PART 2 of the account of Addicted To Travel’s recce trip to Western Sahara, Mauritania and Senegal. By Mike Fox As we drove south from Mauritania’s capital, Nouakchott, towards the Senegalese border the scenery was just extraordinary, like a scene from a post-Apocalypse movie. The buildings dwindled to just an occasional hut or two. Low dunes stretched off on either side of us as far as the eye could see. The sand was white. The sky was white. And a strong wind whipped the sand across the highway like drifting snow in a storm.But as the border got closer, things started to change. Suddenly there were trees, streams, crops being cultivated, cows in the fields - a different world altogether. The desert was behind us and we had entered a world of greenery and plentiful water.The border between Mauritania and Senegal is formed by the broad Senegal River. Crossing is by means of a ferry located in the ramshackle town of Rosso. True to form, the Customs police at the border managed to find something on our car’s papers they were not happy with. Which meant two hour’s delay while the papers were re-issued and faxed from our agent’s office. (We saw one poor couple, driving round West Africa on their own, who’d been waiting 6 hours for Customs to clear them!). After an hour of people-watching and sunbathing at the port side, we wandered into town to have lunch in a local café – delicious spicy chicken in rice, with mint tea.When we finally drove onto the open-air, roll-on roll-off ferry we found ourselves sandwiched in between several other cars and a couple of heavily-laden trucks, and an animated and brightly-dressed crowd of locals, weighed down by all manner of sacks, boxes and trolleys, then poured on to fill all the remaining space. The crossing of the wide river passed smoothly and we drove up the ramp to find ourselves in Senegal.Our destination was the town of St Louis. As we drove through the town towards our hotel I instantly took a liking to the place. It reminded me of a cross between Stonetown in Zanzibar and New Orleans in the US. Most of the buildings were rather run down and dilapidated, but that was all part of its charm, as were the lovely pastel colours they were painted: shades of orange, yellow, terracota, turquoise. And the people were attractive too, almost without exception, tall and slim, with jet black skin, smart brightly-coloured clothes and very quick to break into smiles and laughter.Having decided to splash out a bit on our accommodation for once, we opted for the Sindone Hotel, a lovely characterful three star right on the waterfront. Dinner that night, served on a large wooden deck built over the water just in front of our hotel, consisted of delicious seafood, chicken, steaks and two bottles of ice-cold white wine. As he picked rather gingerly at his chicken, our tea-total Mauritanian driver, named Mad, commented that chicken just wasn’t as good as camel and he was already pining for the desert. Nick and I laughed at that. Camping in the silent dunes of Mauritania and living on camel stew had been a magical and unforgettable experience for sure (read PART 1 of this blog if you want to hear about it). But for the next few days we were more than happy to put up with clean white sheets, en suite bathrooms, air-con, fresh seafood, and a multitude of lively bars offering cold beers and live Senegalese music!After a typically-French breakfast (croissant, pain au chocolate, juice and coffee), it was off to the Djoudj National Park just forty minutes drive up the coast. While it is possible to drive around the park in a 4x4, most people opt for a boat trip on the inland waterways instead. Deciding to do the same, we joined up with two French lady tourists with a little girl, and boarded an open boat along with a driver and guide. The banks were thick with lush green reeds. Where there were trees on the banks they were invariably full of birds – cormorants, fish eagles, herons, egrets and many more. To the delight of the little girl, the guide pointed out several small baby crocodiles sunning themselves on the bank. Then a large swimming lizard swam slowly by. But it was the pelicans that were to steal the show. We’d already seen a fair number of the large strange-looking birds when, rounding a bend in the river, we approached ‘Pelican Island’. And there they were - hundreds upon hundreds of nesting pelicans. Many took to the air as we approached and flew right over us. It was like being in the middle of a World II Lancaster air raid! (Though thankfully we were not ‘bombed’ if you know what I mean). Whether you are an avid ‘twitcher’ or not, you simply could not fail to be excited by this incredible Pelican experience. Back in St Louis, after lunch by the water in the Hotel de la Poste, we spent the afternoon exploring the town, checking out hotels, and meeting agents. We also took a boat across to the Langue de Barbarie peninsular. This remote strip of tree-covered land, with water on two sides, has a pristine white beach on its Atlantic coast side. There are a couple of fairly basic but cosy and informal places to stay, either of which would make a pleasant venue for a day or two of R&R, sunbathing and watersports. As the boat took us the short journey back to the mainland, the sun set, bathing the scene in soft yellow light and silhouetting a passing dhow - another ‘Kodak moment’. We dined that night in the Hotel La Residence, guests of several high-powered members of the Mauritanian and Senegalese tourism industry keen to talk to us about how to attract more British tourists to their countries. We all agreed the lack of Brits visiting their countries was not due to any lack of merit of the countries themselves. (Many thousands of French tourists visit both countries annually, particularly Senegal, which is to the French what the Gambia is to the Brits). The lack of Brits is due to:a) having no pro-active Tourist Board for either country, b) a lack of affordable direct flights from the UK, and c) still a low level of English spoken by agents, guides, hotels, etc in both countries. Over the delicious meal of smoked fish, lamb tagine, and crème brule we pledged to do all we could to bring discerning non-French tourists to their beautiful countries. After which it was out to the seafront bar of the Hotel de le Poste to watch live jazz and drink rum and coke into the early hours. Oh it’s a wonderful place, St Louis!And so on to our final destination, Dakar. It was a long drive, but a very scenic, green and varied one. En route we passed through a number of vibrantly colourful villages, with stalls selling all manner of produce lining the roadside. The streets were kept cool by the shade of dozens of magnificent mature trees. Every other person seemed to have a huge pile of water melons to sell, and I wondered how on earth they could possibly hope to sell that many watermelons locally.We decided to take our lunch by the coast, so took a diversion off the highway, which was no longer following the coast, down to the wild and windswept Atlantic fishing village of Kayar. The market area as we drove through was absolutely buzzing with people, goats, carts, shoppers, sellers, fishermen, school kids…a less touristy, more ‘real’ (and more photogenic) spot it would have been hard to find in all Senegal.We ate in a very rustic little auberge built right on the beach (the only one in town in fact). When I say it was rustic, there were cats, kittens, chickens and a large cockerel all running about in the building’s courtyard cum open dining room, and water came from a large well using a rope and bucket. Naturally enough lunch was fish, but we had to wait for the cook to go out and buy it at the market before she could cook it. We whiled away our time watching the flypasts of more than a dozen huge eagles that were gliding up and down the beach. I just couldn’t believe how numerous they were – as common as seagulls back in the UK. A final hour on the road and we hit the outskirts of the urban sprawl that is Dakar. We’d heard that the Dakar traffic was a nightmare, and we had not been ill-informed. The drive through the city was painfully slow, and painfully hot. To be fair they are carrying out a massive building, and road building, programme in the city, and I’m sure it’ll be great when it’s finished. The question is just when, if ever, that will be.Rather than one of the many downtown hotels, we opted to stay on the coast where it was cooler. I think it was a good choice. The coast at Ngor, though just a mile or two from the city centre, feels a long way from the traffic, noise and pollution of Dakar. Sat in a café, having a glass of wine and some jumbo prawns in garlic and watching the sun setting over the sea, we certainly felt a million miles from a busy capital city.Next day was to be just a day of agent meetings and hotel visits (ATT doing the ‘dull stuff’ to ensure you have just good hotels and agents on site). Next day would be the last day of our 2 week, 3 country African journey. But tonight, enjoying the sun setting slowly over Senegal, we reflected on what fantastic experiences we’d had in the Western Sahara, Mauritania and Senegal, and how they were all still practically unknown to, and unvisited by, the British market. And we resolved that we would certainly try to do all we could in our own small way to change that.
