So I made it. Arrived in Nouakchott at 2am.
No transfer waiting at arrivals...fucking typical! Sat down, no airport wifi, started mentally preparing to stay there until daylight. Noticed nobody else there except me and an airport guy. He asked if I was ok in French. I said no. He hot spotted me like a legend. Tried calling my transfer guy. No answer but it was 2am. Then a guy in army fatigues appeared, spoke rapid French, asked my name, and motioned for me to follow him. Naturally, you follow the army guy. He marched me outside as I thought I was being kicked out but he pointed to my transfer guy and it was all good. Got dropped at my €19 hostel. Dark streets, rubble, no signs, no road, place looked abandoned. Owner thought he was picking me up. Owner’s wife was not thrilled though. So she woke her daughter and took me to my room which was in another building. Owner had the hostel keys. Cue the daughter climbing over the wall to unlock the gate from the inside. Then I went to sleep.This sort of thing must happen to other people right or is it just me?
Last two days in Nouakchott have been very intentionally low energy. Day one I chilled on the hostel rooftop, sunbathed, slept, and avoided the dust and chaos below. Day two I checked into my hotel, changed some money, and went in search of food. Ended up with only fruit because the street food looked sketchy as hell and you all know I’ll usually eat anything. Then a guy followed me all the way from the market, which dramatically sped up my return to the hotel because I could not get rid of him. That officially ended my wander into town.
Tour officially underway. Day one eased me in gently with a trip to the fishing port where hundreds of boats bobbed about and fishermen did what fishermen do, which appears to involve a lot of shouting and hauling. Looked very chaotic and very smelly. Then on to the camel market. Exactly as advertised. Lots of camels. Met some very friendly locals so got to practice my French, which still works now and then. I didn’t buy a camel.
It was proper desert driving and lots of it. Roads that slowly give up and turn into sand, bumpy, winding, twisty and turny then suddenly flat as far as the eye can see. We drove all the way to the largest sand dunes in Mauritania, Azoueigua. Just before that a stop for lunch, the best lunch ever appeared in the middle of nowhere in a tiny auberge.
The sand dunes were massive and we were expected to climb to the top for sunset. 🤔 So I climbed to the top in my own patented zigzaggy way. But it was an hour too early, so obviously I wasn’t going back down. Cue peak dune based loitering, taking a million photos. Perfect way to kill time.
After a very patient wait, the sunset finally showed up. It was lovely but then immediately vanished, turning the walk back to camp into a light jog before total darkness. Desert nights do not mess about. Absolutely freezing and also very windy so we had to move camp. Dinner was camel stew, followed by an early night. Morning made up for it though with an even better sunrise, then we packed up and headed towards Terjit.
Before reaching Terjit there was, of course, more desert walking. Much more fun on the way down. Eventually we arrived at our auberge in a tiny village with a pocket sized oasis, which felt like a welcome relief after all that sand.
In Atar tonight and it just happened to be the Africa Cup final, Morocco vs Senegal. We found a shop showing the match and piled in with the locals. No alcohol involved but somehow it still got very rowdy. Extra time meant a long night, but watching Mauritanians completely lose their minds over football was brilliant.This is why I travel.
After five hours on the road we finally reached Ouadane. On the way we stopped at another oasis, casually hiding in the middle of nowhere. Then we bounced our way to the Eye of the Sahara riding on the back of the trucks just like the locals. Rough, dusty, mildly bone shaking but great fun.
Ouadane, one of Mauritania’s UNESCO sites. It was founded as a key trading post on the trans Saharan routes. It once connected caravans hauling salt, gold and knowledge across the desert. What’s left today is beautifully preserved stone ruins clinging to the hillside, old houses, libraries and alleyways that whisper we were important once. Walking through it feels like the desert paused and forgot to erase it. After wandering the ruins and pretending I understood medieval trade logistics, we piled back into the trucks for more desert driving. Lunch stop involved more sand and me sharing my food with a very confident cat who clearly felt this was his UNESCO site.
More desert driving again, this time heading towards the outskirts of Chinguetti for our camel trek. I was allocated my own camel for 24 hours. I'm definitely not riding the camel. Been there, done that, no need for a repeat of my previous irresponsible behaviour. Instead I opted to take my camel for a nice walk like a slightly exotic dog. His name is Zrog. He enjoys frequent snack breaks, wandering off course, and generally eating his way through the desert. Perfect pairing. We eventually reached camp where Zrog stayed close by, as we’ll be walking back into town tomorrow like old friends.
Our night in camp was memorable. Dinner was roasted, stuffed goat and bread baked straight in the sand. The next morning Zrog and I set off on foot back to Chinguetti in search of lunch. A leisurely 90 minute stroll through the desert, punctuated by Zrog stopping to snack on every bush we walked past. I did not argue, as he is large and technically he's walking me. All in all, a solid 24 hours with my camel. Low drama, good company, and only one of us ate the scenery.
Chinguetti, another UNESCO World Heritage site and one of the most important historic towns in the Sahara. Founded in the 13th century, it was a major stop on the trans Saharan trade routes and a centre of Islamic learning, famous for its ancient libraries and manuscripts. These days the desert is slowly reclaiming it. Sand creeps in a little more every year, burying houses and streets and giving the whole place a quietly end of the world feel. We wandered through the narrow lanes, admired the old stone houses, and visited the mosque from the outside. Non Muslims aren’t allowed in, but the exterior alone is worth it, simple and timeless. We stayed until sunset then headed off to dinner.
After dinner we headed out to a local get together in the new town of Chinguetti. Traditional singing, drumming and dancing with the locals pretending they hadn’t seen tourists move like that before. The men’s dance was energetic. Think bird mating ritual with more enthusiasm. The locals had a laugh at our expense, as they should. Our driver Omar, however, was genuinely brilliant. Absolute pro. Somehow I got pulled in and actually joined in, which anyone who knows me will understand is a rare and slightly alarming turn of events.
Agrour Amogjar was one of those places that really appeals to me. Ancient rock art scattered across the giant rocks, showing animals, people and symbols from a time when the Sahara was green and full of life. Hard to get your head around there used to be giraffes and elephants here. I loved scrambling over the rocks, squeezing through gaps and jumping little chasms to find more paintings. Beautiful surroundings.
Next stop was Choum and the railway built for the iron ore train. Proper industrial desert madness. We walked into the old tunnel and then actually drove through it too, which felt slightly surreal. 2 kms of track cutting through the mountains, right out near the edge of the Western Sahara border. Rail infrastructure in the middle of the desert shouldn’t be this interesting but it really was. There were even bats in the tunnel. Now I’m just hanging out in this little town until my train arrives.
I rode the Mauritania iron ore train. We got to the station at 2.30am, when I say station, I mean a dark patch of desert somewhere near Choum. The train was 7 hours late. There was a lot of waiting around in the smallest town ever. When it finally arrived, it rolled past us out of the pitch black then screeched to a stop. Suddenly people were throwing bags and supplies onto the wagons and everyone moved fast. We saw other trains with over 140 wagons. Another had more than 200! This thing is one of the longest trains in the world. I was last in line to climb up when one of the guys grabbed me, pulling me to the front and told me to hurry in French. The train only stops for 5 minutes so you have to be fast. Problem was the first rung of the ladder was ridiculously high and I couldn’t reach it. The guy dropped to all fours in front of me, told me to climb. I was reluctant to climb on him at first but the train was about to leave and I got pushed, so I climbed on him and hauled myself into the wagon. Desert teamwork at its finest. This train is freight only. It hauls iron ore from the mines in Zouerate to the port of Nouadhibou across hundreds of kms through the Sahara. There are no tickets, no timetables you can trust, and people aren’t meant to be on it at all. Locals have been riding it for decades because there’s no other transport. Authorities mostly turn a blind eye. So yes slightly illegal. Definitely unforgettable. Once we pulled away it got so cold. The wagon wasn’t sandy as expected, it was full of iron ore stones and the wagons were full, so I was perched high up. Sleeping bag on, head down, staying as still and inconspicuous as possible. I woke up to an unreal orange glow. It was like the Total Recall movie scene with Arnie mining on Mars! It was so surreal. Thirteen hours hanging out on a mound of iron ore, napping, snacking, trying not to fall off and watching the desert roll by. At 4pm we reached Nouadhibou. Wild, exhausting, absurd, absolutely fucking nuts and one of the most extraordinary things I’ve ever done.
