Into Africa Pt.2 by Rowan Dixon

3 Days into our expedition and we had already covered 2500km, mostly through Europe, and then into the Rift Mountains in northern Morocco. Lennie, the Land Cruiser 90, had so far run perfectly, and now we were camped high up in the rift mountains surrounded by stunning scenery.

As the sun rose over the horizon on the 4th day we had our first ‘shower’ of the trip. This involved each of us individually stripping off at the front of the vehicle, and pouring water over our heads whilst the others ate the breakfast Neirin had cooked up.

Just before leaving a local goat herder walked up the gravel track we had camped next to. Our Arabic is poor, and he didn’t speak French or English, but we managed to have a ‘conversation’ using hand gestures and pointing. We discovered that he was from the town we'd driven through the day before.

After packing up, with Scott at the wheel, we headed south down beautiful quiet mountain roads. It was the perfect opportunity to get outside of the vehicle, something not possible in the UK for obvious reasons, and watch the world go by, as we slowly made our way through the Rift mountains towards Fes. We arrived a few hours later, and what a city!

The streets were bustling with activity, and it was fantastic to see the traditional tanning methods that are still used, which aren’t just there to make tourists happy. We got lunch in the bazaar, a mix of vegetables and meats cooked on the street and stuffed into fresh bread.

We wanted to cover more ground today, and were looking to make camp at a spot we'd found on google earth - a sandspit on the beach 40km south of Casablanca, so after spending 3 hours in Fes, we headed off. The rest of the drive was a mixture of country roads and motorways.

Just before we arrived the sun dipped below the horizon, which made finding the track hard, however we eventually found a way onto the sand bank. The winds were very strong, and that coupled with dry sand made pitching the tents very difficult. Just as we had finished, and were starting to unpack our sleepijng bags when we saw the lights of a 4x4 in the distance heading towards us.

Two guys got out and walked over, wearing berets and holding flashlights. We spoke to them in French and discovered that they were local police. They informed us that we had to move and were very reasonable, but continued to stress that we had to move for our ‘personal safety’. The commanding officer was very insistent, and suggested that we camp inside the grounds of the local police station, 1km away.

We didn’t want to cause any trouble on our second night so we threw all the kit in the car and followed them down the beach to the police station, where we pitched our tents under a tree. It was a slightly bizarre experience camping inside a police compound, but everyone was friendly enough.

In the morning Rowan and Neirin fixed a knocking sound coming from the front suspension, which was just one of the shock absorbers coming a bit loose whilst Orla and Scott sorted out the morning coffee and breakfast. The day was a fairly relaxed, heading south towards Western Sahara and leaving the Atlas mountains behind us. We stopped off at a Decathlon to get a few bits and bobs we had left back in the UK, such as proper sand pegs and to top up on hand sanitiser.

We also encountered some police checkpoints where they ask for details such as name, passport number, vehicle registration and destination. This can take a long time as each individual has to fill out a form, however if you pre-write them it can cut a police checkpoint down from 30 minutes to 2 minutes. We pulled into a town and found an internet café where we quickly complied the documents (locally called a 'fiche') and printed of 40 copies.

As we headed closer to the ‘border’ with western Sahara the police checkpoints became more frequent, but thanks to the fiches that we had prepared it didn’t hinder us at all.

That night we pulled off the road and headed up through farm land towards a hill that we could see as we headed into dusk. At a completely arbitrary point we switched off the engine and lights and were met by utter piece and quiet and a crystal clear starry sky.

This spot, nessled away in the hills, was incredibly peaceful, with only a gentle wind and the stars for company.

The next morning we headed south, and stopped off at a roadside café for a traditional Moroccan breakfast of eggs, bread and tea. We then continued south towards Western Sahara, passing camels and a huge archway/hole by the coast, however the biggest surprise of the day came just after we crossed into Western Sahara.

In the town of Laayoune is a McDonalds, the last thing anyone would expect in a contested territory. We piled in to sample their menu, which was without a doubt better than the UK counter part. The restaurant was cleaner and better equipped than any UK McDonalds that I have ever been to, and we were all grateful to be able to use a proper loo for the first time in several days.

We had heard of a beautiful camping spot next to an old ship wreck (22.947889, -14.513984) which we wanted to camp by.

Arriving just before sunset, we all stripped off into our swimming gear, and ran into the sea to cool off as the sun set over the Atlantic. After the swim we drove along the beach to find a sutable place for a campsite.

One of the great things about a Land Cruiser with a roof rack is the ease of which one can stand on the outside and hang off as you drive along a beach or road, which is very useful when you don’t want to get the inside of the car wet and sandy. Once again we pitched our tents, cooked dinner and chatted under a blanket of stars.

The following day we were aiming to get as close to the Mauritanian border as possible, so that we could cross it early in the morning before the rush. We headed south, along a dead straight road with nothing but sand to our left for 5000km, and the Atlantic to our right for 6000km.

At around 1 pm we arrived at Dakhla, a city run by the Moroccans in Western Sahara to bring in tourists to help their claim to the country. All of the tourists were there for one reason - wind. It is the kite surfing capital of the world due to its year round high winds and shallow waters - perfect for kite surfing on.

We treated ourselves to lunch in a seaside restaurant before poking our noses around one of the resorts and having a beer; it's one of the only places it's possible to in the country, due to their laws.

We headed south again, and pulled off the road 40km north of the border with Mauritania. As we drove towards the coast and into the soft sand we ended up bogging down.

This was quickly remedied by lowering the tyre pressure from 42psi to 18psi, giving us a much longer footprint and locking the gearbox in low range 2.

This was the first evening that we had arrived at a campsite before the sun had set, and we set about repacking the car ready for the next day, when we would be crossing no-mans-land, and the worlds longest minefield! f

Part 3 coming in next month's issue.