Somewhere in the middle of Mauritania, I found myself shopping for ski goggles. There wasn’t a ski slope in sight, nor did I have any intention of finding one. Instead, I was preparing to spend the better part of a day sitting on top of thousands of tons of iron ore, rattling across the Sahara Desert in an open freight wagon. Travel has a funny way of making perfectly ridiculous decisions seem entirely reasonable.
I’d been making my way overland from Morocco toward Senegal, following a loose itinerary that involved more buses, shared taxis, and questionable sleeping arrangements than any sensible person would probably recommend. Mauritania was always part of the plan, but there was one experience in particular that had caught my attention long before I arrived: the country’s legendary iron ore train.
I’d seen photographs of travelers perched on enormous piles of black ore, surrounded by seemingly endless desert, with nothing separating them from the elements. No passenger seats, no windows, no bathrooms, and certainly no complimentary refreshments. Just a freight train built to haul minerals across one of the harshest landscapes on Earth. For reasons I still struggle to explain to people who enjoy perfectly reasonable vacations, I desperately wanted to experience it.
The Iron Ore Train: A Different Way to Cross the Sahara
Mauritania’s iron ore railway connects the mining region around Zouerat with the Atlantic port city of Nouadhibou. Stretching roughly 700 kilometers across the desert, it’s an extraordinary piece of industrial infrastructure built primarily to transport iron ore from the country’s interior to the coast. The trains can extend more than two kilometers, placing them among the longest freight trains in the world.
What makes this railway particularly fascinating is that people have long used it as a way to travel across the vast Mauritanian desert. While passenger transport exists along the railway, some travelers have made the journey in open freight wagons, sitting directly on the iron ore. It’s an entirely different experience from watching the Sahara through a comfortable train window, and one that comes with very real risks.
I’d spent years exploring places where the journey itself was often as memorable as the destination. Whether trekking through remote mountain ranges or spending days crossing countries by local transport, I’ve always enjoyed the unpredictability of traveling slowly. There’s something about removing convenience from the equation that makes you pay closer attention to the world around you. And although I certainly appreciate comfort, I have an unfortunate habit of becoming curious about experiences that offer very little of it.
From Nouakchott to Zouerat: Preparing for the Journey
Before heading north, I spent about a week in Nouakchott, Mauritania’s capital, staying with my friend and Couchsurfing host, Haroune. One of the great pleasures of traveling independently is how quickly a stranger can become a friend, and how much more interesting a place becomes when you’re experiencing it through the people who live there.
My time in Nouakchott wasn’t particularly structured. We shared meals, wandered through markets, met people, and settled into a rhythm that felt entirely different from moving between hotels and tourist attractions. Haroune was incredibly generous with his time and helped me navigate a city that initially felt overwhelming. It’s one thing to visit a country and another to be welcomed into someone’s daily life, even briefly.
He also played an important role in preparing me for the train, particularly when it came to finding those now-famous ski goggles. Fine iron ore dust gets into absolutely everything, and protecting your eyes is one of the first things experienced travelers will tell you about. We wandered through the local market until we found a pair, which would eventually become one of the most useful things I’d brought on the entire trip.
From Nouakchott, I traveled north by shared van toward Zouerat, a mining town deep in the Mauritanian interior. This wasn’t exactly the sort of destination you’d find advertised in a glossy travel magazine. It’s a working town shaped by the mining industry, with little of the tourist infrastructure you might expect elsewhere. For me, it was a place to rest, organize my supplies, and figure out the final arrangements for the train.
I spent the night in Zouerat, stocking up on food and water and getting some much-needed sleep. At the time, having a proper bed and shower felt like an ordinary luxury. Looking back, I should probably have appreciated them a little more. I was about to spend roughly twenty hours discovering just how uncomfortable a pile of iron ore could be.
Boarding the Train and Meeting Sterling
There’s something wonderfully absurd about waiting in the desert for an enormous freight train that you intend to ride without a seat. It certainly wasn’t my usual experience of arriving at a railway station, checking a departure board, and finding my carriage. Everything felt much more improvised, which was both exciting and slightly unnerving.
Until shortly before departure, I’d been expecting to make the journey alone. Then I met Sterling, another traveler from Kansas who had somehow arrived at the same unusual idea. Of all the places to meet someone from the United States, a remote mining town in Mauritania probably wouldn’t have made my top ten. It’s one of the things I’ve always found amusing about traveling. You can cross half the world to meet someone who grew up surprisingly close to home.
We decided to make the journey together, eventually settling into the same open wagon with our bags, food, water, and whatever protection we’d managed to bring. Beneath us was an enormous mound of iron ore, and around us stretched the Sahara. There wasn’t much in the way of personal space, let alone somewhere comfortable to sit, but we found our positions and prepared for the long journey ahead.
When the train finally began moving, I remember feeling that familiar mixture of excitement and disbelief that comes with doing something you’ve thought about for years. It’s a peculiar sensation when an experience that once existed only as a photograph on your phone suddenly becomes your immediate reality. Except now you’re sitting on the photograph, and it’s considerably less comfortable than you imagined.
Twenty Hours of Dust, Desert, and an Unforgettable Night Sky
As we made our way across the Sahara, the landscape unfolded in every direction. Vast stretches of desert, distant horizons, and an overwhelming sense of space that photographs never quite manage to capture. Mauritania is a country of enormous distances, and watching those distances pass slowly from an open freight wagon gave me a very different appreciation for its geography.
The physical reality of the journey was considerably less poetic. Iron ore isn’t particularly accommodating to the human body, and the constant movement of the train meant that finding a comfortable position was something of a hopeless exercise. Dust blew across everything, coating our clothing, backpacks, and exposed skin. The train rattled endlessly, and conversation occasionally required shouting over the noise. My goggles were earning their keep, although the rest of my face wasn’t nearly as fortunate.
Fortunately, Sterling made excellent company. We spent hours sharing stories, talking about travel, and passing around whatever food we’d brought. There’s a particular ease to conversations on long journeys when neither person has anywhere else to be. No phones demanding attention, no appointments to rush toward, and no real reason to look at the time. We’d only just met, yet somehow found ourselves sharing one of the stranger experiences either of us had ever attempted.
As the sun began to disappear, the desert changed completely. The heat gave way to cooler air, the distant landscape faded into darkness, and an astonishing number of stars began appearing overhead. I’ve spent a fair amount of time in remote places, particularly in the mountains, but there’s something remarkable about the night sky above the Sahara. Without city lights competing for attention, the stars seemed to stretch endlessly in every direction.
I remember lying there looking up, occasionally forgetting about the dust and the uncomfortable pile of rocks beneath me. There we were, two Americans who had met only hours earlier, riding across the Mauritanian desert under one of the most beautiful night skies I’d ever seen. It was one of those moments when the absurdity of the circumstances made the experience even better.
Of course, the romance of sleeping beneath the stars quickly becomes less romantic when you’re attempting to sleep on industrial cargo. The train continued rattling through the night, and every attempt to find a better position seemed to uncover an entirely new configuration of uncomfortable rocks. I’m not sure how much sleep I actually managed, but I distinctly remember becoming rather familiar with the concept of lower back discomfort.
Still, there was something strangely satisfying about the simplicity of it all. For those twenty hours, my world had become remarkably small. I didn’t need to figure out where to eat dinner, what city to visit next, or how to make the most of my time. I was already exactly where I’d chosen to be, sharing a train wagon with someone I’d only just met, watching the desert pass beneath an extraordinary sky.
Arriving in Nouadhibou
By the time we reached Nouadhibou, I’d spent roughly twenty hours aboard the train, and it showed. My clothes, skin, hair, and just about everything I owned were covered in a thick layer of iron ore dust. I looked as though I’d spent the previous day working in a mine rather than traveling alongside one.
I was exhausted, sore, and very much ready for a shower. But I was also genuinely happy I’d made the journey. There’s a strange satisfaction that comes from reaching the end of an experience you’ve been anticipating for so long, particularly one that doesn’t go out of its way to make you comfortable.
What surprised me most was how much of the experience I associated with the people rather than the train itself. Haroune helping me prepare in Nouakchott, the unexpected friendship with Sterling, and the hours of conversation as we crossed the desert all became inseparable from the landscape. I had traveled to Mauritania for an extraordinary train journey and walked away with a collection of memories that had very little to do with trains.
Eventually, I made my way back to Nouakchott, where Haroune welcomed me back, helped me get cleaned up, and gave me somewhere to do laundry. After spending so many hours covered in iron ore, ordinary things like clean clothing, a proper meal, and a familiar place to sleep felt remarkably luxurious. I was reminded once again that some of the most memorable parts of traveling aren’t the grand adventures themselves but the kindness that surrounds them.
How to Ride Mauritania’s Iron Ore Train
For anyone considering making this journey, I completely understand the curiosity. It’s one of the most unusual experiences I’ve had while traveling, and one that continues to stand out years later. However, it requires considerably more preparation and caution than a conventional train journey.
I made this trip in May 2023, so the following is based on my personal experience rather than a guarantee of current schedules, prices, or access arrangements. Rail operations and local travel conditions can change, and open freight wagons are not designed to transport passengers.
Getting to the Train
My journey began in Nouakchott, where I arranged transportation north toward Zouerat. I traveled by shared van and spent the night in the mining town before continuing to the railway. The railway itself runs toward Nouadhibou on Mauritania’s Atlantic coast, but it’s important to establish the correct boarding location in advance rather than assuming every station or mining facility provides public access.
I strongly recommend checking current arrangements with reliable local contacts before making the journey. Freight schedules are influenced by mining operations, and travelers shouldn’t assume the train will operate according to a conventional passenger timetable. Confirm whether the form of travel you’re planning is permitted and consider the authorized passenger service where available.
What to Pack
Preparation makes a considerable difference when you’re traveling through the Sahara, particularly on a journey where access to food, water, shelter, and assistance is limited. My goggles were incredibly useful, but if I were preparing for a similar desert journey again, I’d pay just as much attention to protecting my lungs, skin, and supplies.
The essentials I’d focus on:
- Protective goggles that seal properly around your eyes.
- A well-fitting particulate respirator to reduce dust exposure.
- Plenty of drinking water, including extra for unexpected delays.
- Enough food and snacks for a journey longer than anticipated.
- Warm clothing for the colder desert temperatures after sunset.
- A hat, sunscreen, and clothing that provides protection from the sun.
- Durable clothing you don’t mind getting extremely dirty.
- A protective mat or covering for your belongings.
- Sealed bags to keep electronics and valuables away from the dust.
- A fully charged phone, portable power bank, and offline maps.
The greatest concern, however, is safety rather than comfort. Riding in an open freight wagon involves serious risks from falls, unstable footing, cargo movement, dust inhalation, extreme temperatures, and limited access to emergency help. I wouldn’t treat my own experience as proof that the journey is safe or recommend boarding without proper authorization.
How Long Does the Journey Take?
My journey took approximately twenty hours, although that’s simply how long I spent aboard the train during my trip. The railway covers an enormous distance, and actual travel times can vary depending on operations, delays, and the location where you board.
If you’re putting together an itinerary, I’d recommend allowing extra days around the journey rather than arranging onward travel immediately afterward. One of the more useful lessons I’ve learned over years of overland travel is that schedules are often better treated as aspirations than promises.
Accommodation in Zouerat and Nouadhibou
I stayed in Zouerat before boarding, which gave me somewhere to sleep and organize my supplies. Looking back, that overnight stop was particularly valuable because the train journey itself offered almost nothing in the way of comfort or rest.
I’d also recommend arranging accommodation after arriving in Nouadhibou, particularly if you’ve spent the entire journey exposed to dust and the elements. Having a proper place to wash, recover, and repack your belongings is worth planning for.
Costs and Practical Arrangements
One of the reasons I originally documented this experience was that reliable information was difficult to find. I wanted other travelers to understand how I’d made the journey, where I’d stayed, what I’d packed, and what they could expect.
However, transport fares, accommodation prices, train operations, and local permissions can change significantly over time. Rather than presenting my 2023 expenses as current advice, I’d encourage anyone planning the trip to confirm those details before arriving. Bring enough cash for transportation, accommodation, and unexpected changes, and don’t build your entire journey around assumptions about when the next train will leave.
Is the Iron Ore Train Worth It?
I suspect the answer depends entirely on what you enjoy about traveling. If spending twenty hours covered in dust, sitting on a pile of rocks, and having very little control over your surroundings sounds miserable, I wouldn’t blame you for giving this particular experience a miss. There are certainly more comfortable ways to see Mauritania, and there’s no shortage of beautiful places in the world that don’t require industrial-strength goggles.
But for me, travel has never been exclusively about seeing beautiful places. It’s also about curiosity, the people you meet, and occasionally following an idea simply because you can’t stop thinking about it. Some of my favorite experiences have involved being wildly uncomfortable at the time, although I wouldn’t suggest discomfort alone makes an adventure worthwhile.
What I remember most about the iron ore train isn’t really the difficulty. It’s wandering around Nouakchott with Haroune searching for goggles, meeting Sterling in a remote mining town, sharing food while the desert rolled past, and watching the stars appear over the Sahara. It’s arriving at the coast exhausted and filthy, with the quiet satisfaction of having experienced something I’d imagined for years.
There’s a temptation to turn every travel experience into some grand life lesson, but I don’t think this one particularly needs it. I wanted to ride an enormous freight train across Mauritania, so I found a way to experience it. Along the way, I made a friend, saw an extraordinary part of the world, and returned with enough iron ore in my belongings to make me question whether I’d accidentally taken a small piece of the mining operation home.
Sometimes that’s more than enough reason to go.
And if nothing else, I’ll never look at a comfortable train seat quite the same way again.
