The Silk Route Motorcaravan Club.

Bulletin 111.

January 2004.
Editor (Original edition in French) Jacques Mahaut.
Translated by Rowena Brunning and Les Brook.
Translation Edited by Les Brook.

In this bulletin

Another Year!

Another year! And it's always a pleasure to wish old and new members and friends (even if they are inactive... nobody's perfect!) a very happy new year, with lots of fabulous journeys, on foot, horseback, by plane or motorcaravan.

The important thing though is not the travelling. It's dreaming about travelling! Moreover, dreaming is an activity which, unlike games that encourage you to dream (the lottery, the gee-gees...), costs nothing at all. Dreams nourish the insomnia which, as you know, is related to your age. Imagine how many hours can be spent planning the trip to Alaska via the Bering Straits.

And how many hours does it take to prepare a bulletin like this one?

Now that is more than a dream!

Egypt and Carnets.

The bond required by ADAC [German motoring organisation] for a motorcaravan carnet de passage [a customs 'passport' for vehicles] - €40,000 - turned out to be higher than expected (misreading a table caused this error): in fact it's €30,000 [Ed's note: not in the UK. It varies depending on the value of the vehicle].

In answer to the question, 'how long does it take to get a carnet?', the Germans replied 'when all the documents and the necessary fee have been received, it takes 30 minutes to set it up, and 2-3 days to send it by post'.

Also the Germans added: 'Egypt is a country with very high risk in customs matters'.

In the end, we have decided against crossing Egypt by motorcaravan. Setting off at the beginning of December, we will head for Akaba in Jordan. From Akaba, we will try to see the Sinai at least without the vans.

Insurance of vehicles in countries not covered by the Green Card: easily solved by Gilbert Marie [agent much used by French members of the club] who offers a 12 month policy with a maximum of three months in any single country [On the basis of experience, probably not available to non-French people - Ed].

Tanguy and Chesneau.

Morocco 1.

Members should be aware of a very pleasant stop which makes a change from the usual campsites. See http://www.essaouiranet.com/oasisoran/ [it's in English and French - Ed]. They have an olive plantation covering 13,000 sq m, a guest house with Saharan tents, and they accept motorcaravans. Tel: 00212 64 93 47 31; mobile (from Morocco) 064 93 47 31.

Christmas in Sydney.

After 10 weeks of silence, mostly spent organising the shipment of Pica (the van) and ourselves from Los Angeles to Melbourne, we are here with the 15th and final account for 2003. You'll be able to view it in a few days time on your favourite website www.family-dreamtime.fr.st.

Having spent both Xmas and New Year in Sydney, we are going to fly to New Caledonia in early January for a month's visit and then we will fly to NZ to spend the end of the Summer in the Southern Hemisphere. In April, we will begin our six months' circuit of Australia. A great programme ahead.

Erwin, Laetitia, Ingrid and Eva Munch.

Christmas in Bavaria.

Before leaving for a fortnight in Bavaria with other vans, we send you our best for 2004.

Gerard and Gisele Mulato.

Expeditions Planned.

These destinations are under consideration: publishing them does not bind anyone, but maybe it will help you find travelling companions.

  • ALASKA: BISSCHOP (by plane)
  • ALGERIE: GORIUS-SEDDOM (2004)
  • AMERICA CENTRAL: CHAPLART (Mexico)
  • AMERICA NORTH: HERVIOU-LECLERC(in progress)-LEFEVRE-MARKHAM-CHAPLARD-CORTADE
  • AMERICA SOUTH: BERLIVET (in progress)-AUFFRAY-HUNTER (Patagonia 2004)-BOGAERT-BONJEAN-MICHEL,PETIT (Peru, Bolivia, Chile, in progress)- R.JACQUARD (Andes)
  • ASIA CENTRAL: BOGAERT-BONJEAN-POURTEAU
  • AUSTRALIA: ABRY-LOESCHNIGG (Sept.04)-HELMBACHER-R.JACQUARD (4X4)-KESSENHEIMER (2007)-LECORRE-GRAHAM
  • BALTIC STATES: LAMANDÉ
  • BURMA: DROUILLARD
  • CANADA: DEMONTES,MAHAUT (rental Summer 2004)-BRISSON (in progress)-BONJEAN-CHAPLART-FLECHARD-PEYRIN
  • CORSICA: MAHAUT
  • CRETE: THIMJO
  • CROATIA (Dalmatian coast): LATHULIERE-RUGINIS-PANNOUX
  • CROATIA: BERTHALON (April 2004)-RAGEADE
  • CUBA-DI GIUSTO(on foot) MILLION(Feb 2004)
  • EGYPT-IRAN: MULATON
  • EUROPE CENTRAL:COURTIN-DAVIAUD-LECORRE-RUDOLF-MAGUIRE-BUTLER-TRIBELHORN
  • FINLAND: LHERBETTE
  • FRANCE: LABAT (left bank of the Marne!)-MILLIARD
  • GREECE: MILLION (July)-COURTIN-
  • GREENLAND: VAN DEN EYNDE
  • ICELAND: COFFIN-LAHAYE-MEUNIER (Summer 2003)-VAN DEN EYNDE
  • INDONESIA: MILLION (July 2004)
  • IRAN: HAGNERE-LEMANCEL (+ Egypt, Libya, Iran)
  • IRELAND: BERENGUER (May 2004)
  • ITALY-TUNISIA: DINEE
  • LIBYA: BERENGUER (Nov 2004)-BROS-CADIERE-MAUMIER
  • MAURITANIA: TANGUY (Oct 2004)-DESCHATEAUX (via Algeria)
  • MEXICO: CHAPLART
  • MOROCCO: BARONIO-BERTHALON (Feb 2004)-BROS (+Spanish Sahara)-LORMAND (in progress)-MONGAY-PAUCHARD-PINTAUD-RAGEADE-THIMJO-HELMBACHER (in progress)
  • NAMIBIA: CHAIGNEAU/DESCHATEAUX (in progress, without van)
  • NEW ZEALAND: ATHÉNION-BARBAUDY(in progress)-LECORRE-POLLET
  • NORWAY: CHAPLART-HAGNERE-NAIZET-OLIETE-MOORE
  • PORTUGAL: CHUNG-DINEE (+ Spain, Morocco)
  • ROMANIA: CRUCHET-PILLOT-THIMJO
  • RUSSIA and/or BALTIC STATES, ST PETERSBURG: BERTRAND-CADIERE-DUJARDIN-D'AMATO (July)-SOMMER (via the Trans-Siberien)-RUGINIS-PANNOUX
  • SARDINIA: LAMANDÉ-LAURENT(+Corsica and Sicily)-VAN DEN EYNDE
  • SCANDINAVIA: CHUNG-GOUWY-LENOBLE-MAUMIER-MONGAY-PILLOT (Aug 2004)-TURPAULT
  • SOUTH AFRICA: LAURENT (in progress)-DESCHATEAUX
  • SPAIN: LATHULIERE
  • SYRIA-JORDAN-EGYPT: CHESNEAU-MALAÜS
  • TUNISIA: D'AMATO (Feb 2004)-GOUWY-GASULL,MAUMIER(+ Lybia)-RAGEADE
  • TURKEY: ATHENION-BONIS (+Rhodes)-BROUT-GOUWY-KAMMERER
  • USA: BONJEAN-CORTADE-COURTIN (2005)-LEBOURGEOIS-LECLERC-LEFEVRE
  • UZBEKISTAN(Samarkand): CHABAUD(+northern India)-D'AMATO (2004)

Major Tours.

  • AFRICA EAST: (Southern Algeria, Egypt, Niger, Ethiopia, Bostwana): CHAIGNEAU-COFFIN-DESCHATEAU-MAHAUT(2005)
  • AFRICA WEST: STEWART-BONJEAN-BROUT-CHARLIN-D'AMATO (Nov 2004)-DESFAUCHEUX (Senegal and Mali)-GORIUS-LEJOSNE-DUNAND
  • ALASKA via SIBERIA: BOBY-NOTTEAU-DUMAS-DURAND-KOHN-LEJOSNE-MEUNIER (Siberia)-MONGAY (Lake Baïkal)-MONMART-OLIETE-POLGE
  • SILK ROUTE: FLECHARD (southern China + north Vietnam)-GASULL-MARHAM-BOGAERT (2004)-HERSENT (Samarkand)-LAFOURCADE (Samarkand, Sept.2004)-POLLET
  • SOUTH AFRICA-BOTSWANA-ZIMBABWE-NAMIBIA: LASSON (see article in this bulletin)
  • USA-CANADA-MEXICO-GUATEMALA-BELIZE: GRIFFOIN
  • WORLD TOUR: MÜNCH (3 years, in progress)-HURAULT (by tractor, 2005)-ROZIER (2005)

Iran.

Our members who, on the Silk Route or on their way to India, have visited Bam, have been specially touched by the disaster which hit this region. We share their sorrow.

A Hut in Canada.

Here's some news following our postcard last month.

Perhaps you know that we returned home from the first stage of our North America trip in mid-March of this year for a break of a month and a half. Major problems within our family company decided us to defer, for one year, the return for the continuation of the voyage. The problems are partly solved but we will wait another six months to make sure. So the great departure is thus fixed for the first week of May 2004 for a stay of seven months. We'll be crossing Canada from east to west, then Alaska, the Rockies and down the western U.S.A. After that, we'll assess the situation.

Before beginning our own adventures, we'd like to tell you that we conscientiously read yours and note how pleased you are to have realised them. Well done! It was not always easy... Now, for our friends in the Club, and to save to them a report on all the details of our voyage which would be tiring, we have selected some of our best experiences.

The Southern USA.

We left Sarasota and went down towards the Everglades and Keys. The most interesting thing about Florida is of course sun and heat at that time of the year, November and December.

January 10, 2003: we are in Louisiana. To be exact, in Lafayette. And there, we have the chance to be introduced to Cajun culture. We thought of remaining in the area only a few days, but we stayed for three marvellous weeks. The names Tante Sue, Mamou, Eunice, Ville Plate are generally not in the tourist guides. They are at the heart of Cajun country with Saint Martinville. Perhaps a "Jam" will remind some of you of a song of Charles Aznavour? Here it is reality. The Cajuns are direct descendants of the Acadians (the first French settlers who came to populate and colonize the newly discovered lands, actually Nova Scotia), and the most active are to be found in a dynamic association created for the preservation of their language and their traditions. After big problems, including a prohibition on studying and speaking French at school for a generation, they are now recognized as a minority with full rights whilst being American.

Our "first Jam" was held in the hut of the association president, a weekend country cottage in the middle of the woods and the bayous. Each participant is invited to bring his musical instrument if he has one. We were around fifty including twenty musicians who formed three groups, one in the show, the other on the terrace and the last under a large oak in the park.

There were also three or four singers, musicians of regional and international fame but here incognito, anonymities in the assembly. Music and song late into the night. Very spicy traditional cajun and Louisianan dishes. A memorable evening where cajun is the only language used, a very picturesque mixture of old French and patois. Exchange of ideas, of addresses. The following night and days we are honoured with invitations.

At the beginning of February, it becomes very cold with flurries of snow. We are in Memphis at a gospel mass. We have not experienced it before, other than on film and CD. The church environment is impressive: the warmth of the glances, the smiles, the gestures, and the swaying of the crowd in which we participate. Two whites among 4-500 black people. Rhythm and sound: a modern orchestra and a grand piano accompanying the hymns, a choir of 80 members, and sometimes a soloist. An extraordinary experience which moves you both to tears and to joy. Intense serenity and meditation. An experience to repeat if possible.

To Canada.

Second week of February, we go north, aiming for Montreal. We wish to experience winter in Canada.

In Tennessee we get our first taste of winter: wind, snowflakes, rain, ice. From Michigan to Quebec, the snow remains with us and gets worse when we cross the frontier at Detroit. There we suffer a storm. We are stuck for two nights close to Kingdom in Ontario. Minus 20°: the heating is turned on and does its duty. On the way, cab and gas heating are obligatory if we are to keep our outfit from freezing. In Montreal we will test life in our motorcaravan at -35°. We're OK, but the price is two gas bottles per week.

At the end of February/beginning of March 2003, we spent two weeks close to Chicoutimi, invited there by a family we'd met the preceding Autumn. We'll do some 'white fishing', work with huskies, and have a short hike in - 48°.

'White fishing' happens on the majestic Saguenay fjord. We wanted to find out what it was like, and to have a go. We found it invigorating, but not that easy.

Unlike the tourists, the Canadians do not return to their hotel on the evenings they practise this sport. We stayed in an authentic wooden hut, very isolated. Only one room: we live there, eat, drink and sleep. You clean your teeth outside and there's a communal toilet block situated a short distance from the huts. It's not heated and is built like the old outside toilets we used to have at home. You heat snow for cooking or washing up. You sleep in bunks, four people to a cabin. If there are guests, you need sleeping bags on the ground. It is not cold inside as long as the stove has wood. Sometimes, you even have to half-open the door because it's too hot. Being between - 25° and - 35°, when the north wind doesn't blow, the desired temperature is quickly achieved!

The fishing hut is closer to the places where you fish which are on the ice (though this is between 1.50 and 2m thick, sometimes more). 'White fishing' involves making several holes in the ice. All you do then is put your line in the water and wait until smelt, cod or cébaste bite, and warm your heart and body. The first day appears a little long, the night also, and then you get into the routine. Four days for us, after which we had other activities, just as novel and enthralling.

October 2003, return to Quebec, including 15 days at Chicoutimi with the same family. It was already cold, with snow from the middle of the month. We watched the Canadians preparing for the big, long cold spell that was to come while taking part in shooting parties of barnacle geese, grouse and moose, and also trapping hare and beaver - not common in France! To be at the hunting camp of the private individual who built this modest country cottage himself is also a privilege because the whole family comes there on days when the weather is good, and when this happens, we share their daily life. It is not commercial tourism.

To get there requires a minimum of four to five hours on the road and finally the track, where only a quad can pass. Here it is totally silent, except for the noises of the boreal forest and of its wild, feathered and hairy inhabitants. The cottage must be well integrated into the environment. One lives with and in nature, with the sun and the other natural elements.

Now we've come to the end. We haven't only fished and hunted. We have also encountered people who have honoured us with their friendship: working, laughing, and crying.

Charles and Colette Brisson - charles.brisson@laposte.net

Mauritainia (continued).

I confirm that it is not essential to have a carnet de passage en douanes to enter Mauritania when coming from France. It was worthwhile in the past when it could be obtained from a travel agency.

Before leaving France, you need to fax 00 222 636 36 99 copies of your vehicles' log books and a list of people travelling in your party. It would be useful to give the approximate date of arrival on Nouadhibou. Mark your fax 'for the attention of Mr. Yacoub Hamdi'. Yacoub is capable and can be relied on to organise stays in Mauritania. He is a guide registered with the Ministry of Tourism.

Germain Oliete

Namibia.

The address, phone number and website for Namikala Safaris are as follows:

Namikala Safaris CC
PO Box 90461
Windhoek, Namibia
Tel/fax 00 264 61 255 807
http://www.namikala-safaris.com/namibia

A Beautiful Trip, a Good Idea.

Currently. we're planning a voyage to South Africa, Botswana, Swaziland, Zimbabwe, Zambia, Namibia, returning to South Africa and the Cape of Good Hope. It will last two years and we hope to realise it in August 2004, and all in our valiant and faithful 1951 Citroen Traction Avant.

This brave automobile, in which we have toured all over Europe, has already crossed tracks and deserts notably during two rallies in Australia. We are taking part in a rally specifically for 35 Tractions, the youngest of which is 45!

In addition to this travel and technical challenge, I am trying to create a humanitarian dimension similar to that I have undertaken successfully for two years through a well-known organisation.

I have set up a small support group, and with two other vehicles in the rally, we are taking medical supplies for dispensaries, notably in Botswana.

A big lab in Toulouse is helping us. The hiccup is that they now want the addresses of the dispensaries. So I'm looking for any useful contacts who can help me reply to that request. Of course I thought of you, that you might perhaps point me in the direction of such and such a member. There's an attractive sociological theory stating that 'One is never more than five intermediaries away from the other person, whomever that might be'.

As you so successfully carry out the role of an intermediary, any ideas?

Philippe and Nadine Lasson, Collonges-la-Rouge

Siberia and other Related Matters.

Carl Hunter has sent an answer to my question about getting vehicles from Russia to Canada. There is an option to use a Ro-Ro but in my opinion, the cost is off-putting, perhaps we could negotiate a discount? Another problem is the length of the journey, about a month, which would need to be incorporated into our plans.

Carl didn't have info on the frequency of the crossings - perhaps 'Anjali' could be asked, specifying the time of year?

The Bertrands' return from Hong Kong mentioned by Carl was carried out with the well-known Wallenius company. It cost US$95 per cubic metre to travel to Hamburg.

Serge Herviou.

Rene Notteau has obtained information about travelling by charter boat from Magadan to Seattle. Shared between 10-13 outfits, the price would be affordable, and there's a chance to choose embarkation dates. The problem here is that the boat is not licensed for passenger transport.

Next meeting of those interested: mid-February at Veyzac.

The Greek Islands.

Car Ferry.

The Italy-Greece 'open deck' ['camping on board'] service finishes on 29 October. We used Minoan Lines who also offer services to Thessalonika, Syros, Naxos, Santorini, Heraklion, and Piraeus-Heraklion.

Between islands you have many choices. There's no need for a rigid plan. Local car ferries have various tariffs depending on level of comfort and speed. In all cases, choose daytime journeys. These are truly 'sea buses', stopping at every island for the local culture and, from the top deck, you'll get panoramic views.

Venice.

For a change, instead of leaving from Ancona or Brindisi, we chose Venice, the same distance from our home and with some plus factors.

At the exit from the motorway, follow PORTO and then Passenger Cruises and Ferries. Behind the multi-story car park you'll find a big park dedicated to motorcaravans, lined with trees, alongside the lagoon, by the side of the parking for tourist coaches. You can walk to the Tronchetto landing stage for the vaporetto [water bus] number 82 which operates on two routes to St Mark's Square, one route via the Grand Canal. True, the car park is expensive (24 hours=€37, but you could park by the hour) - but this is VENICE, and you are in the town.

We arrived at 16.00h the day before we left, and had the afternoon and evening in the town, the night on the car park, and then a morning town visit. Departure was at 16.00 and the enormous ferry with its pilot very slowly crossed the city past St Mark's then the Lido which it skirted before leaving the lagoon and taking the high seas. The weather was excellent, videos were recording everything, and on the top deck it was like being on a luxury cruise.

Greece.

If you can, avoid Greece before the Olympics. All the towns, like Heraklion on Crete which will host some events, are building sites - difficult to access, lots of deviations, no signs. Next Autumn it will be wonderful here in October, especially on Crete where we bathed every day in a 22/23° sea.

Diesel.

At least €0.66 per litre but prices vary.

Campsites.

Only two nights on campsites during a one month trip in October, no problem. Many were already closed. Only one incident: one night on Crete in the middle of the countryside, we stopped alongside a little road. The police woke us at 03.00. In English, "Where do you come from? What are you doing? How many of you are there?". When they heard our response: "No problem".

The Greek Islands.

We had already spent a lot of time travelling, but when we arrived at Kytnos, a small island in the Cyclades, not at all touristy, a 'friendly' (but too keen) port policeman told us not to leave the port area: "On Kytnos, motorcaravans are not allowed". So we were not allowed in. We were unaware that there was no campsite, and did not know of this rule.

We billet ourselves at the end of the empty quay. We stay there for 36 hours. At least, the motorcaravan does; we go to the beach and eat in the restaurant. Next day, we hire a motorbike and crisscross the island before getting back on the boat in the evening to go to Syros.

It's the first time that this has happened to us. So, only choose those islands with a campsite: there are many of them.

Santorini.

We stayed here for four days, marvellous despite the wind. Certainly, there were many tourists on the crossing and many jewellers. But it was magnificent and unmissable, especially Oia.

Crete.

This was our third time in Crete.

No problem with water: springs everywhere. Lots of walks and rambles, including the Samaria Gorge. The north coast, concrete architecture and touristy, is to be avoided: choose the west, part of the south coast, and especially the valleys in the interior, with their monasteries and small, hidden Byzantine churches situated in the countryside.

We just love Hania: a really well restored old town.

28 October, the national day of Greece. It marks the end of the tourist season, the shops and restaurants close. November is generally the rainy month.

To bring back: local olive oil in a metal container - €18.6 per 5 litres. It's excellent. Big choice in the supermarkets and the towns.

Note.

On our return journey, we were searched (for the first time) as we left Igoumenitsa and when we arrived in Venice. They looked through our entire van, inside and underneath, searching for stowaways. The same for lorries.

Daniel and Marie-Colette Bros raf.ltd@wanadoo.fr

The 'P'tit Quinquin' Balade According to St. Marcel.
(Continued from B110)

Etaples, 18.30. Whole battalions of mosquitoes are attacking, stinging us at random. It's ought to drive you mad.

Monday 15th. As often happens, I go for an early morning walk, this time without meeting Eve who is back in Canada. Paul tells his lady fishmonger about tomorrow morning's visit - by 60 people interested in seafood. A helpful gesture which will have no effect on these blasé traders.

At the Museum of the Sea, our guide has an excellent knowledge of the life of the locals and of the sailors from the time when Etaples was home to hundreds of fishing boats rather that today's three. The role of the fisherman's wife, the pivot of life on the land and in the home, is described to us in great detail, even the 'why?'. He knows everything and he talks and talks. My memory is choking and I take French leave [the French words for this refers to the English - Ed] to stay in tune with this corner of France which has a lot in common with England.

For the two hours after 'noon', as the English say, we are at the Mareis centre, in the miraculous world of fish. After the coal mine, the pit villages, and Rodin, here I am now, at sea - its life, its delight, its power, its anguish.

18.30, near the room where we are to be the guests of [our balade organisers] Paul and Jeanne Gouwy. A surprise! But wait: surprise means 'not knowing', and I don't know... I think it's going to be a shared meal supplied by a caterer, but whilst P and J work (in the darkness), I criticise the food which, it must be said, is very burnt, thinking it's the work of professionals. A thousand pardons! I am quick to act, to stop myself looking ridiculous... and the other plus is that I help stop the burning.

A little earlier, we again celebrated Jacques' 10th birthday (what a lad!) and thanked J and P for their performance, their selection of places to visit, the harmony of the walk, their presence and their kindness.

Being outside, I was not present when Andree became unwell. Fortunately, it was not serious.

Tuesday 16th. The recommended fishmonger is apathetic and disinclined to serve those 'Motorcaravan Giants' (we are in the North!), and after waiting 45 minutes, I dash to the opposition who serve me very politely with some huge prawns.

It seems impossible that we'll be able to get to Marquenterre bird reserve in time if we go to the Opale Evasion motorcaravan factory as planned, so I'm not going to get a free coffee.

Traffic jam, fire brigade, police, ambulance. In fact, I can't say what happened, but at Marquenterre, just a few vans and a disappointed Paul: there aren't enough of us to warrant a guided visit (in order to enjoy the welcome at Opale, most of the 'vanners arrived late).

Wednesday 17th. We meet up to cross the Bay of the Somme [a tidal estuary] on foot. The guide looks at us with a puzzled expression. "I can see you have no idea about the terrain we're going to cross on this walk"... The first part of the walk is not demanding - water and watery meadows. Our guide eruditely tells us about the natural history. The allegedly warm water is icy. Here are the first creeks that divide up the mollieres where black-headed sheep graze. They are the famous pré-salé lambs of the area.

Do you know about these mollieres? Couch grass stabilises the sand which gradually rises, wins the battle with the marshes, and creates a zone which retain the river's alluvial deposits. The whole area is constantly covered and then abandoned by sea water which creates a habitat for invertebrates which constitutes the food of migrating birds. Our guide samples a layer of earth to prove what he has told us. [It teems with tiny animals].

He speaks in a Picardy dialect, in Latin, even Flemish. Without him, we are lost; the tide creeps up insidiously at 11kph. So what can you do in this vast expanse of grass and cesspools? Fortunately there are hunters' huts with, theoretically, their roofs always above water. But these hunters are no Red Indians. They have no horses; they hunt from a hide with plastic ducks that ensnare their prey. These hunters are the champions of camouflage and the poor migrating birds who want to stop for a chat after hours of flying can only escape the cooking pot thanks to beer and whisky.

Our approach gets more complicated; the channels and creeks close ranks. We must get through at all costs. We two legged animals sink, slip, get stuck, sit or lie down in the blackest of mud. Phew! A bit of clean water, and we have a quick wash. I was lucky and so was my stick. I was envious of those cautious folk who had come on the walk wearing leather or plastic sandals. The muddy tentacles absorb those elements not fixed to your body, so one has to dip an arm into the mud and get out a shoe full of cesspool.

At last St Valery sur Somme seems close and we can get clean. But one last nightmare. We reached the pebble path which took us to a tap with bowls which would help us to get rid of the thick black layers which were beginning to dry. Unfortunately these bowls were not for us. You should have heard the arguments with people who would not share.

At the restaurant, our four English friends and I wait until the mussels have been harvested and the potatoes dug from the earth. Peter had changed from his light-coloured (now black) shorts into a very smart British pair of trousers.

QUICK! The train is leaving.! When I am there, something always happens: there are only 100 seats for 115 people who have booked. With Paul, we were separated from the group but did get seats. Whistles (conductor and engine) and we set off behind the valiant little steam train.

Memories of the Le Mans/Ruilly-sur-Loir region of my maternal grandmother... The little train was waiting. Travellers, drivers, conductors left the train to have a snifter of white wine at the station café. It dropped or took on passengers at the appointed places - more snifters. Poultry, rabbits, piglets, calves, all were with us. The whole countryside on its travels with picnic baskets and wines a gogo, not to mention the hooch. Drinking songs and army tales amused the women and looks were exchanged before setting off on another journey. The little Parisian that I was at that age did not miss a single crumb and would still be able describe the experience in detail...

18.30. Final aperitif, and then we move on...

Marcel le Corre

France/Burkina-Faso 2003. The Return through Senegal.

Having started to recount them in B106, the adventures of the Barbaudy-Demontes-Mabauvont convoy will be concluded here - and it's high time. From up in the sky where all - or nearly all - can be seen, you would think another group to be getting ready for the off. But they can't expect me, Rene Caillie, to follow their journey. I've already done that and it tires me out! And anyway the next place they're going is unknown to me. They should look to Monfried and Rimbaud. Maybe they could help them?

Welcome to Senegal! Trouble-free border crossing, customs at Kidira, receipt of a pass for the vehicles (we'll have to get it extended at Dakar). Which road shall we take? The south road is not very good whereas the north road is, so they say, new - and goes north anyway!

As far as going along by the side the river is concerned, it's not easy. Even that first night, Bakel, which according to the map is both on the road and the river, turns out to be actually 20kms away from the main road, at the end of a cul-de-sac. They make it to the town centre, but there's nowhere to stop by the water. They are directed to an old colonial house on the way out of town which involves driving all the way through town along a little lane that is straight but very narrow. The villagers who are outside on the doorsteps of their huts, chatting, have to lift their feet as we drive past! This lane changes to a track, then, at last, the 'car park' is there on the left overlooking the river. On the right, there is a huge house where one or more native families live. Jacques and Roger ask for and obtain permission to park up.

It's still very hot and Jacques can't resist diving into the water. He starts washing his face and hair, right in the middle of a group of women naked to the waist, and some children, all washing themselves or their clothes. Naturally his arrival arouses a certain amount of curiosity and the stares from the young girls becomes so blatant that our friend, having aroused their interest, stands upright. What a success! But - since I am watching this from above - I am only too well aware that the body of the white man is not that exciting!

So what is it? It's not his body at all that arouses the interest of the young girls - it's the shower gel! Ah... what would they do for a tube of Dove? Eventually Jacques understands what's going on and sees that he might just take advantage of the situation. Using gestures (they don't speak French here), he indicates that he is going to soap himself... huge bursts of laughter, and they all run off! All this continues in a good-humoured way. Jacques seizes a bucket, pretends to put it on his head and sets off up the river bank which is very muddy and slippery - and he falls down. The girls chuckle with glee. Is there nothing he won't do to entertain the gallery? But now it's getting cooler and time for serious things - pastis [aniseed spirit] is served, and goodnight! Contrary to our fears, no mosquitoes.

Next day, usual shopping (bread and ice), and we go back - towards Mali! But at the only fork in the road, the wrong turning is taken. Luckily the travellers realise their error quite soon and turn back in the correct direction. Just after reaching the correct 'national' road, with Jacques in front, we have our first meeting with the Senegalese police.

By a stroke of good fortune, just after leaving and with great perspicacity, he re-read the guidebook where it said "Watch out for the police!" and he fastened his seat belt. A few officers, no signal to stop, he goes by. A long whistle and he looks behind him. It's not him but Roger they've stopped. Right, we're not going to allow him to face adversity alone! Lucette guards the van whilst Jacques walks back 100m to find the group discussing the problem.

- You weren't wearing a seat belt.
Since reaching Mauritania, we'd forgotten all about it.
- OK, your papers and insurance.
Roger shows the famous all-countries certificate supplied by the office of Gilbert Marie. The official hesitates a bit, but is forced to acknowledge its validity. Then he turns to Jacques.
- And you, your papers.
- Errr, me? The same... we've been travelling together for a long time... we have the same thing.
- OK, show us.
- You know, due to the long trip, my van is very untidy and I can't remember where I put them.
No good: he's forced to agree that he doesn't have any insurance for Senegal.
- We will keep the vehicle. You go to Saint-Louis to get the insurance and when you come back here, you'll be able to set off again.
- Come on now! Saint-Louis is a good 500-600kms away. It's not a simple matter.
Interminable discussion. Then Roger says
- My friend is guilty. I give you my word that I will personally take him straight to an insurance office to regularise the position.
A good quarter hour's discussion and finally they get away, with a 10,000fcfa fine, 5,000 for Roger, 5,000 for Jacques. Phew!
Jacques feels a bit of retrospective fear. Going through all these countries with no cover, this negligence could have cost him a lot. Moreover, he had to suffer a reproach from Roger:
- You might have reminded me that we had to fasten our damned belts!
For once Jacques thought of something…Well, it's not all that bad, nobody is perfect, and the main thing is to have your health! And we set off.

The road contains new sections of impeccable quality but also some that are very poorly maintained. The good thing is that, when there are potholes, there are lots and lots of them. That means you are forced to drive slowly, sometimes in the middle, sometimes on the far left. There is not much traffic. Even so, on one of the stretches, a bus overtakes the VW at top speed and is about to do the same to the Toyota in front, at the exact moment when the latter is driving on the far left anyway. As the road is raised by at least a metre at this particular point, the Mahauts close their eyes. When they open them again it's OK; the bus has managed to get past.

But what about the River Senegal? Oh it's a long way from the road. We spot it in the far distance, a green area. It must be there but there's no track that way. For this evening, we've planned to take a turning to Guiers Lake but the road requires so much concentration, and the signage is so faint, that neither of the two vehicles notices the junction. If we don't stop, we will arrive in the dark which is the last thing we should do. We take the first opportunity, a little track towards the trees to the right. It will be perfect: a little clearing, hidden from the road, the ground is dry and so is the grass. However on closer inspection we realise we mustn't go far. We are in the middle of a swamp! All these trees are actually growing on little islands just like the one we've stopped on. This must be the start of the river delta. Mosquitoes? No! Aperitifs, dinner, and a peaceful night.

Saint-Louis in Senegal! A shock for us. Banks which quickly give you all the cfa francs you need, and insurance! Jacques sorts out his situation at a cost of 120 francs for 15 days. On the island, the streets which form a square are clean. There are little well-stocked supermarkets and the filling stations also supply all the essentials - water, milk, eggs etc. The Café/Hotel de la Poste, famous as a port of call for the air post and for its Mermoz room, offers us its car park (reserved for customers only) and its terrace. After taking a look at its period interior, and out of politeness, our friends sit down and order a drink. A wait, a long wait. You can't say we got a poor welcome; we got NO welcome at all! So off we go.

After buying a few items of food, the two vehicles set off towards the Tongue of Barbary, a long strip of land between the river and the ocean. After travelling through extensive suburbs, the track winds round and passes some rather simple hotels. We go still further. True to their motto, Roger and the others choose, at the very end of the rolling track, The Robinson. As usual, negotiations with the manager. He seems reluctant to respond to our request for free parking with meals taken in the hotel - the meals don't represent a good deal to him. Never mind, tonight the vans will park 100m away, in front of hotel that is being built. But next day, the boss understands the deal. A good birthday bash for Jacques who empties his last bottle of champagne. This time, we will be allowed to sleep in the car park without paying a penny, to have a shower, to wash our clothes, and to fill up our water tanks. At our suggestion, Michel Barbaudy will go, a few days later, to this hotel, but this time, no deal - it would cost him 10,000 fcfa a night so he chooses a nearby hotel and be very well suited there.

A two day stroll around Saint-Louis… To extend the travel permit we have to go to the customs office but there are two offices, the 'normal' customs in the south of the island, and the main office in the north. As you might expect, Jacques and his passengers (today Roger, Maggy and Lucette all in the one van - where is the Toyota?) go to the wrong one. They ask for information and then turn round. Just as he is going to turn into Faidherbe Square, a taxi driver signals frantically. The VW is on a one-way street. We don't see a policeman, but a whistle sounds. We pretend we haven't heard a thing and drive on quickly. A bit anxiously however, because we are forced to return via the Square to reach our camping spot. So long as we don't see that policeman when we come back that way. We find the correct customs office (landmark: a water tower): formalities carried out quickly and amicably.

In the same sector of the city, at the furthest point of the island, a dream dining room in the garden of the water company, full of shade and quiet. Nevertheless, we are here to see two people, a clerk whose permission we ask to set up our table, and a young lad who lives in Montreuil! His parents sent him over here to study at the Islamic school and it's not much fun for him out here. He gets very bored and is the whipping boy of his friends in the neighbourhood. We get him to write a postcard for his mother and sister, and we ourselves will post it in an envelope. A trip to the travel agents where we can get our visa for Mauritania: it's a bit more expensive this way but it will avoid a visit to Dakar. A short walk to an Internet shop (clean and fully functional) where we learn that Michel Barbaudy and companion are hard on our heels. A quiet night at the Robinson and then back to town. Jacques checks up on the nth repair job on his exhaust pipe (correct address [of the garage?] - Route des Abbatoirs!). One hour sitting on an old oil barrel watching the mechanics at work and pretty schoolgirls in uniform walking by. Like black swans, they hold their heads high, waddle and flap their wings, without even a glance towards the old toubab [white man]. How stuck up!

Meanwhile, Roger, Maggy and Lucette shop for pretty knickknacks, bought cheaply opposite the post office. We meet up again at a car park… in Faidherbe Square! A policeman stops us for our papers:

- It was you who drove down the one-way street yesterday!
Jacques had prepared his defence:
- Don't talk to me about that. I've just written a letter to your mayor!
- ???
- Yes: these unmarked one-way streets are very dangerous! You really ought to do something about them. I was very scared!
- But there are signs.
- Only at the start of the road, and, as I was looking for the customs office, I joined it in the middle where there was no indication.
The officer is forced to check on the facts but...
-... you didn't stop when I blew my whistle!
- Did you whistle? OK: how do you expect me to hear anything with the windows shut and the women chatting?

A few more kind words, 'enjoy your visit' and

- Well, it's alright for this once...

Wow! I did warn you that the police are very keen in Senegal.

One more night on the Tongue of Barbary. Road to the Great Coast. To have lunch you need to make for the ocean, and on the right hand side, a road takes you there. Not much space in the first village which is built close to the beach and harbour. Narrow lane, lots of sand, no quiet dining area. We turn back and take a side track towards Saly. Before we reach it, we pass lots of building sites, but catch a glimpse of the shore. there are roadworks there too but the bulldozer isn't working right now, and friendly workmen show us to a spot where we put our tables and chairs. A few wading birds watch us jealously and we share our usual sardines. Then we find the main road and stop to buy food - the biggest pomelos [huge grapefruit] we've ever seen. We don't like to buy too many, which is a pity because they turn out to be delicious.

After crossing Saly (clubs and holiday villages, sites developed by French companies - it appears that many French people come to spend six moths of the year here), the caravan continues by taking the south road as far as the night stop, a quiet little seaside resort, at this time of year that is. The 'Tahitian House' which overlooks the sea is the star: a very kitsch type of hotel cum museum with sculptures, columns decorated with sea shells, and thatched roofs. We have a good look around (wonderful bathrooms!) without any questions asked but as we are leaving, a local artist asks us to visit his house. It's hard to say no, but we are not at all interested. In the house live a few other artists and we have to resist their offer to share a meal (shared at a price!). We get out of it...

At night, we are above the shore. Utter peace, both for eating and sleeping. Sunset and sunrise, seen over the sea without moving from the van.

Mbour, a stop for supplies. Fabulous grapefruit. They are so big we dare not buy many because they must be bitter. A mistake: they are delicious, and we won't find the offer repeated on our way back.

After Mbour, it's just a track. About 60kms of corrugations, scary but drivable at 80kph, slaloming from left to right. For several kms, we drive on a sort of dyke and below it we see tyre tracks in the sand which seems hard. That must be the low water mark: we wouldn't mind risking it but really, it's better to take no risks at all. A few dwellings can now be seen. We are at Djiffer and drive into the enclosure of a campsite recommended to us by the Petits. It appears you can get a good meal here. But the rustic dining room is very dark, and the reception is 'sober' even though there's a magician here who will use his spells to sort out Lucette's wrist problem. We taste the baobab fruit juice and that of another shrub (it's very sweet indeed) and whilst drinking, we inform them of our requirements. We'll eat in your establishment, and we won't pay for parking. Refusal! Anyway, we go to eat - cheap and very nice - without more ado. After dinner, ignoring the veiled threats, we move the vehicles a few hundred metres away, facing the sea and sheltered from the wind which is very strong this evening. A very quiet night.

Next day we continue our drive towards the fishing village at the end of the world. What luck! An ice-making factory with a French boss. We introduce ourselves and after filling up with ice, he offers to let us park up for the night on the banks of the River Saloum. We did right to buy food at Mbour as, other than fish (on the way back from a canoe [trip?], we buy four superb carangues [jack in English? Ed] for 1,000fcfa), the market only sells junk, plastic objects, and gadgets made in China.

We choose the seaside for our lunch. After a good walk round, meeting a tame seagull and its owner and taking a shower, we go back to the ice factory to camp up for the night. The wind is so bad it would blow the horns off a cow! In such conditions, keeping the fire just right for grilling the fish is quite a task. We are also trying to do the potatoes amongst the ashes. We tried everything, but nothing worked. This wretched wind gets in everywhere. Eventually our potatoes will be charred. We'll only save the fish, and the night and the cold will not allow us to enjoy them to the full. This evening, we're happy to snuggle down under our quilts.

Next day is all planned. A fisherman, a friend of one of the factory workers, is going to take us in his motorised canoe to an island. We wait for him but in the end it's another man who takes us and we have to go to the harbour, 2kms away, to look for him. Short discussion: his price is not the same as the one we negotiated with the first man, but between men of goodwill, you can always sort matters out. So here we are now at the mouth of the river and it will be an hour before we get to the island and 30 minutes more to reach the far side where Olivier can be found. Olivier is there in a huge Mauritanian tent. This young man seems glad of our visit and shows us round his carpets, cushions, and three igloo tents for the use of tourists.

We share our meal with him and he is shocked at its frugality: a bottle of water, four crèmes de gruyeres and five bananas. He offers us Nescafe. He is kept supplied by the fishermen and now and then goes to Dakar where his parents live. A short siesta, a walk, and a swim for Jacques. The water is very good but you need to watch for currents as we are at the spot where the wide river's waters mingle with the ocean. We'd like to wander further: it's a pity no-one told us of this man's presence her. We agree that, if we had known, we'd have brought whatever was necessary to keep us here for 48 hours as it's a real little paradise. Back to terra firma. Pelicans...

After a new repair to the VW (we don't know exactly what), the two vehicles set off back again with Jacques in front. Suddenly...

- Lucette, look in front.
-?
- Can't you see it, a square white shape? It looks like Michel Barbaudy.
- Impossible!

Immediately we stop noticing the uneven road surface. Jacques puts his foot hard down on the throttle and overtakes. Michel! Beep, beep! Stop.

Congratulations! Despite its journey via Benin and Togo, the Toyota has caught us! In Senegal he took the central road and went directly south without going to Saint-Louis which he intends visiting on his return leg. Everyone is delighted to find each other again and Michel (being a specialist!) invites everyone to a good restaurant he knows in Mbour. It's a great place, well-presented dishes. Thanks a lot Michel! As soon as we can, we will repay the favour!

But off they go? Yes, because these 'disssidents' are very keen to visit what we have seen without them. So after a short time together, another separation, with a rendezvous set up for Nouahdibou.

In the evening, we are in the Bandia reserve.

- Too late. You'll have to come back tomorrow.
- Can't we take our vans in and sleep in the reserve?
- Impossible.

No problem, We cross the road and enter the bush aiming for small fields surrounded by hedges. This will be perfect for the night, and we're on the spot tomorrow morning.

We pay the entrance fees (7,000fcfa pp), hire a nice guide, and the Transporter sets off on a photo safari. No big cats here, but all sorts of antelope, warthogs, rhinos, giraffes, crocodiles and birds. You are allowed to stop and get out of the vehicle, getting close up for photos, with a tremor of fear when it's a rhino! At the end, we meet up in a luxury lodge run by a Lebanese. This is where we drink the most expensive coffee of the whole trip, 1,000fcfa compared with 800 in Saly. This is also where we might have parked up for the night but for the fact that the meals have European prices. Pity, because we think it is possible that you see the animals best at dawn. We must remember this for those who visit Senegal with a bigger budget than we do!

Northwards, and an interesting stop at Thies. A well-stocked Lebanese supermarket where you can even pay by card. A superb market by the roadside, kms of cloth, mountains of mandarins... we'll stop later to buy some unless there are more ahead. Same thing for bamboo objects. For 500fcfa, Jacques at last finds something to replace the little steps, the only things that enabled Lucette to get into the van. The ones they had before were forgotten some time ago when they stopped. Maggy adds some pots to her stock of cloth, the idea being to weigh down the Toyota. After Thies, we go back to the Little Coast at the fishing village of Mboro. A straw hut, lunch in the shade with a view of the sea, just what we need.

- Hello. May we eat our lunch here?
- Yes. The hut belongs to my uncle.

A quiet meal, a short stroll, talking to a fisherman who promises us crayfish. We'd have liked a snooze right there and then but we are practically in the village itself so there is nowhere nearby to escape to. Moreover, relations are deteriorating:

- You have to pay!
- No. We have permission.
- Who gave it to you?
- A young man. He said his uncle is the owner.
- I'm the owner and I don't agree.
- OK. Who is the village chief? We'll see him.

The old man grumbles into his beard and disappears. He has just one crayfish, 10cms long - a big shrimp?

- Is that all?
- Yes. The fishermen didn't bring any back.

He was only a go-between. We content ourselves with this skinny fruit de mer which will still make a decent evening meal along with an omelette cooked by Maggy. We eat this at our night parking spot near a superb baobab tree, half-way between the village we've just left and Saint-Louis. For the first time in a long while, the air is damp. In the morning, the bushes are covered in dew.

Another trip to Saint-Louis. We collect our visas. They have arrived by fax which is a bit disturbing. Let us hope we don't have any unpleasant surprises at the border.

What a surprise! At Faidherbe Square, there's an Iveco motorcaravan with a French number plate, department 38. Pierre and Lucette Michel are nearby, just as surprised as us to meet like this. When you think that only a few days separated us and we could have crossed Mali together. The did the crossing solo, feeling very anxious. Naturally, we all sit down on a terrace and tell our stories. Alas, they cannot wait and join us for the rest of the journey. Their daughter is due to land at Nouarchott in the next few days and they want to collect her and carry out the return to France together. So it's just a 'Brief Encounter'.

Last night in Senegal. I did what I could but to no avail! No more space left! To find out how this adventure concluded, you'll have to order the book:

"If Lucette Goes to Africa, I'll Stop Smoking"

which will be published in the near future by the author, and with numerous photos, other than those already published in the bulletin, naturally. You'll have the information in due course.

Rene Caillie, alias Jacques Mahaut

Gas Adapter for the Americas.

Jean-Claude Griffoin tells us that there's a US-English-French adapter (ref Rulquin 365) which makes it possible to fill up French [and UK?? Ed] cylinders throughout the Americas. It is sold for €12 by the Societe Floricane at Plougastel-Daoulas (00 33 [0]2 98 40 38 96), fax 00 33 [0]2 98 40 27 61). They operate a mail order service.

From Canada to South America.

Mary and I are preparing for a trip to South America leaving in August and expected to arrive at Punta Arenas in December 2004. This trip is not yet definite but we would welcome any information which could make our trip more interesting and pleasant. We will probably go from Houston, Texas via the Panama Canal to Manta, Ecuador. The return journey will be from an east coast port, probably Rio but perhaps from Venezuela.

Last Summer we visited the Yukon and part of Alaska, including Bigfoot. The scenery is spectacular, but not very different from British Columbia where we live.

Carl and Mary Hunter.

Trip to Canada.

No: you don't HAVE to travel with your own van! President's word of honour! I know it's difficult to manage without it, but you can do it especially when it is impossible to set off on a long trip. That is why, I'm preparing a trip of six or seven weeks at most for next Summer to our most distant province [Canada!! JM has not heard that the French lost it! Ed], I don't see why you couldn't join me.

Here's the programme I've been asking several French and Canadian agencies about:

  • flight from Paris to Montreal or Quebec, departing between 10 and 14 August (dates depend on price)
  • vehicle hire on arrival, for 10 days
  • flight from M or Q to Vancouver, or alternatively travel by train with couchettes
  • hire a second vehicle in V for 30 days
  • return flight, V to Paris at the end of September/beginning of October

Alternatively the trip might start from the west.

Only one reply at the moment - approximately €13,000 for two people including air fares and vehicle hire. At this price, perhaps we should consider hiring a motorcaravan for 40 days to save on the cost of the fare to V and on the B&B. I'm expecting other replies: the new air fares have not yet been fixed.

Jacques Mahaut.

Home - This page last changed on 2004-03-03.