3400 miles - into Mali

More hammering along off-road - the cars are suffering now. The Transit has a noisy front shock top mounting and the clutch pedal is juddery, the Renault is producing its own smokescreen, and even the Patrol is starting to come apart. Our front shock is a bit more rattly than it was, but most importantly we've lost the brakes! It seems that the "parking brake warning light" that came on two days back is actually the "brake warning light"... we've got a fluid leak. The temporary solution is to top up the fluid (thanks for the spare brake fluid, Stuart) and use the gearbox for braking (1st is particularly effective) but this only works off-road and we will have to get it looked at before we do any distance on the tarmac.

Lots of stopping to ask directions (often three times in the same village, to be sure), lots of turning around, lots of wondering where-the-hell-are-we. Directions often consist of "go through the meal fields, and you'll find the big road over the hill", and then we get stuck when we can't find the meal fields (or the hill, or the big road, which is never actually big). We got completely entrenched in one village which is apparently built on the softest sand in Mauritania - the Patrol was the only one bouncing around without too many problems, and we scrabbled up a huge sand dune on the advice of the local school teacher to look for the road to Hamoud and the border. We had the car completely sideways and at a nice angle to the horizon by the top fo the dune, I really wish someone had videod it!

During our explorations we came across an abandoned Fiat Panda 4x4 from a previous P-B group - it had clearly died on the journey. I considered nicking the roof-mounted spotlights off it for the Patrol but decided against it in the end, in case the true owner was indeed on the way back to collect it. Later that night I would really regret not doing so.

Eventually we did find the "big road" (which wasn't) and at some point we crossed into Mali. There was no exit control from Mauri and no immigration to Mali at this point becuase we just drove across a dry riverbed in the middle of nowhere, not even the goats noticed us. The road from then on was better-defined but very hard going - the Transit was having problems being wide and not as high as we'd remembered, and the Renault guys were solving everything by thrashing their engine to bits. There were big holes, deep sand, and sharp rocks, often all together!

We didn't have a lot of choice other than to continue on towards Aourou, the first village in Mali on our route. It was about 80km away and we were only averaging 20kmh or so! We eventually hit the police checkpoint in the dusk at about 7pm, relieved that the day was over - until we found that we weren't in Aourou but a smaller village, with Aourou still 50km down the road! We got back in the cars and drove on into the night.



We had to spread the vehicles out over a long track, because the dust was so bad (particularly in the headlights) that it was impossible to see anything for a minute or two after the previous car had passed. A word to those attempting this in the future - one radio per car should be an essential! By the time we rolled into Aourou at 10:30, everyone was exhausted. Fortunately the police were very welcoming and completed the immigration formalities with a minimum of hassle - we weren't asked for any money (which does make me question the validity of my visa, which is supposed to cost 30 Euros) and they all had a good laugh when we asked if there was a hotel (another slight innaccuracy in the Roadbook, the Hotel Logo is in Kayes, 4h away, not in Aourou). They wouldn't let us camp in case we caused trouble by our presence, and we were delighted when they suggested we sleep in the schoolhouse. One of the gendarmes got hold of the principal and he opened up the building for us - we bedded down between the wooden desks, and I went to sleep pretty much instantly.

We were all woken up at about 3 by a donkey braying its head off outside! Turns out it had been rifling through the trash and had tried eating the Transit boys' diesel. It won't try that again!

By 8am the next day, Nick was already working on fixing the Transit to run from the fuel tank again (they'd had to fuel the engine from jerrycans in the cockpit since the previous day) and Ana and I breakfasted on Pot Noodles and more birthday cake. The school principal returned again, and Nick and Noel gave him a bundle of books and pens that they'd brought over from the UK (good idea, that!) He then showed us where we could get petrol for the Renault (a five-minute drive away through alleyways and past a beautiful mud mosque) but there was no diesel in town - so we fuelled from our one remaining jerrycan and started to pray that we'd have enough to make the 4h off-road journey to Kayes! We also took the opportunity to add "No Brakes!" to the "No Money, No Sense, No Worries!" slogan on the side of the car, which might not increase its retail value but amused us greatly.