And then I was home.
It's now June 2011 and as I update this blog I find the write-up for the Western Sahara, Morocco and Spain run for home has disappeared, so this entry will unfortunately have to be fairly vague ...
Crossing the border was probably the most startling transition of the entire trip, with the Mauritania side being 'standard-for-Africa' of wood huts, lots of loiterers and confused bureaucracy. A short, and extremely bumpy, run through the no-mans-land separating the two countries and it's as organized as any European crossing, complete with lorry-sized x-ray machine if they want to thoroughly scan your vehicle for contraband.
Luckily I cruised through unhindered and was out within minutes onto a smooth stretch of tarmc that didn't end until I got on the ferry in Santander, Spain.
I hugged the coast for most of the run, enjoying the bracing sea breezes after Mauritania's insane heat, and kept myself entertained admiring the massive RV's cruising past me heading south on holidays - palaces on wheels compared to my trusty, but very dirty and disheveled Landy - quickly covering off Dakhla to Marrakesh, Fes and then Tangiers.
A few days haggling my way through the Casbahs - Fes being the nicest - resulting in a matching set of camel leather soft-sided leather luggage was somewhat marred by the insistence of every single GD local to refer to me with a happy wave as "Ali Baba' which grew very wearisome very quickly until I felt I needed to get back on the road before I throat-punched somebody and spoiled the whole Zen of the trip ...
Quick high speed ferry run across the Med to Algeciras and I had left Africa behind. A straight run up to Santander in the north, a decent hotel room overlooking my ferry home and a glass of cava to celebrate and - save for the projectile vomiting across the stormy Bay of Biscay for insult after all I'd been through previously - the trip was done.
It's now June 2011 and as I update this blog I find the write-up for the Western Sahara, Morocco and Spain run for home has disappeared, so this entry will unfortunately have to be fairly vague ...
Crossing the border was probably the most startling transition of the entire trip, with the Mauritania side being 'standard-for-Africa' of wood huts, lots of loiterers and confused bureaucracy. A short, and extremely bumpy, run through the no-mans-land separating the two countries and it's as organized as any European crossing, complete with lorry-sized x-ray machine if they want to thoroughly scan your vehicle for contraband.
Luckily I cruised through unhindered and was out within minutes onto a smooth stretch of tarmc that didn't end until I got on the ferry in Santander, Spain.
I hugged the coast for most of the run, enjoying the bracing sea breezes after Mauritania's insane heat, and kept myself entertained admiring the massive RV's cruising past me heading south on holidays - palaces on wheels compared to my trusty, but very dirty and disheveled Landy - quickly covering off Dakhla to Marrakesh, Fes and then Tangiers.
A few days haggling my way through the Casbahs - Fes being the nicest - resulting in a matching set of camel leather soft-sided leather luggage was somewhat marred by the insistence of every single GD local to refer to me with a happy wave as "Ali Baba' which grew very wearisome very quickly until I felt I needed to get back on the road before I throat-punched somebody and spoiled the whole Zen of the trip ...
Quick high speed ferry run across the Med to Algeciras and I had left Africa behind. A straight run up to Santander in the north, a decent hotel room overlooking my ferry home and a glass of cava to celebrate and - save for the projectile vomiting across the stormy Bay of Biscay for insult after all I'd been through previously - the trip was done.
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