Ek dink ons moet begin werk aan 'n naam vir die boek :biggrin: Dis great dat jy die avontuur kan beleef.
Right Around Africa
- Thread starter jorust
- Start date
adv
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jorust said:I'm not too sure about the guy's expression. Think he's drooling over my bike?atch:
I think he is a little slow
jorust
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adv said:jorust said:I'm not too sure about the guy's expression. Think he's drooling over my bike?
I think he is a little slow
He was a little strange. He asked around when he noted my bike and came to introduce himself. He has SEVEN Africa Twins!
atch:
jorust
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Mauritania to Western Sahara
I settled into my hotel room. It was hot as hell outside and I was really grateful for the air conditioner in my room! I checked in around 05:00pm. Being Ramadan, I knew I would only be able to get food a little later that night. David (the man that handled my paperwork when I crossed the border) kindly offered to bring me some food later on. With accommodation and food sorted, I had a shower and a nap. It had been a long day and I was exhausted! The TV in the room even had movies showing in English! I felt comfortable that I had made the right choice in rather staying than trying to make it to Nouakchott before dark.
Around 09:00pm there was a knock at my door. Yay! David had brought my food, as promised. I was very happy to see him as I hadn’t eaten all day (Ramadan), and I was super hungry! He put the food down on the counter. Grilled chicken with fries and salad!
Though my happy feeling suddenly disappeared when I noticed him closing and locking the door to my hotel room. He then approached me and tried to kiss me. I pushed him away and made it CLEAR that I was not interested. Of course he became even more persistent. He pushed me onto the bed and a wrestling match ensued. I completely lost it and went into ninja mode! I managed to fight him off and started shouting at him and told him to get out! He stood staring at me with wild eyes for a few seconds and then became apologetic all of the sudden, saying: “Excusez-moi. Ce pas moi, c'est mon cœur.” You’re aiming too high asshole! I promise you it’s not your heart! And then he left.
That's him, sitting next to me on the ferry from Senegal
Apart from experiencing intense anger and a few bruises in my neck, I was fine. Even managed to get in some sleep. I was up at 6 again the next morning. I loaded the bike, paid for my room and left for Nouadhibou. I didn’t want to hang around in Mauritania and rode through the country, border to border, in one day. I had been warned about all the security control points on route and came prepared with my “Fiche”. Control points are spaced only a few kilometers from each other and you run into one about every 20 kilometers or so. They’re usually situated before and after towns and villages. What’s different from these control point, in comparison to control points in most of Central and Western Africa is that you MUST stop at the sign that says STOP. This might sound as a given, but all the way up until here I’ve noted that one only stops at a control point if the officer on duty signals you to do so. I didn’t stop at the first sign, but did stop in front of the officer and he asked me why I didn’t stop at the sign? I noted the line of cars that had stopped behind me, behind the sign, and then I understood.
Every time I reached a control point the officer would greet me, and then just say: “Fiche”. Fiche is basically a copy of your passport with details written on it, such as: your vehicle’s make and registration number, your visa number and occupation. I prepared about 20 copies before entering Mauritania. I ran out of copies before I reached Western Sahara!
It’s a very long road leading up to Western Sahara. I was very excited to get into the desert though. It’s a bit of a ‘shock to the senses’ after emerging from Central and Western Africa’s jungles. (Literally and figuratively speaking). The road is in good condition and ranges between light grey shell-grit and black tar sections. The light grey road sections mostly consisting of shell grit and the black sections normal tar road.
The two biggest cities on route to Western Sahara are Nouakchott (the country’s capital) and Nouadhibou. After stopping at no less than fifteen control posts, I finally made it to Nouakchott. I stopped at a Total garage to refuel and asked about fuel availability on route to Nouadhibou. The stretch between Nouakchott and Nouadhibou is about 480 kilometers. I can reach around 360 kilometers on a full tank (17 liters). The attendant assured me that there is no fuel available on route to Nouadhibou, so I filled my two 7-liter fuel bags as well. That ought to do it!
Though I did find a Total garage about halfway between Nouakchott and Nouadhibou with fuel! And a little shop where I bought myself a nice cold Coca-Cola! It is HOT out on the road and I was lucky enough to ride through two sandstorms on route to Nouadhibou. What I loved is watching how the sand gets blown over the road. It never settles ON the road, but would rather just blow across the road in thick streaks or in beautiful patters if the wind is from the north or south.
When entering Mauritania you have proper sand dunes surrounding you. Then as you progress through the country the scenery changes to a more rock desert environment. There are small villages next to the road and nomadic tents that I could spot every now and then further in from the road. The only animals I spotted were camels (of course), donkeys and dogs. There are also a lot of dead animals on the side of the road. Throughout the country I would catch a whiff of a decaying animal on the side of the road every now and then.
The second sand storm I went through was quite intense and reduced my visibility to about 20 meters. A crazy wind blowing in from the coast – west to east. It felt like I had to hang on for all I was worth! And even in that sand storm I got pulled over at a control point. The officer on duty had to hold my bike whilst I fished out my Fiche for him! We couldn’t hear one another but I knew he wanted the Fiche, so I handed it to him and then carried on.
By the time I reached Nouadhibou the wind had subsided somewhat. The sun starts setting around 07:30pm, which gives me lots of daytime to work with. It took me close to 10 hours to ride through Mauritania with all the control point delays. I had the name of a hotel that Moustapha in Dakar had given to me and immediately went about searching for said hotel. After riding around for about half an hour without any luck in finding the hotel, I decided to try a different tactic. I rode right into the middle of town and stopped in the busiest intersection, got off my bike and removed my helmet. Knowing that this would attract attention, two men approached me in no time flat. I told them I was looking for Tiriz Hotel and they kindly pointed me in the right direction. Five minutes later I arrived at the hotel and checked into my room.
Street in Nouadhibou
Next morning when I woke up, I looked out my window and noticed someone was sleeping on the rooftop next to the room I stayed in.
Another wonderful day on the road, exploring, riding and experiencing! :ricky:
I settled into my hotel room. It was hot as hell outside and I was really grateful for the air conditioner in my room! I checked in around 05:00pm. Being Ramadan, I knew I would only be able to get food a little later that night. David (the man that handled my paperwork when I crossed the border) kindly offered to bring me some food later on. With accommodation and food sorted, I had a shower and a nap. It had been a long day and I was exhausted! The TV in the room even had movies showing in English! I felt comfortable that I had made the right choice in rather staying than trying to make it to Nouakchott before dark.
Around 09:00pm there was a knock at my door. Yay! David had brought my food, as promised. I was very happy to see him as I hadn’t eaten all day (Ramadan), and I was super hungry! He put the food down on the counter. Grilled chicken with fries and salad!
Though my happy feeling suddenly disappeared when I noticed him closing and locking the door to my hotel room. He then approached me and tried to kiss me. I pushed him away and made it CLEAR that I was not interested. Of course he became even more persistent. He pushed me onto the bed and a wrestling match ensued. I completely lost it and went into ninja mode! I managed to fight him off and started shouting at him and told him to get out! He stood staring at me with wild eyes for a few seconds and then became apologetic all of the sudden, saying: “Excusez-moi. Ce pas moi, c'est mon cœur.” You’re aiming too high asshole! I promise you it’s not your heart! And then he left.
That's him, sitting next to me on the ferry from Senegal
Apart from experiencing intense anger and a few bruises in my neck, I was fine. Even managed to get in some sleep. I was up at 6 again the next morning. I loaded the bike, paid for my room and left for Nouadhibou. I didn’t want to hang around in Mauritania and rode through the country, border to border, in one day. I had been warned about all the security control points on route and came prepared with my “Fiche”. Control points are spaced only a few kilometers from each other and you run into one about every 20 kilometers or so. They’re usually situated before and after towns and villages. What’s different from these control point, in comparison to control points in most of Central and Western Africa is that you MUST stop at the sign that says STOP. This might sound as a given, but all the way up until here I’ve noted that one only stops at a control point if the officer on duty signals you to do so. I didn’t stop at the first sign, but did stop in front of the officer and he asked me why I didn’t stop at the sign? I noted the line of cars that had stopped behind me, behind the sign, and then I understood.
Every time I reached a control point the officer would greet me, and then just say: “Fiche”. Fiche is basically a copy of your passport with details written on it, such as: your vehicle’s make and registration number, your visa number and occupation. I prepared about 20 copies before entering Mauritania. I ran out of copies before I reached Western Sahara!
It’s a very long road leading up to Western Sahara. I was very excited to get into the desert though. It’s a bit of a ‘shock to the senses’ after emerging from Central and Western Africa’s jungles. (Literally and figuratively speaking). The road is in good condition and ranges between light grey shell-grit and black tar sections. The light grey road sections mostly consisting of shell grit and the black sections normal tar road.
The two biggest cities on route to Western Sahara are Nouakchott (the country’s capital) and Nouadhibou. After stopping at no less than fifteen control posts, I finally made it to Nouakchott. I stopped at a Total garage to refuel and asked about fuel availability on route to Nouadhibou. The stretch between Nouakchott and Nouadhibou is about 480 kilometers. I can reach around 360 kilometers on a full tank (17 liters). The attendant assured me that there is no fuel available on route to Nouadhibou, so I filled my two 7-liter fuel bags as well. That ought to do it!
Though I did find a Total garage about halfway between Nouakchott and Nouadhibou with fuel! And a little shop where I bought myself a nice cold Coca-Cola! It is HOT out on the road and I was lucky enough to ride through two sandstorms on route to Nouadhibou. What I loved is watching how the sand gets blown over the road. It never settles ON the road, but would rather just blow across the road in thick streaks or in beautiful patters if the wind is from the north or south.
When entering Mauritania you have proper sand dunes surrounding you. Then as you progress through the country the scenery changes to a more rock desert environment. There are small villages next to the road and nomadic tents that I could spot every now and then further in from the road. The only animals I spotted were camels (of course), donkeys and dogs. There are also a lot of dead animals on the side of the road. Throughout the country I would catch a whiff of a decaying animal on the side of the road every now and then.
The second sand storm I went through was quite intense and reduced my visibility to about 20 meters. A crazy wind blowing in from the coast – west to east. It felt like I had to hang on for all I was worth! And even in that sand storm I got pulled over at a control point. The officer on duty had to hold my bike whilst I fished out my Fiche for him! We couldn’t hear one another but I knew he wanted the Fiche, so I handed it to him and then carried on.
By the time I reached Nouadhibou the wind had subsided somewhat. The sun starts setting around 07:30pm, which gives me lots of daytime to work with. It took me close to 10 hours to ride through Mauritania with all the control point delays. I had the name of a hotel that Moustapha in Dakar had given to me and immediately went about searching for said hotel. After riding around for about half an hour without any luck in finding the hotel, I decided to try a different tactic. I rode right into the middle of town and stopped in the busiest intersection, got off my bike and removed my helmet. Knowing that this would attract attention, two men approached me in no time flat. I told them I was looking for Tiriz Hotel and they kindly pointed me in the right direction. Five minutes later I arrived at the hotel and checked into my room.
Street in Nouadhibou
Next morning when I woke up, I looked out my window and noticed someone was sleeping on the rooftop next to the room I stayed in.
Another wonderful day on the road, exploring, riding and experiencing! :ricky:
Hinksding
Race Dog
jorust said:
Quite an interesting few!
![Professional First Aid Kit, Trauma First Aid Kit with Labelled Compartments Molle System for Car, Hiking, Backpacking, Camping, Traveling, and Cycling[New Upgrade]](https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/41uCkwNilAL._SL500_.jpg)
White Rhino
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Some crazy stuff Ninja girl :ricky:
Try for a ride on a camel :biggrin:
Try for a ride on a camel :biggrin:
G
Ganjora
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awesome RR, jo.
loving it - keep safe.
loving it - keep safe.
Crop Sprang
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FANTASTIC !!!!!
Looking forward to the next instalment
Stay safe
Looking forward to the next instalment
Stay safe
Adventurer
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Eish....an adventure of note..... :thumleft:
How do they recognize a tourist biker in those countries? He/she is wearing a crash helmet...... :biggrin:
How do they recognize a tourist biker in those countries? He/she is wearing a crash helmet...... :biggrin:
G
Geotraveller
Guest
Can I pre order a copy of the book!
jorust
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Crossing into Western Sahara
During Ramadan, the towns are jam packed at night and dead quiet during the day. Which suits me just fine. Makes it easier to negotiate any traffic (though the only traffic you’ll experience around here is when you ride through a town…and towns are few and far apart), and by the time the streets get crazy I’m already cozy in my hotel room.
I had a bit of a lie in and only left Noudhibou around 09:00am the next morning. The staff at Hotel Tiriz were very friendly and helpful. The concierge brought me some food the previous evening (Okay this time I stood by the door and kept it open…just in case). The staff helped me drag all my bags up and down four flights of stairs. (It’s the small things that count, I feel very spoilt when someone actually helps me).
It’s about a 50-kilometer ride to the Western Sahara border. You turn off the main road; cross a railroad track and then about 5 kilometers later you’re standing at the border gates. Then it’s the usual routine. Get out my passport and Carnet de Passage and start getting them stamps. All went fairly easy and without hassles on the Mauritania side. Then when you pass through the gates, you enter ‘No Man’s Land’. The 3-kilometer stretch between Mauritania and Morocco. There is no road! You have to make your way through some rocks and sand and a vehicle graveyard. There are signs that warn you not to wonder off in the wrong direction, on account of you might just run over a landmine! The best way to cross this stretch is to wait for another vehicle and then follow them to the other side!
I made it to the other side, unscathed and rode past customs. Oops! I do that on a regular basis! Hee hee. A group of robed men sitting on the side of the road was shouting and waving at me, indicating that I needed to go back. No harm done though, when I got back to the customs window the officer on duty just smiled and asked: “France or Spain”? “Neither, I smiled”. He tried a few more: “Germany, Italy, Sweden…”? “Afrique du Sud”, I finally replied. “Ohhhh, you’re from Africa”. Ummmm, yes…and you must be from…Uranus??? He was very friendly and efficient though. Even added me as a Facebook friend whilst processing my details.
After having my passport stamped I went about having my Carnet stamped, but then things turned into a bit of a run around. First I had to go to Douane. They then sent me back across the road to the Police who had to search my things. Police searched my belonging and stamped my little blue form, and then it was back to Douane. Where is your insurance form? I don’t have one. Okay, see that office over there? You have to buy insurance. Off to the office, I go to buy insurance. The office is just beyond the border gate entering Western Sahara. I buy insurance (900 Dirham for one month’s insurance). Then it’s back to Douane once more. They process all my information and stamp the blue form again. I ask them to please stamp my Carnet. They stamp both the entry and exit forms. Huh? Okay, whatever, I’ll sort out later. It’s hot as hell and I need something to drink. Finally with all the right stamps in the right places I head towards the boom. There is a long line of trucks waiting to get through. The officer manning the boom asks for my passport. He supposedly cannot find my stamp and tells me to park to one side. I do as I’m told and follow the officer around as he quibbles with the truck drivers. I follow him around for about 15 minutes. He just ignores me. He finally hands my passport to another officer who just hands my passport back to me and tells me I can go. Huh again? Just beyond the border there is a hotel on your left with a little shop next to it. I buy a one-liter Sprite, a buddy Coke and 1,5 liter water and hit the road. I passed the line of trucks and found a quiet spot a few kilometers away where I stopped and downed the Coke and half the bottle of water.
The border is in the background, where you see that cellphone tower
I was now in Western Sahara! Woohoo! There’s just something immensely intriguing about the Sahara. The vastness, the mystery, the world’s largest hot desert!
Next stop: Dakhla! World renowned for kite surfing action! About 380 kilometers from the border and the road carries virtually no traffic. Whenever I’d stop for a quick break, the sudden intense silence that surrounded me would make my ears ring! I could hear a vehicle approach from miles and miles away. Even the simple act of swallowing a mouthful of water made me feel like the nomads might have heard me miles into the desert.
On route to Dakhla you’ll come across camels grazing next to or lazily crossing the road. You’ll see one or two cars and lots and lots of desert! The sun will turn your ATGATT into a cooking suit. But you’ll love it. Because you’re in the SAHARA baby!! Well, the Western part of it anyway.
One of the questions I get asked the most is: “What goes through your mind when you’re on the road, all day, on your own”? Well…if you were to go to a travel agency they would tell you that Mauritania and especially Western Sahara are no-go zones for tourists! It’s very dangerous and you might get kidnapped. So that’s what went through my mind on route to Dakhla. Say I got snatched, dumped in the middle of the desert with only the clothes on my back…how would I survive? How would I survive long enough to reach civilization? This is what I came up with: I would try to figure out at what time I got snatched and based on the time lapse between time taken and consciousness regained I would try to work out how big a radius I’m looking at, based on last known destination. Assuming that I’m still in Western Sahara I would start heading in a northwesterly direction (to reach the coast). And then, maybe I’ll eat that blue camel hovering over there…or maybe I should get out of the sun!
Just before you reach Dakhla you really hug the coastline for some distance. There’s a particular stretch where you can turn off the road (if you want to) and have a great view looking out over the ocean. In some sections it really looks like the earth just broke off into the ocean. Vertical cliffs with about a fifty-meter drop in some sections (guesstimate). Then as you start turning to get to Dakhla you cross over a hill and then all of the sudden, literally hundreds of kite surfers to your left! It’s a pretty awesome site and not quite something you’d expect if you didn’t know about it!
I treated myself when I got into town and booked myself into the Sahara Regency Hotel. A few Italian guys outside the hotel were very interested to find out where I had come from and helped me unload the bike. Turns out they had ridden from Italy to Dakhla a few years ago. Now they were just here for the kite surfing. There were quite a few foreigners in the hotel, here for kite surfing. There’s a camp outside of Dakhla as well where most of the kite surfers stay over.
The kite surfers
I settled into my room and had a view over the main street from the second floor. Later at night I watched as the street filled up and people walked around, kids played on the sidewalks and men sat at café’s drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes.
Entrance/Exit - Dakhla
Next stop…Laayoune! (A.K.A El Aaiún)
During Ramadan, the towns are jam packed at night and dead quiet during the day. Which suits me just fine. Makes it easier to negotiate any traffic (though the only traffic you’ll experience around here is when you ride through a town…and towns are few and far apart), and by the time the streets get crazy I’m already cozy in my hotel room.
I had a bit of a lie in and only left Noudhibou around 09:00am the next morning. The staff at Hotel Tiriz were very friendly and helpful. The concierge brought me some food the previous evening (Okay this time I stood by the door and kept it open…just in case). The staff helped me drag all my bags up and down four flights of stairs. (It’s the small things that count, I feel very spoilt when someone actually helps me).
It’s about a 50-kilometer ride to the Western Sahara border. You turn off the main road; cross a railroad track and then about 5 kilometers later you’re standing at the border gates. Then it’s the usual routine. Get out my passport and Carnet de Passage and start getting them stamps. All went fairly easy and without hassles on the Mauritania side. Then when you pass through the gates, you enter ‘No Man’s Land’. The 3-kilometer stretch between Mauritania and Morocco. There is no road! You have to make your way through some rocks and sand and a vehicle graveyard. There are signs that warn you not to wonder off in the wrong direction, on account of you might just run over a landmine! The best way to cross this stretch is to wait for another vehicle and then follow them to the other side!
I made it to the other side, unscathed and rode past customs. Oops! I do that on a regular basis! Hee hee. A group of robed men sitting on the side of the road was shouting and waving at me, indicating that I needed to go back. No harm done though, when I got back to the customs window the officer on duty just smiled and asked: “France or Spain”? “Neither, I smiled”. He tried a few more: “Germany, Italy, Sweden…”? “Afrique du Sud”, I finally replied. “Ohhhh, you’re from Africa”. Ummmm, yes…and you must be from…Uranus??? He was very friendly and efficient though. Even added me as a Facebook friend whilst processing my details.
After having my passport stamped I went about having my Carnet stamped, but then things turned into a bit of a run around. First I had to go to Douane. They then sent me back across the road to the Police who had to search my things. Police searched my belonging and stamped my little blue form, and then it was back to Douane. Where is your insurance form? I don’t have one. Okay, see that office over there? You have to buy insurance. Off to the office, I go to buy insurance. The office is just beyond the border gate entering Western Sahara. I buy insurance (900 Dirham for one month’s insurance). Then it’s back to Douane once more. They process all my information and stamp the blue form again. I ask them to please stamp my Carnet. They stamp both the entry and exit forms. Huh? Okay, whatever, I’ll sort out later. It’s hot as hell and I need something to drink. Finally with all the right stamps in the right places I head towards the boom. There is a long line of trucks waiting to get through. The officer manning the boom asks for my passport. He supposedly cannot find my stamp and tells me to park to one side. I do as I’m told and follow the officer around as he quibbles with the truck drivers. I follow him around for about 15 minutes. He just ignores me. He finally hands my passport to another officer who just hands my passport back to me and tells me I can go. Huh again? Just beyond the border there is a hotel on your left with a little shop next to it. I buy a one-liter Sprite, a buddy Coke and 1,5 liter water and hit the road. I passed the line of trucks and found a quiet spot a few kilometers away where I stopped and downed the Coke and half the bottle of water.
The border is in the background, where you see that cellphone tower
I was now in Western Sahara! Woohoo! There’s just something immensely intriguing about the Sahara. The vastness, the mystery, the world’s largest hot desert!
Next stop: Dakhla! World renowned for kite surfing action! About 380 kilometers from the border and the road carries virtually no traffic. Whenever I’d stop for a quick break, the sudden intense silence that surrounded me would make my ears ring! I could hear a vehicle approach from miles and miles away. Even the simple act of swallowing a mouthful of water made me feel like the nomads might have heard me miles into the desert.
On route to Dakhla you’ll come across camels grazing next to or lazily crossing the road. You’ll see one or two cars and lots and lots of desert! The sun will turn your ATGATT into a cooking suit. But you’ll love it. Because you’re in the SAHARA baby!! Well, the Western part of it anyway.
One of the questions I get asked the most is: “What goes through your mind when you’re on the road, all day, on your own”? Well…if you were to go to a travel agency they would tell you that Mauritania and especially Western Sahara are no-go zones for tourists! It’s very dangerous and you might get kidnapped. So that’s what went through my mind on route to Dakhla. Say I got snatched, dumped in the middle of the desert with only the clothes on my back…how would I survive? How would I survive long enough to reach civilization? This is what I came up with: I would try to figure out at what time I got snatched and based on the time lapse between time taken and consciousness regained I would try to work out how big a radius I’m looking at, based on last known destination. Assuming that I’m still in Western Sahara I would start heading in a northwesterly direction (to reach the coast). And then, maybe I’ll eat that blue camel hovering over there…or maybe I should get out of the sun!
Just before you reach Dakhla you really hug the coastline for some distance. There’s a particular stretch where you can turn off the road (if you want to) and have a great view looking out over the ocean. In some sections it really looks like the earth just broke off into the ocean. Vertical cliffs with about a fifty-meter drop in some sections (guesstimate). Then as you start turning to get to Dakhla you cross over a hill and then all of the sudden, literally hundreds of kite surfers to your left! It’s a pretty awesome site and not quite something you’d expect if you didn’t know about it!
I treated myself when I got into town and booked myself into the Sahara Regency Hotel. A few Italian guys outside the hotel were very interested to find out where I had come from and helped me unload the bike. Turns out they had ridden from Italy to Dakhla a few years ago. Now they were just here for the kite surfing. There were quite a few foreigners in the hotel, here for kite surfing. There’s a camp outside of Dakhla as well where most of the kite surfers stay over.
The kite surfers
I settled into my room and had a view over the main street from the second floor. Later at night I watched as the street filled up and people walked around, kids played on the sidewalks and men sat at café’s drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes.
Entrance/Exit - Dakhla
Next stop…Laayoune! (A.K.A El Aaiún)
Awesome report :thumleft:
Thanks for sharing
take care
Thanks for sharing
take care
- Joined
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Awesome, one day when I'm big I want to be a real man and think about doing this stuff hehe
schalk vd merwe
Race Dog
Jy is 'n yster hou so aan.
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