The Adrar Adventure

We arrived at the train station early (a small building beside the tracks constitutes the station), to be sure we wouldn't miss the train as we did not know exactly when it left. Our group of four grew steadily as other travellers joined us. Sylvia and Michiel are from Dresden, Germany (he is Dutch though), Marty is a fellow Canadian who is from Alberta, and three Japanese fellows also joined us. Sylvia, Michiel, Peter and I decided to pay for the journey and got passenger car tickets for 1000 UM each (approx. 4 dollars), the others chose to ride for free in one of the empty iron ore cars. This train is reportedly the longest train in the world at 2.5 km long, with the passenger car at the very end. As the afternoon wore on the people and luggage lining the track continued to grow, even in the hot sun with no shade. We had read that getting a seat on the train is a challenge and with the crowds by the tracks growing, we wondered if we would get on. When the train arrived and finally came to a complete stop all hell broke loose. There is only one passenger car with two entrances and what seemed like 500 people scrambling to get on. It was probably only 100 or 150 people, but add in the luggage and the bizarre cargo and the sheer mayhem of it all, it was quite overwhelming. Once a person gets on the train, they secure a spot for themselves (and usually their family) with some piece of luggage, and then they return to the door to get more. This posed a problem for us backpackers as once we go on the train (the first step was 2 feet off the ground - hard to climb on with your belongings on your back!). Once in the doorway, we had to fight against the people coming back to the door to get more luggage AND a huge oil drum that was in the entranceway! Once we squeezed past there the berths began and the hallway became very narrow, only wide enough for my backpack, and again, people are pushing past, squeezing past and crawling past to get back to the door. Finally the berths end, we crawled over the empty large plastic drums, manouevered around 2 foot high bundles of flattened cardboard, tripped over suitcases and small children and flopped our bags on the floor, sweating profusely, but happy to finally be in the train! Michiel and Sylvia managed to find two seats (he speaks fluent French) and Peter and I found space on the floor. Peter smartly got his thermarest out, it helped greatly on the wooden floor. Let me explain about the passenger car a little bit, in case you are imagining luxury. There are bench seats lining the car that are made of plywood. The centre of the car is empty, so this is where the woman and children set up camp on thick blankets. There are only small windows in the car that open, we think this is because otherwise people crawl in the windows to get into the train. The men all sit on the benches and the women all sit on the floor. The floor becomes almost impossible to cross because of women, children and luggage.

We managed to get our backpacks into the overhead luggage bins (Peter's did fall out once, but no one was hurt!) and were marvelling at the mayhem of it all when the train began to move with a bang and a lurch. This sent all the standing people flying to the ground like bowling pins. I hit the ground especially hard on my tail bone and at first thought I had broken it. Thank goodness it is only badly bruised! This set the tone for the remainder of the train journey as it ain't no Via Rail journey! The train is bumpy, rocky, jerky and long. At one point, from my perch on the floor, I looked over the crowd and it seemed like a bowl of human jello as everyone rocked with the motion of the train. For all the uncomfortableness and monotony of the journey, there were special moments too. We had fun with some young fellows trying to teach us some Arabic, the two older gentlemen beside Michiel and Sylvia shared all their food with us and the group of woman nearest us gestured their welcome to us. There is no electricity on the train, so when the sun sets the car is plunged into darkness. At this point, the making of the lanterns begins. Pieces of cloth are ripped into strips and tied together, a plastic water bottle has the bottom cut off, a candle is inserted into the cap and screwed back into the bottle and the bottle/lantern is hung from the ceiling of the car. It throws just enough ambient light to see around - it was fascinating to watch.

When the train arrives after 12 hours in Choum, the journey is not over. It is 3:30 am, dark and there are no signs. Someone in the dark car told us this was Choum, so we got off. Sure enough, there are vehicles waiting to take us to Atar. We get in the back of a truck with all our bags, a few more people and 5 goats. We get to the village of Choum and then the negotiations really start! Here we find Marty and the three Japanese fellows completely covered in dust, but alive! In the end, there are 9 people, all our backpacks and 5 goats in the back of a two-door, 4WD Toyota truck. We have no idea how long the journey will take and it is very exciting at first to be zooming across the desert under the blanket of the stars. The novelty wears off as Peter and I are sitting on the bar at the top of the extended sides and our butts are killing us (bruised tailbone aside), and our hands and arms are sore from hanging on as we are driving on a dirt track and the driver is avoiding obstacles as best he can in the sand. Marty proved to be a distraction as he pulled out his guitar and started singing Gordon Lightfoot songs, and the owner of the goats serenaded us with some traditional Mauritanian songs. It turned out to be a 3 hour journey. We arrived tired, beaten, sore and hungry into Atar and promptly settled into the Bab Sahara Auberge to eat and then sleep.

The next day we joined Sylvia and Michiel for one day of their 4 day Adrar tour. This leg took us in a 4 WD Nissan Patrol from Atar to Chinguetti via the old road through the Amogjar Pass. Abdullah, our driver and guide (Michiel translated the French for us) drove the rocky pass with ease, although for us it was a little reminiscent of the bumpy train journey! The scenery is spectacular. The photos don't do it justice and words can't quite describe it. So very, very different than any of us were expecting. When we arrived in Chinguetti in the late afternoon we found a place to stay and then headed for the dunes to watch the sunset. Half the fun was Abdullah driving as far up the dune as he could! We scrambled up the rest of the way and then fell silent as the sand stretched out in front of us for miles. As Sylvia said, you could walk for 1000 km across the sand and reach Algeria. Again, it is hard to describe the sand dunes. It was a very magical moment for Peter and I as we have been dreaming of standing on top of a sand dune for a long time. We felt so blessed to be able to be there.

The next day we visited one of the 25 libraries in Chinguetti with Michiel and Sylvia to see the ancient manuscripts that date back to the 13th Century. Chinguetti was a major centre for the study of Islam at this time and ancient capital of the Moors. It was also a caravan town home to 20,000 people in its peak, there are now 4000 occupants. The manuscripts are kept locked in libraries behind the original wooden doors and the original wooden locking systems. It was very interesting to see the manuscripts and also the small museum. After this we said good-bye to Sylvia and Michiel, sadly as we really enjoyed their company over the past few days. We were unable to join them for the remainder of their tour as we do not have enough money and Mauritania has no ATM's, and does not accept Traveller's Cheques or Credit Cards.

We spent the remainder of the day wandering around Chinguetti and relaxing at the Auberge. We bought some carrots at the market as this area is quite famous for them and for good reason - they were delicious and sweet!

The following morning we packed up and headed back to Atar by taxi. Once in Atar we were going to find out about travelling to Terjit, a desert oasis town, but it proved too difficult (and expensive) for us to do without a vehicle, so we settled in to wait for a taxi leaving for the capital, Nouakchott. After almost 2 hours we had enough passengers to leave. In the Peugot station wagon there were 9 adults and 5 children. One man got out after about an hour, but it really didn't make much difference. The trip took longer than anticipated as we stopped fairly often, but the breaks were the only thing that saved us as were seated in the last seat with no leg room and no head room. The best part was the driver offered to drop us off at our Auberge (for extra money of course), for which we were very grateful.

So here we are in Nouakchott, relaxing a bit and trying to wash away the grit of the desert. In the next few days we will make a move for Senegal. We have enjoyed Mauritania, and with access to more money we would have stayed longer. Maybe one day we will return.

Salaam from Mauritania,
Lots of love,
Laini and Peter

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