Wild Roads, Wild Animals, and Wilder Kids

If you’re going to drive a 43-year-old camper from Senegal to Europe, you’d better be ready for a mix of chaos, beauty, and the occasional lion climbing on your car. For us, this journey wasn’t just about getting from point A to point B; it was about embracing the unexpected, soaking in the culture, and, frankly, testing the limits of our sanity and clutch. Here’s how it all unfolded.

Stocking Up and Starting Out

Our journey began in Dakar, where we spent a few days stocking up on essentials. If you’ve ever tried to prepare a camper for a cross-continental trip, you know it involves everything from buying spare kitchen utensils at China Mall to hunting down enough snacks to keep kids entertained for days on end. Dakar is vibrant and chaotic—a sensory overload in the best way. For our friends, who were visiting Dakar for the first time, it was a crash course in Senegalese culture.

After soaking up the city, we headed to our village where our trusty camper awaited us. The van needed some serious TLC, and we spent two days scrubbing, organising, and outfitting it for the long road ahead. In true village fashion, those days were punctuated by laughter, family time, and even a traditional dance party that left our feet sore but our spirits high.

The First Hiccup (and Lions!)

Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, we set out on our first day with dreams of adventure… until the clutch broke. That’s right, one hour in. While we called my husband’s brother for backup, we decided to make the best of our unplanned stop by exploring Parc Bandia. It turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Watching giraffes and rhinos roam freely while waiting for our camper to be fixed was a surprisingly stress-free way to spend a breakdown.

Later that day, we visited a lion park where the tables turned: we were in the cage, and the lions roamed around us. Seeing these magnificent creatures so close was thrilling. By nightfall, we reached Saint Louis and camped in the parking lot of a church—charmingly humble accommodations, right next to a supermarket where we restocked for the next leg of our journey.

Mauritania: A Slow Ride into Curiosity

Crossing into Mauritania through the Diama border was refreshingly fast, but the 30 kilometers of road that followed were anything but. It took us two hours to navigate the pothole-filled stretch, which rattled our camper and broke a few things inside. Despite the bumpy start, Mauritania won us over. There was something raw and intriguing about it, and we found ourselves wanting to explore more.

Our first stop was Nouakchott, where we treated ourselves to the luxury of air-conditioned rooms and comfy beds. What was supposed to be a quick stop turned into a three-night stay because, let’s be honest, who doesn’t need a little R&R after their clutch breaks and their van gets shaken like a maraca?

Western Sahara: Long Roads and Endless Views

From Nouakchott, we powered through to Western Sahara, crossing a border that moved at a glacial pace—unlike the quick and painless experience we had at the Diama border earlier. To make the wait more bearable, we dug into our camper’s freezer, a true lifesaver on long trips, and handed out ice cream to everyone. It’s amazing how a simple treat can turn a tedious moment into a sweet memory.

Western Sahara stretched out before us, vast and unyielding. It was long. And empty. And then longer still. It felt like the land where time stood still, with nothing but sand and road stretching endlessly ahead. But our kids, saints that they are, handled it like champs. They sang, napped, and somehow turned the monotony into their own little adventure.

Morocco: The Road to Respite

Reaching Marrakech felt like stumbling into an oasis after the vast emptiness of Western Sahara and the south of Morocco. We found a fantastic campsite and spent a couple of days enjoying the bustling markets, the warm nights, and, most importantly, the excellent food. Marrakech has a magic about it that never gets old.

Before leaving, we had a mechanic come to the campsite to clean out the radiator and oil. The van was running smoothly, but it carried the desert with it—fine red sand had made its way into every nook and cranny, even inside the radiator. At this point, keeping our camper running wasn’t just maintenance; it was a full-fledged part of the adventure, as essential as the journey itself.

Goodbye, Africa

From Marrakech, it was a long haul to northern Morocco to catch the boat to Spain. As the ferry carried us across the Strait of Gibraltar, we looked back at Africa with heavy hearts. Europe awaited with its convenience and order, but there’s something about Africa—its vibrancy, its unpredictability, its soul—that we missed even before we arrived.

This journey wasn’t just a road trip; it was a 5,600-kilometer odyssey—a reminder of the joy in the journey, the beauty of resilience, and the simple pleasure of driving a clunky, 43-year-old camper with family and precious friends by your side. Sure, we prefer Africa to Europe any day, but isn’t it the epic adventure, with all its dust, breakdowns, and laughter, that makes coming home all the more meaningful?