Impressions from the air
I woke as our plane approached Atar. The view beyond the tiny window offered a glimpse of what lay waiting for us.
The sun was rising over a vast expanse of golden sand, empty desert stretching all the way to the horizon. It was a land where time barely moved.
We were going to spend the next three months living in this place. It was exciting, but also daunting. We’d be walking right through the middle of it, days from civilisation. I had butterflies in my stomach. After all the planning over the last year, this was finally it.
Arrival in Atar
Once on the ground, we reclaimed our baggage from the tarmac and set off up the road into town. Everyone seemed to drive a Toyota Hilux and wanted to give us a lift. Considering ourselves hardened “travellers” we declined the offers, convinced there must be a catch.
After walking for about fifteen minutes we realised this was folly. The sun was rising fast and starting to beat down on our white English skin. We accepted the next offer and within a few minutes were standing at a roundabout in the centre of Atar.
The French package tourists from the plane were by now long gone and, being the only fresh arrivals in sight, an excited crowd soon developed around us. There was a continuous stream of questions, requests for presents and offers of help with anything from all sides. We tried to look like we knew where we were going and focus on the task in hand.
Lodgings
Our first attempt to secure lodgings was unsuccessful, as we were largely ignored by a lady who seemed more interested in doing her laundry than talking to us. Slightly flummoxed, we welcomed an offer from someone in the small crowd of people following us who said he had a room for half the price of this one.
Lenny with Hakim’s kids
His name was Hakim and the room was more than satisfactory. Inside a walled courtyard there was a simple building with two rooms. Hakim’s family slept in one and he offered us the other.
It had a raw functionalism about it that instantly appealed. There was no furniture, just some thin mattresses and cushions to sit on, a well for water and even a basic shower.
Exploring Atar…
We set out to explore Atar in the afternoon. It turned out to be a loose collection of terraced shops, a market and people ambling along the streets selling their wares. Business didn’t look stressful, the shopkeepers just seemed to shoot the breeze with their friends all day.
On a side street we saw a couple of old men playing draughts in the dust on the ground. They were playing at lightning speed using…dried camel dung for the pieces.
Everywhere we went, young kids approached us asking for presents. Some tried initial pleasantries such as “Do you like Mauritania” but others just went straight to the point and asked for a gift. “Donnez-moi un cadeau” could well have been the first words they learned in French.
…and beyond
The warm sunshine was very pleasant, especially after the wet and gloomy English winter we had come from. We wandered further, the noises of the markets dying out with the distance, and found ourselves on the far side of town heading towards open desert.
Before long, we stumbled across an old tyre buried in the ground with a large bowl covering it. Unsure what it could be, we lifted the bowl to reveal a hole. It was a well.
Thrilled at finding our first desert well, we peered over the edge Into the darkness. How deep was it? Was there any water at the bottom? Before any of us could hazard a guess, we suddenly heard a metallic clink clink sound fading into the depths.
Our hearts all sank as we realised our room key had fallen out of Len’s shirt pocket down the well.
Saving face
We had to recover the key, there was no question about that. Hakim seemed to know a thing or two about camels and could prove useful with getting us started on our trip. We couldn’t expose our incompetence. He mustn’t find out about this.
We had packed a rope, but it was locked in our room along with the rest of our kit. Oh the irony! Bill was convinced there was a way we could break in though so we headed back into Atar, wondering what to do if Hakim was home.
As it turned out, Hakim’s wife, Rabbiah, was at home cooking. Trying to look as natural as possible, we exchanged formal greetings and then I attempted to maintain conversation with my tourist Arabic and her broken French while Bill and Len slid off to our room.
Sure enough, gaining access to our belongings without a key proved straightforward (a little worrying, given all our cash was in there) and before long we were returning to the tyre on the outskirts of town armed with the rope and a head torch.
Into the well
Len offered to descend into the hole and, not knowing what could be lurking at the bottom, Bill and I happily let him go. Tying loops for him to step into, we did our best to lower him down while he did his best not to fall.
Lenny gratefully emerges from the well with our room key
It was a narrow and claustrophobic hole and Len was clearly on edge as he descended
“Do you reckon you’d be able to climb out if we let go of the rope?” I joked.
“Shut up! I’ve just seen something move down here”, came the anxious response from the depths.
Bill and I, basking in the open sunshine, found this hilarious, trying to contain our laughter to hold the rope steady.
We’re not sure what it was he saw but although not pleasant, the bottom of the well was mostly dry as suspected and the key was not hard to find. All that remained was to haul Len back out and return home as if nothing had happened.