We drove to an ancient gorge where some of the last Sahara crocodiles still live 🐊—animals once believed to be extinct. 6,000–8,000 years ago, this region held far more water. Today, only a few small pools remain and home to around 24 of these incredible creatures. Getting close to them without any barrier felt surreal. Wild, dangerous and fascinating at the same time. Crocodiles can be incredibly fast over short distances, so I kept a respectful gap from the water 😅 Not everything about this place was beautiful though. The aggressive begging from some kids was intense and honestly exhausting. If you’ve never experienced it, it’s hard to imagine. It also got uncomfortable when I stepped away and Mattea was alone at the truck—pulling doors, banging, crossing boundaries. A harsh reminder of how different attitudes toward respect can be. But there were also moments that balanced it out ✨ Some kids were genuinely sweet—I showed them the drone, took photos, shared laughs. That contrast followed us throughout the journey: pure kindness and chaos, often just moments apart. The adults and teenagers, however, were nothing but warm, friendly, and welcoming ❤️

After we tried to drive to Chinguetti but eventually gave up in frustration because the corrugated dirt road was driving me crazy (and there were still about 120 km to go under similar conditions, as some Land Rover drivers coming the other way told us), we took a small detour through a canyon and spent a night at its edge. We also decided not to continue to Chinguetti because those same Land Rover drivers told us it can be quite exhausting there with kids constantly approaching you and asking for gifts, making it hard to explore the place in peace. It’s honestly pretty intense—I’ll talk more about that in my next YouTube video. These barren landscapes, with just a few scattered trees, rock formations, and canyons, have a very unique kind of fascination… Could you find beauty in a landscape like that, or would it feel too barren and desert-like for you?

After the journey along the iron ore train, we decided to bypass Choum. Other travelers had warned us about kids throwing stones there, so we took a more direct route through the desert towards the road to Atar. We dropped the tire pressure down to 2 bar for the sand, then back up to 6 bar and headed straight into Atar. Atar is the largest city in this region and for us, it was the place to restock supplies and food before continuing our journey. It’s definitely unlike any place I’ve seen before. Everything moves slower. People are friendly, but sometimes a bit skeptical towards strangers. Tourism isn’t really a thing here, though there are a couple of spots where overlanders tend to stop and where you meet locals. We were there during Ramadan, so I’m not sure what it’s like under normal circumstances. The market was busy and full of life, but it was hard for me to understand what the actual price of things should be. I couldn’t shake the feeling that prices often depend on where you’re from. Some vendors offered several pieces of bread for 50 Ouguiya (around €1.20), while others asked 150 for a single one. That’s honestly a part that really frustrates me and makes me appreciate supermarkets back home even more. Fixed prices, clearly labeled, the same for everyone. Fair and transparent. Photographing in Atar was quite challenging. Many people don’t like being photographed, and I fully respect that. When you ask for permission, those spontaneous, real moments are often already gone. Replaced by posed versions of them. I haven’t quite figured out how to stay respectful while still capturing authentic, unposed moments. Maybe that’s just not something that works here.

One rock. Seriously. Ben Amira — the largest rock in Africa and the second-largest monolith in the world. And yeah… it’s just one single, massive piece. We parked right next to it, had a beautiful night — until the wind went wild and forced us to move the truck closer to the rock at 4 a.m. Next stop: Ben Aisha. Another giant in the middle of nowhere. We drove all the way around it. There’s also some art out there… but I’ll skip that. Needed the space for my lizard shots. Sorry. Four days, from Nouadhibou to Atar. One last night in the desert. Truck did its job. And we had a damn good time.

Day 2 of my first desert trip started off relaxed, and at some point we hit the road. I had been advised to always use the morning hours for driving on sand because it’s more moist and therefore more compact—but so far, that hasn’t been necessary. The truck has been pushing through just fine on its own. Let’s see when that advice actually becomes relevant. We continued along the railway tracks, and I really enjoyed the freedom of being able to drive wherever I wanted, even picking up the pace. Unfortunately, there’s no footage of the more intense sections. In deeper sand, it’s neither possible to stop and drive a section again for a video, nor to casually fly the drone alongside. I’m both too fast and too busy to deal with any drone antics. Along the route, there are small, scattered settlements that used to be larger but now mostly appear abandoned. We met up there with the two motorcyclists whose fuel I was carrying, and the “mayor” gave us a very warm welcome. After that, we continued a bit further to our campsite, which was on a small hill surrounded by rocks. A very beautiful, picturesque spot—and since it was, for once, a relatively windless night, we decided to take out the projector and watch a movie. Watching a film under the stars was a truly special experience.

It’s sometimes cold, sometimes windy. Sometimes there are annoying i. But seeing the stars like this is incredibly beautiful and calming—and it makes up for all the little inconveniences. And when I go inside, I open the skylight and can keep watching… The lights on the horizon, by the way, are Moroccan border posts… you can see and hear them—the railway line runs that close to the border.

You might have seen it on Instagram—people wrapped up, wearing gas masks, riding the iron ore train in Mauritania for 15 hours. I didn’t take the train. I followed the tracks through the desert—with my home. After two years of traveling, it was time to take the truck into the desert and see what it—and I—are really capable of. Will it work? Will everything hold up? How often will I get stuck and have to pull out the sand ladders? Will something break? A lot of questions… and only one way to find out. I leave the road, lower the tire pressure, hit the gas—and drive straight into the desert. On the first day, I don’t see a single person. Just a few camels out there too. By evening, I decide to stop at a lone tree and stay there for the night. So far, everything worked out well… let’s see if it stays that way.

Crossing the Western Sahara was pure monotony and still somehow mesmerizing. Endless straight roads, desert as far as the eye can see. I drove 5-8 hours a day, 1,200 km in 3 days. Podcasts, audiobooks, and silence kept me company. We stopped only to stretch, grab a bite, or sleep under the stars. Western Sahara is a disputed territory - Morocco controls most of it, while the Polisario Front holds the eastern „no man’s land.“ The population is sparse, towns like Tarfaya feel frozen in time, and the desert dominates everything. Perfect stretch to catch up on all the podcasts you’ve been meaning to listen to.