I actually found the place by luck, I didn’t ask anyone for directions, I just drove my car up and down the peninsula of Nouadhibou. I wanted to get an overview of one of the most dilapidated cities I had ever seen. This is where Iron Ore Train ends, one of the longest trains in the world, which makes Nouadhibou the most important area in poor Mauritania.

When A White Western Woman Enters The Office Of The Mauritanian Railway Authorities.

So here I was, walking into the shed of the Mauritanian Railway Authorities to enquire about the possibility to transport my car and myself to Choum, approximately 500 km east of Nouadhibou. The deal was done in the blink of an eye. With one place still available, I could put my car on the train. I only had to decide immediately, since the train was about to leave. I quickly checked my water and food supply, which would last for some days and gave it a go. 120 Euros for the car plus myself was a fair price and within the next couple of minutes, my car was loaded and tied to a platform for vehicles. My ticket said no passengers in the car, but nobody obliged when I asked if I could spend the journey in or on the car. I started making arrangements for the coming 30 hours: water, food, snacks were all at hand, towel, toothbrush and toilet paper on the dashboard, cameras and mobile phone as well within easy reach. Check, check, double check.

It took hours of turning switches, pulling the wagons and platforms up and down the tracks, back and forth to have them all in right position ready for the long journey East. Finally, around 8pm, after seven hours of waiting (talk about an immediate decision making), everything was set and the train took off honking repeatedly, taking the endless semicircle track out of Nouadhibou.

A Long, Rocking Night, The Most Beautiful Sunrise And A Frustrating Awakening.

Even with 40° Celsius during daytime, temperatures drop fast and I was happy that I had blankets and a sleeping bag nearby. Lying outstretched in the back of my station wagon, the night was almost comfortable… well not really, but better than expected. Nights in the desert are cold and pitch-black. I knew this from my trips across the Sahara Desert in the 70s & 80s and so I wasn’t able to see anything when the train stopped at night. I just heard voices somewhere in the distance. The position of my platform was near the end of the train, so I was not bothered by anyone during the night.

Morning arrived and I watched a beautiful sunrise while the train tugged leisurely into Choum. The wind had covered everything with layers of sand mixed with dust of iron ore from the wagons. Choum was actually the place where I had planned to get off, but I quickly realised that there was no loading off point for cars. “Sorry Madam, next stop for unloading cars is Zouérat” I was told, though in the guys in Nouadhibou had told me otherwise. Unloading cars in Choum was only recently stopped, so there was no chance for me to get off here. This was a bit upsetting, because it would put me approximately 200 km in the wrong direction, but I couldn’t do anything about it. I sat back down on top of my car and looked into the Mauritanian desert.

The toilet situation was a bit of a hassle. It was a new experience for sure. Hanging out of the car, hanging on to the platform needed concentration, one wrong move and you could fall off. I got the hang of it after a couple of times.

From Hero To Zero.

Another few hours further, with lots of stops in between, the train finally pulled into Zouérat. Again, the turning of switches, pulling and pushing of wagons took two hours until my platform finally came to a halt somewhere in the middle of nowhere. All I could see was how the Diesel locomotive pulled away.

Close by, though lightyears away, I could see the unloading facility for cars. Another platform was already loaded for the trip back to Nouadhibou, while my car was just a stone throw away, without a chance of getting off. This was very annoying and put my patience to the test. I asked several officers and workers when my car would be unloaded and I got the same answer every time “In a while Madam”. In Africa, “in a while” can mean one hour, five hours, 12 hours or more than 24 hours. Time runs slow here. So, after waiting another three hours in the soaring heat, with someone occasionally walking by, noticing my impatience yet not doing anything, my nerves went rock bottom. I stepped down from platform and walked along the railway tracks up to the station office and demanded to speak to the station master.

Mauritanians are generally very polite people but are definitely not used to talking to Western (female) tourists. The country is dominated by males, especially in this business. Politeness is very helpful and I demanded politely to see the station master. It took a while until one of the men started to move to show me the way to his office. After a couple of minutes, this guy came out of his office with some other officers in tow, and was frankly quite irritated to see a Western woman demanding to speak to him. I explained my situation and he and the others didn’t seem to be bothered at all and said that my car would be unloaded in a while. Then it was over, my nerves collapsed and I started crying.

My breakdown changed the entire situation. The officers stared at me and my crying, not sure whether to be astonished or shocked and immediately started talking in their local language. After a minute of discussion, the station master said I should stop crying, they will immediately start the Diesel locomotive and will unload my car within 10 minutes.

What more can I say? The station master guided me to his car, drove me back to my car and presented me with a big box of water bottles. During my breakdown, I might have also mentioned that I was running out of water, which I hoped would increase the unloading process, and he must have really felt sorry for me. It didn’t take long and my platform was towed up and down the tracks to bring me to the unloading section. The car was unlocked from the platform, I drove down and followed the station masters car until I was on the right road back to Choum where I actually had planned to get off.

This evening I stopped near a military checkpoint along the road and asked for permission to sleep nearby, since there was no hotel to be found anywhere. I set up my tent and fell asleep immediately.

The Iron Ore Train fills its 2.5 km of wagons (which is the second longest on earth) with the iron ore and then heads back to the coastal city of Nouadhibou.

The view off the coast of Mauritania’s Bay of Nouadhibou used to be spotted with rusting hulks in every direction. Today, this Ship Breaking Yard is almost gone, due to an injection of capital from the Chinese.

The Mauritanian Railways opened in 1963. It consists of a single, 704 km railway line linking the iron mining centre of Zouérat with the port of Nouadhibou.

Two or three trains make a daily departure to pick up iron ore from a mine in Eastern Mauritania.

Uploading my car onto the Iron Ore Train in Nouadhibou was already an adventure itself.

While the Iron Ore Train snakes its way through Mauritania, you’ll come across wrecks from all sorts of vehicles – here, old Diesel locomotives that were once in use have been parked.

Wrecks are a normal sight when riding through Mauritania on the Iron Ore Train.

One thing is for sure: the sunset and sunrise while on the Iron Ore Train in Mauritania were some of the most beautiful ones I have ever encountered.

Sitting on top of the Iron Ore Train, while looking at nothing around you but the Mauritanian desert, is an experience of a lifetime.

The bulk cargo train travels from the Sahara desert to the coast through dry nowhere to transport valuable minerals across Mauritania.

The Mauritania Railway serves not only as the sole connection between remote locations and the country’s only major shipping port, Nouadhibou, but as free transport for locals seeking to travel from isolated communities to the coast.

The Sahara desert lived up to its nickname, ‘the White Man’s Grave’, as temperatures during the day sore to a blistering 50° Celsius.

The Iron Ore Train is up to 2.5 kilometres long, making it one of the longest and heaviest in the world. It normally consist of 3 or 4 diesel-electric EMD locomotives, around 200 cars each carrying up to 84 tons of iron ore, and 2-3 service cars. The total traffic averages is 16.6 million tons per year.

Nouadhibou is the second largest city in Mauritania and serves as a major commercial centre and is the country’s economic capital, due to being the final stop of the Iron Ore Train.

The Legend Of The Erg Chebbi Sand Dunes.

Morocco might not the the first destination that comes to mind when thinking about skyscraper high sand dunes, but think again! With Zagora and Merzouga you’ll find two great gateways for a true Sahara desert experience. Our road trip would lead us to Merzouga, a small village only approximately 20km from the Algerian border and on the edge of Erg Chebbi.

A Moroccan legend says that the Erg Chebbi sand dunes were sent by God as a punishment because a wealthy family refused to accommodate a poor woman with her son. Moroccans believe that the dunes piled up outside Merzouga and buried them underneath to teach them a lesson so that they would never refuse to help a tired traveller ever again.

The sand dunes here fulfill Morocco’s promise as a dream desert destination. But unlike in the old days when my parents travelled through Africa, Merzouga is now easily accessible due to the paved road. This has it’s prince: during high season convoys of 4WD’s race across the area and you won’t be able to get photos without people in them (like the ones below).

In winter, temperatures are only slightly above 10 degrees during the day, which keeps many tourists away. For us, it was perfect, because we had the dunes to ourselves. Driving into Merzouga, we immediately recognised the only open Quad shop: Sahara ATV Quad Adventure.

Off We Go: Sand Dunes, Here We Come!

We booked a two-hour ride and only a couple of minutes later, we were on our way. Mohammed was our guide and I’m sure that at first he though something like “here we go again with two chicks who probably don’t know how to drive…”. Well, he realised pretty quickly, that we were not your ordinary girls. Faster, higher is what we wanted. Mohammed took us to the very top of the sand dunes and we had the most spectacular view of the area! With only the sound of the wind, not a single person in site and the taste of sand in your mouth made the experience absolutely unforgettable!

The dunes of Erg Chebbi reach a height of up to 150 meters in places and altogether it spans an area of 50 kilometers from north to south and up to 5–10 kilometers from east to west.

The highest dunes are those near, or just south of, Merzouga itself, peaking with the aptly named Grand Dune de Merzouga, a golden mountain recognisable.

Erg Chebbi is one of Morocco’s two Saharan ergs near the small village of Merzouga. And erg is a large sea of dunes formed by wind-blown sand. The other is Erg Chigaga near M’hamid (south of Zagora).

On top of the highest sand dune of the Erg Chebbi. What a view?!

A berber walks along the sand dunes of Erg Chebbi.

When trying your luck with the Erg Chebbi sand dunes, be sure to know what you’re doing, or you’ll end up digging…

The view from up the top of the Erg Chebbi sand dunes was absolutely sunning. On one side, you see the Algerian border, on the other side the village of Merzouga and Hassilabied.

The Erg Chebbi sand dunes are spectacular at any time of day, but late afternoon was really the best time to view them.

Getting Ready For Our African Adventure.

After travelling through western Africa a few times, the idea to visit Sudan, the Central African Republic and the back then called Zaire (nowadays Democratic Republic of the Congo) stuck with me. In those days, most of the western population has never even heard of these countries. Beside the occasional cruelty report of course (e.g. King Bokassa of the Central African Republic doing shitty things, or President Mobutu Sese Seko becoming a megalomaniac, of course the first Ebola outbreak and Aids was linked down there as well…). This idea of mine went into the final stage with the purchase of a Mercedes-Benz Unimog 406 truck – only the best would do for this trip (until then, we’ve travelled Africa with an Dodge WC52, a Mercedes-Benz Unimog 411 truck, a Gräf & Stift truck, and and outside broadcasting van from the Austrian Broadcasting cooperation). We added a huge tailored aluminium cube onto the back that served as our miniflat; bedroom, kitchen, storage, sink and closet. The roof rack was used for the transportation of fuel, water supplies, spare tyres and a place to set up the tent at night when the weather was fine. This also gave us some sort protection, because from the top of the vehicle we could scan the area around us better. Nisa’s baby cot was stored between the front seats. I have to admit that everything was a bit cramped, but we were happy to set off to these countries that were hardly ever visited by people just for fun. Oh and of course we had a dog with us as well. The Maier family was set and ready to leave.

This is how we travelled through Africa: a Mercedes-Benz Unimog 406 truck, a tent, a dog and lots of food, water & Diesel supplies.

Entering Egypt In Alexandria And Continuing To The Nile Valley.

We drove down to Greece via former Yugoslavia. From Athens to Crete by local ferry and from Crete to Alexandria with a huge car/passenger ship. In Egypt, the real adventure started.

It took quite some hours to get the permission to enter Egypt with a private car. We had all the relevant papers (Carnet de Passages, etc.), but in Egypt one needed local number plates as a temporary registration with a local insurance…to cut a long story short, we waited for hours to get all these requirements. The only issue that we had worried about before, turned out to be a non issue at customs: the dog.

We spent the first night sleeping on our roof rack right in front of the pyramids in Giza. It would have been a stunning night, but the barking dogs around us made it impossible. We were told that there are occasional dog chasers if things ran out of control (rabies was a big issue). Sometimes we even had hordes of dogs following us when driving along the Nile river, and at times it was impossible to get out of the car. And when there were no dogs around, we were immediately surrounded by hordes of children once we stopped. It was an exciting trip through Egypt indeed, nevertheless the Nile Valley is one of the densest populated areas in the world, so we didn’t have a single moment without people – even when sneaking behind a bush for our private business one had interested company…

Egypt has been called the gift of the Nile, for without the river it could not exist as a fertile, populous country. Its character and history have been shaped by the stark contrast between the fecund Nile Valley and its Delta, and the arid wastes that surround them.

A main attraction of Farafra is its White Desert, known as Sahara el Beyda. The White Desert is a national park. The deserts centrepieces are the snow-white to cream coloured rocks.

The desert landscape in Egypt sometimes really looked like out of space.

Off We Were To Aswan To Enter Sudan On A Barge.

Contrary to the Nile Valley, Dhakla and Farafra Oasis in the western part of Egypt are remote. Only sparsely populated villages can be found here. For hundreds of kilometres not a single soul can be seen along the road. It was quite a unique experience to camp between strange rock formations without any noise at all except our own heartbeats. The only light came up from the sky (I’ve never seen more stars than that night).

Finally, after visiting the valley of the Kings in Luxor, we arrived in Aswan, home to the Abu Simbel temples and the reservoir dam from where you can travel to Sudan by barge. This is how we wanted to enter Sudan. We’ve done exactly the same a few years before, back then with a smaller car, which made the shifting onboard easy. But now with our big truck, the complications started. First they always tell you that is ‘s possible, but for how much money? Secondly, the timing wasn’t ideal: our Sudanese visa was almost expired, and we were told that you have to arrive in the country a certain amount of time before the visa expires. And thirdly, this barge that would have carried our baby really looked a bit too worn out.

Aswan has always been an important strategic point. For us it would be our entering point to Sudan.

The Temple of Queen Hatshepsut, located beneath the cliffs at Deir el Bahari on the west bank of the Nile near the Valley of the Kings.

Making New Friends & Decisions.

Decision needed to be made. We sat in Aswan on the one and only campground (if that’s what you want to call it), in the middle of the town with hustle and bustle day and night. It was rather an empty lot where the occasional overland traveller took shelter. The decision was made the next evening when a big MAN truck, followed by two BMW cross-country motorbikes, pulled in.

It only took a bottle of whatever and a bit of brainstorming and our goal was clear. Since there was no chance to get a permission to enter Sudan from Egypt legally (officials had told us there were some incidents with lost travellers in the past), this Austrian-German-Canadian convoy would cross the Egyptian-Sudanese boarder illegally through the desert.

Our Austrian-German-Canadian convoy that would cross the Sudanese-Egyptian border illegally: our Mercedes-Benz Unimog 406, a MAN truck and two BMW’s motorbikes.

Our Plan: Map, Compass & Sand Dunes.

Our plan was to leave the road into the desert at nighttime. The two Canadians with their BMW’s would drive in front; they were a lot faster and able to check for possible traces of presumed border patrol cars. Our trucks would follow and we would wait together every 5 kilometres. We would do this until our first night stop. It was going to be an exciting and also dangerous trip, yet our Mercedes-Benz Unimog 406 truck, our desert experience and our ability to navigate with nothing but a compass and map (that was all we had) convinced us that we could do it.

First, we decided to drive down to Abu Simbel to look at the possibilities where to get off the road. In Aswan at the checkpoint one had to show papers and in Abu Simbel you had to report to the police station and fill out lots of paperwork. So, as it was a full moon night, we decided to pretend to leave Abu Simbel just before the checkpoint closed in the evening. We told the officers that we’d sleep along the road and drive up to Aswan again the next day. This would give us some time to disappear into the desert.

After being out of sight of the checkpoint, and with no other traffic on the road, we turned off our lights and drove off into the vast desert landscape. Only the moon guided us, with the BMW’s in front. Like this we drove for around 30 kilometres in the southwestern direction to our first night stop; no lights, no fire, nothing that could alert anyone who might be in the area as well.

Sudan Here We Come.

With some of the best sleep we’ve had in a while, we woke up well rested and exited that we already made it this far. We didn’t want to waste any time, so we skipped breakfast, packed up and set off with the same pattern. We only crossed one car track that looked pretty recent, other than that we were on our own.

Our map showed a small mountain range along the border of Sudan and until we reached it, we drove over 10 hours – the distances are unbelievable. We came to the mountain range and drove right through it, in between rocks and sand dunes we finally reached the Sudanese border. There were no signs of course but we were sure that we’ve made it.

This night all of us got out our best food and of course whatever drinks we had. We reached Sudan and now it was just a few more days until we’d arrive in Dongola to do the paperwork for customs. Those nights in the desert, without a single trace of life, not even a single fly was truly an unforgettable experience and it still lasts until today. But it would soon be over.

This is the first photo I took after crossing the mountain range were we entered Sudan. It was just us, our trucks and the vast desert landscape. And some cheap booze…

Camping in the middle of the Sahara desert in the Sudan, just after crossing the Sudanese-Egyptian border.

The First Sudanese Villages Came Into Sight.

We spotted the first signs of the Nile river again; a few palm trees, the first small fields along the banks, and finally the first Sudanese working in his vegetable garden. He was surprised to see us, waved at us and pointed South after we asked for Dongola. We passed more villages along the river, stopped here and there and came across the first bakery in Sudan. The bread we bought here, called Aish merahrah in Arabic, tasted absolutely amazing after all the days with tin food. The it didn’t take long for the first invitation. The family that invited us into their home was so generous, offered great food and an unbelievable hospitality. Actually the entire village was up to get a glimpse of us strangers, especially Nisa and the dog got all the attention. It was one of the few times that the dog had to stay in the truck because we were afraid he’s attack someone with all the shouting, laughing and screaming.

These were some of the first Sudanese men we came across after entering Sudan.

The entire village was on their feet to get a glimpse of us.

This was the clay crafted entrance to the families house that invited us near Dongola.

“Welcome To Sudan”.

After yet another remote night in the desert we arrived in Dongola and drove straight up to customs. At first they didn’t know what to do with us, but we showed our documents and the visas and explained that we needed stamps here and there. After some talking we all got the documents stamped and with a Welcome to Sudan we were released. From here on our routes separated, mainly because everyone had different ideas about the travel speed. We always took it easy and stayed in Dongola for a few days, camping in the police station’s yard while drinking tea in the evenings with the officers. We were simply relieved that we had made it to Sudan without a big hassle.

We stopped at a “road house” along the NIle river in Sudan for some great mint tea and immediately caught the attention of the villagers.

Until today camels are important for transporting goods through the desert. All the impressions of this trip, which was almost 30 years ago, are sill in my mind as if it were yesterday. Those were the true African adventures I’ve always dreamed about, and until today, I’m grateful to have experiences this!

The entire village followed us around in Dongola. It was quite an experience and we decided to stick around for a couple of days. Back in those days, only very few tavellers crossed this part of the world and when thinking back, a trip like this wouldn’t (unfortunately) be possible anymore today…

The next part of our adventures through Africa will follow. We’ll write about the trip from Dongola down to the border of the Central African Republic.

It wasn’t the plan.

This time, thanks to our guide, the trip was pretty straightforward without any delays regarding engine trouble or flat tyres. After some fast moving hours the car stopped in Loropéni, a place where a UNESCO heritage site is situated. Actually our plan was to travel to Gaoua first and then go back to Loropéni to check out the area, but our plans changed very spontaneously: While waiting for the passengers to disembark, one guy approached us and explained that here in Loropéni there is a nice hotel “Why you want to go to Gaoua first? You can stay here overnight and visit the ruins.” He was very confident and we had nothing to lose anyway. So after some thinking we got out of the bush-taxi. The driver was a bit irritated because we paid all the way to Gaoua, but he didn’t seem to be too bothered after all… While walking through a real African village with huge Baobab & Mango trees and chicken crowing, our self proclaimed “tour guide” showed us the way to the hotel.

Not quite what we expected.

As it turned out after the first quick scan, this “hotel” was rather a renovators-delight. The electricity had blown up a few months ago, so what we got were some rooms with a bed, a huge drum filled with water and squatter toilets outside … and as we expected, we were the first guests since looooong time. Sometimes there is no immediate way out of such situations, and after a quick thought (“we have enough bottled water, some cerial-bars and still a small bunch of bananas“), we decided to make the best out of it.

Turned out just fine.

As it was only 2.00pm, we immediately organised motorbikes to see the ruins of Loropéni. Two locals were more than happy to drive us there. The entire complex is somewhat a scattered array of walls – still impressive though – because these ruins stand untouched since many hundred years.

The Ruins of Loropéni.

“The 11.130m2 property, the first to be inscribed in the country, with its imposing stone walls is the best preserved of ten fortresses in the Lobi area and is part of a larger group of 100 stone enclosures that bear testimony to the power of the trans-Saharan gold trade. Situated near the borders of Côte d’Ivoire, Ghana and Togo, the ruins have recently been shown to be at least 1,000 years old. The settlement was occupied by the Lohron or Koulango peoples, who controlled the extraction and transformation of gold in the region when it reached its apogee from the 14th to the 17th century. Much mystery surrounds this site large parts of which have yet to be excavated. The settlement seems to have been abandoned during some periods during its long history. The property which was finally deserted in the early 19th century is expected to yield much more information.” ~ UNESCO

Ruins of Loropéni, Burkina Faso | This was my guide for the day. The motorbike was still in repair minutes before we drove off as you can see. It’s a bit of a miracle that we made it to the ruins and back… I was already prepared for another bush-taxi adventure.

Ruins of Loropéni, Burkina Faso | Reminded me a bit of Angkor Wat (on the small scale of course) in Cambodia.

Ruins of Loropéni, Burkina Faso | The ruins might not look like the most attractive sight, but the atmosphere in the area was one of a kind.

Ruins of Loropéni, Burkina Faso | Getting around the ruins gave me the feeling of being in a maze…

I was born on April 27th, 1986. My parents were travel enthusiasts and one would think that a baby would settle them down a little. Well, not the kind of parents I have. And thank God for that, because my journey began straight out of the maternity ward…

Africa – How It All Started.

My parents were fixing up their Unimog to convert it into a mini-apartment for one of their long-term African adventure – this time with me in tow. The truck would become our home for the next year (or so), so things needed to be in place for the journey to start. I quickly adjusted to the fact that my sandpit would become the Sahara desert, that my toys came out of the toolbox and that I would take my first steps between jerry cans, spare parts and sand sheets.

So we set off to Africa on a truly remarkable journey, and I was right in the middle all the time – not only because my place was mainly in the baby capsule in the middle front seat but also because I opened a lot of doors with my baby smile; even the grimmest custom officers, check-point soldiers or police chiefs couldn’t resist me :D It was always “baby first“.

I never got sick and mum had 800 nappies packed in the trunk. Actually, we had all the fun in the sun, 24 hours together with both parents – a rare privilege for a child.

By the age of one, I had 15 countries under my wings.

Those were the good times…

Back To Civilisation – but not for long.

Back in civilisation, the longing for travelling prevailed and it didn’t take long until we flew to Malaysia. This was the time when walkmans just conquered the market – omg how cool was that?! Now, even the longest, roughest bus rides through Sarawak didn’t bother me at all. It was “Bibi Blocksberg” or “Fünf Freunde” all day long. Mum also bought my first bike there – not only to speed things up (after all I was only four years old) but also to make me happy because I hated walking for hours. I was certainly the first Western kid cycling through Kota Kinabalu. We had a couple of rules like “Always stop in front of a street” or “Don’t run anyone over (not even a chicken)” and this worked really well for both of us.

Mum Knowns Best.

Yup, mum’s definitely do know best. She knew how to handle every situation, or how to keep me busy…

Giddyup Down Under.

We continued to Australia. And since Down Under is cattle country, I was on a horse by the age of five. It was mum’s idea to become a Jillaroo, so living on a farm in N.S.W. was not a problem any more. We adjusted well and blended in like all the others.

Busy Bangkok.

Bangkok train station was hot, humid and busy and we had to get tickets. While mum disappeared through the crowds, I stayed put with (or better on) our luggage. She told me that I had to ‘protect’ the bags and made a game out of it so that I would really watch out. In case someone wanted to grab them – or me – I should just start screaming. I looked pretty grim and nobody tried to steal anything after all.

Bangkok held another incident for us. I once got lost in the toy section of a shopping centre. I didn’t notice it at all, but in the meantime my mother frantically alerted the entire staff and they announced through speakers that a little blond girl was missing. After one hour they found me; I was happily playing in a changing room & mum almost had a heart attack.

At a market in Bangkok.

Sri Lanka.

We climbed Adam’s Peak and stayed at Brown’s Beach Hotel in Yala for a while. All the local kids listened to my command :D Sand, waves and sun – perfect!

Back in the days, a “white” kid was still a real attraction…

Indonesia, my second home.

School stopped travelling for a while, but mum decided it was time to learn some proper English. So she simply took me our of elementary school and decided to hit the road again. Down Under is was once more. Getting there took quite a few of months, because Indonesia was en route. All my friends where going to school back home, and I was studying on a remote island; cycling for PE lesson, Maths in the hammock and German under the stars – not too bad if you ask me :) And of course, the island kids where curiously watching as always. Oh and I’ll tell you, mum was definitely a tough teacher!

Beside the day to day school work, I learned how to fish and how to survive in a remote place, without modern gadgets of any kind. While my friends at home teased their pets, I targeted the Komodo Dragons with a slingshot … yeah, those where the good times for sure!

In Togean Islands, I had my first diving experience when dad went down to 20m depth with me in tow (just one octopus and one bottle of oxygen). Fun for me, but mum on the surface simply freaked out and tried to harpoon dad after getting me out of the water. Imagine all the Indonesian gloating over our family dispute :)

When leaving Togean Islands, we hired one seaworthy looking vessel. What we didn’t know was, that it was the captain’s first journey to the mainland, so he missed our destination by far, and we steamed along the coast to find a landing point. Right before sunset we arrived in a small fishing village, in a beautiful bay with stilt houses. When we came closer, many little canoes started paddling toward us and we got stuck between sea and shore. Everybody was screaming and welcoming us. We felt like Lady Di on Australia tour…crazy I tell you! They told us no tourists ever had been to this village before. This warm welcome preceded a week’s stay at the mayor’s house. Luckily he had just acquired a new TV with satellite connection, so I got in charge of the remote control immediately, plus the best and only chair on the veranda. Me in the chair and all the villagers on the floor around me, sitting in front of the TV watching “Cartoon Network” was a pretty funny sight for my parents. Honestly, this was actually my most memorable travel experience until today. Ever since that trip, we came back to Indo at least once a year and today I call it my second home.

On a ferry to some remote island…

In Timor with a lot of school kids.

Having fun with kids in Sulawesi…

The travelling never stopped and today, I feel very grateful for having seen so many different places of our beautiful planet.

What about you? How did you catch the travel bug?

After a couple of hours, Orodara came into sight and just before the village, we spotted a nice looking hotel – turned out later that it was a really good choice to go for this one; we had a huge room with a nice balcony on both sides. But since the bus continued driving, we needed to make our way back there. It was definitely too long to walk with all our luggage, therefore we stopped a passing donkey cart. The cart driver was more than surprised to have “blancs” (means white people) as load, but the money we offered convinced him to take us on…

Orodara was a small town with a big market and quite a lot of merchandising going on, where lots of trucks on their way to Mali passed through. We spent a few hours walking around, buying fresh mangoes, bananas and oranges and enquired about possibilities of continuing to Banfora. We were told that this was only possible with a “taxi brousse“. So we made a reservation at the “bush taxi“stand for the next day.

On this donkey cart we were on our way to the hotel in Orodara, Burkina Faso.

Fresh oranges and the most delicious cashew nuts at the market in Orodara, Burkina Faso.

Transporting dead pigs on a motorbike in Orodara, Burkina Faso.

Ready, Set, Go!

A gut feeling told us to be prepared for such a trip, so we stocked up on bananas, baguettes and water. The distance to Banfora is only 80 kilometres on a gravel road, so that – normally – shouldn’t be a big deal for a good car. But bush taxis tend to always need major repairs, and then 80 kilometres can turn into a great distance. Our bush taxi looked exactly like all the others: a lot of luggage on the roof rack, some goats stuffed between a motorbike and lots of baskets of chicken. It was fully loaded, to get the maximum out of the trip. 20 fellow passengers with some kids sitting on their mothers laps. Children travel for free, but don’t get extra seats, so it gets pretty tight.

The kilometres started passing and the taxi stopped from time to time to let someone out or to take on new travellers. There was always a great movement on the roof with loading and unloading, so there was no chance of taking a little nap…

Big Bang Theory.

As if the noise level wasn’t already high enough with the engine being at the end of one’s rope, the constant, very loud & full of vim and vigour blabbering of our fellow passengers in local lingo, was definitely a challenge for our eardrums. While we where trying to figure out what in God’s name they where all talking about, it was abruptly quite after a big BANG followed by the cars standstill. But the silence didn’t last very long … maybe only a gimps of a second, because everyone seemed to know what happened: A broken tyre was the reason. When looking at it, we wondered how it actually made it this far…

The driver apologised to us for this interruption but we weren’t really bothered. The tyre was quickly off and we pointed at the 2 spare tyres on the roof … but these were flat as well. Our input if these tyres were just for decoration didn’t really help to ease the situation. But Africans are used to such incidents, so the boy in charge took the flat tyre and drove off with the next passing motorbike. Now it was time to wait; we and all other passengers settled under the nearby trees to get some shade. Some fell asleep instantly and we opened our “lunch bag” to have a nice bush pick-nick.

Bush taxi-break-down Nr. 1 in Burkina Faso.

Ready to get a new tyre for the broken down bush taxi in Burkina Faso.

This wasn’t going to be our day.

Surprisingly enough, it didn’t take too long for the guy to return out of nowhere with the repaired tyre. It took 5 more minutes to put everything back in place, and then we continued our journey… But not for long. After only 10 kilometres, another tyre went flat – or to put it the right way: it was ripped into pieces. The driver started swearing in his local dialect and the boy in charge got the broken tyre off and disappeared again with the next passing motorbike.

Bush taxi-break-down Nr. 2 in Burkina Faso. Nr. 3 was only a matter of time…

Yet again, a passing motorbike was our only way out…

Time passed and when he came back, he proudly showed everyone the brand new tyre he just bought. Now nothing seemed to stop the car once more. But we cheered too soon, because the one of the two remaining tyres decided that this was his last ride, and we got stuck again. As before, all passengers settled under a huge mango tree and some vendors came along with fresh fruits for sale. After an hour or so, we decided to stop the next passing car to get a lift to Banfora, because it was only about 20 kilometres and we were sick of being stuck in the bush. We were not along with this thought; one of the passengers – a very very old man – joined us as we stopped a Peugeot 404, which had the cargo area turned into passenger seats. Off we were, waving goodbye to our astonished bush taxi driver…

Unfortunately, we were out of luck, because this cars engine sounded weird right from the beginning with hicks and backfires all the way. 3 kilometres before the centre of Banfora, another loud BANG rattled the car and the engine took its last breath. The driver shook his head in despair and this way it for us. We got out and decided to walk the remaining kilometres to our hotel…

After 8 hours of journey time for only 80 kilometres, we reached the hotel “La Canne du Sucre” – a beautiful place with pool – completely exhausted from this bush taxi adventure…

More bush taxis in Burkina Faso:

Fully loaded bush taxi in Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso – A couple of tyres in tow just to be on the safe side…

“Bon Voyage” – A Bush taxi in Burkina Faso.

A bush taxi driving though an alley of trees in Banfora, Burkina Faso.

Another bush taxi in Burkina Faso.

And another (smaller) bush taxi in Burkina Faso.

Trucking ia also a very popular way of getting from A to B in Burkina Faso.

Fully loaded truck in Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso – Chicken in tow as well.

The French cherish their former colony, while for the rest of the world this country is rather unknown. We actually didn’t plan on visiting Burkina Faso, rather Mauritania or Mali were on our list. But Mali was out of question with all the troubles at the moment and Mauritania didn’t have a consulate in Austria. This was when Burkina Faso showed up on our map. And well, we were definitely not disappointed to have made this decision.

Some things we recommend on doing/seeing:

Ouagadougou.

Ouagadougou greeted us with friendly welcoming people but it was still an adventure itself. We stayed there for a couple of days (at Maison Micha – a beautiful, tidy, quiet, affordable and safe place, run by a German woman) before we continued to Bobo Dioulasso. Public transport is easily available and buses run accurately, so there was no hassle at all.

Bobo Dioulasso.

Bobo Dioulasso has lots of interesting things to see: The Grande Mosque, a unique Sudanese mud architecture which was built in 1880, a sacred fish pond, beautiful villages in the vicinity and a huge market.

The amazing Grand Mosque in Bobo Dioulasso is an impressive representative of the traditional Sudano-Sahelian architecture and the largest building of this style in Burkina Faso. It was built in the end of the 19th century as a result of political deal between local king and Islamic religious leader.

Koro (10km East of Bobo Dioulasso) is an ancient local village built in & around rock formations.

Nowadays the ancient village of Koro is almost completely abandoned, only few locals stick around.

Banfora.

Further south-west, you’ll arrived in Banfora, the stepping off point to the Pics of Sindou, which is a bizarre looking area where you can hike for hours on tracks between high grass surrounded by moon like mountain formations (a guide is compulsory). Another great point of interest are the “Karfiguela Waterfalls”, an array of permanent waterfalls with fantastic swimming ponds. At the starting point, where you leave the car or your motorbike, you walk through an alley of huge trees, which is simply breathtaking to look at. You can continue to Hippo Lake, for a bit of wildlife experience.

Rock formations “Pics de Sindou” just 50km Southwest of Banfora, Burkina Faso.

Burkina Faso isn’t full of natural wonders, but the rock formation “Pics de Sindou” is a must visit when in the area around Banfora.

Walking around the rock formations “Pics de Sindou”near Banfora really gives you the impression of an “out of this world” location.

The Karfiguela Waterfalls the falls are actually a set of smaller and bigger falls, pools, rocks that are all easily discovered by foot.

Before getting to Karfiguela Waterfalls near Banfora, you will pass a lane of huge mango trees.

Hairdresser, Healers & Tailors.

In larger towns, look at the interesting signs that advertise hairdressers and barbers … some will really make you smile. Also, be sure to check out the traditional healers; you’ll find a section of these guys at every market. Of course, markets are interesting too, as they are in every country. After finishing up, maybe you’re ready for a traditional African dress; a tailor will measure you and sew it in a few hours. They do a really great job and it works like a charm on a fancy dress party.

A traditions healer in Bobo Dioulasso, Burkina Faso.

Market life in Bobo Dioulasso, Burkina Faso.

A typical Coiffure sign in Burkina Faso.

Bush Taxi.

For the ones of you who really want to spice up their holiday with an easy adventure, simply take a bush taxi instead of your rented 4×4 truck. Expect some blown up tyres and engine failures,  so bring plenty of water in case you really have to spend some hours on a dirt track near the broken down vehicle. Be assured, even the locals want to arrive at their desired destination, so the spare-parts or another vehicle will come, sooner or later. You’ll remember this trip for many years and have some great stories for your grand kids.

A bush taxi ride in Burkina Faso will leave you with lots of memorable conversation material.

If you get to your desired destination without a maintenance stop in between, you’re definitely one of the lucky ones.

Our 2 weeks in Burkina Faso were not long enough, because there’s still the train trip that needs to be done, Tiebele with its painted villages, Nazinga Game Reserve, Parc du W and a lot more, so we’ll be back next year for sure.

We just returned from a trip to Burkina Faso.

We didn’t really plan this trip at all. It was an instinct decision that could have gone terribly wrong. Just two days after booking our tickets, the French invasion of Mali began and we were a bit uncomfortable after realizing that travel warnings had been set up for the Northern part of the country and therefore also the “Festival au Désert” had been postponed. But we wouldn’t be ourselves if this would have kept us from going, so we quickly shoved our initial concerns aside and started planning the trip.

We’ve been to Africa a couple of times before and knew that booking a hotel in advance is a must when the plane arrives after dark as it was the case with us. Many airports in Africa tend to welcome you either in twilight or in complete darkness and facilities are often not up to international standards, which was the same in Ouagadougou. Money changing facilities or hotel/car/tourist info counters didn’t make it here yet … or at least not at 11 pm.

As it often happens to us (or at least it feels like it), we managed to pick the slowest line to get through immigration, therefore we were also the last ones to exit into the arrival hall. A bunch of taxi drivers immediately jumped on us, but we had a pick up arranged through the hotel. Yet the driver was not in sight, so we started to look around a bit. The only brightly lit shop was a strange looking butcher … not what you’d usually expect upon arrival.

Ok, so what now? No money changer anywhere, mosquitoes and a bunch of people who were just as bothering as the mosquitoes. Finally someone pointed at a little cubicle with tinted windows; we opened the screeching door and it was an ATM machine. We just hoped that the machine wouldn’t swallow our credit card (as it was just the first day and we didn’t have any money yet), but it actually worked. As we expected, all over sudden we (again) became very interesting for everybody.

Time Is Slow In Africa.

Time is slow in Africa, so we didn’t stress out either. We asked someone to “borrow” us his mobile phone for which we had to pay and exorbitant amount – this is what you call a tourist trap – but we couldn’t be bothered since we just wanted to get to the hotel. We tend to call these things “development assistance”. Anyway, we could get a hold of our promised driver who had just been taking a nap in the airport parking lot. Now we were on our way in a battered old Peugeot 504, whose good days have long passed. But the engine was purring like a kitty … apart from some insignificant hick ups of the exhaust pipe.

Our driver totally obeyed the traffic rules, which is rather uncommon in these countries. He even drove at normal speed and assured us that we would be at our hotel in no time. And he was right. Residence Galiam turned out to be a good choice in a quiet neighbourhood with a little pool and a pleasant front yard. By midnight we were sleeping like babies, ready for what the next morning would hold…

As you all know, ticket prices go through the roof this time of the year, therefore a fly-away holiday was out of question (especially last minute). So after scanning the atlas for hours and thinking about our past travels through Africa by truck, we soon came to the conclusion that it was time for one of these adventures again. We checked out some shipping lines and managed to get a ticket on one of the many ferries that ply the Italian-Tunisian routes. Yes, Tunisia was our desired destination; orient, hookah, herbs, culture, nomads, camels & desert here we come!

A few days before Christmas Eve we were on our way to Genoa, where the ferry set off. The distance is around 1.000 km from Vienna and it took us 10 hours to get there – sounds pretty long but since we were travelling with our Pinzgauer truck, we couldn’t go faster than 100km/h.

After arriving at the port, we immediately got our truck in line with the others. These ferries are huge and up to 300 cars fit into the giant belly. Every centimetre counts and depending on the size and height of the car, you’re assigned your space on the ferry. The entire embarkation process took a few hours, so we had lot’s of time to spare. While waiting, we came across some nice little local tavernas in the port area, where pizza, pasta and the followed cappuccino just tastes a lot better than at home. The Italian atmosphere is simply magical :)

The ferry trip.

The ferry took about 25 hours from Genoa to Tunis, therefore a cabin is advisable. Unfortunately in our case, all cabins were booked already when we bought our ticket, so we took our hammocks and sleeping bags from the truck and started exploring the ship. You’ll find restaurants and bars, as well as enough entertainment, where travellers from all over Europe meet. Most of the tourists travelling by ferry are “off-roaders” because Tunisia by car or truck usually contains heavy off-road driving.

Anyway, after a quiet night on the ship, a bright and sunny morning greeted us. Customs was very easy, without the slightest hassle. After all, with so many cars disembarking, customs has to speed up as well. Soon after arrival, we were on our way down South.

Our route.

We wanted to get out of Tunis asap, since driving through the sand dunes was the most fun. Be patient though … if you expect sand dunes right after Tunis, you’ll be disappointed; it takes an entire day of driving until you reach them. We actually planned to drive to Tozeur (an oasis in the South-West of Tunisia) and further on to Douz by crossing the salt lake Chott El Jeridh. Douz itself is known as the “gateway to the Sahara” and an important starting point for desert explorers. Our desired destination was Ksar Ghilane because you have to cross high sand dunes about 150 km from Douz to get there.

Needed Gear.

When deciding to cross the Sahara, be sure to have a good compass, a GPS device and a fine map. There’s basically no road, only tracks (that can lead nowhere) and this can get confusing at times. It’s advisable to travel with a second vehicle if you’re not an experienced desert fox (like us haha). As said, some tracks lead to nowhere, so it’s good to check your position every few kilometres to make sure you’re on the right track.

We managed to arrive in Ksar Ghilane without any problems (no flat tyre, no sand digging and no unnecessary kilometres) after around 7 hours, just right in time to spend Christmas Eve with some other travellers at the camp ground. A nearby restaurant served delicious Tunisian food and after a few glasses of champagne we set up the hammocks between the cars and slept under the stars.

Some Impressions:

Camels are the lifeline in any desert.

Camping in the desert of Tunisia, Africa.

At a market in Tunis, Tunisia.

Sand dunes in the desert of Tunisia, Africa.

A public toilet in the desert of Tunisia, Africa.

A nomad near Douz in the desert of Tunisia, Africa.

Arriving at the oasis Douz in Tunisia, Africa.

Until today, I’ve never seen this photo before and because I like it so much, I want to share it with all of you :)

Baby Nisa in Africa.