Mauritania: Page 5

	At the end of the desert crossing, we came to a small village on the coast and were subjected the worst mauling so far by the local children. As the vehicles were held pending the routine police checks, the whole village turned out to hassle us. Eventually we were allowed to drive through. We had to wait around the corner for the tide to go down far enough before we could get onto the beach. The Guides kept an eye on the water, and finally signalled that we could go for it at around a quarter to six (in the evening). Access to the beach is gained by taking a flat-out run-up and hitting the soft sand above the top water line as fast as possible, before running down the slope onto the firm sand. The plan was to drive for about 30km along the beach before making camp for the night above the high water level. Even along the beach we came across the most ludicrous Police check point! Their hut is above high water level, and as the tide falls they must run out and plant their stake that carries the chain across the hard sand. The first group managed to negotiate this check point with no problems, but for some reason they wouldn't let us through for a while. We were detained, and Abedlahyol ranted and argued. The Police even let the Dutch convoy through before finally relenting and letting us on our way. We never did find out what the issue was.




	The undulations of the sand made for interesting driving. Depending upon the waves as you approach, you can drive around the low side of some of them, but most you just have to drive straight over. You're driving against the tide, so it is necessary to maintain your speed.
	The Boy Racers stop with a flat tyre.
	Karl displays the tyre. It's completely knackered to the extent that the steel reinforcement has parted company with the carcass!
	A grim warning that things can go wrong along this run.
	There are a few fishing villages along the coast, and huge flocks of black-backed gulls, but not a lot else.
	Desert Taxis ply their trade along here also. It was said that they do Nouâdhibou to Nouakchott in 12 hours driving non-stop.
	My camera batteries must have gone flat again, as this is the last photo of the evening. We made it to the 30km camping area as dusk fell. Other teams arrived later. Team Cyclone Wombat (Renault Traffic Van) arrived on tow behind the Wacky Racers Niva.
	Bright but not so early on the morning of Thursday 9th January. No-one seemed too bothered about what time we needed to start in the morning. The result was that we finally got rolling a little too late, and the tide was already coming in! Here, the teams get ready after helping each other out of the soft sand above high water that had served as our camp site.
	This group stayed behind for another day, to enable the Traffic's engine and transmission to be bolted back together again.
	The advanced state of the tide started to make some areas a little bit tricky. If the waves came in around the car wheels the scouring action would undermine the wheels and could cause the vehicle to get stuck.
	The Cobb Cruisers make it through ahead of the waves.
	Team Heavey gets through. No sweat :-) Ahead of us, things were getting worse. Team Nikki Lada had a close call, stalled with water around the doors! The guides were getting concerned, and all but the first group were instructed to turn around and head back - fast. We made it to an access point from where we continued towards Nouakchott by the inland route.
	We soon became aware of why the beach run is the preferred route. The inland 'road' is a series of tracks through soft sand and more corrugations. Here, the Boy Racers needed help out of a sand trap.
	At the back of a group of five cars, the dust does not help navigation. The Boy Racers lost it here, and grounded out on the central reservation between two tracks. Not sure who these guys with the Toyota were, but they were very friendly and helpful. We had carried the tow rope from England without any need for it until now.
	Eventually we arrive at Nouakchott and get taken to a 'Hotel'. It's all to do with the way things work in these parts that the Guide takes you to his favourite locations. This place is probably owned by his brother or cousin, or it gives the guide the best back-hander for bringing people in. It has dorms with beds, and it has showers. We're all knackered and in need of a shower to we book in.
	Although most of the teams get brought here first (and take advantage of the shower facilities), a lot end up wandering off and securing a room in the real hotel down the road... with air conditioning and a swimming pool!
	Those of us remaining chill out and fire up the stoves. This is a self catering hotel! 'Reverend' Julian studies his paperwork for the next leg of the journey: Senegal and beyond.

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