SAHARA 1968
on the way to nowhere...
Note: All of the pictures taken on this trip (and many others) where destroyed during a fire in the Croc Bar in Lagos. As luck wanted, in January 2009, I got an e-mail
from Guenther Heller, one of the 3 in the blue VW heading to South Africa. He sent me a few pictures taken from the section Tamarasset to Fort Lamy, I joined them. The other 2, Heino and Erwin, I still have to find.
The Final Sahara Crossing 1968
Algeria - North Nigeria - Chad - Cameroon - Togo
After the successful finish of the Textile Academy in Reutlingen, I did not feel like looking for employment straight away!
I had the idea to hike through Algeria, Sudan, Tschad, Saudi Arabia and then somehow to Australia. I already crossed the Sahara 3 times before, by hitch-hiking, alone and each time asking myself "What the fu'k I'm doing here!"
Hans Kuni, a study colleague, planned to travel the
Sahara with his father in their Landrover. They offered me a lift to
Tamanrasset. Great!.
The trip from Tunis to
In Amenas, Mount Assakrem to
Tamanrasset went relatively smooth.
Further towards Djanet, shoveling the vehicle out of the sand in the heat is part of the Sahara expirience in those times. No paved roads! In Tamanrasset I searched for a suitable transport going down South but even trucks where rare. Finally I met a couple of guys,
Guenther Heller, Heino Rothballer and Erwin traveling in a
VW Bulli
to their home in South Africa. The VW bus was already battered from the ongoing trip and needed repair.
I offered my services and we fixed the vehicle as good as it was possible under the circumstances. My hosts where all mechanics and preferred me to become their cook instead! Fine by me!
In turn, they offered me the last seat against cost sharing. That worked with me. They intended to travel via
Bilma, Zinder, to Kano (Nigeria). Their final destination was Johannesburg (SA).
Reaching
Zinder we decided to head towards
Tschad to avoid trouble in
Nigeria.
We feared that the on going Civil War (
Biafran War) could hamper the onward trip.
Lake Tschad and
Fort Lamy (today N'Djamena) were our next targets.
This route seemed to be logical but proved to be tremendous difficult. The region along the Northern border of Nigeria is very remote. A very fine sand made driving the vehicle a nightmare. Every few meters we got stuck to the axis and digging it out was the only way to proceed.
A lot of sand dunes came with sudden steep descents into a small "Oasis" and pushing the bus out of it, through the fine sand was exhausting! Our progress was sometimes only 5-600 meters a day. Of course, we carried perforated steel panels to get the vehicle over the worst stretches but they became so hot in the sun,
that we could not handle them anymore. Day time temperatures climbed to 50° C and the burning heat and wind, did not allow us to anything after 11 am. We tried to make headway during the cold nights and tried to sleep during the hot hours.
The immense
stress on the clutch of the bus, caused by forcing the vehicle up dunes and out of sand pitches, damaged it. We had to change it two times, under appalling conditions. Digging trenches under the vehicle lower the car engine, replace the damaged clutch and mounting the engine again was
frustrating and exhausting. Luckily, the "South Africans" where very well equipped and had all the necessary spare parts on board. The sand near the
Lake Tschad became even finer. This made progress it quite an ordeal.
We struggled already for weeks and I considered to continue
by camel should we come across a caravan. But than, I could not let the guys alone (not many camels around anyway!). Finally we reached
Fort Lamy, N'Djamena (Tschad) completely naked.
The first house we came across was occupied by German aid workers and there we got the absolute best beer I ever had! Than we parted company and continued on my own.
The journey on top of a lorry down south to Douala
In
N'Djamena I left my companions alone and was looking for an other truck, best on heading South. I had no plans! After some days nosing around I got in contact with a
truck driver and his crew, heading for
Yaounde, the capital of Cameroon. I made sure he was mentally healthy, because I had an experience with a "Crazy One" on an other Sahara Crossing!
We arranged to meet him with his truck in Cameroon, after wading through the
Logone River, the border to Chad and Cameroon.
I did not have a Visas for either country and I had to dodge the Border Guards and we went off towards
Maroua and Garoua.
I was illegal in the country and this was sometimes tricky! Before each police check point, I had to get off the truck and make my way around them through the bush, hoping the driver is waiting for me ahead. It was a long, dusty and hot trip on top of the truck. We passed
N'Gaoundere and finally reached
Yaounde.
The drive through the rain forest was, for me, a new experience, it was awesome!
Yaounde was quite an experience, beer, nightlife and all what I missed for the last 8 weeks! Unfortunately my luck ran out when
the police arrested me in a shop. I got locked up but the police chief seemed to like me and we had a good time together. Finally he arranged a kind of "Visa" for me and I got on a train to
Douala (Cameroon).On the train from Yaounde to Douala I met a girl.
On arrival, she ask me to stay at her place. I had no better idea and gladly accepted the offer!
My main problem, I was running out of funds and needed urgently a paying job.
I found one at the "
Foyer des Marins Douala" (Seemansheim) where I became in charge of the pool area and filtration station. Live was looking up again but not for very long!
Immigration officers struck. They picked me up at my room and were seriously poised to deport me for want of a genuine visa.
Giving me 24 hours to pack and depart. I sold my camera and bought me an air-ticket to
Lome (Togo).
Why Togo? It didn't matter!
I didn't had an idea about
West Africa anyway and there was no money left to go further. On top of it, Togo did not ask for a visa for Swiss citizens! There was some confusion at the airport when trying to depart from Douala.
At the aiport, police wanted me on the plane and the immigration guys wanted to see a valid visa.
I couldn't care less, I enjoyed a beer and waited for the outcome. Finally I landed, in a torrential rain and a pitch dark night, in Lome.