a problem in the future, as this surely isn't the last spill.

This is were I stayed that night on my way to Nouakchott. I didn't want to go to Nouadhibou (or as charlie call's it:"No Idea Boo" which is a better name for it) as it is a sandy shithole, like most places in Mauritania actually.

Mum said I could sleep in one of the rooms, which all 5 where filled with mats, pillows, garbage and children, lots of children. I stopped counting at 7, there were probably more. So she cleaned out a room, and I was set for the night. Next day remained the 400 km to Nouakchott while strong crosswinds swept the sand over the road and into my helmet, it was truly a hard time on the bike, and by the minute I loved Mauritania more and more.

Brutal crosswinds towards Nouakchott

 So now I am at auberge Menata ,where I met Richard Meek on his little Yamaha Serow and the Spanish couple we already saw in Dakhla. Next days is bike maintenance and visa's before we set course to Mali via the 'route de l'espoir' or how it is now called: the 'route de Al Qaida'