Too often travel, instead of broadening the mind, merely lengthens the conversation. - Elizabeth Drew

28 February 2020, unnamed settlement to Gare du Nord, 68.1km
Complexe Gare du Nord UM800 (R320)

We were invited today to drink tea with a shopkeeper from whom we had bought tepid drinks; although her shop sported a fridge, like many others, it was not in fact cold. She was seated cross-legged on her carpeted floor wrapped in two lightweight fabrics: a forest green base with a navy blue head and shoulder shawl. Within reach, a gas bottle lit and bringing a large kettle of water to the boil; a bag of stale baguettes and a bowl into which she was breaking the bread; a plastic kettle of clean water and a bucket of used water; and a silver tray on a stand with four small tea glasses and a small silver teapot thereon. Also within reach, an enormous bottle of sugar and a small packet of tea leaves. While she waited for the kettle to boil, she rinsed out the tea glasses. She poured a frugal amount of clean water into one, cupped her hand over the opening, swirled the water about, rubbed her thumb over the lip, then poured the same water into the next glass. Once all four glasses had been rinsed, what little water remained was poured into the used-water bucket and the silver tray wiped clean of spills. She rinsed out the teapot with hot water, then measured tea leaves into it with her hand and added a substantial and unmeasured helping of sugar. When the kettle boiled, water was added to the teapot which was then set on the gas ring. After some time, she began to pour the tea. She filled just one glass with liquid, pouring from a height. Then poured the glass from one glass to another, her actions producing a froth on top, like beer. She lifted the glass and took a miniscule sip from it, using the outer edge of her mouth. Happy, she poured a second glass and handed one each to Charl and I. I had removed my shoes and joined her in her carpeted domain; Charl had seated himself on the door sill. And there we enjoyed our tea, hot, strong and sweet. When we said our thanks and goodbyes, she asked if we had any carrots. We did not realise she was using the English word for carrots, but knew she was asking for something edible. In return for her kindness to us, we handed her a large packet of peanuts we had bought yesterday. She thanked us, but again asked for carrots, this time producing one miserable-looking carrot from a bag in the corner. We could not help her, sadly, and realised then that we have not seen one single fresh thing for sale, not even an onion, since leaving Nouakchott.
We knew we had 53km to do to a bed*, which would be a little far in a strong wind. Luckily, however, though it was windy still, it was less so, making the distance feasible. It was hotter, of course, the only positive thing about the wind being that it cools things down.
In fact, when we left our auberge this morning, it was again cool enough for Charl to wear his Sasol sweatshirt. Lovely out, the air chilly and clear, the sand pale, the sky cool blue.
We mistakenly thought we were headed for the town of Chami, but in fact the Gare du Nord settlement and complex lies 10 to 20km south of Chami at the 230km marker, halfway between Nouakchott and Nouadhibou.
The yellow and pink Gare dy Nord complex comprises a mosque, four public loos big enough for bucket bathing from a low tap, a shop selling icy drinks and biscuits and crisps, a cafe serving fresh delicious orange juice and freshly baked cake, a restaurant serving tagines and chips and omelettes and sandwiches, and a petrol station. The fresh orange juice, pricey at 100 Ouguiya each, is worth every cent; the tagine of chicken and potatoes for dinner, is well-priced also at 100 each. Our room was not clean, the table and mattresses scattered with crumbs. Also very sandy, though this is impossible to avoid and becoming more acceptable and understandable the longer we spend in the desert. The afternoon was very, very hot, our room growing increasingly hot as the day progressed to evening. But not long after bed-time, the breeze through our open door and windows cooled us to chilly, chilly enough to use our sleeping bags.
*Using the information collated by a series of cyclists, we know more or less where are located shops, restaurants, gendarme checkpoints, accommodation, garages…
The terrain today was often very flat, the sand creamy pale, creamy camels almost invisible. Although it looks as they we are completely isolated out there, we are not, or at least not for long. There are small settlements and homesteads, one or two with shops recognisable as such only by their open doors or the gas bottles standing outside them. The shops are often managed by women. There are isolated tents dotted here and there, and gendarme checkpoints dotted here and there, and cell towers, presumably with keepers, dotted here and there. And traffic, of course.

For today's route see below photos
For overview route, click on ROUTE tab above…