Although tomorrow is technically the last day of the trip we will be in Dakar tonight and free to do as we please. My last night under canvass for a long, long time ends at the ungodly hour at 5:30 am. Louise and I make the last breakfast for the group (a mish-mash of porridge, fruit, and ravioli with toast), while Christi breaks down the tent and packs our stuff away. Everyone mucks in for the last chore of cleaning the truck (it is filthy), sorting through the boxes, and basically ensuring we have not lost anything. Adonis and PeeWee will begin another tour in reverse in a few days, all the way back to Cameroon and Nigeria. There is an end of term / semester feeling as we board the truck one last time. Our last adventure before we reach Dakar, capital of Senegal, is a visit to Lac Rose.
Lac Rose (Rose Lake) is so-named because the minerals and salts present in the water that give the lake a pinkish hue. It is (or was) also the finish of the Paris – Dakar rally. Although because of the previous safety concerns in Mauritania, the most recent edition of The Dakar as it is now known was actually run in Chile and Argentina (and continues so to this day). The rally is dangerous with many drivers being killed over the years, not to mention locals (including children). In 1982, the son of former British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, Mark Thatcher, went missing during the rally, but a massive search and rescue mission found him and his colleagues before they perished. Thank goodness for a famous Mum.
Unfortunately we take the slow bumpy side roads to the lake, which takes 6 long hours. Our stopping point is at Niwa oasis camp site. The lake is as much about industry as tourism, with salt extraction being an important business. The lake is not immediately appealing; there’s a salty scum at the water’s edge plus an abundance of rubbish, not to mention some aggressive hawkers patrolling the lakeside. The camp site, on the hand, offers a clean, refreshing pool and a delightful menu. I eat a rather tasty spicy chicken for lunch.
Just before we leave, I relent and take a dip, really a float, in Lac Rose. Much like the Dead Sea, the water is so salty that bathers actually float. (Note diving into either body of water results in salt in the eyes, which is rather unpleasant. The salt also penetrates any cuts or grazes and stings like crazy. Be warned!). The water in Lac Rose has an unpleasant, slimy feel to it, so after the briefest of paddles, I return to the camp site pool for a cleansing dip.
Although Lac Rose is only 40 km from Dakar, Adonis warns us that the congestion is brutal. I nap mostly, leaving Adonis the unlamented task of weaving the massive Dragoman truck between pollution-belching lorries and minibuses, horse and carts, herds of domestic animals, and the locals, not to mention the very narrow streets of Dakar. In fact, we completely block the street outside of our hotel (the quite lovely Al Baraka, which is undoubtedly the best of the entire trip) while John Malkovich, Doogie Howser, and I toss bags off the truck for the last time. Yippee!
Blog Post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching tale of broken hearts and broken test tubes.
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