Mauritania and Sénégal — The Great Escape

Although Morroco was a nice introduction to Africa, it was just a pleasant walk in the park comparing to what was lying ahead. After a couple of nights in Dakhla ; Western Sahara ; It was time to head to Mauritania. There will be three of us crossing that stretch of land. Myself, Charlie and Jacques travelling on a heavy loaded Africa Twin is joining us. I have been trying to imagine this border crossing for months. Morocco and Mauritania are separated with a 7km band of No Man’s land, a really strange place to be. Lots of sand and rocks, no real track, a beating sun, and to make matter more interesting, the whole place is scattered with landmines. Easy peasy.

Harriet on her side - our first fall out of many to come !

It didn’t take me long to get Harriet on her side, sand wasn’t going to be my friend. I got the bike back up, and left without further ado, trying to follow any local car that would pass by, to avoid the mines, rock riding like there is no tomorrow. Needless to say I was glad to arrive on the other side.

After a couple of hours sorting out the visa and laissez-passer I was in. We headed towards Nouadibhou to spend the night. Mauritania was a continuation of Western Sahara, all about wind and sand. The wind was actually getting quite strong, so much that I had to fight constantly with it, the sand beating my face.

The crossing of Mauritania would only be a matter of a few days, just transiting, allowing myself a day of rest by the beach in Nouakchott, where I met other overlanders, it was nice to exchange stories and travel plans.

Finding petrol wasn’t that easy has it’s probably the only African country where they don’t have bike. Cars driving around are absolutely smashed ; mostly old Mercedes ; headlamp missing or hanging out, body panel repaired with mastic, windscreen completely broken, that is when there is still a windscreen, and all sorts of modifications…running with all sort of fuel.

If there is one thing when I will be back to Europe is I won’t feel guilty about driving a petrol nor diesel car anymore. The problem is somewhere else and electric cars isn’t the answer, it has never been. And this is just proving itself out the further I travel through West Africa.

Riding out of Nouakchott wasn’t pleasant, with an average temperature of 40 deg, in my riding gear, stuck in traffic, struggling to breathe, the air being so polluted. I was glad to make it out of town. That day I was going to cross into Senegal and it is known to be the most corrupted border crossing. This was going to be a long day but I was determined to make it to St Louis that night. After an exhausting boarder crossing, we were finally in Senegal. It was 18:00 by the time we cleared customs and this was going to be a race against the sun. Lost in advance. I am thankful the Senegalese roads are good, riding at night would have been a terrible idea otherwise.

We made it to the Zebra Bar past 20:00, I was so glad to arrive and see Barbara and Koni there, I met them first in Nouadibhou and then Nouakchott, it was good to see familiar faces after such an hectic day ( oh Yes and I crashed again in sand that day, I guess a little bit of entertainment for the people of a village I was passing by..not quite mastering the art of riding in sand - yet )

Riding down from St Louis to the Lac Rose next to Dakar was set to be an uneventful day and easy ride. The landscape are much greener than Mauritania, no more wind and sand, the road is really good. We pass through little villages, people selling fruits on little stalls, waiting for buses, riding their cart towed by a donkey..

Bivouac before crossing the Mauritanian border

All is good till..a dog decide to throw himself under my front wheel, breaking or not it's too late anyway, I go down with the bike, and slide on about 10 metres, as I see the bike sliding away I think this is the end of the trip. I turn around looking for the dog, he is on the other side of the road, screaming of pain, I get up, run to the bike, a local had stopped to help me out to pick it up and push it to the side. Harriet seems okay apart from a severe scratch on the bash plate and tank but it hasn't break thankfully. I am all good, was well protected with the gear and just ended up with a few bruises.

Senegalese people were really helpful and trying to reassure me, a policeman arrived shortly after making sure I was okay too. Charlie who was riding ahead of me didn't see me fall and came back sometimes later after some people had gone chasing him without I even ask, but I guess two white people on big motorbike are not that common and they just made the connection.

Made some friends freshly arrived in Senegal .

I was upset, someone had called the dog from the other side of the road, causing drama and had now left, I was more upset for the dog than for myself. Not knowing what to do, we left, I needed some sugar, I was complete wet out of sweat. We rode on to the next town were we stopped for petrol and something to drink..although my bike was freshly scratched, not looking the best with ripped panniers and dirt, the pump attendant seriously wanted to buy my bike, convincing him that wasn't going to be possible because I was going to South Africa. This was going to be a recurrent theme wherever I stop.

Tonight we would stopped by the Lac Rose, the first important Milestone of the trip. The finish line of the Paris-Dakar Rally. At least, I would have made it here.

EN FRANÇAIS

Bien que le Maroc est été une bonne introduction à l’Afrique, c’était une promenade dans le parc compare a ce qui m’attendaot. Apres deux nuits passées a Dakhla, Il était temps de se mettre en route pour la Mauritanie.

Nous ferons la traverser a trois, moi-meme, Charles et Jacques qui voyage sur une Africa Twin plutôt chargée, se joint a nous. Cela fait des mois que j’imagine ce passage de frontière. Le Maroc et la Mauritanie sont séparés par une parcelle de terre de 7km de large, le “No Man’s Land”, un endroit plutôt étrange. Beaucoup de sable et de rocher, pas vraiment de chemin, un soleil de feu et histoire de rajouter un poil de piment, l’endroit est parsemé de mines ! Cela ne m’a pas pris longtemps pour coucher Harriet, le sable n’allait pas être mon ami. Je relève la moto avec de l’aide, et repars sans attendre mon reste, essayant de suivre des voitures locales pour éviter les mines. Bonne introduction a la conduite off-road.

Après deux heures passée à régler le visa et laissez passer, j’étais en Mauritanie. Nous nous dirigeons vers Nouadhibou pour passer la nuit. La Mauritanie est une continuation du Sahara Occidentale, vent et sable. Le vent devenait de plus en plus fort, tellement qu’il fallait se battre constamment, roulant incliner pour ne pas se faire dégager a la premiere rafale plus forte.

La traversée de la Mauritanie ne sera qu’une question de quelques jours. Trouver de l’essence n’est pas si evident, il faut faire le tour de 3/4 stations service. Il s’agit probablement du seul pays africain ou il n’y a pas de moto. Quant aux voitures c’est à se demander comment roulent elles encore..les réparations les plus originales, du phares complètement absent, à celui qui pendant comme un oeil hors de son orbite, parebrise fissuré, quand il en reste encore un, ce n’est meme pas la pin d’aborder la question de la carrosserie, encore moins de la peinture. Roulant avec toute sorte de carburant non identifies. Une chose est sûre, je ne me sentirai plus coupable de rouler au diesel ou a l’essence une fois de retour en Europe. Le problème est ailleurs et la voiture électrique n’a jamais été une solution et ne le sera jamais.

La sortie de Nouakchott n’a pas été facile, avec une température de 40deg, mon équipement de moto sur le dos la pollution qui rend l’air irrespirable. J’étais contente une fois sortie. La journée allait être longue, mais j’étais déterminée à arriver à St Louis ce soir. Après une traversée de frontière assez fatigante, nous étions enfin au Sénégal. Il était 18h, cela allait s’annoncer compliqué d’arriver avant la nuit tombée. Nous arrivons au Zebra Bar au sud de St Louis 20h passé. J’étais contente d’être arrivée et de voir des visages familiés, Barbara et Koni, rencontrés a Nouadibhou, étaient aussi là !

Après une journée de repos bien méritée, nous nous mettons en route pour Dakar, le Lac Rose. Les paysages deviennent de plus en plus vert et la route est excellente. Nous passons par des petits villages, des étalages de fruits, des gens attendent le bus, certain conduisent leur charrette tractée avec un âne. Ce qui aurait du être une journée sans événement changea rapidement lorsque un chien décida de se jeter sous ma roue avant, entraînant une chute immédiate, je glisse avec la moto sur plusieurs mètres. Sur le moment je me dis que c’est la fin du voyage. Quelqu’un avait appelé le chien depuis l’autre côté de la route, et avait maintenant disparu. J’étais plus contrariée pour le chien que pour moi même. Ne sachant pas quoi faire et sous pression que quelqu’un allait finir par arriver et réclamer de l’argent nous repartons après avoir donner de l’eau au chien..et il me fallait du sucre et à boire, j’étais trempé de sueur . Bien que la moto ne soit pas sous son meilleur jour, un attendant à la station service était déterminé à acheter Harriet, un thème qui deviendra récurent.