Minefield

The landscape gets drier and sandier. Only cacti grow here. A hot strong wind blows our suzuki's over the monotonous road to Dakhla in South Morocco. From here we have to go in convoy to Mauritania because of the civil war between the Moroccians and the minority group the Polisarios in the late seventies. After four days of paper work we can join the convoy that will take us to Mauritania. It is an international group of travellers. Germans in a Unimog, Australians in a landrover, Spanish in an old
peugeot, Dutch in a very old VW bus and we on our suzuki motorbikes.

 

 

The whole convoy is accompanied by one militair. After a long day riding we arrive
at the Mauritanian border. A desk middle in the desert and a few miIitairs, thats all.
It is already 30 degrees C and we wait a few hours until all the papers are checked.
Then we can continue. The road has ended and takes places for sand with many deep
tracks. The most cars get stucked and we help to dig them out. On our motorbikes we
are much lighter and quicker and we go ahead of the convoy. After a while we are stopped
by Mauritanian militairs. They say that we took the wrong track. But one of the mililtairs is
friendly enough to show us a shortcut back to the main track. He guide us on foot and we
follow him on our bikes. After a while he stops and says: "follow this jeep track and you
will find the main track".  "But stay between the tiretracks because this is a minefield",
he says with a smile on his face. We look to each other and then we kick on our bikes.
Carefuly we ride over the little sand dunes, trying to stay between the tracks. After a
few 100 metres the tracks are gone, blown away by the wind. There we stand in the
middle of a minefield and no idea which way to go........  

 

avoiding mines in the Sahara...

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