Looking back now, with only a weeks distance from the trip, and with a new challenge in Turkey coming up next week, this was certainly a splendid trip. I’m still not entirely sure as to “Why Dakar”, it certainly wasn’t anything to do with lunatic fly-ins and their rally. I guess it was more the challenge of seeing if I could ensure that that old bike could make it down there, that it was self sufficient, by and large and to see the subtle changes in landscape and people on the road between North Europe and Sub Saharan Africa for a change. To kind of connect them I think, which you don’t get when you fly! It’s also technically the only feasible land crossing of the Sahara that is currently possible by an average biker or traveller, so I guess that appealed as well.

It was also a pleasant surprise to have Justyna along, and a superb and uncomplaining traveller along the journey she was. My last hurrah leaving unemployment, and her last hurrah leaving Maersk for greener pastures. I would like to say thanks to Justyna, for the insights and thoughts along the way as well – this is the first bike ride where “Sweet Home Alabama” (Glenn’s favorite) was not the theme tune – Cockburns, “Birmingham Shadows” was the theme tune for sure. However I also need to also say thanks also for your French language skills, it made things a lot easier on many occasions. Also a special thanks to Nick Glenville and Willem van der Sanden at Maersk Logistics in Dakar and Nouakchott respectively and to the gang in the Damco air freight departments in Dakar and Amsterdam for getting the old girl back to Holland in good shape. Super job done at short notice.

I’ve found bike rides to be a great place to think, hours on the road with nothing but your thoughts enclosed within a helmet to keep you company, regardless of whether anyone is with you or not. Crossing the void that is the Sahara in such circumstances only sharpens the experience. There is a peace and tranquility about both the desert, and riding that I had not expected. It’s good for the soul …. well …. mine at least!

Time for a Pastis I think Share

Amsterdam|Dakar – Day 22 – Dakar, Senegal

September 23rd, 2011

Bike has to be left to the airport today but need to buy a baggy or two to put clothes in to take back on the flight. The rest I’ll leave in the panniers and ship. Head to shopping mall and purloin a couple of sports bags. Justyna needs one as well. She will fly up to Casablanca and pick up the stuff that we left with Amine and leave it in Dubai for me to pick up net time I’m there as she is moving to Poland in mid October. I, on the other hand, will fly direct back to Amsterdam on Air Maroc, which it turns out is way cheaper than flying only to Casablanca.

We head over to the Maersk airport office, just up the road. Much waiting around and a quick visit to the Senegalese customs. Head back to the hotel for lunch. I haven’t booked my flight back to Amsterdam as I can’t leave Senegal without the airway bill that says it’s being exported, i.e. proof that I didn’t sell the bike in Senegal. Ride the bike to the Air France/KLM Cargo area and disconnect the battery and watch as the guys empty the gas tank. The last of Justyna’s candies come in handy after a mouthful of gasoline apparently. But someone will likely be selling the 10 odd litters that came out of her. The dangerous cargo guy came and checked that the bike was electrically dead and gave her the ok to fly. Over the space of the next hour and a half the mlog guys constructed the crate for her which I wheeled her up on and then they put the framing around her. Finally a forklift came and took her away – I wasn’t allowed to follow. So strange – now we we’re no longer travellers, just tourists with no freedom or transport – completely weird to not have the old girl sitting outside the hotel!

We walked back to the hotel for some lunch and then back to the airport to pick up the paperwork which was finally complete around 4.30pm. We’re both now booked on early morning flights out to Casablanca/Amsterdam early tomorrow morning. So a quick taxi ride in the twilight into Dakar and hopped on the ferry to Isle Goree which Justyna wanted to see, followed by a light dinner, Yassa Chicken which was delicious for me, and back to a pastis at the hotel before turning in, and off course those end of ride/vacation blues.

 

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September 22nd, 2011
Not the earliest start, but brekkie of french pastries and coffee and orange juice (with bits) and get the bike packed. I can’t quite believe that we will finally actually make it to Dakar – the bike has not made any complaint in over 1000km and the engine is as sprightly as ever, in fact she seems keen to get there. Justyna has been in charge of packing for the last few days – finally worked out a system that involved less chefs and was more efficient. Head off south on the last leg after gassing up. Gas is European prices I notice in Senegal, €1.50/litre as opposed the the €1.00/litre in Morocco.

We cruise past lush tropical vegetation on a good road. Many towns and villages along the way. Stop for a break and are surrounded by kids. Justyna figured candy was better than handing out money and had several large bags to hand out along the way. At one point one of the mothers appears. We think she wants candy but end up realizing that she’s inviting us to lunch. We gratefully decline and head south.

By 4pm we’re in heavy traffic on the outskirts of Dakar. Alas there are no “Dakar” signposts that I could find to take the trophy picture with! We’re running late and finally make it to the Maersk Office around 4.30pm. Nick has airfreight quote and his guy says that the bike needs to be in bond by this time tomorrow in order to avoid customs problems. And he has his boys measure the bike so they can construct a packing crate for it. Super efficient.

After this, we take some pics in front of the office and head off to Cap Almadies, the most western point of the African contient to take some pictures and then try to find another Lonely Planet approved hotel nearby. Unfortunately the light is going when we finally reach the Cap though the early evening traffic. Take some pics, that are not great, and then head off to find hotel. Finally find it and check in. It’s the worst room on the whole trip. The power keeps going out, the aircon only blows hot air and mosquitos around the room, but it’s on the ocean with the sound of the breakers and there’s a restaurant. Check in and time to have a little celebration!

Order the usual end of ride pastis … and a nice bottle of champagne – over 6000km and the old bike made it with little other than a broken chain! She’s been past Dakar in a container ship twice, but it’s strange to remember riding along the road in Oude weltering exactly 3 weeks earlier on the way to this place – no airline ticket necessary! She is no longer just a machine, and I don’t think I could eve bear to be parted from her – way too many fond memories of exotic roads travelled. I think they’ll have to put the piston from this bike in my coffin! Once again she hasn’t left me hugely stranded on the side of the road and she’s got though it all. It’s also nice to share the celebration for as well. Unfortunately there were no oysters as per end of ride tradition with Glenn and Saija after the ride across America.

What a superb journey. Not sure how to top this one to be perfectly honest!

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September 21st, 2011
Set out early after another brekkie of baguettes and croissants. In usual fashion there is little in the way of signposts to get out of the city. But thanks to the odd policeman we make it out. Long flat roads and in comparison to the north of Nouakchott it is quite heavily populated with many villages along the road. This off course makes it more problematic to recycle the lukewarm water from the top of the pannier that we’re going through to stay hydrated. But at least the temperature is not scorching, only mildly melting. It’s 200km to the border and we’ve got a fixer, Pape Fall, to meet us at the border as I understand that this border is a bit of a zoo and pretty chaotic. We also have to cross the Senegal river on a boat to reach the next country. Better than a minefield at least!

The road becomes quite bad, the worst I’ve seen, as they’ve been generally good up until this point. We finally get to Rosso on the border about lunchtime and meet Pape Fall, a large jolly Senegalese man who clearly takes his job seriously and has seen a few Maersk people though the border here. The paperwork and waiting begins. After much queuing and checking we have the paperwork sorted out but now we have to wait for the ferry. It’s supposed to leave at 3, but as 3pm rolls around there’s no sign of movement. Finally about 3.30pm I’m told to ride the bike through the water up onto the boat. OK. Looks like Justyna will have to wade across … but fortunately a Moroccan reefer truck driver gives her a dry ride onto the ferry – impressive. Turns out the ferry only runs a couple of times a day, but it’s the only way across if you have a vehicle. Most people seem to come across by Pirogue, all day long these large wooden canoe type boats float back and forward across the sluggish mud brown river ferrying people. One woman emerges drenched, apparently slipped off into the river during the disembarkation process. I decline to have the bike put on one, despite the offer of a good price!

We finally reach the other side and are greeted by chaos. Pape navigates us though the confusion. There is even a pack of some 20 camels and a small herd of goats that is being customs cleared. This is certainly a place of extreme commerce. It reminds me of one of those bars on the dusty outer worlds in a star wars movie. Everything is for sale and tradeable. The only thing missing is Jabba the Hut!

Offers abound and one african guy can even speak fluent Polish and reasonable Dutch, it’s extraordinary.

We find out that we’re in but that the Customs will only grant the bike 48 hours in the country rather than the requested 10 days. So in theory I have to get the bike out of the country by Friday 4pm or I will have to go haggle with customs in Dakar, which could be quite a time waster. So I’m thinking option 1 but this, off course, limits time spent in Dakar.

We finally get though and settle accounts with Pape some 10km outside the town and head south. The landscape is now much more lush and green and sugar cane grows everywhere. It’s now about 5pm and the 1st 60km of the road is terrible, but after that it’s excellent. Decided that Saint Louis, the old capital of Senegal, will be the stop for the night as Dakar is just too far and don’t want to risk night driving on unfamiliar African roads, no matter how good they are.

We reach Saint Louis on the coast before dust and find a cheap Lonely Planet hotel on the island, which also, conveniently purports to have one of the best restaurants in Saint Louis. Which it does. several Pastis and a tasty stew later and it’s time for bed. The border took some 4 hours to cross. Tomorrow Dakar 🙂

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September 20th, 2011
Today has officially been designated a recovery and administrative day ……… which means essentially that when I recover from my hangover I will do some admin and work out how to get me and the bike back to Holland! Ok, so that’s my excuse to loose a day on the road. Decide that everything will be done from Dakar and contact Nick Glenville at Maersk Logistics in Dakar. Decide that Chinese food is on the menu in Nouakchott tonight. And there is indeed a Chinese centre that serves Chinese workers that are in Nouakchott – usually telecoms guys. Unfortunately they only speak mandarin, not even French and while the food is excellent even asking for soy sauce proves to be a bit problematic.

Early to bed …. and yes, I may have had to have a recovery power nap in the afternoon, advancing years appear to be affecting my ability to recover from a night on the Scotch sauce.Share

September 19th, 2011
Today I have arranged to meet Willem van der Sanden from Maersk Logistics, and it’s a non road day. Hopefully there’s a Maersk fixer guy/agent down on the border with Senegal. I don’t have a Carnet de Passage for Senegal for the bike, which I’ve been told is not necessary anyway, But Justyna also doesn’t have a yellow fever vaccination card either, which we think is necessary to cross the border to Senegal.

Meet Willem for lunch at a nice establishment, which I also note sells beer, an interesting Islamic Republic they have here. Talk over the usual Maersk gossip and also at this point I’m realizing that will likely need to ship the bike back as I’m running out of time and new job in Turkey is starting in a couple of weeks. And frankly it just seems too far to do it all in reverse again to be honest. And I don’t fancy that head wind in Morocco and Mauritania for +1000km. Run some ideas past Willem and we agree to meet for dinner later on in the evening.

Head out to the main thing to see in Nouakchott – the Port de Peche – the old fishing port! The Pirogues and fishing boats have been bring fish onto these beaches, fresh from the Atlantic, for centuries. And little in the way they do it seems to have changed, with the potential exception of Yamaha outboard motors. Long, brightly painted boats are still launched from the beach and they bring their catch back to the beach where it is processed at the local fish market. A kind of African version of the great fish market in Billingsgate, London, and certainly going for just as long. I pass on buying some fish for the cook back at the auberge. You can buy your own fish and take it back to where you’re staying and they will prepare it for you for dinner – but we’re out with Willem tonight.

Head back to the hotel and investigate flights back to Casablanca and airfreighting the bike back, Willem has helpfully alerted the guys in Dakar for a quote as well. Come 8pm, WIllem is finished (Maersk 12 hour days as per usual) and he picks us up and we head to dinner. Nice French establishment, delicious food and far too many beers and we end up back at Willems super place in the north end of town. The night fades out from there as a bottle of excellent single malt and some rather nice cigars appeared …… although I have dim recollections of watching Dutch ballroom dancing championships at some point! Fade to black ……..

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September 18th, 2011
Up early and more laughing cow cheese on baquettes for brekkie. The coffee is not as good here as in Morocco, all instant with hot milk. A few adjustments and pack the bike. Head off, but first need to find some gas money for the road as understand there are long distances between fill up points. I walk into a bank where a cashier who is passing large cubes of cash to a customer informs me that I cannot exchange money at this bank. He, less than helpfully, suggests trying a western union office down the street …. and he’s right! Funny banks they have here!

We head north up the peninsula to rejoin the main road south with a good 30km/h cross wind hampering progress. It’s 500km to Nouahchott and there’s not much in-between. Not even a town! The road here heads inland about 50km or so from the coast for most of the way. As we head inland the temperature climbs, and climbs, and climbs, until it’s at the point where you could cook a casserole! The digital air temp readout appears to be stuck at 51C. And worst off all, in our haste to leave Nouhadibou, we haven’t replaced the empty 1.5litre water bottles that are strapped onto the right hand pannier – which are usually at the temperature of warm tea!

50km, 100km, 150km, and no sign of habitation let alone the next gas station. A couple of breaks in the deadening heat are all we have. We’re almost 200km in from Nouhadibou with no sign of anything. Get back on the bike and 2 km up ahead is a gas station …. with …. no gas. But fortunately for us, fanta and lots of water which is much appreciated. Apparently 80km further on there is a gas station. We have plenty of gas so not worried. Riding along with the visor cracked open to hopefully dry some sweat off, it’s like someone pointing a hairdryer at your face, it is unbelievably hot!

We hit the next gas station and there’s a tea house and they’re selling baguettes and tea, so off course I prefer to go for a more balanced menu of chocolate chip cookies and fanta! Refuel, and we’re good until Nouakchott. Set off again in the oppressive heat. Mile after mile with stops for luke warm water and wiping the sweat off. After a couple of hours I reckon that we must be close to hitting those cool atlantic breezes again. But mile after unrelenting mile the heat just doesn’t seem to diminish. We pass a couple of photo opportunities but don’t stop. Everything is now simply just about getting out of this heat! The bike has also been having some issues keeping cool with engine temp rising to a max of 117C, a little warm for the old girl despite the fan being on, she crests a ridge and there’s another endless baking plain, and then moments later, we hit a wall of cold air, I start changing down the gears and coasting to a stop. We get off, I check the air temp, it’s fallen to 33C from 51C. Never has 33C felt so cool and welcoming. I check the max air temp, it showed 57C, so at one point we must have passed through a pocket of truly boiling air.

We’re only 60km out from our destination by this point and due to the motivation to get cool we’ve really been putting the miles behind us. We arrive into Nouakchott around 5.30pm and survey the bustling streets. There’s not much infrastructure but it’s very civilized by Nigerian standards and reminded me a little of Cotonou in Benin. Decide to rely on the great sage lonely planet again and after much directional impairment we finally find a cheap auberge for 12,000 Ougiya ((€35) which turns out to be just perfect after the roasting in the desert. “Climatisee?” (air conditioning) the French girl says … “Absolutely” says yer man!

Dinner at the auberge is excellent and we meet a Tunisian and Italian who are there for a UN project to put the entire judicial records of Mauritania into a searchable database – Danielo and Hassan. Very interesting conversation over dinner spanning aid, politics, Arab Spring, Africa etc. Crawl into bed exhausted but no longer dehydrated!

I should also note here that it was so hot that we didn’t take any pictures along the way …. !
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September 17th, 2011
The plan is to leave today for Nouakchott, however my contact, Willem van der Sanden is in Spain and not back until Sunday. So decided to explore Nouhadibou and have a non road day. I’m also a bit tired as we’ve covered some 1520km in the 3 days since leaving Agadir, better to take a break. Also understand that at Cap Blanc, just at the end of the peninsula that Nouhadibou is on, there are some of the last monk seals in the world, as well as an old ship graveyard there. So figure well spend the day and go and see them and a little of the area as well.

Take a walk up the main street of the town, it’s dusty and there’s not much infrastructure and has a very African feel. 80% of the faces now are black, but again Islamic culture predominates. We check out the market and take some pictures of a guy with an air rifle shooting a cigarette butt on a match stick on the pavement – entertainment opportunities are limited here. There’s a small crowd, including us, watching him and helping out. I’m the only one taking pictures however! There’s not much to the town, a small market and lots of stores and dusty streets, but there’s a sense that you can get pretty much anything that you need here. The South African biker even managed to get an M20 bolt for his front sprocket here I recalled.

Headed back to the hotel and jumped on the bike to head to Cap Blanc. Head past the iron ore loading port, which is the main reason the town exists. There’s a railway from here to Zouerat some 800km into the desert which serves the iron ore mine there. The trains that run on this railway are reputed to be some of the longest in the world – but there’s not much waiting to cross the lines in this part of the world! All the ore is brought out here to Nouhadibou where it is loaded on bulk ships to destinations around the world. There were a vast array of ships laying offshore during the time we were there, and the trains are indeed very long.

Cap Blanc is not signposted much, and it turns out that there’s 15km or so of off road piste to get there. Off course we have no luggage on the bike so shouldn’t be a big problem. However 2km in ….. and find myself horizontal on soft sand again albeit at very low speed so no injuries. However Justyna was not impressed with this and a bit spooked, time for a walk. However with a couple of fits and starts, and yours truly trying to learn how to handle soft sand (solo) we made it to Cap Blanc. The scenery is like being in a mad max movie, there’s an abandoned lighthouse, a large cargo ship washed up down below on the beach, hot sun and red sand. It’s like being in some post apocalyptic landscape. There’s a sign at the deserted entrance saying we’re supposed to pay 1200 Ougiya (about €5) for entrance to the “park”. But there is nobody around apart from some guys fishing below us on the beach by the bow of the grounded freighter – they turn out to be Chinese workers!!! (Or maybe the lost crew of the hulk washed up on the shore beside them!

Dismount and lock up the bike and decide to explore on foot. It’s hot! We wander over to the cliffs on the west side, there are two seemingly abandoned cows sitting in the sand chewing their cud, the place seems deserted. There are some buildings over on the western cliffs so we head over there. There’s a plaque on one – says it’s a visitors centre – and then an older guy appears from the depth of one of the buildings and we give him 2400 Ougiya. Although I wonder if the parks department will ever see any of it as there’s nothing in the way of tickets and nothing to prove who ever came or comes there. Still, I guess his family will have a little extra tonight!

He brings us over to the edge of the cliffs, over the rail and it’s a good 50m drop into the ocean. He starts whistling, although it’s pretty blowy so not sure who or what he’s whistling for. Then he points down to the waves, and there sure enough is a Monk Seal, just one, loafing around in the breakers. Monk seals are so-named because their coats supposedly resemble a monk’s robes. They were revered by the ancient Greeks, who believed that seeing a monk seal was a good omen. They featured in the writings of Homer and Aristotle, and were even depicted on one of the first coins ever produced, around 500 BC. Today, they are regarded as the world’s most endangered marine mammal. So I’m going with the good omen part and feeling confident that we’ll make Dakar 🙂

15km on dirt, rock and sand have Justyna nervous on the back (and closing eyes apparently) but we make back to the hotel without going horizontal again, although the bike doesn’t seem to mind it so much – she was, after allm built for this. And the tool tube I lovingly constructed, that Peter said would fall off, remains fixed solidly in place with 4 screw clamps despite being dumped several times in the sand!

Time for another beer and plate of fish at the Casa de Espania and off to bed! Nouakchott tomorrow.

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