Sunday 3 Feb (353 miles, 4114 total)
I have some concerns about crossing back into Mauritania. The border crossing at Rosso has a terrible reputation and there are additional problems regarding bike security when crossing solo.
So when I leave Dakar in the morning my plan is to stop overnight at Zebrabar near Saint-Louis and pick collected brains on how to handle the inevitable hassle taking the ferry across the Senegal River at Rosso then the frontier crossing back into Mauritania.
I meet a couple of bikers from eastern Germany who are crossing into Mauritania at Diama and then heading for the wildlife lodge at Keur Massene but this is an option I can’t take as I don’t yet have a Mauri visa and Rosso is the only place I can get one.
On the way I encounter a dog holding off something like 300 vultures who are impatiently waiting to feast on a road-kill donkey. From time to time the dog wanders over to the donkey to take a bite to eat, then sits in the shade to digest. It goes to show the vultures have no pack mentality–between them they could easily overwhelm the solitary dog.
As it happens it’s too early to make sense of stopping at Zebrabar and I decide to carry on to Richard Toll so I can cross the border first thing the next day. I’m at Richard Toll quite early so I decide to make the crossing the same day. Delaying things won’t make it any easier.
The ferry area is in a walled compound with the Senegal police control point on the left just before it. On entering the compound I’m asked for CFA1000 community tax which I suspect is a scam but the guy is issuing numbered receipts, so maybe I’m getting paranoid. I’m hussled by the many touts offering to exchange money and it’s difficult to negotiate not knowing the accurate exchange rate for £:CFA or £:UM, nevermind CFA to UM! I’m pretty sure I get an awful deal—it would have made more sense to spend almost everything before reaching the border by filling with fuel or buying provisions.
The ferry nearing the far side of the river
On the Mauritanian side of the river the police are waiting for the ferry and take my passport before I can disembark. The ferry is a massive UM4000 (about £8) to cross a couple of hundred metres of water. I can’t believe the locals pay these sorts of amounts. It’s then a very slow process interspersed with three unanswered requests for ‘cadeaux’ waiting to get a visa. My passport has disappeared ‘upstairs’ and after a couple of hours I’m fit to be tied. I find the office of the head honcho and give him a piece of my mind. It doesn’t matter that he might not understand everything, but I talk about how as a traveller I should be shown hospitality in his country, that the secretary of state writes in my passport that I should be given passage without hinderance, and how the experience at borders is bad for tourism. I talk calmly and he gets the message, within fifteen minutes I have my visa (€20) and customs honour paper (UM2000).
I’m then off to get insurance. Bearing in mind I paid CFA10250 for a whole month’s insurance in Senegal, I laugh as the first guy asks for UM8000 for three day’s Mauri cover and also reject his ‘final offer’ of UM7000. There are several other offices there and I get five days cover for UM2500. As I’m finally about to leave the Mauri ferry compound a big abrasive guy asks for UM2000 for community tax. He’s relying on his size to frighten people into paying. A local fixer confirms this is something everyone has to pay, but by now I am seriously peed off with the whole frontier business, so I tell him where to stick his scam, get on the bike and leave.
Thanks to the corrupt Mauritanian police and customs I now only have an hour of daylight left and it’s three hours riding to Nouackchott. Night riding is a bad idea in Africa, but I have no choice. The bike has two auxiliary lights that I have on all the time (so oncoming traffic can see I’m not a moped) and I also have two HIDs which light up the road as if it’s daylight.
Three hours later I arrive at the Auberge Sahara in Noackchott. There are two groups of Hungarians already there, one travelling by car, the other with a trailer full of bikes. The auberge is a safe haven but expensive (UM7000 for a room) and the whole place has an uncared-for air. The wardrobe door falls off when I open it, there’s rubble on the floor in the corner of the room. The room is lit by a single low-voltage bare bulb in the ceiling, the shower is a dribble of tepid water and the air conditioning doesn’t work. Mosquitos are everywhere, the flyscreens on the windows have holes in them and the mosquito net has a serious tear. Never mind, I’m through the worse border so look on the bright side, and at least there’s wifi access here. After checking email I give the room several blasts of flyspray, plug in the anti-mossy device and turn out the light.
Tim
There and Back Again 