The next morning we set out in search of a ship graveyard we had read about in LP. Unfortunately, and/or fortunately, depending on how you look at it, there wasn’t much to see. The area had been cleaned up and most of the vessels removed. It made for a nice afternoon stroll through the port, though.
Next on the agenda was a trip to Cap Blanc: home to the extremely rare monk seal. The chances of actually seeing one are slim, but the area is rather picturesque… or so we’ve been told. You see, we never actually made it there. We haggled with multiple drivers (I should probably mention that if you own a car, you dabble in the transportation business, as everyone, and I do mean everyone, doubles as a taxi driver), but no one was interested in giving us a reasonable fare. It’s crazy to think that in a place like this, where poverty runs rampant, people would actually pass at the chance to make an honest buck. Taking us to the cleaners was the only option.
We stood on the street corner looking rather dejected when along came a man in a pickup truck. He was on the clock, working at a nearby plant, but offered to give us a lift. Our conversation was limited due to the language barrier, but Rich managed to get some basic information like marital status, number of kids, etc. As we drove down the dusty road, away from the city center, we passed a turnoff and he motioned that Cape Blanc was that way. To our knowledge, he needed to swap out his vehicle and clock-out before taking us. As usual, we were wrong. When we pulled up to the facility the guards seemed concerned by our presence. We were told to get out and wait by the gate. Time passed, but our friend never came back to fetch us. It was turning out to be one of those days.
Eventually another car emerged from behind the gate and asked if we needed a lift. When we inquired about the cost, the man requested 200 euros. At first we thought he was joking, but he assured us otherwise. Huh? What? Are you out of your F-ing mind? 200? Drop the zeros and you’ve got a deal. Needless to say, we started walking.
We didn’t make it far before another car came by. The driver said he had a friend who could assist us at a reasonable price, so we thought what the hell, and hopped in. We met up with his friend, but as we suspected, his rate was off the charts too — strike three. It was not looking good. Not good at all. His friend left, we drove a few blocks, and then another friend joined us. A serious discussion regarding security and road conditions ensued between the two. At that point, we admitted defeat and called it a day — It just wasn’t meant to be.
Our new friend was kind enough to give us a lift, free of charge. We offered to pay, but he declined. He was just happy to practice his English, which I must admit, was a pleasant surprise.
