We drove south into Western Sahara, a territory that Morocco claimed was theirs but the indigenous Sahrawi people were fighting for their independence – the Atlantic coast and desert were valuable assets for fishing and phosphates.
The main coast road through the desert was good and there was very little traffic. Rocky terrain and huge gravel plains stretched as far as the eye could see; to our right was the Atlantic Ocean. Driving was stress-free, but monotonous.
One night we stopped at Boujdour, a small fishing town. We had seen very few British travellers in Morocco so, when we spotted a British vehicle parked nearby, Tony wandered over to say hello. He was surprised to recognise the driver as Richard, a chap who lived in in our neighbourhood!
After three days on the road we came to the coastal town of Dakhla, known for its spectacular scenery, fishing, windsurfing and kitesurfing. The town was situated on a long, narrow peninsula jutting out into the Atlantic Ocean, with a lagoon on one side and the open Atlantic on the other.
The town had a Wild West feel to it, nobody seemed to mind where you parked up for the night. We found a beachside seafood restaurant called Talha Mar and stayed in their car park for two days. We gorged on oysters (£3.70 a dozen) langoustine and a whole fish baked in the oven, a meal for the two of us typically cost £20 – no alcohol, of course.
