Dakhla-Guerguerat
05.01.2019
Last evening I finally met up with Adrian and Fabian. The two guys from Switzerland are travelling with their Bicycles from Cape to Cape (www.cape2cape.org) and we’ve been in contact for a lot of time. They were once three weeks behind me but they didn’t rest as long as I did and so we finally meet.
We have a lot of Stories and things to share but we are all tired and after a good Dinner we go to our hotels. Somehow we will meet again anyway. Our Route is quite similar.
Today I drive off again, alone. Jorge already left yesterday, he had had his rest and didn’t want to wait for me. Nothing unusual under Bikers. We are individualists and live to our own rhythm. We meet, we cycle together, we separate again. I hope I will catch up with him again, I really enjoyed his company.
The wind is strong today, all against me and even as I turn again to south, the wind is still against me. At a resting place, I ask for a place to pitch my tent, but they send me another six kilometres in the next Village. There, a friendly restaurant owner allows me to pitch my tent next to his restaurant. Doing his duty, he informs the gendarmes about my stay.
I am already busy setting up my tent as he tells me, that the cops don’t allow me to stay here. I have to drive another 40km to the next police station. Fuck you, I did 80 Kilometres against the wind today and I simply can’t do another 40 until sunset.
A gendarme appears. Come with me, he’s says. There is a station 15km away he says. Ok, I say. 15km is possible, I say. Another 8km he says after 13 km.
Now we have a problem my friend, I don’t believe you. Another car with a cop arrives. He stops a truck for me and we load my bike on the truck and my baggage in the tiny car of the cop. At sunset, we arrive finally at the Station. Luckily, nothing more than some small scratches on the paint happened to it.
I can’t cook here, as the flame of my cooker is too big, it is a gas Station here. But I am allowed to use the kitchen of the Café. Perfect.
Another two days and I arrive in the last city before Guerguerat. There was a small Café in the middle of nowhere, where I got something to eat and could sleep in the prayer room.
In the city, I meet Jakob again. He and his friends are waiting for the Diesel to be delivered and so we spend the time talking.
I also go to a mechanic shop. My pannier is folding and I don’t want it to bend into the spokes so, I am looking for a metal plate to fix it. But there is none. Instead, the mechanics put a stick with to cable zippers on the rack and somehow it works. At least it prevents from getting into the spokes. Depannage Marocaine they say.
Finally the Diesel arrives and it is a pleasure to look at the trucks that all to try to get in line first, remembering me on a fucked up Tetris game.
As they are all full again, Jakob and his friends leave. Goodbye old friend. Bonne route.
My tent is pitched up in the Atrium of a hotel and since it is my birthday today, I buy myself a treat. A roasted chicken with fries.
The next day arrive early in Guerguerat, I get a place in some tent pavilion and make use of the time and write to all my old friends. I won’t have a good internet connection once I am in Mauretania.
I get up early in the morning and go to the border. Many people are already waiting for their passports to be stamped. They don’t wait in line, they just put the passport on a stack and so one after the other is called.
Then I have to go to the police office and finally I can leave Morocco into the no man’s land to Mauritania.
There is a street, on the left side a long row of trucks waiting, while the right side is free. Senegalese’s are selling phone cards and change money. I trade my last dirham and go off.
There is the minefield, not even a kilometre long. It is basically a very bad piste and there are a lot of tracks which I can follow. Only some car wrecks remember me that there are still land mines.
It doesn’t take too long to cross it, however, it takes a long time to get my Visa and my Passport stamped. There is a sign at the door of the Visa office: First come, First serve. Hahaha. It’s rather the colour of the bill that lays in the passport.
Finally being called into the office, the officers take their time, drinking tea and chatting with some women. Enough time for me to check out the stickers from the travellers hanging on the wall behind the officer’s desk.
Then I get the Visa. At least I am with my turban on the picture.
Nevertheless, there is another formality to do. I have to stamp my passport in the Police office too.
Same system here. A little green bill, vanishing in the pockets of the officer makes you passing pretty fast. I don’t. And as I mention that I travel by bike, I have to wait even longer as it needs a special enregisterement. At two o’clock I finally leave the office. And I see Mauretania. A sand desert and a lot of garbage after the border. Then there is only sand left and I head off in this unknown country. In Nouadhibou, I want to take the famous ore train to Choum. But that’s another story and you can find it here.
