181 - The Elusive Cap Blanc (Nouadhibou, Mauritania)
ROLLING INTO NOUADHIBOU UNDER AN AFTERNOON SUN felt like entering the set of Black Hawk Down, and might as well have been a light year from population centers like Casablanca and Rabat in Morocco. A dusty, desert road lined with half-finished or half-collapsed concrete buildings, broken-down vehicles strewn about haphazardly, piles of rubbish on every corner, and a penetrating forlornness welcomed us to Mauritania.
To punctuate the mood, we witnessed a young, half-naked boy roadside executing what appeared to be downward-facing dog and spraying diarrhea in the air like he just didn't care, or like he was practicing for a distance-based competition. Although I’d visited poor countries in the past, something about a desert setting intensifies the desolation and sense of desperation. Diarrhea didn’t help.
After some signature indecisiveness, we settled on an auberge (French for “inn”), but not before our taxi driver ferried us around town longer than he might’ve hoped. My sympathy evaporated when I discovered he’d screwed us bounteously before parting. He was “kind” enough to exchange our dirhams (Morocco) for ouguiya (Mauritania) at, unbeknownst to me, a preposterously low rate. Wait, a random taxi driver isn't the best place to exchange money? Who’d a thunk it?
No excuses. We were tired and stupid and couldn't be bothered to give a shit. Not knowing the exchange rate and arriving on a weekend did nothing to assist our cause. The fact the driver had full knowledge of our monetary pickle sealed our fate. After spending a few minutes telling us how money was of little import, he then asked for an additional two thousand ouguiya for supporting our lodging quest. Like a megadouche, I gave it to him, not realizing he'd already bent us over sideways. Thank you, sir, may I have another? Please? Yes, yes, you may.
The next morning, we went exploring. We'd read about a ship graveyard near the port (where, because of nonexistent regulations, ships from all over the globe were brought to disintegrate) and went for a stroll in that direction. The area did have a few derelict vessels, but recent construction (in the form of new jetties) appears to have spawned a clean-up. I do believe a significant number of ships continued to rot farther offshore if satellite photos were recent.
I love the random donkey rolling around in the dirt at the intersection.
Nouadhibou, the second largest city in Mauritania, is on the Ras Nouadhibou peninsula, also known as Cabo Blanco or Cap Blanc. The guidebook described the tip of the peninsula (also referred to as Cap Blanc) as rather picturesque, touting the possibility of seeing the rare and endangered monk seal. We had to take the guidebook’s word for it. We never got there.
After failed attempts at hailing a taxi (exorbitant rates), a gentleman working at Societe Nationale Industrielles Miniere (mining and minerals) stopped and offered us a ride. We accepted and were off… somewhere. Our conversation was strained by my abysmal French, but I managed to ascertain his marital status and number of children. He also said something about his job, made a comment about doing something around noon, pointed toward the road to Cap Blanc, and then pushed on to the mineral plant. Um, ‘kay.
Probably not what I’m thinking.
Yes, we were confused. At the gate, he instructed us to get out before passing through. I thought he was dropping off the company truck and returning to pick us up in his vehicle. Nuh-uh. He was on his lunch break and had to return to work… at noon. Um ‘kay. Why he picked us up is beyond me, but I’m sure his heart was in the right place, though less sure how he thought he was helping. In the end, I think curiosity overwhelmed him.
A guard and various other gentlemen standing outside the gate seemed wary of our presence. I tried to communicate our intent and think I asked if our driver was returning. He wasn’t, and they were confused as to why we'd be there when we were trying to get to Cap Blanc. You and me both, brother. An alleged employee exited the gate, had a brief conversation with the guard, and then offered to give us a lift… for 200 euros. I thought he was jesting. He was not. We declined. The outrageous rate was (allegedly) compensation for potential car damage from the road’s poor condition. Sure.
We started walking back to Nouadhibou, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. As we did so, another car pulled up and inquired as to our destination. He offered to bring us to a friend, who would then bring us to Cap Blanc… probably. Although hitchhiking is precarious in any country, my instincts told me we were in no danger. What's the worst that could happen? Dummy.
He brought us to an employee housing area for the mining operation, flagged down his friend, and ask about a price. By this time, we bagged the Cap Blanc idea, hoping only to get back to Nouadhibou. His friend had to bring the children in his car somewhere first, and then he’d return to bring us somewhere else… probably. In the meantime, our current driver had an idea and instead brought us to his place, where another friend hopped in the front seat so we could have high-level discussions about going to Cap Blanc. His friend, an avid fisherman and frequent visitor to the Cap, told us the road was “not so good” and that, besides taxi fare, it was necessary to bribe the Mauritanian security personnel stationed there for protection. Uh-huh. Protection from who? We really wanted to see Cap Blanc, but drew the line when we realized it would cost a fortune or threaten our safety. No thanks. Maybe next time.
So, our driver dropped us in town, refusing to take a dime. He was happy to help and practice a bit of English. Score one for instincts. Frankly, it was all worth it just for that experience. Still, would've been nice to see a fucking monk seal.