Two Syncro in Mauritanian Adrar in the footsteps of Theodore Monod
We went in two teams (Poisson and Peyrin), Denis has made the road with other friends heading for Mali. Their journey was unfortunately interrupted, but Henry returned to form and the travel will continue in October. Congratulations Henry and Malou !
Things are getting serious at the border. No tar any more and since the first meters of sand, many zigzags between various vehicles silted, the syncros proudly pass without problem !
After Nouadhibou, to join Nouakchott, we must in principle :
a) procure a guide,
b) follow the main trail.
Not so with our personal guide, Yves, master of GPS By dunes and salt lakes drained by regs and ergs, with some silting in the process however, he lead us off-track (we did not even see the station entrance to the National Park of Banc d'Arguin).
GPS is fine, but when the points are widely spaced, how to guess what there is between ?
So we will see, and sometimes it comes out after much shoveling.
Part of the journey on the beach is nice, we advance with swarms of seagulls taking off before us. But we must know the tide times, if not, better spend the night on a cliff - what we did. The next day, midway, there was either a delicate passage (cliff collapsed into the sea), or 100 km of "corrugated" track. What have we chosen ? the difficult path, of course (you will not see pictures in these cases, I close my eyes).
At Nouakchott full provisions is made, that is to say what will be the core of our menu : rice and sardines, tuna and pasta, sometimes you can rotate (there are also fruits and vegetables but they don't last long ) .
En route to Atâr, tar is too monotonous, we took the track (no, not the track ! direction sources Bénichaâb ). I remember a beautiful night for once without too much wind in the shelter of a dune, a fire that Jacques had managed to set up and my attempt to bake bread in the coals. Not really a success !
Before Atâr we forked and explored the entire southwest region: varied landscapes, bushland with long dunes, sebkhas with impressive palm and regs . Rare tracks, traces sometimes, usually, nothing. Sometimes real steps to drive through and there, more than in the sand performance of syncro surprise (not without palpitations in my case), such a big beetle, he climbs the worst rocks.
I remember the cave paintings discovered with GPS after a sceneric approach march through scree rocks around a guelta . Jacques remained near the vehicles and we ended up returning back with three beautiful girls who wanted to get married to go to France ...
Je n'oublierai pas la passe de Tifoujar : descente à pic entre deux falaises puis long passage de sable mou dans l'oued.
Atâr qui ne s'anime que le dimanche à l'arrivée de l'avion apportant son lot de marcheurs.
Chinguetti, l'ancienne ville sainte, cité des sables et des bibliothèques oubliées ( l'U.N.E.S.C.O. a consenti quelques efforts pour les protéger ). Nous avons rencontré là de vénérables vieillards qui veillent sur des trésors gardés par leur famille depuis 700 ans. Le sable envahit tout et les efforts des hommes semblent dérisoires.
Ouadane, l'étrange cité en ruines à flanc de colline, autrefois florissante et célèbre et qui essaye aujourd'hui par le tourisme de tirer parti de sa splendeur passée.
Je n'oublierai jamais le trajet jusqu'à la curiosité géologique du Guelb-er-Richât. Deux jours de piste, surtout des cailloux, des passes impressionnantes et des dunes qui prennent la fantaisie de barrer le passage ( les yeux fermés, ça passe... ).
On franchit trois cercles immenses concentriques et on arrive dans une vaste dépression avec un petit piton central qui pourrait figurer le nombril du monde. Ce sont les régions que Théodore Monod a parcourues à pied pendant 30 ans et où son souvenir est resté vivace chez les nomades.
Paysages austères presque hostiles : le froid, le vent, la solitude, l'immensité et l'étrangeté du lieu nous donnent le sentiment d'être de trop ici ou tout au moins bien peu de choses dans cette nature qui n'a pas besoin de nous pour exister.
Le lendemain, dans la même région, nous trouverons grâce au G.P.S. l'arbre de Mme Monod dans une petite cuvette bien abritée du vent. C'est là qu'elle attendait patiemment son mari !
Syncro two Mauritanian Adrar in the footsteps of Theodore Monod
We went to two teams (Poisson and Peyrin), Denis has made the road with other friends for Mali. Their journey was unfortunately interrupted, but Henry returned to form and the system will continue in October. Congratulations Henry and Malou! Things are getting serious at the border. More tar and from the first meters of sand, it weaves through various vehicles stuck in the sand, the syncro proudly pass without problem!
After
Nouadhibou Nouakchott to join, it must in principle:
a) providing a guide
b) follow the main trail.
Not so with our personal guide, Yves, master GPS dunes and salt lakes drained by regs and ergs, with some silting in the key however, lead us off-track (we did not even see the position of entrance of the
National Park of Banc d'Arguin).
GPS is fine, but when the points are widely spaced, how to guess what there is between?
So we will see and sometimes it comes out after many shovel.
Part of the journey on the beach is nice, you advance by up before us swarms of seagulls. But we must know the tide times, if not better spend the night on a cliff - what we did. The next day, midway, there was either a delicate passage (cliff collapsed into the sea), 100 km of track in "corrugated". What did we choose? the difficult pass, of course (you will not see pictures in these cases, I close my eyes).
Nouakchott is made full provisions, that is to say, what will be the core of our menu: rice and sardines, tuna and pasta, sometimes you can switch (there are also fruits and vegetables but they not last long).
On the road to Atar, but the tar is too monotonous, the track (direction of the source of Bénichaâb no, not the track!) Be taken. I remember a beautiful night for once without too much wind in the shelter of a dune fire that Jacques was able to do and my attempt to bake bread in the coals. Not really a success!
Atâr before we forked and explored the entire southwest region, varied landscapes, bushland with long dunes, palm sebkhas the regs and impressive. Of rare tracks, traces sometimes, in general, nothing. Sometimes real steps to take and there, more than in the sand performance syncro surprise (not without palpitations in my case), such a large beetle, he climbs the worst rocks.
I remember discoveries with GPS cave paintings after an approach march through the debris of rocks around a guelta. Jacques remained near vehicles and we ended up with three beautiful girls who wanted to get married to go to France ...
I will not forget the pass Tifoujar: steep descent between two cliffs and long passing soft sand in the river.
Atâr that only comes on Sunday with the arrival of the aircraft bringing a lot of walkers.
Chinguetti, the ancient holy city, city of sands and forgotten libraries (UNESCO has made some efforts to protect them). We met there venerable old who guard the treasures kept by the family for 700 years. Sand and invades human efforts seem paltry.
Ouadane the strange ruined city hillside once flourishing and famous and trying today by tourism to leverage its past splendor.
I will never forget the way to the geological curiosity Guelb-er-Richat. Two track days, especially stones, impressive passes and dunes that take the fancy bar the way (eyes closed, it goes ...).
Three concentric circles is huge crosses and comes in a wide valley with a small central peak which could include the navel of the world. These are the areas that Theodore Monod traveled on foot for 30 years and where his memory has remained alive among the nomads.
Austere landscapes almost hostile: the cold, the wind, the solitude, vastness and strangeness of the place give us the feeling of being here too, or at least very little in this kind that does not need us to exist.
The next day in the same region, we find using GPS shaft Ms. Monod in a small bowl well sheltered from the wind. This is where she patiently waited her husband!
A mesure que le temps passe nous remarquons que Yves ressemble de plus en plus à Monod : même look ascétique, la barbe, le bonnet et le bâton. D'ailleurs nous le présentons comme le jeune frère de Monod... ce qui nous vaut beaucoup de considération.
Je n'oublierai pas la région d'El Beyyed ; la passe pour y arriver n'est pas mal, mais je commence à m'habituer, je ne ferme plus les yeux. Des gravures rupestres, un fond de vallée bien protégé, des arbres, des troupeaux de chèvres, un peu de vie. Près d'un puits nous découvrirons un petit musée de la préhistoire, installé dans une simple hutte par un compagnon de Monod. Il a réuni et tenté de classer, des dizaines de haches, pointes de flèche, meules et pilons... Quelques familles semi-nomades vivent là et comme nous nous étonnons d'entendre les enfants s'exprimer assez bien en français, le chef du village nous expliquera qu'un instituteur canadien partage leur vie sous la tente et fait la classe. Nous ne pourrons pas le rencontrer, il était en congé au Canada.
Ce jour-là, il faudra renoncer à aller plus loin, le carburant s'épuise, il faut aller faire le plein.
Sur le chemin d'Atâr, nous découvrirons la maison presque en ruines d'un écrivain et savant mort en 1903. A l'intérieur, la bibliothèque et des caisses éventrées où dorment des manuscrits enluminés rongés par le sable et les insectes. Il y avait peut-être là un trésor... en voie de disparition.
Au sud d'Atâr, sur la route de Tidjikja, nous irons jusqu'à Aouelloûl, grand cratère creusé par la chute d'une météorite...il y a trois millions d'années. Monod, bien sûr, a arpenté le lieu. Nous ramassons quelques cailloux en souvenir.
Je n'oublierai pas l'après-midi où nous nous sommes retrouvés prisonniers d'un aklé, ensemble de dunes enchevêtrées sans direction particulière : un moutonnement de sable à perte de vue ! Nous avons peiné quatre heures pour faire 800 m et retrouver les cailloux avec plaisir. Mais quels cailloux ! plutôt des rochers jetés en vrac sous nos roues. Il nous arrivera de travailler à faire une sorte de piste pour sortir de là.
Je n'oublierai pas les heures de piste très cassante pour arriver jusqu'à la palmeraie de Maïreth. Du haut de plateau, très belle vue sur le fond verdoyant de la vallée. La passe pour descendre est rude, l'entrée dans l'oued pas facile, nous sommes ensuite assaillis par un groupe d'enfants qui trouvent très amusant de se pendre à la roue de secours pendant que nous cherchons la passe pour remonter de l'autre côté. Ah ! Théodore a raison, rien ne vaut la solitude du désert.
Nouveau retour à Atâr et de là nous avons voulu aller voir à quoi ressemblait la région de Choûm. La piste n'est pas trop mauvaise. Vers le Nord, on trouve des montagnes noires, coniques, comme posées là sur le sable blond. Parfois ce sont au contraire des grès tendres sculptés par le vent comme d'étranges statues naturelles.
Choûm ressemble à ce que devaient être les villes du Far West : une large rue de sable bordée de maisons disparates, sans autre raison d'être que le train. Ah! le train. Il nous a pris la fantaisie de tenter l'expérience. Inoubliable ! On vous cloue sur une plateforme à 10 h du matin - le train démarre à 18 h - et on passe une nuit dans un bruit et des secousses incroyables. A 8 h, on est à Nouadhibou, mais on n'est délivré qu'à midi. Jacques emportera un clou dans son pneu en souvenir.
As time goes on, we see that Yves looks increasingly Monod even ascetic look, beard, cap and stick. Moreover we present him as the younger brother of Monod ... which we owe much consideration.
I will not forget the region of El Beyyed;pass to get there is not bad, but I'm starting to get used to, I do not close my eyes. Rock carvings, a background of well-protected valley, trees, herds of goats, a little life. Near a well we will find a small prehistoric museum, housed in a simple hut with a companion Monod. He met and attempted to classify dozens of axes, arrowheads, grinding stones and pestles ... Some semi-nomadic families live there and as we are surprised to hear children speak French well enough in the head the village will explain a Canadian teacher sharing their lives in a tent and made the class.We can not meet him, he was on leave in Canada.
That day, we will give up to go further, the fuel runs out, we need to refuel.
On the road to Atar, we will discover the house almost ruined of a writer and scholar who died in 1903. Inside, the library and ripped boxes where illuminated manuscripts bitten by sand and insects sleep.There was perhaps a treasure ... endangered.
South of Atar, on the road to Tidjikja, we will go to Aouelloûl, large crater left by a meteorite ... three million years ago.Monod, of course, has surveyed the place.We pick up a few pebbles in memory.
I will not forget the afternoon where we found a Aklé prisoners, all tangled dunes without particular direction: a billowing sand out of sight! We struggled for four hours to 800 m and find the stones with pleasure. But what rocks!ather loose rocks thrown under our wheels. Sometimes we will work to make a kind of track out there.
I will not forget the hours of very rough track to get to the palm Maïreth.Upper deck, beautiful view of the green valley floor.The pass is tough to get off, entry into the river not easy, we are then attacked by a group of children who find it very fun to hang in the spare wheel as we seek to pass up the other side.Ah!Theodore's right, nothing beats the solitude of the desert.
New back to Atar and then we wanted to go see what the area looked The track is not too bad.To the north, we find the black mountains, conical, as laid there on the golden sand.Sometimes it is rather soft sandstone sculpted by the wind as natural strange statues.
CHOUM like that to be towns of the Wild West: a wide street lined with sand disparate homes, for no other reason than to be on the train.Ah!the train. He took a fancy to us try.Unforgettable!You tack on a platform at 10 am - the train starts at 18 am - and we stay overnight in a sound and incredible shock.At 8 am, we Nouadhibou, but not issued
A Nouadhibou, visite d'une petite chapelle, très discrète, tenue par des coréens qui ne parlent qu'anglais.
Nous reprenons la piste du Nord, le boulevard de sable jusqu'à la frontière marocaine - le séjour en Mauritanie est terminé.
Je n'oublierai pas, par les nuits étoilées, les leçons d'astronomie de Yves.
Je n'oublierai pas les mots qu'il ne faut pas prononcer devant Théodore, ni ses leçons de sagesse :
"Qui veut très loin voyager, Doit son Syncro alléger"
Mais comment rivaliser avec Yves quand on boit trois fois plus d'eau que lui et qu'on mange trois fois plus de sardines !
Je n'oublierai pas notre fatigue, certains soirs, Marie-Thérèse et moi, mes yeux rougis, notre mine défaite tandis que Yves et Jacques étaient plus fringants que jamais et que les difficultés avaient pour seul effet sur Jacques d'accroître son appétit !
Je n'oublierai pas la beauté, la variété du désert, la douceur du sable et ses 15 teintes différentes.
Comment oublier la cérémonie du thé sous la tente : le premier est amer comme la vie, le second doux comme l'amour, le troisième suave comme la mort.
Je n'oublierai pas que nous n'avons pas tout vu, que la Mauritanie est vaste et qu'un jour peut-être, si Dieu le veut, le voyage reprendra...
Merci à Yves qui fut notre " poisson-pilote " efficace et silencieux.
Merci à Marie-Thérèse pour son calme et son réconfort dans les moments difficiles.
Merci aussi à Pablito qui malgré son âge et ses 260 000 km au compteur nous a vaillamment conduits à bon port.
Dany PEYRIN
" Il n'y a qu'au désert que l'on prend à ce point conscience de sa petitesse, de l'éphémère passage de l'espèce humaine sur la Terre, de la courte durée de sa propre existence "
Théodore Monod
In Nouadhibou, visit a small chapel, very discreet, run by Koreans who speak only English.
We take the Northern track, sand Boulevard to the Moroccan border - Stay in Mauritania is complete.
I will not forget, starry nights, and Yves's lessons of Astronomy .
I will never forget the words one should not say in front of Theodore, nor his lessons of wisdom:
"Who wants to travel very far, Must alleviate its Syncro"
But how to compete with Yves when you drink three times more water than him and eat three times more sardines!
I will not forget our fatigue, some evenings, Marie-Thérèse and me, my red eyes, our defeat mine while Yves and Jacques were more spirited than ever and that the difficulties had an only effect on Jacques : to increase his appetite!
I will not forget the beauty, the variety of the desert, the softness of sand and it's 15 different colors.
>How can we forget the tea ceremony under the tent: the first is bitter as life, the second sweet as love, the third sweet like death.
I will not forget that we have not seen everything that Mauritania is vast and one day maybe, God willing, the journey will resume ...
Thank you to Yves who was our quiet and efficient "pilot fish".
Thank you to Marie-Thérèse for his calm and comfort in difficult times.
Also thank you to Pablito who despite his age and 260,000 km on the clock valiantly carried us safely.
Dany PEYRIN
"There's only in desert that we take so much aware of own smallness, the ephemeral passage of the human species on Earth, the short duration of his own existence"
Theodore Monod
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