WESTERN SAHARA Dec 3.4, 2016
Ask any Moroccan about the status of the Western Sahara and they’ll insist it’s sovereign soil, yet international law is clear that this is still under dispute. For travellers, it’s mainly an empty windswept stretch of country for transiting to or from Mauritania.
There’s no officially designated border between Morocco and the Western Sahara. Although the region is peaceful you’ll be more aware of military and police checkpoints.
Morocco has made WS duty free and offers all sorts of incentives to northern Moroccans to settle here (high salaries, free land). As a result, the majority of the inhabitants are now 2nd and 3rd generation Moroccans so any vote on independence would go Morocco’s favor. The indigenous are few and mostly live in Algeria.
WS is recognized by about 65 countries, most of them African, and Morocco was kicked out of the African Union because of their actions here.
LAÂYOUNE (pop 200,000)
The former Spanish phosphate-mining outpost of Laâyoune has been turned into the principal city of the Western Sahara. Now neither Sahrawi nor Spanish, its population is mostly Moroccan, lured from the north by the promise of healthy wages and tax-free goods.
The town’s showpiece is the vast Place du Méchouar, but there’s no obvious centre. The post office, banks and most hotels are along either Blvd Hassan II or Blvd de Mekka.
Each day one of the passengers rides in front with Steve and this was my day. We had lots of laughs and agreed on almost everything. We stopped for a shower and lunch (chicken sandwich and fries). Diesel here is 2Dh cheaper per litre (6.9Dh) than in Morocco. The terrain was as desolate as anywhere on earth – flat as a pancake, dirt and rock with low sagebrush-like bush. Cell reception is incredibly good with regular towers. Huge wind farms supply electricity to the phosphate mines and towns.
Next to the ocean are multiple individual and groups of scraggly tents with laundry festooned off them. Steve presumed these were fishers.
We bush camped about 200kms north of the Dakhla turnoff (45kms away at the end of a long peninsula jutting into the Atlantic – a very windy place. We didn’t go.
The road is occasionally wide enough with intact edges for us and a big truck to pass, but most of the time, the side is a ragged line of broken pavement. The trucks rarely give up the white line and Steve has to hit the gravel shoulder – the thin line. The ditches are littered with shredded tires slowly demolished.
DAKHLA (pop 40,000)
The last stop before the Mauritanian border, Dakhla feels a ” “long way from anywhere but is a pleasant enough place and the government continues to pour money into the town.
The bus offices, central post office and most hotels and cafes are situated around the old central market. A corniche lines the seafront.
After another 1½hr drive south of the Dakhla turnoff, we arrived at the Tropic of Cancer, marked on the side of the road in a very desolate/dirt and rock spot. Lunch was on the edge of the 200ft high cliff with a large expanse of beach below. Many went down for a swim.
The fishers here use inner tubes.
Cell service has been remarkable good the entire way through Western Sahara. Huge 200ft towers are spaced regularly. The English kids follow their favourite teams in real time.
As we approached the Mauritanian border, the dirt/rock was replaced by sand and sparse vegetation. Hot in the sun, the truck with one side of windows rolled up the front cover off the “beach” forced most to be comfortable in jackets. I felt best with my Arab headscarf tied Berber style.
There is no shortage of music and four good speakers produce nice sound. Anders, a young Dane, has lots of classic rock, but we hear the entire range.
In years past, a big business has been that Europeans (mostly German) purchase cars (many in previous accidents and not saleable in Europe) and drive them or bring them on flat beds to Senegal, resell them for a reasonable profit and then fly home. Large convoys were common but we have seen none. The Germans often drive large semi-trailer “motorhomes”.
We filled our tank at the last petrol station 80km before the Mauritania border as the petrol is cheaper in Western Sahara. The station was full of soldiers. There was also a group of 8 young Europeans driving a VW van and a Mercedes to Senegal. I talked to them and we have been leapfrogging them for several days. We bush camped in an area of sand dunes about 40kms down the road for our last night in Morocco/Western Sahara. I have never walked on a dune before that had such hard sand – the only imprint was the tread pattern on my shoes. The kids played football on top. The expansive views from the top were beige rock separated by a sting of pale yellow dunes stretching to the south. There was heavy dew from ocean mist, some interesting large spiders and many tiny desert flowers.
MAURITANIAN BORDER
After a 1½hr drive we arrived in the line-up behind about 10 large trucks. This was lucky – last time there were 100 trucks in front and getting through the Moroccan side required all day. We were moved ahead of several trucks and we walked through the border, attended the first office and got our exit stamp. We then went to a second office where some info was handwritten down. Meanwhile the truck was X-rayed and the whole process required only another 1½ hrs.
Grands taxis ferry you across the 3km no-man’s-land direct to the Mauritanian border post. If you’re driving,
Nouàdhibou, the first town in Mauritania, just across the border.