After three days in the broiling heat and dust of Bamako the Mauritanian authorities finally gave us our visa to enter the country. So we set off again and bush camped in virtually the same places, and met up with our old friends the Mauritanian Border Guards, who told us they have to send quite a few tourists back to Bamako for their visas.

Obviously since the military coup security is perceived to be a bit of a problem and although stops by the police or Gendarmerie are nowhere near as frequent as in Cameroon or Nigeria, they still get pretty irksome especially as in Mauritania they demand copies of what they call “your fiche”, which is basically all your details including religion, mothers maiden name, fathers Christian name, passport details etcetera etbloodycetera.

We had had 25 photocopies of these made in Namibia having been warned by other travelers but they ran out in 2 days. We then played a silly game as to who (Janet or me) could get away with handing the most stupid photocopy of anything to the police.

I won as my Yellow Fever vaccination certificate was gratefully accepted by the police as evidence that I was not a security threat.

Mauritania is not a country which comes oft recommended for a long weekend but its desert formations are actually quite stunning, and there are loads of places to camp all of which are safe, quiet, and ideal for star gazing. We usually pull up for camp at around 4.30pm as this gives plenty of time for the statutory visit from the local headman. It doesn’t matter how far you think you are away from civilisation you always get a visit and once pleasantries have been exchanged you know you are under the personal care of the Headman and no one else will bother you.

Food is a bit of a problem as the concept of restaurants is not well understood outside the major cities, and shops selling basic comestibles are not well advertised. Occasionally you can find bread, but this is made with sand rather than flour so although filling it is not really nutritious or appetizing.

Nouakchott (the Capital) is however a different kettle of fish and the cuisine is haute. Strangely however although the waters around Mauritania are teeming with fish, all the catch goes to canneries in the Canary Islands who then sell it back to the Mauritanians. I am not sure who set this system up but it really does defy any economic logic, and it means any hope you may have of obtaining fresh produce is sumararily dashed.

Visas for Mauritania now cost 45 pounds for a 10 day transit and in the heat of the summer it is difficult to spend more than a few days in the country. The nights are severely uncomfortable since mosquitoes abound, so windows are shut, and the external temperature even at midnight is an amazing 28 degrees C. Even though we have a fan it is like being in a fan assisted oven.

From Nouakchott it was on to Noudibou right in the top corner and close to the Moroccan border. Mauritania and Morocco are old enemies and there is still some lingering animosity caused by Mauritanian support of rebels against the annexation of South West Sahara by Morocco some years ago. Anyway the border has about 3 kilometres of no-mans land across a really rough and rocky piste. It is reputed to be mined on either side of the track so it is not recommended either to seek a better line, or to seek a comfort break away from the immediate roadside.

Luckily we were right behind a French Camping Car so we followed his tracks to the inch, although there were literally dozens of Camels wandering freely all over the terrain, and none of them appeared to be uni-dexters, so maybe as ever the stories are apocryphal..

Once in to Morocco, our epic journey has all but ended, as the place is simply full of huge French Mobile homes, and there is really very little sense of adventure.

We are still looking forward however to the High Atlas region as we missed it last time round and Spring is supposed to be stunning…we will see.  

temperature even at midnight is an amazing 28 degrees C. Even though we have a fan it is like being in a fan assisted oven.

From Nouakchott it was on to Noudibou right in the top corner and close to the Moroccan border. Mauritania and Morocco are old enemies and there is still some lingering animosity caused by Mauritanian support of rebels against the annexation of South West Sahara by Morocco some years ago. Anyway the border has about 3 kilometres of no-mans land across a really rough and rocky piste. It is reputed to be mined on either side of the track so it is not recommended either to seek a better line, or to seek a comfort break away from the immediate roadside.

Luckily we were right behind a French Camping Car so we followed his tracks to the inch, although there were literally dozens of Camels wandering freely all over the terrain, and none of them appeared to be uni-dexters, so maybe as ever the stories are apocryphal..

Once in to Morocco, our epic journey has all but ended, as the place is simply full of huge French Mobile homes, and there is really very little sense of adventure.

We are still looking forward however to the High Atlas region as we missed it last time round and Spring is supposed to be stunning…we will see.