Through Adrar in the sound of the wind and the traverse flute.
Leave towards Chingueti by the valley Blanche.
Cards are difficult to dread and to get off the beaten track it seems to us essential to take a guide. The contact goes well with Sid Hamed who takes care of the hotel Imini.
Hotel of Imini: it is the name of a very beautiful mountain with a very beautiful descent of sand. With the wind, you see the waves of sand which move !
One afternoon, we develop together our trip which will bring us from Atar to Chinguetti via the white valley. Thus, the next day, we leave in the direction of the oasis of Tergit.
Leave towards Chingueti by the valley Blanche.
Cards are difficult to dread and to get off the beaten track it seems to us essential to take a guide. The contact goes well with Sid Hamed who takes care of the hotel Imini.
Hotel of Imini: it is the name of a very beautiful mountain with a very beautiful descent of sand. With the wind, you see the waves of sand which move !
One afternoon, we develop together our trip which will bring us from Atar to Chinguetti via the white valley. Thus, the next day, we leave in the direction of the oasis of Tergit.
Quickly
we leave the main track. Descent in 4/4 on pebbles, we drive at the bottom of an oued, and eventually stop at the bottom
of a cirque. The atmosphere is mineral, colors go some ochre, in
the red for the oxidized pebbles, on the background is black because of the big
basaltic pavements. The deep and intense blue of the sky adds
its tint to this landscape in colors so lively. I quickly have the
sensation that the time stretches. The hours stopped being
hours. We live in a new time which is not measurable any more
in the same way. We can be squatted around the teapot there to
appreciate the skill of our guide to pour and to put back
the tea from a glass to the other one, in the shade of a locust tree,
allowing to pass the hot hours. We
can also hurry to establish a camp before night. Finally, the usual
marks disappeared. We are somewhere else. In our feet mountains, trays,
gorges extend beyond the horizon. We embrace a panorama
on 360 °, where we imagine to be alone on this part of the
earth. Nevertheless a shepherd comes to meet us and invites us
to share its meal. Us, who live since our childhood only in a constant
background sound, the silence of these places is unreal, soothing, magic. Nevertheless, we can hear sometimes the small whistling of
the stonechat, the bird who carries happiness to the traveler,
but also the breath of the wind which pours on high plateaus. Convenient place for the meditation, if we want ...
The
next day, it is the driving on the soft sand of the bottom of
oueds. It is also the meeting with a feminine group in the dresses so
colored which leave to the field to collect watermelons. It is
also the surprise to discover a guelta embeded at the bottom of a gorge, small circular lake where Manu dives with delightet. 
Dunes,
we believe at the beginning that when we saw one, we saw them all. Surprise of the surprises, they are quite various, by their soft shape
but wave-like, their breakable, lively fish bones, their colors
pastels, qualified by the white in the orange, in a ceaselessly renewed
composition which extends as far as the eye can see to. On the end of
the day, it is necessary to rise at the top of the highest, to sit down
and to consider this ocean of sand in the changeable colors in the sunset. Finally, at giant steps, tumble in the sand which streams
up to its basis. This moment the one to
look for a location to spend a night: shielded from the wind, hidden by
a dune. The vehicle stopped, we quickly leave in search of dead wood which
will allow us to warm our teapot, but also to prepare our meal.
This morning, a big stage waits for us, about 60 km to be traveled. It is little, but the last rains and the winds moved dunes, modified the bed of the oued. It is by foot, preceding the car, cause we need to find a new passage. Sometime it is necessary to remove some big stones, either on the contrary, to pave on some meters of delicate passage. When we gone up on the plateau, it is the stop obliged to deflate tires, to not sink too much into the sand. The track is frequently cut by a dune which is necessary to by-pass. At other moments, we lose the track, and it is necessary to zigzagging through shrubs, big stones, to keep the essential run-up. Manu sees the track to the left, Sid makes a sign to turn to the right, and nevertheless we shall make sand only once. This constant vigilance is exhausting. That's the end of 9 hours of efforts when we arrive in Chingueti "so desired".
Monday, February 14th
Dunes,
we believe at the beginning that when we saw one, we saw them all. Surprise of the surprises, they are quite various, by their soft shape
but wave-like, their breakable, lively fish bones, their colors
pastels, qualified by the white in the orange, in a ceaselessly renewed
composition which extends as far as the eye can see to. On the end of
the day, it is necessary to rise at the top of the highest, to sit down
and to consider this ocean of sand in the changeable colors in the sunset. Finally, at giant steps, tumble in the sand which streams
up to its basis. This moment the one to
look for a location to spend a night: shielded from the wind, hidden by
a dune. The vehicle stopped, we quickly leave in search of dead wood which
will allow us to warm our teapot, but also to prepare our meal.This morning, a big stage waits for us, about 60 km to be traveled. It is little, but the last rains and the winds moved dunes, modified the bed of the oued. It is by foot, preceding the car, cause we need to find a new passage. Sometime it is necessary to remove some big stones, either on the contrary, to pave on some meters of delicate passage. When we gone up on the plateau, it is the stop obliged to deflate tires, to not sink too much into the sand. The track is frequently cut by a dune which is necessary to by-pass. At other moments, we lose the track, and it is necessary to zigzagging through shrubs, big stones, to keep the essential run-up. Manu sees the track to the left, Sid makes a sign to turn to the right, and nevertheless we shall make sand only once. This constant vigilance is exhausting. That's the end of 9 hours of efforts when we arrive in Chingueti "so desired".
Monday, February 14th
Chingueti
prepares the party. Caravanes and 4/4 converge on the one that
we call the 7eme quoted from the Islam. Tents are already
spread over the ground. Chinguetti is the door of the desert, a
grateful stopover for caravans on the road of Mali. A
little left since Mr Toyota sent express Marcel the camel to the
retirement home.
But it is not what it brings us there.The 4/4 is temporarily parked, and it is by foot that we leave through the dunes. Our luggage join us in back of dromedary. In a few minutes the city disappeared, hidden by the first dunes, we are already wrapped by another. Alone in the world, only the noise of our steps accompanies us. From the summit, as far as the eyes can see, it's sand and dunes. Golden slings raise slopes, wind around the grass clumps, fly away in every break. The dune remembers these inhabitants: here, the sinuous line indicates the passage of a lizard. There some small points show the research of a beetle which, as says Manu: those there, we never know where they go! In a bend, we perceive a fennec which our presence surprised.
Most great surprises, are the vestiges that the centuries and the centuries of human presence left. We walk on a multitude of fragments of potteries, brightness of flint, arrowheads. There is there all that it is necessary to open a Neolithic hardware store: scrapers, knives, axes, hammers, everything is on-surface in the hollow of dunes. Multiple shelters under rock are covered with rock paintings: hunting scenes, drawings of giraffes, animals, children, confirm that what is deserted today was savanna not long time ago!
Walk on the sand which runs away under our steps is fatiguing and we appreciate the stage. Ritual tea, cooking some pancakes under the sand, the night comes fast and under the studed stars vault. Sid Hamed treats us by his traditional tales when the sleep catches us.
Sidi'
Ahmed asks us to tell the soft naps where I deluded him with Irish
melodies which I interpreted in the flute. The music does not tell, it
listens to! This also will stay, I hope in the middle of all these
memories which do not photograph, do not record, do
not spell, but stay in the heart of each.
But it is not what it brings us there.The 4/4 is temporarily parked, and it is by foot that we leave through the dunes. Our luggage join us in back of dromedary. In a few minutes the city disappeared, hidden by the first dunes, we are already wrapped by another. Alone in the world, only the noise of our steps accompanies us. From the summit, as far as the eyes can see, it's sand and dunes. Golden slings raise slopes, wind around the grass clumps, fly away in every break. The dune remembers these inhabitants: here, the sinuous line indicates the passage of a lizard. There some small points show the research of a beetle which, as says Manu: those there, we never know where they go! In a bend, we perceive a fennec which our presence surprised.
Most great surprises, are the vestiges that the centuries and the centuries of human presence left. We walk on a multitude of fragments of potteries, brightness of flint, arrowheads. There is there all that it is necessary to open a Neolithic hardware store: scrapers, knives, axes, hammers, everything is on-surface in the hollow of dunes. Multiple shelters under rock are covered with rock paintings: hunting scenes, drawings of giraffes, animals, children, confirm that what is deserted today was savanna not long time ago!
Walk on the sand which runs away under our steps is fatiguing and we appreciate the stage. Ritual tea, cooking some pancakes under the sand, the night comes fast and under the studed stars vault. Sid Hamed treats us by his traditional tales when the sleep catches us.
Sidi'
Ahmed asks us to tell the soft naps where I deluded him with Irish
melodies which I interpreted in the flute. The music does not tell, it
listens to! This also will stay, I hope in the middle of all these
memories which do not photograph, do not record, do
not spell, but stay in the heart of each.
Thanks to Sid Hamed for this amazing discover of his country.
Philippe and Manu