Landing in Rabat late at night we were met by a hoard of disorganised taxi drivers shouting for our attention. They wouldn't drive us for the 250 dirhams stated on their sign, so we told them we'd walk to our Airbnb and began to do so. Obviously, we would not be walking as it was over an hour away, but we thought it funny to play hard to get. A few drivers followed us down the street, honking their horns until eventually stopping us, offering to drive for 250. Weird start.
One of the many mosaics of morocco.
We caught a train to Casablanca where our next flight was from. We had a few hours to kill before the flight so we explored the market, backstreets and got on a hotel roof.
From Casablanca, we flew to Dakhla, a disputed territory in Western Sahara, where we would catch a bus to the border in the morning. Our friend Sam was staying in 'Hotel Sahara' and was very unwell. It was 1 AM when we decided his hotel was our only chance at a few hours rest, before our bus early in the morning. At first, the cigarette-smoking hotel owner laughed at our suggestion for all five of us to share the tiny two-bed. Still, eventually, each paid the equivalent of £2 and made ourselves comfortable. Mello and I shared a single bed and woke up with bug bites. At least our blood was the only thing getting sucked in that bed.
After being completely scammed out of 200 Dirham, by a rat of a ticket salesman, we were well on our way. We stopped off twice for food, toilets, and a chat with locals.
We crossed the border between Morocco and Mauritania by foot to supposedly save some money, but mainly for the excitement of walking 3km on the road surrounded by minefields. The landmines were left from the Western Sahara war between Morocco, Mauritania and the SADR between 1973 and 1991. Walking through this wasteland was our first real experience of being in the desert, and anticipation began to build as we approached our goal.
The Moroccan border was a smooth and fast procedure in comparison to the one in Mauritania, which had taken us through numerous passport checks, visa photos and everyone trying to sell us something. We then caught a cab from an overly helpful driver straight to our hotel in Nouadhibou and walked to the nearest restaurant for some spag-bol and pizza. It's important to try the local cuisine when travelling, so you get the full experience.
In the morning we gathered supplies and caught what was maybe a cab, but maybe not a cab, straight to the train station where we planned to board the freight train. I should mention that at this point I don't think a single car spotted in Nouadhibou would have passed its MOT. We were seven people deep in a five-seater that had a cracked windscreen, and 350,000 miles on the dashboard.
I spy with my little eye, something beginning with s. It's sand, there's sand everywhere. We waited four hours at the station for a train that was supposed to arrive around 3 pm but didn't. We played 'I spy' for way too long, until a lovely Frenchman we had met on the bus taught us the French yahtzee, 'yam'. I also got absolutely ruined at UNO. After a while we discovered that the train was delayed eight hours, so we waited even longer.
Sunset was our reward for waiting so long.
Finally, the wagons rolled into the station, and we hopped on. After being shouted at by a policeman for taking photos we were followed by two locals onto our wagon. They claimed the police had told them to follow us. We spoke about moving carriages in English thinking the locals wouldn't understand us, but suddenly one turned around and spoke in clear English "Oh, you don't want to share with us? Ok". An awkward experience, but we got what we wanted in the end. Sleeping in the same wagon as strangers doesn't scream "safety first" but I suppose neither does riding a freight train through the desert.
Not so easy getting low light photos on a moving train.
I fell asleep on the cold hard floor of the wagon in only a sleeping bag. The intention was to buy a roll mat in nouadhibou but we didn't get that far.
Waking up felt like a cut scene out of a video game.
Anxious to be in a good spot to catch the iron ore train back upon its return we hopped off just before Zouerate but were then told by staff that we should have just stayed on the train. The sun was beating down now and there wasn't any shade. My hat had flown off into the desert during the process of exiting the wagon, so the next fifteen minutes were spent rummaging around in the trash to find it, whilst locals looked at me funny.
A worker told us to hop on a passenger train and so we did. Whilst hanging out of the open door we noticed that the same worker was driving alongside the train on a nearby road, and he began beeping and shouting at us to behave ourselves.
We waited for ages for the ore train, now in the actual train depot. The depot was full of trash and stank of faeces, which made sense once the cleaner came around to clean the passenger carriage and simply kicked all the trash out onto the floor. Also, the toilet on the train was a hole that just led to the tracks.
We then boarded exactly the same passenger train back to where we hopped off earlier. An insanely pointless experience, but we were thankful for the slight shade that the parked trains had provided. We shared a wagon with locals and watched as the sun set over Zouerate.
Finally we jumped off the passenger train and onto the iron ore train. I found a comfortable little spot and moulded myself a sleeping position, took some shots, put my headphones in and got in my bag.
It was rough at first as the train was going quite fast so the wind relentlessly whipped the iron ore at our faces. I took off my down jacket and zipped it up around my head and fell straight to sleep for around twelve hours, the others weren't so lucky.
Watching the sun rise over the sahara desert.
Two locals hopped on during the night with large canisters of who knows what. They slept the entire time with heavy blankets covering themselves.
A feeling of accomplishment washed over me as we relaxed in the desert sun, taking in the scenery and listening to Johnny Cash. Although this route was frequented by tourists, YouTubers, and of course locals it still felt unique enough to enjoy. It was also enjoyable to not have to worry about the threat of going to jail, as our journey was entirely legal.
To conclude, train go chugachugachuga.
