After a great breakfast (on these trips, you never know when your next meal is coming), we set out to traverse the Dakhla peninsula back to the beginning to join the mainland road south to Mauritania ... 400+ kms.
Our first stop was at the Tropic of Cancer marker ... interesting to think that this imaginary line also dissects Mexico in the middle ... and that I have stood at that marker on the other side of the world also.
The road to the border was long and straight ... cell phone signal has been available everywhere ... except for some stretches today ... we saw long stretches of coastline, nice sandy beaches, and rows and rows of breaking waves ... be were lucky that the strong Patagonia-like wind was coming from the North which made our ride very smooth.
We stopped for coffee at Hotel Barbas ... a pretty big hotel in the middle of nowhere that apparently people use as a final stop before the border ... it was empty today ... good coffee ... and my first speeding ticket as we drove through the little village ... oops.
We finally made it to the border ... and Armageddon began ...
- First, the guards on the Moroccan side asked us to see our Mauritanian visa ... we said "what visa"?
- So, we were sent to a person that helps travelers request Mauritanian visas online
- After submitting the application, he told us approval may take up to 7 days (?!?) ... but that recently, it had been quicker ... 30-60 minutes
- We got the visa approved after only 15 minutes (lucky) and headed to the front of the line at the border gate
- Wait ... the Moroccan side closes for lunch from 2-3pm so we had to wait an hour
- No problem, time for an authentic Moroccan border-restaurant dish for lunch ... amazingly good!
- We also hired a Mauritanian "facilitator". to help us go though the process at both sides... best decision we ever made!
- Once the Moroccan side opened again ... officials had to stamp passports, check that the motorcycles had been imported properly, take the motorcycle off our passports, stamp here, stamp, there, go back there, sign here, take a picture there, pay this and that, and then move to the next building, and wait for the inspector ... wow!
- We finally made it through and into a 5km no-man land stretch between the Western Sahara and the Mauritanian border ... paved at the start, then dirt, then rocky, then sandy, and lots of plastic bottles everywhere ... just as expected in no-mans land
- When we arrived at the Mauritanian side, we now had to wait because the Mauritania side closes from 3-4pm ... a 40 minute wait
- And then, the same process but more chaotic ... visa issuance, stamp here and there, insurance for the motorcycles, customs to import the bikes, and on and on
- As we waited and our facilitator ran from here to there with out papers ... we talked to people, watched a Barcelona football game with some guys in a tent with 10,000 flys flying around ... welcome to the real Africa
- 2 hours later we made it through and into Mauritania ... at last .. the whole process only took 7 hours!
The feeling of entering a new world ... with no real knowledge of what to expect ... is truly indescribable ... it forces you to be present with very little effort ... you are just taking it all in ... and smiling!
We rode for an hour to Nouadhibou our stop for the night ... desolate open spaces with white sand everywhere from the border ... but then, a wonderful, chaotic, crowded African city ... lots of memories from my trip across East Africa ... cars weaving in and out, people, carts, animals, sand, wind, smells.
Today, was indeed a day to remember. Met people from all over the world ... people from Morocco, Mauritania, local immigrants that had spent time in Italy, Spain, and France and were back, Europeans from Germany, France, Switzerland ... spoke a little Spanish, a little French, and a little English as needed ... and all in all ... everybody was smiling and helpful and curious ... the world is good, people are good, life is good and we are all here ... all we can do is enjoy the ride : )
Tomorrow, we head to the capital Nouakchott.
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