Anyone who needs more than one suitcase is a tourist, not a traveler. - Ira Levin

3 March 2020, Tasiast Mine intersection to Chalkhet el Imane, 51.2km
Auberge Chalkhet el Imane UM500 (R200)

Look… I’m just going to say this because at some point you must tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. No matter how grateful you may be to happen upon an auberge in the Mauritanian desert, especially one with a bathroom and lots of sun-warmed water, taking a bucket bath next to a squat loo from which someone else’s poop stubbornly refuses to be flushed, is disheartening. Not just a neat, polite, ignorable poop, but a gigantic, healthy, voiding of the bowels in-your-face poop. Although I left the shared bathroom undoubtedly cleaner than when I entered it, I still felt vaguely soiled. I swear, there is not one qualified plumber in all of Africa…
We had a good day, ending better by far than it started (yes, the poop notwithstanding). I had risen while it was still dark to pee, unseen I hoped, beside our hut, still anxious about wandering into the desert with lots of men around, especially as they were likely to get up early to ablute and pray. We packed then in the semi-light, ate some biscuits, bought soft drinks at the shop in the container, and headed north on yet another cool, windy morning. It was nowhere near as windy as it has been the last couple of days, but still windy enough to hinder progress, blow sheets of sand across the tar, and dry our eyeballs.
We hoped to do 50km today, but knew there was an auberge at the halfway mark if we could not make it. We also knew that just beyond the halfway point, the road bent slightly west, which might mitigate the wind blowing in from the east-northeast.
The road runs straight as an arrow all the way to the horizon, for km after km. To the west, some distance from the road, are electric pylons, running straight as an arrow and visible against the bluing sky. A truck overtaking you seems to be visible forever; a structure or village on the horizon seems to take forever to reach.
We did, eventually, reach the small town and gendarme checkpoint advertised by previous travellers, and stopped at the restaurant there, planning to take a longish break in the hopes the wind would drop a little as it did yesterday afternoon. It’s a good thing we planned a longish break as it took some time for our host to prepare our meal of rice and meat. We were seated in a carpeted room with mattresses and pillows around the wall. We were also brought a low plastic table off which to eat, and a pot of tea, strong and sweet. When our meal eventually came, it was served, as is the custom, on a shared silver platter. More rice than we could possibly consume at one sitting, and three long bones from which most meat had been boiled away, the remaining meat tender enough. Not sure what meat it was - perhaps goat? Oddly, the two forks and two knives were presented stabbed into the meat and standing upright.
Back on the road a little under two hours later, we were absolutely thrilled to find that (a) the wind had dropped somewhat, and (b) the road turning west - along with the electric pylons - did indeed put the wind slightly behind us. It is extraordinary what a difference a small change in angle can make. The wind has been blowing mainly from our right, but just a smidgen to the front, hitting the front of our right shoulders at an acute angle. The turned road put the wind just behind our shoulders. With this tiny change, we went from working hard in a middle gear, to speeding along in an upper gear, legs fluid and relaxed. So the second 25km were more pleasant than the first, and considerably more pleasant that the last couple of horribly windy days.
We arrived at the Chalkhet el Imane complex (garage, shop, restaurant, butcher, auberge and mosque) shortly before the mosque emptied of men; the women were praying on the garage forecourt, their backs to the briefly-closed shop and restaurant. Two mini-buses were standing empty on the forecourt, having disgorged their passengers for prayers. One young man who had spent five years in The Gambia and therefore spoke English, engaged us in friendly conversation, then annoyingly asked us to buy him a softdrink. Why?
Three camels near the road took fright at our approach and galumphed into the sea of sand despite my calling out “OK, it’s OK”.
Flies are everywhere in Mauritania, and annoyingly persistent. They travel with us on our panniers, transferring immediately we stop to mouth or nose or eye or sweaty brow. In every restaurant, they attend every meal. Soft drinks are an inevitable drawcard.

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