This part of my trip I visit Western Sahara. I crossed the El Guerguerat border between Mauritania and Western Sahara. One of those places you don’t really think about until you’re actually there. This stretch of desert sits in a long running dispute between Morocco and the Polisario Front over Western Sahara. Spain left in the 70s, Morocco took control of the territory, and the Sahrawi people have been fighting for independence ever since. It’s one of the only road linking south into Mauritania, which makes it politically sensitive and tense. What really hits home is the road itself, Mauritania part just dirt road and the Moroccan controlled half is tarmac. You drive down a narrow strip with landmines on both sides. I took a sneaky photo of the warning sign because sometimes you need proof that this is actually happening. It felt heavy, fascinating, and slightly surreal. A strange and sobering way to mark the end of my Mauritanian adventure and somehow completely fitting for a journey that’s been anything but ordinary. Now we’re in Western Sahara, a weirdly fascinating patch of desert in between Mauritania & Morocco. Politically it’s complicated. Morocco says it’s theirs, the Polisario Front says it should be an independent Sahrawi state, the UN hasn’t made up its mind, and basically only Israel and the USA officially back Morocco's occupation. Dakhla is the capital and is slowly being turned into a huge tourist resort. With the closest international airport outside Mauritania, this was where we spent our last day and our only chance to experience Western Sahara. So we hit their famous white dunes, pretty, but nowhere near as epic as the Mauritanian ones I just left behind. Then came the hot springs where, for £1 they hosed tourists down with a giant black hose. I laughed so much. Then lunch was fresh seafood so cheap, 40 cents per oyster, 30 cents per muscle, 4 euros for octopus and my langoustines were 8 euros. We finished the day at an ostrich farm with very bitey birds. It’s touristy, slightly silly, but a welcome respite after the iron ore train.
At Dakhla airport, boarding my flight, the guy scans my boarding pass and says they want to check my bag. I’ve had this before, random checks but usually it’s just at the gate. Not this time. I’m handed to a guy who tells me to follow him. Of course I do. We walk outside towards the plane, then veer way right, and end up at a hangar. More men are waiting inside. I’m nervous now, so I pretend to turn off music, take off headphones but secretly turn on the camera on my phone. Then five policemen appear. The head guy walks over, points at an open bag behind me on a table that looks dodgy as hell and badly wrapped of god knows what, and asks, “Is this your bag?” I say no. He leans in, holding my passport, “Are you sure?” I nod and point to my backpack saying this is my only bag and I haven't checked any bags in. Then he questions his staff, turns back to me and asks Who sent you? I panic and can't think of the words so I say the guy who does the beep beep 😚 while waving my boarding pass at him. He hands back my passport. I back away slowly, asking, Ok, can I go? No reply. So I said thank you and legged it towards the plane before he changed his mind. Wtf. Why does this shit always happen to me?
