The iron ore train that runs from the mines at Zouérat to the port at Nouadhibou is one of those things that sounds like it can’t be real. A train up to 2.5 kilometres long — one of the longest in the world — crawling across the Sahara Desert carrying thousands of tonnes of iron ore. And yes, you can ride it. People do, every day. Some for transport, some for adventure, and some because there’s simply no other way to get where they’re going.

I’ve done it twice. Both times, I questioned my judgment at some point during the 18-hour journey. Both times, I was glad I did it.

Getting On

There’s no ticket office. There’s no platform. There’s no schedule in any meaningful sense — the train leaves when the train is ready, which could be 2pm or could be midnight.

At Zouérat, the mining town in northern Mauritania, you show up at the train yard and ask around. Someone will point you toward the right section of the train. There are a handful of passenger cars — basic enclosed carriages with metal benches — attached to the front. If you want the authentic experience, you climb into one of the open ore wagons.

I took the ore wagon the first time. Here’s what that means: you’re sitting in a metal car that’s been filled with iron ore dust. The dust coats everything. Your clothes, your skin, your camera, your lungs. You wrap your tagelmust (turban cloth) around your face and settle in against the side of the wagon, surrounded by other passengers — mostly Mauritanian traders, miners heading home, and the occasional bewildered tourist.

There’s a Lonely Planet guide that describes this journey, but honestly, no guide really prepares you.

The Journey

The route covers roughly 700 kilometres from Zouérat to Nouadhibou, and the train moves at about 40 kilometres per hour. You can do the maths — it takes a long time.

The landscape is hypnotic in its emptiness. For hours, there’s nothing but flat, rocky desert stretching to the horizon in every direction. No trees, no buildings, no roads. Just sand, stone, and sky. Occasionally you’ll spot a camel, or the tracks of something crossing the sand. But mostly, it’s the most empty place you’ll ever be.

At night, the desert gets cold. Not “bit chilly” cold — properly cold. The temperature can drop 30 degrees from the afternoon peak. If you’re in an open ore wagon, you need a sleeping bag, a blanket, or at the very minimum, a heavy jacket. I learned this the hard way on my first trip and spent several hours shivering against a wall of iron ore, watching the most extraordinary stars I’ve ever seen and wondering why I hadn’t packed warmer clothes.

The stars, though. There’s no light pollution for hundreds of kilometres in any direction. The Milky Way looks like a physical thing — like you could reach up and touch it. If you take nothing else from this journey, you’ll take the sky.

The Stops

The train makes a few stops along the way — at small stations and mining settlements that barely register on most maps. Choum is the main intermediate stop, a dusty junction town where some passengers get off and others climb on. If you’re heading to Atar or the Adrar region, Choum is where you leave the train and find a vehicle heading inland.

During stops, vendors sometimes appear selling tea, bread, or dried meat. The transactions happen quickly — the train doesn’t wait long. Grab what you can, pay what they ask (it’ll be reasonable), and climb back on.

Why the Train Exists

This isn’t a passenger service with ore wagons attached. It’s an ore transport operation with a few passengers tolerated. The Société Nationale Industrielle et Minière (SNIM) runs the train to move iron ore from the mines at Zouérat to the port at Nouadhibou, where it’s loaded onto ships bound for China, Europe, and beyond.

Iron ore is the backbone of Mauritania’s mining economy. SNIM is one of the country’s largest employers and its biggest source of export revenue. The train has been running since the 1960s, and the entire economic relationship between the interior and the coast depends on it.

When the train breaks down — which happens — it’s not just an inconvenience. It’s an economic event. Ore doesn’t move, ships wait at port, revenue stops. There’s no backup route, no highway capable of handling the volume. It’s the train or nothing.

Should You Do It?

If you’re considering it, here’s my honest assessment.

Do it if: You’re comfortable with discomfort, you enjoy genuinely remote travel, you can handle ambiguity and uncertainty, and you understand that nothing about this journey is designed for tourists.

Don’t do it if: You need a schedule, you have a tight itinerary, you have respiratory issues (the ore dust is intense), or you’re travelling alone for the first time in West Africa and don’t have some experience with unstructured travel.

Practical tips:

• Bring a tagelmust or large scarf to cover your face
• Bring water — at least 4-5 litres
• Bring warm clothing for the night
• Bring a headlamp
• Keep your valuables in a bag strapped to your body
• Tell someone when you’re getting on and when you expect to arrive

The passenger carriages are more comfortable but less interesting. The ore wagons are the real experience. Choose based on your tolerance for dust, cold, and mild existential crisis.

The Memory

What I remember most isn’t the discomfort or the dust. It’s the stillness. Somewhere around hour eight, after the novelty wore off and the anxiety settled, I stopped thinking about anything. Just sat there, watching the desert pass at walking speed, listening to the rhythmic clank of the train, breathing through my scarf.

In a world that’s relentlessly noisy, that silence was worth every grain of iron ore in my teeth.