Fal from Tan Tan is the head concierge at Cap Barbas Auberge. He speaks only Arab and a bit of Spanish. Tells patiently the story of this project apparently not so much in the middle of nowhere since the village of Cap Barbas, with population of 30 families, has existed since the Spanish occupation of the Western Sahara. The 'pueblito', gas station and hotel runs on an electrical generator.
The Aprilia proved one more time to be at its limits and needed 2 changes of sparkplug right at the start before running at an anyhow slow pace. 130kms to Nouadhibou. 80 kms to the border. This last km of Moroccan Western Sahara showed more military presence with the passing mimetic vehicles and brothers of Red's beloved Gas 66. There were more presence of rocks carved by wind, your occasional mountain size heap of golden sand, military bunkers, military quarters and lots of rock sculptures.. It seems like thousands each and everyone made by some passerby which a kink to copy the previous sculpture made.
Our arrival to the border was filled with a triumphant air.
Everyone looked at us sideways and those interested asked questions and either didn't believe we did all of those kilometers from Tangiers or just thought we were nuts.
I'd do it again. Minus Aprilia.
Visualizza Day 12 in una mappa di dimensioni maggiori
It was already around 1pm when we finally finished the police checks to leave Morocco. Between Morocco and Mauritania there is a 4 km distance of disputed area, where you see only sand, rocks, the men in blue and car carcasses. It was the most difficult drive for me in all of the trip. Few trucks that waived their service at us for a crossover became a temptation. Scooters were not meant for off-road touring and I was only recently deflowered from my motorcycling virginity few days passed. I only had one fall at the beginning but it did its damage to my right knee. As the adrenalin kicks in we went on anyway and those 4 km really felt like forever to me. No broken bones this time.
It felt as though with the change of country there was an immediate change of temperature. The Mauritanian border was decorated by numerous burnt vehicles. The police office was a small room in a chain of offices with tin roofs that hasn't been cleaned for years. It was paradise for the flies. The officer wrote down our information translating the sounds in Arab. It was quite entertaining to see him try to write mine.. One officer was worthy of a photo there and then as he was and aging black man with whitening beard wearing seeing glasses still with the degree of stigmatism correction still attached to the right lens. The duties office was the most dramatic of them all. It was a hut made of wood and cardboards.
I waited for Red to finish with customs check quite a bit and noticed the difference in attitude of these Mauritanians compared to Moroccans. The notion of poverty as all of them either asked for alms or tried to sell something or was just there at the 1 square meter 'cafe' holding up their hand to signal me, as if their presence would not have been evident without this gesture. Men walked together in friendship holding hands and talked to me while hugging each other. The head of the border is a military man who asked me why I'm not Muslim since I'm Indonesian and didn't comprehend too well what I meant by freedom of choice. I speak bad french and he speaks french with an accent I couldn't well comprehend. He was also the local Imam (preacher) and was singing the 2 PM shalat on a megaphone from the back of a broken down van. I don't think its everyday they see 2 people, let alone an Asian girl ride a 50cc ride on these parts... many of these boys were keen on feeling my skin while looking back and forth from their palm to my arm... I asked why and they just added a smile to their vague expression.
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Another great update, I am glad you both doing well. Looks like, distance wise, you are half way through your trip. Travel safe my friends.
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