We left Bir Gandouz for the Mauritanian border at 10:45. The crossing into no-mans-land is quick and easy then you have to keep to the main track. To wander off would be suicide as there are still many hidden landmines left during the long dispute between Morocco and Mauritania for the possession of Western Sahara. A few blown-up cars are a proof of this by the wayside. And suddenly you come across a couple of vendors selling vehicles, brought here from Europe; trucks, cars and vans, each one in a worse state than another, but worth something for the locals and money in the pocket of the salesman. The good-looking BMWs and Mercedes are, we are told stolen in Europe! Halfway across no-mans-land is a guard post and we are asked for our passports. There’s an eerie feeling about this place and after awhile Alan comes back to the car to get the air compressor out to pump-up the tyre of the guards car, a Mercedes! Which has a flat tyre. I wondered if we might have to leave it behind too, but after many thanks and hand shakes are sent on our way. Fifty metres further on the Mauritanian guards halt us. Everything is okay but after another 20 metres was stopped to change money from a caravan sitting up on a pile of rocks - the Bureau-de-change. Our Carnet de Passage is checked and stamped and the Doctor in a white coat looks at our two yellow vaccine booklets - not the inside - just the outside! They could have been anyone’s! A kilometre later we’re stopped to buy our insurance policy for Mauritania from another old caravan propped up on rocks yet again. The AGM (Assurances Generales de Mauritanie) twice as expensive than in town we later find out! A policeman checks my passport. After some minutes and thumbing through it more than once passes it back to me and says okay. It was upside down all the time! Do I have a blond beard and two lumps on my head?

We now head for the Auberge de Sahara which Rudi and Mirella have used many times whilst moving house from Spain to Senegal. It’s a safe compound with high walls and you can either camp, as we did, or take a room in the main building. Across the road are a Teleboutique and a good “Shawarma” restaurant bar. Before leaving the Auberge, we top up our water tank which was fitted under the rear wheel arch in England, with potable water. It’s great, as we always have about 45 litres on tap, without having to carry so many Jerry cans. Whilst Alan is doing this I talk to a guest in the hotel. He's a camel herder. He’s been herding for 10 years and having talked for a good 15 minutes in French with him, he tells me he’s Scottish! Can you imagine, a Scottish Camel herder! He got fed up with the people and weather and needed a change.

So leaving Nouakchott, having collected our Senegal insurance, we were on the road again towards Senegal. We’re still following Rudi & Mirella as we discussed over dinner our plan and route and decided to visit Mauritania on our way back after seeing Senegal, The Gambia, Burkina Faso, Niger and Mali etc first, as we have to come through here to get back to Morocco on our way home.

Yesterday was a very long day with over 400kms from Bir Gandouz fuel station in Morocco to Nouadibou and Nouakchott in Mauritania, with desert all the way. The temperature reached 43° again. Today looks no different. No sooner are we off, there’s a police check point. This time the Nouakchott policeman thinks were from the Red Cross. He asks me if I have any medicine and I tell him were really just checking out the situation in Mauritania and he agrees that that is “tres-tres- bon”. He then shows me his hand with a large bruise on the palm. Now I ask him if he has the same on his body to which he says “no” to my relief. I suggest however he sees his local doctor and tell him to “tu travail tuop”. He’s happy with the fact he works too hard. He pats the Swiss flag on the side of our car with his bad hand and wishes us well on our way. I wish him well too. The Swiss flag has a white cross but it was all the same to him.

Southern Mauritania is full of shanty towns with mainly the black Mauritanians who are called second class citizens, originally from Senegal. The mainly Arab population still consider them slaves.

Again so much desert, dunes, sand and heat sees us finally to a right turn just before Rosso, the main border post into Senegal. Taking this dirt track will take us 80 kms around to another border post called Sojed Diama, known to be less ruthless than Rosso. It takes us through marches and lakes, up and down banks which are badly rutted due to heavy rains and just as heavy trucks, past fishermens shelters some drying out their catch on palm mats and eventually to the border post. A bridge crosses the Senegal river but you have to wait till someone on the other side pushes a button to open the gate. Just the click costs you 4000 CFAs (about € 5).

Twenty metres further on we stop and Alan & Rudi get out with all our papers, passports, Carnet de Passage, fich etc. They don’t want to let Mirella back into Senegal. They say her papers are not in order. She has residency till December. Rudi gave an old Hi-Fi set to “the man” Odd everything now seemed to be in order! Mirella’s passport was okay. It takes us 2 hours and € 45 for “Baksheesh” to cross the border and we are free to continue. A kilometre on a huge sign says “BEWARE OF THIEVES”