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Overland with James

Et 156-dagers eventyr av Overland with James Les mer
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  • Reisens start
    1. desember 2016
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    Bilbao

    12. desember 2016, Spania ⋅ ☀️ 13 °C

    So, I've arrived in Bilbao. After freezing to death riding in the UK I must say I'm enjoying spring like temperatures of 15 degrees. Bilbao is great!

    A few revelations so far;
    1) British are the worst drivers! I had to "sprint" across a petrol station and bang on the side of a van to bring to the attention of said white van man's bovine mind that he was about to reverse over my bike at great pace. He stopped with about 8 inches to spare.
    2) I can declare that I'm not seasick. The journey from Portsmouth to bilbao was a tad rough. It says a lot that when I was in bed I was sliding from one end to the other as the boat rocked. Sadly it didn't have its own radio station or any of the other perks.
    3) I shouldn't pack the bike in such a way that it requires a polevault to mount it and enduring cramp to dismount.    Les mer

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    Africa!!!!!!

    19. desember 2016, Marokko ⋅ ⛅ 12 °C

    So Barcelona was great, the ferry to Morocco was not.

    I've concluded that old Italian ferries make the perfect solution for prison overcrowding. Once you're on board there is no level of repentance that will save you from an interminable wait for your release back into society. After 27 hours of sitting on the floor and 40 hours without sleep I was primed to face my first bureaucratic and chaotic border formality.

    Needless to say that when I arrived at my hotel at 1.30 at night I was very much looking forward to a good night sleep. The owner of my hotel was patiently waiting for me, upgraded my room for free, offered to share his dinner with me and generally restored my spirits. And in the morning I was greeted to this fantastic view across the straights of Gibraltar to Tarifa. All is well in the world again    Les mer

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    Blue walls, great views and ox penis

    21. desember 2016, Marokko ⋅ ⛅ 13 °C

    I'm just leaving the beautiful city of Chefchaouen, known for it's blue painted medina. It's a very photogenic place and it's also quite nice that the medina is equally set up for tourists and locals.

    It also turns out that Chefchaouen is the global capital for hash production and supplies most of Europe. The effect of this on the town seems strangely non-existent. E.g. there are no Mexican drug wars. The only downside is the rather persistent dealers, that and the odd person in the hostel who's been there a month and haven't moved, apart from to get more hash or possibly wash.

    Anyway, onto the click bait. Another guy and I decided to go out to a recommended restaurant. We look at the menu, and each line up a tasty tagine. We order to find out there is no tagine available, we try a second choice....not available. So we ask what is available and are given about 4 options, mostly offal , with one described as 'sinew'. Now I thought that this didn't sound appetising and that they were probably underselling it, so I asked for an explanation of what sinew is. The answer of ox penis took me by surprise. Maybe sinew is a better menu description after all! So my options are limited, apart from I can have any feasible organ availbale. I chose the ox penis with chick peas and can report it is both tasteless and texture less, it's kind of like eating a softer, flavourless wine gums. Not offensive, but not particularly desirable either. Anyway I'm of to Fes now, determined to get my tagine.    Les mer

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    Fes

    24. desember 2016, Marokko ⋅ 🌙 9 °C

    Well firstly it's a bit warmer now I'm not in the mountains. It's not generally that cold at night c.9 degrees, but most traditional Moroccan places don't have heating, so it soon feels cold.

    Secondly Fes is the tightest medina I've ever seen, the place is an absolute maze with loads of dead ends. It'd be rubbish to be the postman. What's really nice though is that most of the 9000+ alleys are lived in by locals. I met Dan Hui and Gabriel in the hostel and we went out one day just to get lost and see what we would find. We succeeded quite easily and tried to walk into someone's house accidentally. We got stopped by the neighbour only to be invited into their 400 year old riad with amazing carved wood and plaster work. The same day we went to the Tannery and saw the men at work dying and curing leather. It turns out that to make leather you need an ample supply of coloured piss and bird shit, and it smelt of it. I have no idea how anyone could do this all day long.

    While also in Fes I realised that i had no insurance even though I had gone through at least 4 layers of checks when my ferry arrived into morocco. So I set off to get some and discovered my French is woefully inadequate, but I found the place eventually, but it was closed for lunch... for 2.5 hours. So off I went for lunch. Next thing I see is a 125cc bike going down a 3 Lane boulevard in Fes about 30 mph, but with an old lady in a wheelchair holding onto the back being towed. Unfortunately I couldn't get the camera out quick enough. I'm still puzzled to know how they handled the roundabout at the end of the road.

    But the best thing about Fes was the riad I was staying at run by Youssef a very friendly guy and the guys I met there and shared some good times. Thanks to Gabriel, Dan Hui, Hillary, Andrea and Mike. It turns out that morocco attracts a different group of travelers. We spent hours playing cards and just chilling sharing stories. I also learnt a Russian card game called darjit. So stereotypically Russian, the game has no winners, but you just don't want to lose and it's based on rounds of attack and defence.

    Photos
    1&5) Tannery
    2) typical Fes street
    4) a massive overlanding truck I came across. I thought I might have packed too much stuff but now I feel underprepared, especially as it had a motorbike attached to the back.
    6) Gabriel surveying a huge cous cous meal after our wander around Fes.    Les mer

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    A Marrakechy Christmas

    26. desember 2016, Marokko ⋅ ⛅ 15 °C

    Onto another famous Moroccan city, but not before taking the mountain pass to make sure I can say I've seen snow this Christmas.

    However this scenic route meant I arrived in Marrakech just as it was getting dark on Saturday, almost the busiest possible time. So far I had been relying on the trusty 'maps with me' app. It had every single alley of Fes in it, all offline ready for me to use at anytime. In fact in Fes it helpfully told me what was a street and what wasn't. All this made me feel good about picking a hostel in Marrakech that I could ride up to the door. You can probably see where this is going, particularly anyone who has been to Marrakech. But for those the haven't. Take a street 10ft wide, subtract 3ft from either side for the souk stalls, then in the remaining 4ft fit the population of Marrakech doing its shopping, then place me on a 3ft wide bike trying to part the waves, whilst frantically work out which direction I should be going. 45 minutes later I arrive at a location you most definitely shouldn't ride a bike to. Unfortunately the go pro was out of charge otherwise it would have been an amazing video to watch back.

    Marrakech is all hustle and bustle without my input. It's all good natured and enjoyable but I have never been so pestered in my life. It's a great experience, the whole city is just constantly trying to sell you something, even if it's just directions. The main square, jemaa el fna, is supposedly the busiest in Africa and at night it comes alive with a mix of locals are tourists. There are various food and drink stalls, but in the open bit of the square, people gather round Berber story tellers, musicians and dancers. The place just has a constant noise of people and drumbeats.

    I also went to the Bahia palace where there is a bit of quiet and you can see the best examples of the carved plaster and wood.

    Photos
    1) A local looking out of one of the windows at the Bahia palace
    2) Snow on the mountain pass
    3) More Bahia palace
    4 and 5) Jemaa el fna, the second one is taken on a long exposure so you can see how a lot of the square is busy moving around, but then there are these circles where people are standing listening to the story tellers
    6) Local takeaway    Les mer

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    A long stay in Essaouira

    1. januar 2017, Marokko ⋅ 🌙 18 °C

    Next stop is some summer sun on the beach at Essaouira and a Norfolk reunion with Pete, who has flown out to see me between Christmas and new year.

    So after a quick catch up on news, we get our priorities sorted and look for a place to show the Liverpool v Man City game. We end up in this back street bar watching the game and get speaking to a Senegalese guy called Adam. We buy him a couple of drinks as we hear about Senegal and how he is in Morocco as a musician. Through broken franglais, a couple of small beers and an hour of time it seems Adam is now our lifelong friend.  After then buying him dinner and seeing where he lives and quite firmly refusing to tell him where we are staying, we still can't decide if he is really friendly, scrounging, or a bit dodgy. After seeing him play a terrible rendition of 'jamming' by Bob Marley we decide he is mixture of the first 2 options. So harmless, but we can see that if he sees us we will not lose him for the whole day.  So for the next 3 days in Essaouira we play this ridiculous game where we pick our routes to wander based on if we can see (or are likely to see) Adam.

    I also learnt from Pete the way to deal with persistent shop owners trying to sell you stuff is to just say "je suis russe". Most of the shop owners speak Arabic, Berber, French, English, Spanish and German...but not Russian. However Pete's pasty skin allows him to pass for Russian, but for me they all just speak to me in Spanish.
     
    Finally I need to apologise to Pete as the last couple of days I was a bit rubbish having got a mild mixture of heat stroke, manflu and dodgy stomach. I finally left the picturesque but tiny town 6 days after I arrived! I never want to suffer the nervousness that is a cold / dodgy stomach mixture. Every sneeze felt like a risk!    Les mer

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    Dirt mountains

    3. januar 2017, Marokko ⋅ 🌙 18 °C

    Having been in the cities so far,  I'm off to hunt out some mountains.  They're pretty easy to find as the various atlas ranges are as high as the alps. I went for some lowish ones while heading south. The upshot was some good riding and the learning of a few lessons.

    1) Appreciation of geography. The highest mountains in this area are about 2000m, this actually turns out to be quite high and takes longer than expected
    2) Always ask 3 people for directions! I asked the police at a crossroads which direction to take... they told me the wrong one, probably because they didn't know.

    However this detour allowed me to be inventive so I got some Dirt riding in, by cutting across between the 2 roads. 😀    Les mer

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    Sahara (Western)

    5. januar 2017, Vestre Sahara ⋅ ⛅ -7 °C

    I've never seen a desert before so I've been looking forward to getting to Western Sahara and seeing some drifting sand dunes.  However I've been severely disappointed, this area is totally flat gravel. It's just a bit dry.  It is an utterly featureless, boring, monotonously huge wasteland covered in litter.  This area was Spain's only African colony, and is now disputed between Morocco and a group called the Polisario. I have no idea what the appeal is, it seems to have zero economic, social or aesthetic value! On the plus side though this desolation makes for easy camping and amazing night skies.

    The Moroccan authorities spice it up though about every 70 miles by placing a roadblock and asking for a fiche (a written note of all your personal, passport and vehicle details along with your itinerary). At one of these I asked how far to the next petrol station and was told 100km. Needless to say after 140 km I have seen no petrol and the tank is empty. So the next hour goes a little like this;
    - Try to flag down first 2 cars. They speed past. This might be more difficult than I thought.
    - 10 mins later flag down third car. Taxi. I'm told there is a cafe in 3 km that might have petrol. No lift.
    - Start pushing loaded bike to cafe. Pretty tired after 1 km. Stop.
    - Realise how stupid I've been and decide it is much easier to bring petrol to the bike than the bike to the petrol. Start walking.
    - 2 Moroccans pull over and give me a lift to the cafe. No petrol. Continue lift for another 5 km to petrol station.
    - Arrive just as the petrol station is about to send a rescue truck for the bike. They'd been told about the bike by someone passing.
    - Get petrol. Get ride back in this Rescue truck.

    Now, I didn't get a photo of the truck unfortunately but let me just describe a few things about it, in the order I noticed them;
    - It's a land rover defender with a crane contraption built on the back and looks like it was one of the first ever built. Clearly British engineering was good back then.
    - Once we start moving I realise I'm not wearing a seatbelt and I'm leaning against the door, which is held closed by string. No fear though, at this point we are in 5th gear and doing about 20 to 25 mph.
    - It has an aftermarket stereo which is basically a house stereo shoved into the footwell, however I see why this is needed as the engine is so rough and loud.
    - The steering is so slack that the guy is turning the wheel 90 degrees without anything happening. Then he turns a little more and the landy swings wildly across to the other side of the road.
    - Then we get near the bike and the guy starts slowing down about half a mile before we get there. I wonder what's going on but then I look and see he is pumping the brake and barely anything is happen. His face clearly shows that this is normal. We slowly cruise to a stop, using the gravel verge for extra friction to slow us down in time.

    So now I'm refuelled, but I wonder whether I should follow the truck back to the station. I think there is a good chance I need to rescue the rescue truck!

    Off to Mauritania next.    Les mer

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    Nouadhibou

    8. januar 2017, Mauritania ⋅ ☀️ 22 °C

    So I've arrived in mauritania. The adventure really begins. A short 3.5 hour border crossing. No corruption just spectacular bureacracy. One person gives you the form. Move forward into the compound. Complete form. Get form checked. Show form to police, they sign it. Take form to passport office get stamp. Show policeman stamp, go to customs get different stamp, show police etc etc ...and that's the Moroccan side. Mauritania includes a 1.5 hour wait for the visa while they finish lunch.

    Most spectacular though is I just pass the border and reach a military roadblock. Fiche demanded, then followed with a first question of "where are you coming from?".  I've come half a mile from the border and either side of the road is meant to have landmines! If my French was good enough I would have been so sarcastic.

    I'm now in Nouadhibou the second city, but a not very exciting place. The only redeeming feature was some really tasty street food. I also found out that the only campsite in the city closed after a German guy was robbed and killed a few years ago. Time to leave I think 🤔

    Good news is I've met some fellow bikers (Ferry and Gülçin) heading in the same direction, to Atar. First plan was to ride the desert piste there, but on more research none of us think we're good enough on sand. So we tried to ride the longest train in the world there, but when we turned up, we were invited into the train chief's office. The title of his department being 'Exploitation'! However they can't unload the bikes where we want to stop and we'd have to go to the end of the line and ride an equally sandy piste.  Instead, we're off to take the tar road via a 500km detour!    Les mer

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    End of the road

    14. januar 2017, Mauritania ⋅ 🌙 18 °C

    I've now reached the end of the road.... literally.  I'm in Ouadane, pronounced Wadan, an ancient caravan town in the proper Sahara.  To get here, the last 100 miles has been a corrugated piste where I saw a total of 2 families of camels, 1 4x4, 0 buildings and 0 people.

    I've also visited Chinguetti, Mauritania's cultural capital where there is a rather impressive 500+ year old library with ancient Islamic scripts and astrology charts.

    Other exciting snippets are;
    - My first real attempt at riding on sand.  Started well, then I unexplicably decided to pi k a route through the softest, loosest looking sand and promptly fell down. Crash #1. Slow, embarrassing, but painless. Luckily my new riding partners could help pick the bike back up and remind me they have it all filmed.
    - Getting the last laugh as Ferry and Gulcin run out of petrol and I have to rescue them.  Nearly every vehicle in Mauritania runs on diesel, so we have to carry lots of bottles of petrol to get us to the next station that hopefully has petrol.
    - Realising my army mess tins are slightly less useful to cook with when they dont have handles. Though vice grips make a pretty good substitute.
    - Half a day spent trying to compensate for my terrible French by acting out 'glue' and 'rubber hose'.
    - Half a day, using said glue and a needle and thread to repair my panniers that are suffering a little with all the bouncing up and down.

    Photos
    1) Aftermath of crash #1
    2) Street food in Atar
    3 & 4) Chinguetti library
    5 & 6) Road to and view from Ouadane    Les mer

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    Zebrabar

    20. januar 2017, Senegal ⋅ 🌙 21 °C

    First stop a desert oasis in the Adrar gorge. It's nice to see something other than a panorama of sand. Then onto Senegal via a quick pitstop in Nouakchott, Mauritania's capital, to acquire a Mali visa. The only reason i want the Mali visa is so I can do a quick dash later to Bamako, Mali's capital, to get a Nigeria visa because every other Nigeria embassy insists on me getting the visa in the UK.

    The driving in Nouakchott is absolutely atrocious. I've driven / ridden in many places where people say it is chaotic or dangerous,  but my experience is normally that the locals ignore all rules, but actually drive with common sense and tend to be more aware of what's going on around them. Nouakchott is NOT like this, it's like the entire population has had a lobotomy from the part of the brain that promotes self preservation. Everyone drives like they're playing GTA.

    My next treat is to cross 2nd most notoriously corrupt border in Africa....on my birthday, but first we pass a national park with warthogs, which we saw and crocodiles, which we didnt ☺. The border was actually OK apart from the Mauritania customs guy who wanted 10 euro each to stamp the bikes out. He didn't take so well to me pointing out his vehicle records book had 25 entries for the day before, but his receipt book only had 5, at which point he gets angry and says he's the custom chief and tells us to go to another border (the even more corrupt one). Ferry's and my response is to say, OK we will wait here for the stamp.... right in the middle of your office. An hour later, after some concillatory conversation ("where were you born, how many children do you have, you're very successful to have such an important job, Mauritania is a good country, it's my birthday today etc") we finally get our stamp for free.

    Once over the border it becomes clear how different mauritania and senegal are, in senegal there are so many colours, so many more people and everyone seems an extrovert.  Now I'm at the famous overlanding spot near St Louis called Zebrabar with a birthday beer and I've seen my first wild monkey. The view here is pretty damn good.

    Photos
    1) Terjit oasis
    2) Adrar gorge
    3 & 5) View from Zebrabar
    4 & 6) The city of St Louis, the former capital of French West Africa    Les mer

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    Lac Rose detour

    23. januar 2017, Senegal ⋅ ⛅ 20 °C

    So a night was planned at the famous Lac Rose where a mixture of salinity, bacteria and sunlight mean the water turns pink. However there have been a few issues with this.
    1) The road the mapping app suggested for the last 5 miles ranged from horrific to non existent. Picture the good bits - the kind of sand where the front wheel slides from rut to rut, while the back fishtails along. The bad bits being flat out desert type sand where I've got the throttle open, I'm bouncing up and down over the rear wheel to get traction, meanwhile half the village is getting covered in what's being kicked up from the rear, all while moving forward at half walking pace, with a rather large audience at times.
    2) The plan was to arrive at dusk, but because of the conditions, most of this riding is done in the dark.
    3) The bloody lake isn't even pink the next day when we see it!
    4) Leaving in the morning, all we had to do was ride 2 miles on a hardcore road, then turn onto tar...much easier.

    Photos
    1) The unpink lake
    2 & 3) Sights on the way there. Unfortunately the gopro was out of charge for the sandy bits.    Les mer

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    Dakar

    25. januar 2017, Senegal ⋅ 🌙 19 °C

    I love Dakar. It has a real intensity and busyness with everyone seeming to have a purpose. Aside from Fes and Marrakech, it is the only city so far where most people are enjoying life rather than just moving from day to day. I joined in with the hustle and bustle and spend my 4 days here;
    Getting the Guinea visa;
    Visiting Ile-de-goree, the island where ships departed to take slaves to America;
    Haggling in the massive markets. I got quoted the equivalent of £100 for some Africa print trousers, I ended up paying £2.60 for them, and I still know that's too much;
    Searched for engine oil so I can do an oil change in a couple of weeks. This is surprisingly difficult as everyone just fills their bikes with car oil;
    Visited the most westerly point in Africa, which is predictably semi-occupied by the US embassy, a building big enough for about 1000 people;

    Also after 3 weeks it's time to say goodbye to Ferry and Gulcin 😭. They have 2 years to tour Africa, whereas my plan was 6 months, but I've now decided a year is definitely needed!

    Photos
    1&4) Africa's most westerly point
    2) View across Dakar to ile-de-goree
    3) Pirogue fishing boat    Les mer

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    Q - How many people can a taxi carry?

    29. januar 2017, Senegal ⋅ ☀️ 3 °C

    5 hours after leaving Ferry and Gulcin I spot a group of 12 bikes parked up. After a quick chat with the Polish/ Austrian group it turns out we're going to the same place, le petite cote. So we join up. The first night involves some typically Polish drinking which is an experience for my head and liver after hardly drinking for 6 weeks!

    The next day we go on a pirogue trip up the Saloum delta, but first we have to go to the next village which involves 12 people getting a ride from a battered old Peugeot 405. 2 in the front including the driver, 3 in the back, 2 in the boot, 6 on the roof, but before we can go anywhere the driver has the hammer the passenger door shut.

    The boat trip itself was great, seeing the mangrove swamps and lots of birds. The boat even got stuck on a sandbar on the way back so we all had to lean the boat perilously over towards the crocodile inhabited water. Most worryingly though my premium quality Africa print trousers have ripped.

    In the afternoon I have a little ride up and down the beach without all the baggage. The bike feels much better without all the extras bouncing up and down with it. After going up and down for ten miles I think it would be a good idea to get some dramatic video footage in front of the shipwreck. So I start being a yob and doing donuts in front of a shipwreck, predictably this ends up in me laying in the sand. Pick the bike up, and it won't start as I need to wait for the petrol to drain, meanwhile I tensly watch the tide come in and start lapping at the back wheel, but she starts. Then it turns out I actually pressed the wrong button and don't have it filmed.

    In the evening I find out there is the local annual wrestling competition, Senegal's national sport. To be fair I saw more build up than actual Wrestling but the rituals the crowd and the wrestlers go through are quite something, including drumming, call and respond chanting, animated dancing, throwing of leaves, throwing water out of a hollowed out animal horn, drawing in the sand. The wrestling itself is a little tactical. I was expecting these huge men, mostly 6ft 6+, to start throwing each other around. The reality though is that 95% of the time is spent playing slapsies.

    Photos
    1 & 5) Pirogue trip
    2) Everyday traffic
    3 & 4) View from my tent
    6) Wrestling    Les mer

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    Gambia and monkeys

    1. februar 2017, Gambia ⋅ ⛅ 27 °C

    The smiling coast is what the tourist brochures call Gambia and for once it's not an exaggeration. I've never met a nationality quite like the Gambians. They nearly all want to talk to you and help you. Of course it helps that they speak English!

    However, my first experience wasnt quite so enjoyable. During the political instability up to a quarter of the population fled into Senegal, now it's safe again they are all returning. The problem though is there are no bridges across the river Gambia in Gambia! This left me competing for space on the biggest ferry (space for about 20 cars) with trucks, cars, motorcycles, people, goats, chickens and furniture. After being told to wait in a spot for 1.5 hours under the midday sun in sweaty bike gear, they finally open the gate. Suddenly I'm swamped with all the animals of the ark pushing towards this narrow entrance. The staff have no idea how to organise the crowd and close the gate until people stop pushing, which isnt said loud enough for anyone at the back to hear! So 45 mins later about 30 people have got through and I've not moved from my spot in the sun. Then they open the gates completely and order everyone to the side, to let the vehicles off the ferry. So everyone shifts to the side, almost pushing me and the bike over in the process. This leaves me in the same position but now on the edge of the cleared path, perilously close to the trucks trying to squeeze through. Now the staff start shouting at me to move across out of the way. After 2.5 hours being baked, all patience evaporated from my body, I angrily snap back and say "where the f### am i meant to go". At this point the guy makes some space next to me by kicking some goats. I then have to point out that motorbikes don't just move sideways without moving forward or backwards too! I do eventually get on the boat, albeit after being accused of not buying a ticket, even though I'd given it to them already - this situation was met with a full rainbow of expletives.

    If it wasn't for the general friendliness then the capital, Banjul, would be slightly terrifying. At night there is almost no electricity in the city and what little light there is, is from the cars and trucks on the few main roads. This came as quite a shock after Senegal and it just instantly feels very unsafe to be in a city without lighting, but the reality is that it's fine. At least my 'bravery' to walk about at night has been rewarded by stumbling across Gambia's very own beer, Julbrew, by far the best beer in Africa...so far!

    I'm now just about to leave Banjul after visiting the Abuko nature reserve, where I've seen lots of wild animals from monkeys to vultures as well as some sadder looking caged ones such as hyenas. I also used my guide to try and get over my fear of animals when wild camping. It didn't really work as he just told me about all the animals that might try to kill me....just in Gambia. For those who want to know, the list includes crocodiles, hippos, green mamba snakes, baboons and hyenas.    Les mer

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    Upcountry

    3. februar 2017, Gambia ⋅ ☁️ 18 °C

    So I've gone 'Upcountry' as the Gambians would say. A rapid ascent of about 1 metre per mile along the south bank of the Gambia river. However, Gambia is so narrow I've had to be careful not to accidently stray across the border into Senegal. For anyone who doesn't know why Gambia is so ridiculously long and thin, here is a synopsis of Britain's colonial logic.
    - Race for Africa begins at the Berlin conference
    - France begin colonising the whole of West Africa
    - Britain see an opportunity to annoy the French by doing the bare minimum to colonise an area right in the middle of France's existing colonies
    - Britain sends the navy up the Gambia river and claims sovereignty as far as the river is navigable and as far as Britain's canons can fire (20 miles to each side)
    - Britain then offers France the 'opportunity' to have Gambia, in exchange for a much larger French colony such as Gabon
    - The French tell the British to get stuffed and stop all trade with Gambia
    - Britain pays no interest in Gambia until independence

    I've also learnt that Gambia has no atms outside the capital and I've survived wild camping without any unwanted animal experiences. I've had a rack built to support my panniers that have been disintegrating under the repetitive bumping up and down. I've also learnt that the old president was universally disliked.

    P.s. I'm sure Mick Comben will correct me on the history!    Les mer

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    Casamance

    6. februar 2017, Senegal ⋅ 🌙 23 °C

    Firstly, apologies for the lack of updates. I've had some technical difficulties, but I should be able to catch up soon.

    A return to Senegal, sees me into Casamance, a region even flatter than the rest of Senegal, yet very different. The whole region is basically a flood plain for the Casamance river where the highest point seems to be provided by the senegalese love of monumental speed bumps. This flatness and the seasonal rains means the locals, who want to be independent, are epic rice farmers and the meals are both tasty and healthy.

    However my ride through 'upper' casamance took me to a dirt road, at times more like a footpath. Where I had crash #3 & #4. #3 was rather embarrassing, riding about 10mph, I tried to turn off the gopro, lost my balance and pathetically fell to the side, breaking my fly screen at the same time. #4 was much more dramatic as I went in to a sudden sand pit, buried the front wheel and lost it at about 35mph, only to be instantly engulfed by a massive cloud of sand and dust. I pull myself up and as the cloud clears I see about 20 people coming to help me and the bike up. No damage on this one, but I've got a cracking bruise on my leg.

    I've also stayed in a camp site by the shore of the casamance, where they had 7 small crocodiles in a pen, just by they bar. They catch them if they come close to the town,  but still I've been told it's not a good idea to go in the water! On the plus side I've been told crocodile is tasty! While here I took the opportunity to ride the bike unloaded and visit st George's point and very briefly see manatees. This involved a very Sandy track where it took me 1.5 hours to do 12 miles, but I was rewarded when I arrived with an impromptu rice and fish lunch with a local family and secured some palm wine for dinner later.

    The link below should show a YouTube summary of the journey so far from the UK to Senegal.

     https://youtu.be/JWtZhocU-rU    Les mer

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    Why am I so Grumpy!

    16. februar 2017, Guinea-Bissau ⋅ ☁️ 31 °C

    So I've now been away for about 10 weeks and it has got to the point that it feels less like an extended holiday and more like a lifestyle... and as lifestyles go there are some slight downsides, mainly
    - sleeping in a tent
    - being devoured by mosquitoes
    - the inevitable Delhi belly
    - moving 'house' most days
    - repeatedly struggling through the most rudimentally basic french conversations

    Right now I'm particularly struggling with a dodgy stomach, and a string of things that have broken, including my phone, the bike's fork seal (suspension),  my stove, my widget that transfers photos to the tablet etc. You may have noticed I'm not in the best mood.  I'm really considering turning back to Europe,  but I know things will change,  I just need to keep going and my mood and luck will change, hopefully.

    In terms of what I've actually been doing I wild camped on the beautifully deserted Varela beach, though to get there I dropped the bike 3 times in 15 mins in the deep sand. 2 were so close together that I got help to pick the bike up from the same fishermen! So deserted is it that most of the time my company was the odd cow. This was where I found out my stove has stopped working, so bread and water was my diet for 2 days.

    Since then I have been in Bissau for a week trying to recover and fix things (without success). Initially I stayed at a campsite/hotel on the edge of the city where I met Ferry and Gulcin again and we got to know a Swedish guy who was very coy about his business, apart from he owns a plane and has a Guinean diplomatic passport from the president. We suspect he is a drug dealer, as most South American drugs arrive in Bissau before going to Europe. After this I stayed with an English guy, Patrick and Magdiel on couchsurfing. They've been great hosts, looked after me and given me a comfortable bed! Patrick is funded by the overseas aid budget and is working for the bissau ministry of finance, which has meant I've got a really different view of Bissau. It's an interesting and really chilled place, but has some real problems to develop and be a functioning country.

    And I have to mention that I've had rain for the first time since Europe....a very strange experience!

    Hopefully I'll be more enthusiastic next time I check in.    Les mer

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    Crossing the Kogon

    22. februar 2017, Guinea ⋅ 🌙 26 °C

    A casual look at the map poses a minor problem, there is no road between the capitals (of Guinea Bissau and Guinea) without a 100+ mile detour. However, on zooming in there appears to be a number of small border crossings, so I pick the option that looks most remote and the adventure begins.

    Wow what an adventure it was, comical border formalities, 2 drops, many water crossings, rocky hill climbs and haggling for a pirogue over the Kogon river. On top of this I bumped into my old friends Ferry and Gulcin. This 8 hour adventure is summarised in the 3 minute video link below.

    I arrived into boké, the regional town, and immediately took my first AC room of the trip to help my tired body. But I had a problem. The border was so small that they said they don't  stamp passports, they just check. They said the next town has immigration. The next town had the same situation. So I've now been through 3 border/police checks and arrived in Boké without officially entering the country. The following morning I find the local police and ask where I can get an immigration stamp, the answer I get is Conakry, the capital, 200 miles from the border! This just sounds ridiculous so I keep pushing and end up with the chief of police for Boké who says he will stamp it but he needs to check with his boss first. This sounds promising, until 2 hours later we're still waiting for his response. After some gentle questioning it turns out I'm waiting for the chief of police for the whole country, and he is a little busy in a cabinet meeting trying to control rioting in Conakry. In the end I get my stamp...and the phone number of the police chief. I suspect roadblocks are going to be easy from now on.

    On another topic I changed €100 and became a Guinean millionaire.

    Photos
    1) Coming ashore on the Kogon river
    2) The hideously proportioned sculpture outside my hotel room

    https://youtu.be/5wTOMoWSxQc    Les mer

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    Chutes, snakes and ladders

    26. februar 2017, Guinea ⋅ 🌙 26 °C

    My mood was starting to improve but then there's been yet more problems with the bike. Firstly the rear wheel bearing completely collapsed, though I initially felt lucky that I found a mechanic who could source the same size bearing. Unfortunately I later realised his thuggish hammering at the wheel had chipped and cracked the cast alloy hub. Some mechanical advice from back home confirmed my expectations, the whole rear wheel is @#$&€£.  The crack will propagate and the whole rear wheel will disintegrate and it's impossible to tell if that's in 10 miles or 10k miles. As you can imagine I'm pretty urgently trying to source a new rear wheel from the UK. Then 2 days later I start an oil change at a rural campsite and find out half way through that the thread in the oil sump is stripped and I can't do the bolt back up. I'm in the middle of nowhere with a bike I now can't start!  I temporarily use threadlocker 'glue' to hold the bolt in. Hopefully that lasts!

    So I tentatively head off to a 'highlight' of the trip I've been looking forward to - the Fouta Djallon highlands. Unfortunately it turns out the roads to this region are terrible. They're mostly solid volcanic rock, meaning I need to lean forward and ride on the pegs nearly the whole way to keep as much force away from my fragile wheel as possible. I'd heard so many good things about this area from other overlanders and people in Senegal, Gambia and Guinea itself, but as I get into the region proper I find myself a bit disappointed. It's interesting and provides something different from the flatness of the past few weeks, but it's not stunning.

    Well my opinion and mood has changed after 3 days of brilliant hiking and bouldering.  On foot you get into the really interesting areas. My guide has themed walks such as 'Indiana Jones World' and 'chutes and ladders'. The latter involves climbing down 200m by a waterfall, repeatedly crossing it, and then climbing back up later via ladders made of branches tied together with vines. Although I think this may be better named snakes and ladders, after we came across a cobra. I'm glad he was ahead of me! I'm now in much better mood after being looked after with great local food and having no mosquitoes at this altitude. I'm now ready to get back on the bike, although the hiking and riding on the pegs have given me throbbing thighs and the knees of a geriatric.

    P.s. I'm sure everyone will be amused to hear the legs of a plastic patio chair broke while I was sat watching the football, while 20 of the village children watched me and the football. 2 hours later I also fell out of a hammock...but no one saw this!

    Photos
    1 and 6) The ladders!
    2) The plateau where every trek starts...downhill
    3) The start of the descent
    4) The waterfall bouncing off my bald head
    5) Another waterfall that I later swam in    Les mer

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    Chimps

    5. mars 2017, Guinea ⋅ 🌙 26 °C

    From my hiking spot I had 40 miles of the rock road again and then I was on tar. My knees, my back, my wrists, my everything was relieved!

    On my way out of Fouta Djallon I had one last stay in this scenery with amazing 180+ degree views, as the second photo shows.

    Now I had 250 miles planned to the rainforest region of Guinea, with a little nervousness of quite how bad the road would be, especially with my dodgy wheel. Well my prayers were answered, with mile upon mile of beautiful smooth tar that had lots of sweeping corners through the hills. My destination, Nzérékoré, is where Ebola was at its worst and so there is a lot of aid going into infrastructure, just in case it flares up again. I'm on a French vegetarian diet here. I.e. I'm eating everything but red meat. One theory is that monkeys are more prone to Ebola, but that it is transferred to humans by eating undercooked bushmeat...and from all the hunters I see, there is a lot of bushmeat on the menu.

    After a recharge day in Nzérékoré, I head off in hope more than expectation to look for Chimps in a small village called Bossou. I'd heard of a Japanese research station where I might be able to see chimps. They're particularly interested in this group as they are the only ones in West Africa that have been known to make tools. After a short 30 minute walk into the rainforest, I'm with a family of 8 wild chimps. They're amazingly disinterested in our presence, apart from the baby who seems to enjoy throwing branches at us. The alpha male, just casually walked past us and started munching away.

    Video at https://youtu.be/JnOHJZ_mk4o    Les mer

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    Sleeping Camel

    18. mars 2017, Mali ⋅ ⛅ 36 °C

    The bike and I have been recuperating for the last 2 weeks in Bamako, Mali at the wonderful overlanding hub of The Sleeping Camel. But this doesn't begin to explain the ups and downs we've had.

    On leaving Nzérékoré I head north on more beautiful EU funded road...until the road abruptly stops and I have 200 miles of rough track. Whilst not fundamentally difficult I really wasn't mentally prepared for hours upon hours of slow progress. Along this journey I stop to help some khaki clad men by the side of the road. After much sign language I understand they're out of fuel and duly siphon some into their tank. I'm sure the good karma will revisit me.  Well, this clearly didnt happen, as about 50 miles later I hear bad noises from behind me. It turns out I'd lost 2 screws from the rack that supports my luggage and the whole assembly had bounced up and down many times, broken the plastic fairing and twisted the frame lugs. This means I have to unload all my luggage in the midday sun and start bodging for an hour, so i can get moving again. This was probably the result of some exuberant riding to make my destination before dark. I failed and also ran over a 3m high tree in the process - don't ask how.

    The next day I'm back on tar for a relatively short dash to Bamako. All goes well until I arrive and realise that the lining of my spare helmet is missing. Not such a big deal...apart from this is where I had $1400 hidden. The helmet must have been damaged yesterday when the frame broke. Some Malian is very happy at having found about 6 months earnings....at least someone is happy...I was not that evening!

    My long stay in Bamako is mainly due to a whole new rear wheel being sent from the UK. So I have some other bits fixed by the motorcycle mechanic for the Mali president's motorcycle outriders. He fixes my blown fork seal, straightens the bars, cleans the air filter and fixes an idling problem. I also get the Nigerian visa, a visa that is more expensive if you're British.

    The Sleeping Camel is a great place to stay as I've met more overlanders here than in the previous 3 months combined. I bumped into Ferry and Gulcin again as well as meeting another 6 bikers and 4 in 4x4s. It's pretty cool to have some familiar company even though we've not met before. The owners Matt and Phil are great and laid on a free boat trip for us down the river as well as helping do some welding to permanently fix my frame. By the time of leaving The Sleeping Camel I'm very much part of the furniture! I've also learnt after 13 nights of camping that my tent is truly horrific in the heat!

    Photos
    1) The overlanding roll call - William, Ricardo, Cemil, Laura, Ferry, Gulcin, Nicholas, Daniel and Josephine.
    2) The rescued Guinean environmental police
    3, 4, 5) Boat ride up the Niger river including the man who walks on water
    6) local rock band at the Sleeping Camel    Les mer

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    School trip

    21. mars 2017, Burkina Faso ⋅ ☀️ 26 °C

    As good as The Sleeping Camel has been I've had itchy feet for a while, and happy to be back on the road with a safe working bike.

    Just a quick update on the last few days.

    I've visited the grand Sikasso regional museum. Built on a big compound in the centre of the city, this museum was built by the EU....but I was the second visitor of the week!

    I've also had the chance to ride with Ricardo and William who I met in Bamako.

    I'm now just over the border in Burkina Faso and taking the opportunity to hippo spot. Unfortunately, all I spot are heads, still impressive though. However in standing down by the lake, I've been descended on by c.70 school children on their yearly school trip, though it makes for some good photos.    Les mer

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