Day Twelve

January 9, 2006

We’re in the desert. We made it through the minefield! What a cool, exciting & fun day for the little Sand Flea & the rest of the team.

It all started with yet another long drive. This time from Dakhla down to the Mauritanian border. And the crossing formalities went a whole lot quicker than expected. Very friendly officials, no lines and not much paperwork at all. Then again, this was only the checkpoint to get out of Morocco. We had yet to cross the minefield and hit Mauritanian entry formalities.

We did our bureaucratic duties like good little tourists, lined up in front of the barbed wire fence & armed guards protecting the Kingdom of Morocco from a Mauritanian onslaught, and proceeded to follow our guide Hameen into the no-man’s land that separates these two sandy countries. And here all I could say was, “Wow!” Immediately to the left & right were the shells of burned out cars. And I mean there were lots of them. It immediately became very clear that not getting a guide would have been a false (and pretty stupid) economy. Given the choice of a few dollars in my pocket and being spread in little bits around the desert or having less money and not being scattered into little bits, the latter seems so much more appealing.

We drove over bumps and through dips, made hard lefts through sand & took sharp rights around jagged rocks. Stop, go, back up, slide! It was definitely a 2-mile stretch unlike any I had ever experienced. And believe me – it was so tempting to stop and go check out some of the wrecks. But my distaste for stepping on live landmines got the better of me & I chose the option that would decrease the likelihood of Aric arriving in Mauritania in more than one piece. Trevor also suggested some cross-country jogging tonight after arriving at the campsite. Once again, I chose the option that would favor desert survival. You guessed it – I did not go jogging.

After about half an hour of very slow (but safe) progress, we finally made it to the Mauritanian border checkpoint. And let me tell you this right now. If you’re ever looking for a consulting firm to help you enhance efficiency in your organization, absolutely positively do not hire the individual who put in place the process we endured to enter Mauritania. Here’s how it goes…

First stop: a decrepit little hut with two gentlemen. We lined up in an orderly manner, gave our personal details, and then stepped to the side. He didn’t even want to see our passports. He did, however, ask for a “present.” Now what on earth was that supposed to mean? Money, cigarettes, food? How totally weird. One other note here – he did chastise Dawn for smoking while waiting in line outside. We were not quite sure why, but have a feeling it’s because she’s a woman. We got “processed,” walked back to our cars, and then waited for our marching orders. But before we could move on, the two fellows walked along next to the cars and asked for their presents. Trevor & I decided to offer a pack of cigarettes (we had actually bought a carton of Marlboros on the Tangier ferry just for such occasions), but this was declined. Here’s the best part though. He said he’d rather have a mobile phone or something along those lines. “Forget it!” we told him. And that was the end of that.

Second stop: a slightly nicer hut with a few cots, a meal going and a heater in the corner. Now this was actually cozier. And the official here was quite a bit nicer, too. Great English, very friendly and fairly talkative. This is where we finally got our visas checked and passports stamped. We handed all of our documents over at one time, he then took a few notes, matched the passport photos against each of us, and sent us back to our cars. For some reason this official put Trevor & my passport to the side and saved us for last. He then picked them up and said: “Here we have the Americans.” But in a very nice and welcoming way. We were once again “processed,” but this time without a request for gifts.

Third stop: another checkpoint after about 100 yards. A-ha! These must be the customs officials. Here, however, the quality of the hut was back to “ramshackle” standards. And you guessed it – some forms to fill out. Finally! I knew we couldn’t get into the country without filling in at least some paperwork! We had one form for each vehicle, which we’ll have to show when we leave Mauritania (for some completely unknown reason they don’t want foreigners importing cars into the country) and another document for each individual declaring how much cash and gold we had brought with us. Yep – you read correctly. Gold! And all along here I had been thinking of bringing my gold brick along for good luck. Glad I’d decided to leave that back at CarDomain headquarters!

But in the end, we succeeded in running the gauntlet that is the Mauritanian border. And we are now at what is definitely the most amazing campsite that I have ever seen. I’ll tell you all about that tomorrow.

Reporting in from somewhere in the northwest corner of Mauritania.