Mauritania

Next it was the border exiting Western Sahara. We arrived mid-afternoon but decided to sit tight until morning so that we would be able to utilise the full three days of the visa in Mauritania. We parked the Pinky Ponk right in front of the border gates once it was shut so we were in poll position. So next mornng, as we headed off into 6 km of trackless, mined, no-mans land, we had no-one to follow!! We had been told to keep left, but how left? Needless to say we didn't go left enough and got stuck in deep sand. Before we could even loosen the waffle boards, a truck load of Mauritanians appear from the opposite direction and pushed us back onto the right 'track'. From then on I walked in front to check for sand so we made it safely to the Mauritanian border. It wasn't as daunting as we expected - they just wanted money for everything 20 euros per visa, 10 euros for the car etc. We tried our magic tea - not good, the general opinion was why would I want tea when I can have money instead - they were obviously not as stupid as we were.

We decided to skip Nouadhibou, the most northerly town in Mauritania as we were scared we might not have time to get to the border. We headed straight on down the coast towards Nouakchott. Within a few miles we hit an intense sand-storm, poor Pinky could only just manage 70km/h against the wind. We saw a sign for a steam train and thought 'how quaint' then heard the bdum, dbum of train tracks and then a very loud train whistle! Luckily, in our ignorance, we'd crossed the tracks just seconds before one of the world's longest and slowest trains carrying potassium ore would have blocked our route for hours. I got out to try to take a photo but it hurt so much that I got straght back in again.

We managed to drive the 470km to Nouakchott that day and we booked into an 'auberge' in the city. It was really quite sophisticated, patisseries everywhere selling millefeuilles and baguettes and Lebanese restaurants. The sand on the main highways made driving quite difficult and many of the cars had lost almost every body panel, light, doors etc - it was like Mad Max. Right from the border, Mauritania appears to be a car graveyard, the roads littered with completely totalled vehicle and it was in Nouakchott that we realised they lived their final years in a half death-like existance.

We got completely lost on the way out the next morning, we toured the huge slum area to the south. At one point we passed a goat market so we got out to have a look. Within a couple of minutes, Mick had apparently agreed to by one and it was being tied up for transportation. The farmer was most agrieved when we explained that there really wasn't any room in a R4 for a goat.