Week 17, Is it possible to cross the Sahara desert by bicycle? Part 3 TOTAL 7121 KM

The wind in the Sahara will make or break you and I had been dealt a bad hand as the weather gods decided to send headwinds so strong they halved my average speed, in the process doubling the time and stress loads on my supplies. With distances in excess of 170 km between water stops fighting headwinds makes it virtually impossible to cover the required distances on the amount of food and water supplies that you can physically carry as a one and half day ride becomes a three day ride.

I had to adopt a new tactic and find a way to cover the ground, the wind subsided after sunset so I started cycling through the nights, setting my alarm for 3 am in order to get in a few hours before sunrise of wind free conditions, perspiring less and conserving liquids and food stocks as the conditions were more favourable, this was the only way to cover the vast distances on my supplies as I navigated the Saharan desert by night with a small torch light strapped to the front of my bike. Still I ran short as I was forced to trade a tin of Zambuck ointment for two liters of water with a travelling nomad as I came up shy on a water hole a few hundred Km’s north of the Mauritanian frontier.

The rationing of food and water supplies has become part and parcel of the desert crossing as you become accustom to halving tomatoes and onions, quartering peppers and saving sections of eggplant for the next meal, a kind of spiritual cleansing and fasting if you will as the body and mind goes through intense pressures surrounded by an unforgiving immense beauty as you juggle the nutritional needs of your body with the distances and weight requirements of the journey.

I finally reached Dakmar, which is a petrol station 84 km north of the Mauritanian border and was again safely in the bosom of a running tap and small shop that sold Moroccan flat bread and those little triangular cheeses in aluminum foil, a train wreck on any other day of the week, but on this particular day a gleaming oasis of concrete and consumable goods albeit packaged.

The crossing into Mauritania is a rather intense one as there is a 4 km stretch between leaving “Morocco”, Western Sahara and entering Mauritania. This 4 km wasteland of burnt out cars and border dwelling opportunists is ” No Man’s Land ” you are officially stamped out of one country but not yet into the next as the tarmac stops, you are harassed by numerous people trying to charge you to show you the way across this baron stretch of waste land screaming bomb, bomb don’t go that way, as they compete with each other to change currencies with you and show you safe passage across to the border for a fee.

Entering Mauritania is a military affair and a lengthy one at that as your passport and documents are scrutenised by numerous factions of the army, finally getting through after a few hours on combined borders plus having to navigate the 4 km stretch of sand by foot as “No Man’s Land” is impassable by bike.

Once in the country of Mauritania, the military official wanted to know my average speed and itinerary through the country as he phoned through my details to all the military check points that were now expecting me as I rolled through them one at a time. I was being herded from one check post to the next instructed to sleep at the posts for my security as my details were again taken down and forwarded to the next post.

Mauritania is intensely poor and my first town of Bou Lanouar offered no more than onions, bread, tinned sardines and bottled water in the form of edible stocks, again shoving my panniers full as I set off along the 390 km stretch towards the capital of Nouakchott, scanning over my map there were no villages or towns present on this stretch and the distance was again too far to traverse on the stocks I could carry. I rolled forward in faith that somehow there would be a way to cover the required distance. As I left the town of Bou Lanour the Army official muttered “Bonne Chance” appose to the “Bonne Route” I had become accustom to in the north of Morocco, “Bon Chance” gets you thinking… is this possible?

To my delight there were a few nomadic villages and military check points over the 390 km stretch between Bou Lanouar and the capital of Nouakchott that made the crossing possible, my fresh stocks completely finished as I rolled into the capital with a can of sardines and some sugar in my bag of tricks, ready to restock my supplies.

 So I type this blog from Nouakchott the capital of Mauritania after covering 2181 km in 20 days which is 21 back to back Argus Cycle races in 20 days and the answer to the question is YES, the West coast of the Saharan desert can be crossed by bicycle, but not without a pound and a half of flesh, week’s of long days and nights in the saddle, a tin of Zambuck to trade a nomad with and the ability to intensely ration your food and water supplies.

Week 17, the most intense and demanding physically but more so mentally goes out to Tommy and Terry as they celebrate the birth of their beautiful daughter Emily, and my stunning God Daughter that will be nicknamed by her uncle Kayden “ Little Miss Sahara “ congratulations on the creation of your very own little tribe my thoughts are with you guys.

I will be continuing the arduous pace over the next few days in order to make it to Dakar, Senegal in time for the World Social Forum where I intend to fly the flag for Global Wheeling and South Africa.