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Right Around Africa
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Dear fellow riders, My name is Jolandie Rust. Most people know me as Jo. I'm from Johannesburg, South Africa and currently living my dream and halfway towards reaching my goal of becoming the first gal to circumnavigate Africa solo. The dream started out back in 2007 and I initially got around on a bicycle. I cycled through Israel, through and around South Africa in 2008 and became the first person to have cycled around South Africa in 2010, having covered 5951 kilometers in exactly 100 days! April 2011 I set out from Cape Town to start an epic journey of pedaling around the African continent, but four machete-wielding boys had other plans for me in Northern Angola. And as I stood there, next to the road, in the middle of nowhere, watching these guys take off with just about all my belongings, I just remember thinking to myself: "There has GOT to be a better way of doing this". Soon after (whilst walking back to the nearest town) I decided that I'd start over, buy this time on a motorbike. Best decision ever! :thumbup1: April 2012 I set out, again, from Cape Agulhas (southernmost point of Africa) on my BMW Dakar, and started making my way up the west coast of Africa, again. With a tad more speed this time round though. :mchappy: And that's where this ride report starts. I look forward to sharing my journey with you and hope to see some of you out there on the road. :scooter: Around Africa - woman alone. Jo Rust http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps2ecfbc1f.jpg |
It was a cold, wet and windy day on the 7th of April as I made my way to Cape Agulhas. I had a group of riders from the wilddog adventure forum (A (mainly) South African adventure riding forum) with me who'd come out to bid me farewell.
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On Tuesday, 10 April ’12, I crossed the border into Namibia. This is my fourth time in Namibia in the last year. I really do love this country. It feels like home. This is the one country in Africa where I feel completely and utterly safe! I remember last year, when I was cycling through here, I woke up one night around 11:00pm in my sleeping bag(I camped wild most of the time) and there was a man standing over me. Sure, I got a fright and immediately gripped my knife that was in my pocket, but all he wanted to do is check whether I was alive! (Not sure what he would’ve done if I wasn’t….)
Experiencing Namibia on a motorbike is a little different to the slow pace I’m used to on my bicycle. The upside to now being on a motorbike (Apart from faster progress), is that I now get to see different parts of the country. Like riding to Ai-Ais for instance. I’ve always wanted to visit the Fishriver Canyon. And now I got to do so! Really is a beautiful place. I took the C10 to Ai-Ais. Beautiful gravel road. Before I knew it I was blasting off at 100km p/h. (This might be no mean feat for most dual-purpose bikers, but I’ve never ridden so fast on a gravel road!!!). Also had my first decent fall on this road! (oops) I moved to the side of the road to make way for an oncoming vehicle, not seeing the sand lying right on the edge of the road. Snaked a bit at first…and next thing the front wheel just gave way and I hit the ground with a great cloud of dust erupting around me. Luckily the car stopped and a German guy jumped out to help me pick up the bike. I’m sure he must’ve found my laughing very strange. Well I thought it was very funny!!! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...erust/Nam4.jpg I camped out at Ai-Ais for a night. Checking myself in was a load of fun. I’m used to people always staring at me from my bicycle days (not everyday you see a white chick in Africa cycling with a heavily loaded bicycle…all on her own). On the bike, it’s so much more fun. People initially stare when they see the bike, with all her kit and stickers etc. Then, as soon as I take my helmet off you see jaws drop like a Mexican wave. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...erust/Nam6.jpg My evening at the camps was rather quiet. Spoilt myself to a nice and juicy fillet steak and a Savanna Dry to celebrate the occasion. Next morning the other campers started to approach me. I met two ladies (Jennifer and Belinda), accompanied by their Border Collie (Pegasus) riding up the West Coast of Africa in a Land Rover. Yay. More adventurous people!! We had coffee and swapped stories and notes before I left for my next destination (Mariental). Before long we had our maps out and compared routes to see where we could possibly meet up again. But it was obvious that I would be going at a much faster pace than them. So we opted for email updates. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...erust/Nam7.jpg I could feel that I’m coming down with a bit of a cold. This ALWAYS happens right after I launch for a big trip. I think it’s when I start relaxing, then my body just releases all the stress it built up over the preceding months of preparation etc. Initially I wanted to push for Windhoek, but because of the cold I decided to rather stop over in Mariental. The place where I wanted to camp for the night (River Lodge), was fully booked. As luck would have it I met a bunch of guys from Vredendal and Bellville, on their way to Henties to go fishing! They came to my rescue and said I could stay with them as their chalet had two open beds. Perfect! They had seen an article about my trip in a newspaper (not sure which one) and recognized me as soon as I pulled into the camp. Wonderful gentlemen, they took it upon themselves to look after me and gave me a place to sleep and food and drinks…and we even made a deal to meet up in Henties again. (Seeing as I’m also heading that way!). So on Sunday we have arranged when and where we’ll be meeting to continue our little “it’s a small world” party. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...erust/Nam8.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...erust/Nam9.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...st/Nam10-1.jpg Staying over with Ingo and Lisa Waldschmidt tonight. Ingo was the first Namibian to have competed in the Dakar Rally. Namibia will be my training grounds next year in preparation for Dakar 2014. So we've just been chatting Dakar all night! Gets me all excited!! |
Angola - Guns, Sweat, and Smiles
I left Windhoek to visit Swakopmund and Henties Bay for the first time. It was very different to what I expected. This is what makes it such an adventure! Seeing new places where you have never been before…it excites me. “Exploring my unknown”, I guess I would call it. I met up with the guys from Vredendal that I had met in Marienthal and stayed over with them in Henties Bay. Another night with good food and lots of chatting and joking and laughing. Had such an awesome time with these guys! I decided to push on from Henties Bay to Ondangwa so I could catch up on the day I had lost and take my next rest day staying at Ondangwa rest camp. I had underestimated just how far it is though! I spent 13 hours on the road that day!! One of those hours was spent negotiating my way out of a speeding ticket in Owamboland. (oops – it was getting dark…hence my being caught for speeding). I managed to get off with a stern warning! At Ondangwa Rest Camp I met two bikers who are on their way down to Cape Town. Chris and Andrei. Chris is from Switzerland and Andrei from Romania. They have ridden down the West Coast of Africa, via Mali. We spent the night having a few beers and telling stories of our experiences. They gave me a whole lot of information and contacts for the road ahead! Like motorcycle club in different countries. (Which is how I got to meet the MC’s in Angola) Next day I crossed the border into Angola. I had expected it to be a quick and easy task. Not a chance!!! My fixer wasn’t at the border anymore, so I called another fixer. Then the customs officials gave me hassles because I have an ordinary visa and not a tourist visa. So I show then my previous visa which was also an ordinary visa and I had no problems with that one. They still won’t accept it! So I give them the number for the Minister of Local Government in Luanda and my contact in Lobito and tell them to call these people. Which they do. 10 Minutes later they tell me to go through!! And welcome to Angola!!! I phoned my friends in Ondjiva to notify them that I had arrived and would be waiting for them at their house. (Afrikaans couple from Zimbabwe) They got home from work a little later on. After greeting one another with big hugs and loads of questions we had dinner and sat catching up on what’s been going on in our respective lives. And here is where the proverbial paw-paw strikes the fan. There we were, sitting, minding our own business when next thing I know four guys storm into the house armed with a pistol a crowbar and some kind of spray which I suspect was mace/ pepper spray. They find tape in one of the drawers and tape us to chairs. I’m first in line so they’re still very eager and almost use half the roll of tape on me. They tape my hands, my feet, my body to the chair and put tape all around my head to cover my mouth. They tell us to increase the volume of the television. (Guessing so no one can hear what’s going on). They keep demanding money. (Dineiro in Portuguese). Luckily…the police knew of my whereabouts and came checking in on me. Just as these guys were starting to really get agitated with us, the idiot with the gun took out a magazine to load the pistol, but then heard someone hooting at the gate. It was the Police! They took off into the night. We were able to break free and Hennie ran to open the gate. Within the next 10 minutes about 5 cars filled with Police officers arrived on the scene and it was all pretty chaotic. They only took my phone! I was so relieved, knowing that they could’ve taken the bike and all my gear if they wanted to. And most importantly, we were okay! (My phone was replaced the next day) http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...la1Ondjiva.jpg So from Ondjiva onwards I have had Police escort all the way, everyday. I am not allowed to move without informing the Police. From Onjiva I made my way to Lubango, knowing that a very bad stretch of road lay ahead between Xangongo and Cahama. It’s a 83km stretch, bad potholes, sand, you name it. The Police rode with me, all the way. In each town I am handed over to the next convoy who then escorts me to the next town, and so on and so on. The Chief of Police in every town has to literally sign me over to the next Chief of Police, and then I become his responsibility! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...2-Xangongo.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...4-Xangongo.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...la6-Cahama.jpg In Lubango a friend of a friend of mine in Luanda waited for me and booked me into his Lodge for the night. He took me to dinner and I was surprised by two of my friends from Luanda who also just happened to be in Lubango. Slept like the dead that night. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...a8-Lubango.jpg Next day I rode to Namibe, via Serra de Leba. It is a very beautiful area and going down Leba Pass is any biker’s dream!! The most beautiful mountain pass I have ever seen with awesome switchbacks. And it was designed by a woman! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ola10-Leba.jpg This was my first time visiting Namibe. I stayed with a family who are friends with a friend of mine in Luanda. (I have lots of friends in Luanda as you may have noticed by now). Lol I had such a great time with this family. Even though we had some difficulties understanding one another every now and then…we could communicate and chat and laugh. I felt right at home. Everybody here just wants to feed me all the time!! LoL. I don’t understand why! If you look at me you’ll notice it’s not like I’m starving! Food is great though! Love the Portuguese cooking. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...a12-Namibe.jpg In Namibe I had to meet the Governess who welcomed me to her Province and wished me a safe journey from Namibe onwards. I also met with the head of Sport and Chief of Police and members from the Tourism department, to discuss the road ahead etc. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...a14-Namibe.jpg From Namibe…I tackled the worst road I have ridden on to date. Namibe to Lobito via Lucira. I had always wanted to see this area as so many people have told me how beautiful it is. The first 100 kilometers is easy, tar road. From hereon out all the way to Dombe Grande the road condition is either that of a rocky road with sand….or a sand road with big rocks. I fell twice, I think. I am starting to lose count! The Police officers had to help me pick the bike back up everytime I had an off. It helps a lot having them around! Dented my panniers and have a few new scratches…but nothing too serious. I thought my rear shock would give in at any second though. This stretch of road is less than 400 kilometers and it took me 13 hours to complete. I only arrived in Lobito at midnight on Friday evening!!! And then….the Police vehicle’s lights didn’t work!!!! So I had to ride next to them to light the way. At night, on a sandy road, having been on the road for like 11 hours!!! Urrrggghhh. I was so tired I couldn’t care less if I fell over or not. I just wanted to get to Lobito!!! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...a15-Lucira.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...a16-Lucira.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...a17-Lucira.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...a18-Lucira.jpg Like I said, I eventually arrived in Lobito at midnight. I was booked into the Hotel Terminus in Lobito. It’s a four star hotel right on the beach! BEAUTIFUL!!!! It’s like a little piece of heaven! My friend Pedro Bandeira from HoteisAngola arranged for my stay at the Hotel and the owner, Mr Fernando agreed. I spent two days in Lobito, resting…sorting things out. Like the bike! There is a Motorcycle Club in Lobito called “Moto Clube 90”. They met up with me and took care of me whilst in Lobito. Cleaned my bike for me, checked that everything is okay. Replaced some light bulbs that needed replacing. Checked the fluids etc etc. They took me on a few outrides around town and to Benguela. I had such a good time with these guys! They treat you like royalty and really look after you here! And I really love Lobito. I can’t explain it. There’s just something here that attracts me. Maybe I am losing it because I am starting to think that I can picture myself living here!!!! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...a20-Lobito.jpg The Moto Clube 90 guys rode with me from Lobito to Barra do Kwanza, on route to Luanda. From Barra do Kwanza, the biggest Motorcycle Club in Luanda – Amigos di Picada (Meaning: Friends of the off-road), together with my good friend Candido Carneiro from Trevogel would meet us and escort me the rest of the way into the city. My Police escorts are pretty insane! They quite literally chase everyone off the road, so I can pass by. They will ride into oncoming traffic to stop them and push them off the road….until I have passed. It’s crazy!!!! They make very sure that nobody comes near me and that I am safe. Meeting up with the guys at Barra do Kwanza was really special! I had expected maybe a couple of bikes to turn up and ride with me. As we crossed the river, you go through two control points. (Oh, this is the other cool thing! I never have to stop at ANY control points!!! I can just ride through, following my escort! Saves on time!) As we passed through the control points, I just saw this LOOOONG line of bikes and a bunch of people in yellow t-shirts, shouting and waving their hands and making a huge noise. About 30 bikes had come to meet me and would ride with me into Luanda!!!! As I got off my bike champagne got poured all over me and I was greeted by the President of the club, Mr Lillio Almeida. And then I got to say hello to my friend Candido Carneiro. I couldn’t believe that so many guys had come out to meet me! I had a radio interview and we had loads of photos taken, of course. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps1664a288.jpg And then we rolled out for the ride to Luanda. Two police bikes in front, then a police care, then Candido in his 4x4 with the South African and Angolan flags handing off the back, then the Leader, then yours truly…and then the rest of the pack behind me. Getting into Luanda was absolute CHAOS!!!!!! Sirens and hooting with the Police, once again, bringing the traffic to a halt so that I could pass with my very long convoy. If you know what the traffic is like in Luanda, then you will understand that it took some doing to get us all through!! I have never experienced anything like this in my life! We rode into the city and to “Miami Beach”. A restaurant and club right on the beach. The owner of the establishment welcomed me and they had prepared a whole spread for all of us. Loads of food and beer!!! We spent most of the afternoon at Miami Beach. I met a fellow South African reporter for SuperSport. They did an interview with me. SuperSport Massimo in Angola will have regular updates on my trip. I had to take so many photos with so many people. One thing I can say is: The Angolans know how to party!! I only got to bed around half past four this morning!!! And now, whilst in Luanda, DAX is being serviced. I am trying to catch up updates and washing etc etc. I am waiting to meet with the Minister of Local Government in Luanda. Still have a few more media appointments to attend to. And then from here I head to Soyo to cross into Cabinda and then to Congo. (Yes, my route changed). But….now we wait for a boat!!! |
Angola - I love you! Farewell for now.
Tomorrow morning at 05:00am, I will leave Luanda for Soyo. From Soyo, DAX and I will embark on a boat to cross the great Congo River to Cabinda. My initial route would have taken me through the DRC (Democratic Republic of Congo), but I think that entering Congo (Brazaville) via Cabinda is the best option for me at this stage. This weekend past, I joined two motorcycle clubs here in Angola on a road trip to Huambo, which is about 300 kilometers East of Benguela. I had not been to this part of Angola and really looked forward to the trip. We left Luanda Saturday morning just after 05:00am. About 8 of us rode out of Luanda and met up with the rest of the group just outside of town. Another 10 riders or so. From here we hit the road to Huambo. The road between Luanda and Huambo is a fairly decent tar road. Average speed around 110 km p/h. Within the group a “Lider” (Leader) is elected for the day and then the rest of the pack falls in behind the Leader. My spot is always second to the Leader. The first time I got to ride with a group was back in South Africa, on the day of my launch. Then there was the ride from Lobito to Barra do Kwanza with three members from the Motorcycle Club in Lobito (Moto Clube 90). And then from Barra do Kwanza to Luanda with a convoy consisting of about 20 – 30 odd bikes, 2 Police vehicles, 1 Nissan Patrol and 2 Police motorcycles. But this was my first “Road trip”. Informal, just for fun. And I really had a great deal of fun! The members from the Motorcycle Clubs really went out of their way to make me feel at home and to look after me. I never had to pay for anything! Not once! They would refuse to accept my money and tell me that they consider it an honor to look after me. Isn’t it amazing? I’m the luckiest girl on earth! ☺ About 70 kilometers from Huambo we met up with the guys from Moto Clube 90 (Lobito). Here we had lunch in Alto Hama and then carried on to Huambo. In Huambo we attracted a great deal of attention. I think such a big group of bikes usually does attract a lot of attention. But here even more so. People are not used to this ‘lifestyle’ as such. But it is rapidly growing here in Angola. Saturday evening we all went out to a Club. Having a lot of fun, dancing and singing. I even learned to Samba. LoL. The next day we were all looking a little weary, but still managed to keep to the program and visit the town of Kuito. This town is one of the towns that were most affected by the war. You can still see the scars that the town carries to this day. From Huambo we made our way to Lobito on Sunday. This was my fourth time in Lobito. It is my favorite town in Angola. I love the people and the lifestyle. If I had to compare it to a town in South Africa, I’d say it’s a little bit like Cape Town. Luanda is more like Johannesburg. Busy, big city…always on the go. Lobito is more relaxed and the people are extremely friendly! Then from Lobito we headed back to Luanda. Coming into Luanda was insane!! As it was a long weekend, a lot of people left Luanda to visit friends and family in other parts of the country. So yesterday everybody started heading back to the big city. I have NEVER seen such a long stand-still-bumper-to-bumper line of cars!! I am convinced it must have carried on for at least 20 kilometers. Well that’s what it felt like. NO space to move whatsoever. Seeing as we’re on dual-purpose bikes, we made a plan. Bikes on this road trip included: Honda Varadero (x5), KTM 990 Adventure (x1), Harley Davidson (x2), Yamaha Super Tenere 1200 (x 5), BMW R1200GS (x1), KTM Duke (x1), Morini Scrambler (x1), BMW Dakar (x1), Maneuvering the bikes through a ditch next to the side of the road and onto the embankment next to the ditch. Then back through the ditch and in between the cars and trucks. Everybody hooting and revving engines all around you. Seeing as my bike’s the loudest, there’s never any doubt as to my whereabouts. LoL. AND, it helps creating a path down the middle of the road. Once we made it through the traffic from hell, the President of the Motorcycle Club in Luanda said to me: “You have become a true Angolan”. Hehe. Today is spent catching up on admin and going over the bike and packing for the road ahead. Tomorrow morning we will leave Luanda. A few members of Amigos da Picada will accompany me to Soyo. I will certainly miss Angola a great deal!!! Especially all the friends I leave behind. So to the greater Angolan Public: Thank you so much for receiving me as one of your own. For accepting me in your country and for showing me Angola’s beauty. To Minister B. de Sousa, Governor Pedro Sebastiao, and the Angolan Government: Thank you for helping make it possible for me to continue with my journey! Thank you for believing in me enough and for investing in me. To my hosts: Mr Pedro Bandeira in Lobito of Hoteis em Angola - Reserve online e sem custos. – thank you for all you have done. For arranging my accommodation and for always being there for me. Always ready to help! Thank you so much for all your help in the past and this time round. To Mr. Cândido Carneiro of Trevogel in Luanda – thank you for being in touch with me from the minute I stepped back onto Angolan soil. For everything that you have organized for me. For your updates and for making sure I am safe at all times! To you and Linda, you are my family in Luanda. Thank you! To Moto Clube 90 in Lobito: Ahhhhh…you guys are like family to me. I love you all so much and really appreciate all you have done for me. I will be back again soon! I promise. And last but not least, to the Amigos da Picada (www.amigosdapicada.com) – You too have accepted me as one of your own. You guys are just amazing. Thank you for making me feel at home and for allowing me to go to Huambo with you guys. Thank you so much for all you have done for me. For helping me and for assisting me, for riding with me. I love all of you guys as well! I will miss all of you. But now…the show must go on! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN0893.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN0908.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN0922.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN0923.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN0925.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN0960.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN0970.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z.../DSCN10382.jpg |
Congo ~ Further than ever before!!!
Total distance to date: ± 7300 km Total falls: 5 (Last fall was in Angola - Lucira) Total borders crossed: 3 Current Location: Pointe Noire (Congo) Leaving Luanda was a very sad occasion. It also meant I would once again reach that fateful point that led to my previous expedition being cut short. Reaching N’zeto once again felt to me like I had finally completed a chapter in the book of my life and could now move on to go further than I have ever gone before. I had four riders from the Motorcycle Club – “Amigos da Picada” from Luanda with me. They accompanied me all the way to Soyo where Dax and I boarded a boat to cross the great Congo River to Cabinda. I got up at 4:30am to have a shower and pack my gear. The guys arrived at Jorge Almeida’s house (where I was staying for the last couple of days in Luanda) around 5:00am. The previous evening I had unpacked my bags and tried to take out anything I thought I might not need…to try and lighten my load. I did leave behind a bunch of stuff. It will stay with Jorge in Luanda until I return. When we left Luanda it was still dark outside, but even this early in the morning the traffic had already started piling up and took some negotiating on dusty roads with trucks and cars swerving left and right to dodge deadly potholes. We stopped just outside of Luanda to fill up with fuel for the bikes and ourselves. Some coffee and snacks for the road ahead and then we headed for N’zeto. Now for those of you who might not be aware: last year August my bicycle and gear was stolen just a few kilometers outside of N’zeto. The Governor of the Zaire Province; General Pedro Sebastião had come to my rescue, picked me up in a plane, sent two helicopters from Luanda to comb the area for the perpetrators and had the whole country up in arms. I spent two days staying with the Governor in M’banza Congo and then I was flown to Lobito, from where I made my way back to Johannesburg again. The Governor also made a generous donation towards helping me get back on the road again! I had phoned the Governor before we left Luanda to notify him that I would be making my way to Soyo the next day, accompanied by four riders. He said he would phone me back within an hour. When he phoned back he told me that he would meet us in N’zeto! Now I know what the road to N’zeto looks like, having cycled on this road. Just North of Luanda there is a quaint fishing village named Barra do Dande. Here I had stayed at a friend’s Lodge last time round right next to the Rio (River) Dande where it runs into the ocean. From Barra do Dande onwards you have a tarmac road for about 30 kilometers or so, until you reach a Police control point. Just beyond the control point you cross a little bridge and this is where the tarmac ends. The first thing I notice is the military presence next to the road. Military officers and men walking around with mine detecting units. They’re busy combing the area for landmines. And then a thought flashes through my mind: “I had camped wild here in the bush for two nights…possibly amongst some mines”. Yikes!!! I just smile, shake my head and thank my lucky stars. I had been a bit nervous about the road ahead, particularly because I had the guys with me. I was worried that my riding skills might not be as advanced as theirs and I might hold them back. Especially when we started hitting thick sand! But within the first 10 kilometers I realized just how much my riding skills have improved!! The road up to N’zeto consists mainly of a combination of bad gravel tracks, some sandy patches and then corrugated gravel with loads of rocks. I had found my rhythm on the bike and easily handled the bike through the more technical sections. It was hard work though and extremely tiring. After a couple of kilometers Rui’s bike (Morini Scrambler) had a radiator leak so we had to stop to fix it. I think we all welcomed the break. (No pun intended) I had the weirdest feeling standing in the middle of the road, looking ahead at the wild landscape of Northern Angola with it’s huge trees…it’s not bushveld and it’s not quite jungle either…something in between…and thinking to myself: “I have CYCLED through this area on this road and I had slept WILD in the bush, possibly amongst some landmines”. Awesome! Hahaha. Just before N’zeto we reached yet another Police control point. Here we had to stop to wait for our Police Escort that would ride with us to N’zeto. We sat under a tree and had an ice-cold beer and grilled bananas. It was HOT and humid and we were absolutely covered in dust from head to toe! Carlos gave me a wet-wipe to wipe my face. It wasn’t recognizable as a wet-wipe when I had finished with it! LoL. We waited for about half an hour and started to get a little impatient. We still had a long road ahead of us and couldn’t afford to lose so much time. So we told the Police officers that we would carry on and meet up with our escort on route. They were coming from N’zeto so we would definitely bump into them. And we did meet up with them about 10 kilometers ahead. From here we hit a stretch of road that allowed us to speed up a bit as there’s road construction taking place and parts of the road have been scraped and evened out. It felt good to be able to go a little faster than 40 km p/h for a change. When we arrived in N’zeto, we were led to the Provincial office in town. I had only expected to see the Governor and his ever-present members of staff. Instead we were received by a television crew, Chief of police, a whole group of police officers and a big group of local people wearing T-shirts with the Zaire Province emblem on them. And the Governor…with his ever-present members of staff. Governor Pedro Sebastião: retired General of the Angolan Army, Governor of the Zaire province in Angola residing in the city that used to be the capital of the Congo Kingdom (M’banza Congo) and a personal friend of mine! I have a great deal of respect for this man. Not because of the titles he carries, but because of who he is. A gentle giant with a very big heart…just don’t mess with him! LoL. The Governor welcomed me back to his province with a big hug and handed me an Angolan flag with a message from him written on it. We posed for the media for some photos and then went inside to his office where he handed me some flowers and an envelope. We then conducted interviews with different television channels present before leaving to go to lunch. Lunch consisted of a spread of Langoustines, salad, fried bananas, chips, bread, rice and more. We sat chatting about my trip and the road ahead, about things past and all that had happened. The Governor asked me whether I had already organized for a boat to take me from Soyo to Cabinda? “No”, I replied. He picked up his phone and made a phone call, after which he told me: “It’s been organized”. When we got back to our bikes there were five yellow plastic bottles standing next to the bikes, filled with 20 liters of fuel each. They filled our bikes for us and then it was time for us to carry on. I greeted the Governor with another hug, and before leaving his embrace he said: “I will fly up to Soyo tomorrow to meet you there as well”. Wow. Time had run out and we would not reach Soyo the same day. Lilio looked over to me and said: “You’re the boss, you decide”. So we opted to stay at Mukula, a little village next to the ocean on route. Just about 60 kilometers from N’zeto. The first 30 kilometers was on tarmac, until we turned off towards Soyo. The road just deteriorated from here on out. I was convinced that at some point my rear shock would give in. But it didn’t. Which is why I love my bike. She serves me so well!! But…Lilio’s bike’s rear shock gave in instead. (Honda Varadero) We opted to sleep on the beach and had to make our way through some very thick beach sand to get there. It was a real struggle. The KTM 990 Adventure (Carlos’ bike) and the Morini Scrambler (Rui’s bike), had no problems. The heavier bikes like mine, Lilio and Lito’s (Honda Varadero) struggled a bit. My bike would just sink right into the sand. But it’s a powerful bike, even if she is just a 650. We managed to all pull our way through and finally stop for the night right on the beach just a few meters from the ocean. Filthy and exhausted we started pitching our tents. Only three of us had tents so I gave my tent to two of the guys and took one of the one-man tents. The police prepared us some dinner (Pasta) and we washed ourselves out of two buckets. We then made ourselves comfortable on a bunch of mattresses that the beach patrol police had provided us with. Lying under the stars, looking up at the full moon. We had a bottle of Amarula…and I had something to celebrate!!! I had officially made it further than ever before!!! Woooohhooo. The mosquitoes were absolutely killing us, despite spraying and rubbing ourselves with anti-mosquito products. But we didn’t care much. We had food in our tummies and a safe place to sleep right under the open sky. Life’s good! Next morning we were up at 06:00 am to make our way to Soyo. We stopped off at Mangue Grande for lunch. We had initially aimed to reach this town the previous day but the night had caught up with us, which is why we stopped in Mosaka. We still had police escort all the way from N’zeto and would have until Soyo. The Chief of police and local administrator welcomed us to the town. They took us to a place where we could have lunch, next to the beach. Rows and rows of fish lay on the tables at this mini food market. Cold drinks and beers, water…whatever you need, they have. I ate some fish with Cassava (Local food, I don’t quite know how to describe it. I think it is the root of a plant. When cooked it has this very dense consistency and it’s chewy. Doesn’t really taste like anything). One can find Cassava from Northern Angola all the way up the West African Coast. We were all still pretty exhausted and spent about an hour and a half having lunch, relaxing a bit and having a few beers of course. Sitting amongst the guys, listening to them chatting away in their flamboyant way in Portuguese I realized something! I was starting to understand most of what they were saying! When my phone rang I even only spoke in Portuguese! The guys looked at me when I put the phone down and said: “Jo! You’re speaking Portuguese!!!”. Wahahahaha! Then they switched to slang! Hahaha. The last 30 odd kilometers to Soyo consisted of a very sandy road. Thick sand and no avoiding it. Though I figured that I made my way through hectic beach sand the night before and just this morning so this should be a piece of cake. And indeed, although it was pretty hard work with the load I’m carrying, I didn’t have any problems! Up until then the road had been pretty flat, no huge ups or downs. Now it changed with lots of bends and ups and downs. As we arrived in Soyo our Police escort that had been hanging around in the back (as to avoid them kicking up dust in our faces), moved to the front. For the last time in Angola the Police switched on their sirens and took in their place in front of me, chasing the cars off the road and bringing the entire town’s traffic to a stand still. They took us to the Kwanda Base which is based at the commercial port. Here they stopped in front of a pretty grand looking hotel. The Governor had arranged for us to stay here. As we stopped a car with the Governor’s member of staff pulled up and informed us that we had half and hour to unpack and have a shower before meeting the Governor for lunch. The boys were taken to their rooms on the one side of the hotel and I was directed to the other side of the hotel. I had my own suite for the night!!! Another friend surprised me and stopped next to us. A friend from South Africa – Paul Buys who works in Soyo. He had brought us some energy drinks (much needed) and a chocolate from home for me! Sweet! We met the Governor for lunch yet again, together with the administrator of Soyo. The Governor informed me that he had also spoken to the Governor of Cabinda to inform him of my arrival and I would be received by his people there. Two members of staff would accompany me on my boat ride to Cabinda and a Police boat would follow us all the way! They really did go all out this time to make sure nothing happened to me! After lunch we greeted the Governor for the last time and he told me that: “If you have any problems, anywhere…you just phone me”. And I’m sure that if push comes to shove and I think the situations calls for it, I will. After lunch we took a ride on our bikes and met up with Basilio, a friend of the guys and also a club member. We then went to his house where we just relaxed for the rest of the day and drank some more beers and Amarula before heading back to the hotel. Paul met up with us at the hotel and we had all had a nightcap before turning in for the night. Next morning I had to face the very sad reality of having to say goodbye to my friends. When I got to my bike Paul had left me a card with a beautiful message in it and another energy drink. This was it…I would now leave my Angola behind for new countries to be explored. The Master of the Port met me at the hotel and said he’d accompany me and see to it that the bike makes it onto the boat safe and sound. It took some doing to put Dax on the boat. But there were loads of strong and fit men to handle this task for me. I just looked on, nervously and took photos. We then boarded the boat and were on our way to Cabinda!! A 4 hour ride by boat. (They said it would be a 3 hour ride but it was more like 4 hours). Once we were out at sea and I couldn’t see land anymore, I made myself comfortable (or as comfortable as I possibly could) on a couch and slept for most of the journey. |
I woke up just before we reached Cabinda. Only then was I informed that we would not be docking but would be transferred to smaller boats to be taken to land. “And my bike”? , I asked a little panic stricken. The guys will transfer the bike to the smaller boat as well, I was told. Mid sea…..Eeeeekkkkkk!!!
Two customs officers boarded the boat and wanted my passport. They then took my passport back with them to do all the necessary paperwork whilst we wait to be taken to land. We waited as they loaded all the people and their belongings into the smaller boats. We would be last in line. Then came the moment when they had to transfer Dax into the smaller boat bobbing around in the water next to our boat. I was pretty calm and composed until the bike went over the brim to the lower, smaller boat. I panicked for a few seconds until I could see that Dax had made it safe and sound to the other side. Thank the biker gods!!! The rest of us then boarded and were taken to shore. I was taken directly to the Police station to check in with the local authorities. Here a friend of a friend of mine from Angola, Julio, met up with me and took me to lunch. After I lunch I was taken to my hotel – Hotel Por do Sol. I unpacked my gear, had a shower and collapsed on the bed for a nap. It was already 18:00! The day had flown past. I woke up when my room telephone rang. “Good evening sir. There are some people waiting for you in reception. Can you please come down”. Sir…hehehe. I reported to reception to meet the Vice Governor, Head of sport and other members of the sport ministry together with a translator. They welcomed me and informed me that I was now in the care of the Government of Cabinda. I thanked them for their hospitality and we planned the next day’s events. I would take a ride around town with a group of local riders and a television crew. Then I would be taken to the supermarket to do whatever shopping I need to do. I also told them that I needed to clean the bike and take care of some basic maintenance such as cleaning and lubing the chain and cleaning the air filter. Congo lay ahead and I had NO idea what to expect! Julio would ride with me to Pointe Noire where I would be staying before heading to Gabon. The Police would also, once again (okay and really for the last time now), accompany me to the border. The road to the border is a very good tarmac road. We made it to the border in no time and I have to admit I had butterflies in my stomach knowing that I’m about to cross into the Republic of Congo! One always has these scary stories you’ve heard in the back of your head of an ‘uncivilized’ country. The roads are impassible and the people don’t like foreigners. I stood at the border, with a growing crowd gathering around me to look at the bike and shooting off comments in French. Getting through the border was easier than I had anticipated. I was on the other side in no time. This border crossing was also less chaotic than the Namibia/Angola border. The surroundings are very tropical. Dense jungle-like vegetation line either side of the road to Pointe Noire. Tarmac all the way. There are houses and huts next to the road all the way with people everywhere. People display their products for sale in front of their huts. Fruit, local drinks, bread etc. I had initially planned on getting through Congo as quickly as possible. Well I have now been here for nine days and it’s anything but uncivilized. A man named Patrick Lobo, based here in Pointe Noire contacted me via Facebook whilst I was in Cabinda asking me when I would arrive in Pointe Noire? He also gave me his contact details. When Julio and I arrived in town we stopped for lunch and I phoned Patrick to notify him that I had arrived. Turns out Patrick and Julio are very good friends and didn’t even know that I had contact with both of them! LoL. A local family has taken me into their home. Fernando and Stephanie Lobo together with their children Jonathan, Jessica and Eluna. They will forever remain my family in Pointe Noire. They have been looking after me like I’m a piece of gold and they tend to my every need. I started to fall ill last week Wednesday and came down with the flu. I spent about three days in bed. Just as I started getting better I realized that I now have a urinary tract infection. Stephanie took me to the hospital yesterday to see a doctor. They did some tests and the doctor told me to come back in two days time. He prescribed me some antibiotics. They will conduct more tests for the next three days seeing as the infection is rather severe and once we have the results I will know whether I need to change antibiotics or not. I will probably spend another week here in Pointe Noire. I am now officially without a visa here in Congo as mine has expired. OOOPS. But…it’s not a problem. ☺ The officials know I am here and have said it’s not a problem, when I leave they will supply me with a stamp in my passport. Fabulous. I will also be able to get my visa for Nigeria here tomorrow! Wooohooo! So in the meantime I rest as much as I can as I suspect I might need it for the road ahead. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...st/ToSoyo2.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...st/ToSoyo3.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...st/ToSoyo5.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z.../Soyo-Sand.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...st/ToSoyo7.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...st/ToSoyo8.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...rust/Soyo1.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...rust/Soyo2.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...rust/Soyo4.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/Cabinda3.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/Cabinda9.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z.../Cabinda11.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...rust/Congo.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ngoBorder2.jpg |
A video clip of the guys in Angola welcoming me to Luanda.:
Recepção Jolandie.MP4 - YouTube |
Hi Jo all the best with your solo adventure .
|
Congo to Gabon
Current Location: Libreville Have crossed the Equator into the Northern Hemisphere! Woohoo! I got up at 05:00am to have a shower and load the bike to leave Pointe Noire for Gabon. It’s a bit of a push to reach Gabon in one day, but we would try. I would not be riding alone though. I met up with Allan from the Czech Republic. He left Johannesburg to ride up the West African coast to Prague. Friends in Angola had been updating me on his progress and I received him in Pointe Noire when he arrived. We agreed to ride together for a bit. At first the idea was to ride together up until Ghana. From there I would carry on to Cote D’Ivoire and he would go to Burkina Faso as his route takes him through Mali. I am used to doing my own thing…but thought I’d give it a try. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ust/Congo1.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ust/Congo2.jpg By 06:00am the entire household was up to wish Allan and I a safe journey. We had a quick coffee and filled up with water for the road. Gave the bikes a last check and then we said our goodbyes. I had come to love my family in Pointe Noire. Fernando and his wife Stephanie and their children. They took me in as one of their own and looked after me when I was sick. Just before we left Fernando looked at Allan and said: “You look after my sister! Otherwise I will come and visit you in Prague!”. Little did I know it would be me who would have to do the ‘looking after’. We pushed the bikes out of the driveway and slowly rolled out of Pointe Noire. We had been told that the road between Pointe Noire and Dolisie is a great tar road. So we could look forward to some speedy progress. From Dolisie we did not really know what to expect. Nobody was really sure what the road looked like apart from the fact that it is not a tar road. The tar road to Dolisie is absolutely beautiful. Both the actual road and the surroundings. For about 160 kilometers you have this winding tar road and you are surrounded by sub-tropical jungle all the way. It is one of the most beautiful riding experiences I’ve had to date. The first couple of kilometers out of town went a bit slower because of the traffic. Loads of taxi’s loading up to take people into town for their day’s work. Early morning hustle and bustle in the city. Thereafter we hit some thick mist, which provided me with a feeling of really being in the wilderness. With the smells and sounds of the jungle and the giant trees surrounding me. Beautiful! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ust/Congo4.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ust/Congo6.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ust/Congo7.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ust/Congo8.jpg We made it to Dolisie by 09:00am. We would just ride into town to fill up with fuel and then head out toward the Gabon border via Fugamou and Mila-Mila. After filling up with fuel we stopped at a little market to have something to eat and drink. We bought 3 bananas and a liter of Coca-Cola, which we shared. We sat chatting with some locals who were very eager to practice the little English they know. They informed us that the road up to the border is excellent and we have nothing to worry about. It’s the national road! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...st/Congo10.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...st/Congo11.jpg With this new information we were eager to hit the road to try and reach the town of Ndende just after the border before dark. We also did not know what time the border would close. I suspected it would be around 17:00. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...st/Congo12.jpg The fabulous national road turned out to be a sandy and very dusty track. Not too bad though, just incredibly dusty. Especially with big trucks making their way up and down between Congo and Gabon. Every time a truck passes you by, you have to stop because you are thrown into a dust cloud so intense you cannot see anything. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...st/Congo14.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...st/Congo15.jpg Allan did not do a lot of ‘communicating’ with me. It was obvious that he had decided to take the lead and shot on ahead. So I thought to myself, okay that’s fine. We’ll ride together but still each just do our own thing. I hung back as to not have to ride in his dust trail the whole time. Every 100 kilometers or so we would meet up again where he has stopped to take a break. We made pretty good progress and could manage speeds ranging between 40 km p/h and 70 km p/h. The first 50 kilometers or so was quite sandy. Thereafter just a lot of holes to negotiate through and around. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...st/Congo16.jpg There are MANY small villages all along the road up to the Gabon border. So one has to be very careful when you enter these villages as there are loads of animals and people crossing the road. We stopped at a few of these villages to take a break every now and then and would chat to the locals. Well…more sign language than actual chat. Not everybody can speak French in these small villages up North, so they speak local languages like Lingala and Kikongo. But one can always communicate, even if you cannot speak the language. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...st/Congo23.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...st/Congo27.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...st/Congo26.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...st/Congo29.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...st/Congo28.jpg The road started to get wetter the further North we progressed. We were lucky we didn’t have rain on the road, because that would’ve made it impossible to reach the border in one day. We were afraid we might not reach the border in time and pushed hard to make good time. I still hung back because I felt it too dangerous to fly through the villages, with so many people and animals on the road. I found Allan where he had fallen in the much just outside one of the villages. By the time I got to him there were many villagers surrounding him, checking to see whether he is okay and to help him get going again. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...st/Congo30.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...st/Congo20.jpg My GPS was not giving me the correct info. This started on our way to Dolisie. The new road between Pointe Noire and Dolisie does not show on my GPS. I have Tracks for Africa loaded but it would seem this part of Africa is not mapped out well on the new software. I guess I would have to load individual maps. Even the coordinates to the Gabon border are not showing correctly on my GPS. According to my GPS I had crossed into Gabon a long time before I actually reached the actual border. This is not really an issue for me. It’s just when I enter a town and have to navigate my way around that the GPS comes in really handy. But even this is not REALLY a problem as one can always ask around. Anyway, so I had no idea where the actual border would be and was still hoping we would reach it in time to cross over into Gabon. The plan was to spend the night in Ndende which is about 45 kilometers from the border. 500 meters from the actual border I found Allan again. He had fallen stuck in mud. Again. This time he was REALLY stuck. I left my bike to help him. When I got to him I could see that he is really agitated and he was shouting and cursing in Czech. It was 16:30 now and we are right in front of the border, but cannot reach it. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...st/Congo31.jpg I went in search of some wood and rocks to wedge under his rear wheel as it had no traction and would be impossible to get out any other way. I tried to push him out but there was just no way the bike would budge. I was covered in mud from head to toe. Standing in the mud it would come up almost halfway to my knees and trying to move around is a mission as the mud just sucks you in. We tried to drag the bike out and actually managed to pull out the rear of the bike. Allan then tried to maneuver the bike out but just rode it back into the same spot. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...st/Congo32.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...st/Congo34.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...st/Congo35.jpg Two men came past and we asked them for help. They were very kind and did indeed pitch in to help. At this point I was so tired, covered in mud and sweat dripping off my face. The two guys had the same idea I had and started piling rocks and pieces of wood under the rear wheel. With three of us pushing now we were able to make more progress. It took us about an hour in total to get the bike out. Allan was in a bad way. Dehydrated and still cursing and shouting. Even at the local guys. He said: “I have just ridden from Pointe Noire to here in one day. It’s not easy you know”!! And I looked at him and thought to myself: what a wimp! I had done exactly the same and you don’t hear me complaining do you? This is a journey. You have to take the good and the bad, the easy and the difficult. The two local guys asked Allan for remuneration for their help which he refused. So I gave them CFA5000 each. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...st/Congo32.jpg Nevertheless, we reached the border around 17:30. The border is like a tiny village in the jungle with a small road running through it. Not many people. A few houses and the customs offices (read huts). The people were very friendly and helpful and we had out passports and Carnets stamped in no time. We sat down to have a beer to celebrate having reached the border in time. Allan now smiled for the first time. We sat chatting to the people around us and maybe got a bit too relaxed. As it started to get dark the Chief came to tell us that the Gabon side had closed and we would have to spend the night. We begged him to please let us through and said we would leave immediately. He eventually gave in and gave us permission to go. When we reached the Gabon side though they told us we could not proceed as the border had already closed. Allan cannot speak or understand any French so the Chief on the Gabon side spoke to me and explained that we need written consent from the Chief that had said we could proceed. So I told Allan to wait there and I would go back to ask for the written consent. I duly went back to the Congo side to where the Chief was sitting enjoying his beer and explained the situation to him. He said he would finish his beer and then accompany me to the other side. So I sat back down waiting for him to finish. I guess he did not really feel like going anywhere because after about 10 minutes he gave me the written consent and I was on my way again. Back on the Gabon side I showed them the piece of paper they had given me and they let us through. 10 Kilometers further ahead you find the Gabon customs offices where they would have to stamp our passports and Carnets. On our way to this control point Allan lost his sleeping back, which I picked up. When we reached the control boom I gave him the sleeping back and we realized that his sleeping mattress had also fallen off somewhere along the way. I didn’t see it. So I took Allan’s passport and Carnet to have it stamped as he went back to look for his mattress. With the letter the Chief gave me everything went smoothly. No hassles. Quick and easy. I waited for Allan to return and gave him his documents, stamped and ready to go. It was pitch black dark by now and I was getting a little nervous. Never a good idea to be out riding at night. About 500 meters on the other side into Gabon…he fell stuck in mud….again!! Same story…all over again. Only difference being now it’s dark and we are both extremely tired. We’ve been on the road for about 11 hours now. We unloaded his bike and tried to drag it out at first. It would not budge of course. Way too heavy!! And with this fall his gear lever had bent back completely. Another issue. So we decided that I would try to tow him out with my bike. I positioned my bike in front of his, where I had traction and I tied a towing rope between his bike and mine. This worked like a charm and my super bike was able to pull his out. Woohooo. Okay…then we reload his bike and head off once again to try and reach Ndende. It’s so dark I cannot see anything except for the dirt track in front of me and the dust trail of Allan in front of me. The dust hurts my eyes but I cannot ride with my visor closed because it’s too dark. I know Ndende is about 45 Kilometers away but I have no idea what lies in between and or what the road looks like. *** To be continued*** |
Gabon - Continued.....
We finally reached Ndende around 21:00. The road leading up to the town is still off road, but well compacted and easier to negotiate. No more mud holes, thank goodness! At the border we sat chatting to a Pastor who told me that once we get into town, we’ll reach a roundabout and that we should turn left here to find a hotel in town where we could stay. As we got into town I stopped to ask around for a hotel. We had to ride around quite a bit as it seemed that no rooms were available anywhere. Allan stopped and told me that he had only 800 meters of fuel left. So I told him to stay put and I’d go ask around. We finally found a hotel that seemed promising. Though as soon as I stepped inside they told me that they had no rooms available. Here I met a very friendly and helpful young man who offered to help me find a place for us to stay. I told Allan to stay at the Hotel and I would go with this man. We walked all over town to find a place. There was nothing available! Unbelievable!! We walked around, from hotel to hotel, chatting away. Then I remembered that Patrick and Albert Lobo back in Pointe Noire had given me a name of a contact of theirs in Ndende. Pinheiro…that was the name. So I asked the young man whether he knew a Pinheiro? Sure enough, he took me to the house. It was already so late and I felt bad having to disturb people. But I had no choice. We needed to find a place to sleep. We knocked on the door of the “House of Pinheiro”. The guard met us and we explained my predicament. He then let us in and took us to see the owner of the house. Pinheiro. Understandably he was a bit confused at first as to the reason for my visit. But between my bit of French and Portuguese I was able to explain to him who I am and why I am there. He had no room available in his house but said he could make us a bed in the living room. Perfect! We then walked back to the hotel to fetch Allan. I thanked the kind young man and we made our way back to Pinheiro’s house. Allan went to clean up and I started unpacking what I needed for the night. Then I had the opportunity to clean up. I was absolutely covered in mud and dirt from head to toe. It felt so good to be able to have a hot shower! By the time I had finished Allan was already asleep. We had to share a bed. At this point I didn’t care anymore, I was too tired. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. Next morning we were up at 6:00 again. Pinheiro prepared us some breakfast consisting of fresh baguettes, cheese, cold meats and yoghurt. I certainly welcomed the food! We thanked him for taking us in for the night and then set off to fill up for fuel before making our way to Libreville. We stopped at the Total garage just before you get out of town, where I was told: “Desoleil, pas essence”. Urrrggghhh. No petrol! I asked whether any of the other fuel stations might have? No petrol available in Ndende or any of the neighboring towns!! Now what? We made our way back to Pinheiro’s place and explained our problem to him. He filled our tanks out of his own fuel supply!! When we wanted to pay him for the fuel, he refused! Sometimes, people’s goodwill just leaves me speechless. Okay, finally filled up we were ready to hit the road. From Ndende up until Mouila you have a dirt road. Good enough to average around 80 Km/h though. Allan shot on ahead and I hanged back, admiring the sights. We were now getting into serious jungle territory. I made it to Mouila in about an hour. I didn’t go into town as I knew there would be a Petro Gabon station on the outskirts of town on route to Lamberene. Pinheiro had given us this information. From hereon out there’s a beautiful tarmac road as well. As you get on the tarmac you get to a big roundabout. Heading straight on would take you into town. I turned left on the road that would take me to Lamberene. I stopped at the Petro Gabon station to fill up but, you guessed it, no fuel!! I wasn’t too worried as I could make it to Lamberene on the fuel I had and I was carrying about 5 liters extra in one of my fuel cells. I had no idea where Allan was. I had lost him and wasn’t sure whether he went into town or had carried on. Right outside of Mouila there is a Police control point. I was stopped and met with a big smile from the Police officer on duty. He asked me where I was from and as soon as I said South Africa he let out a big “Wow” and welcomed me to Gabon. I asked him whether another bike had passed before me and he said yes. So I figured Allan would probably stop somewhere next to the road to wait for me. I absolutely LOVE the jungle surroundings of Gabon. I rode along just admiring the giant trees and dense vegetation all along the roadside. I have never seen such tall trees in my life. It’s absolutely beautiful. I stopped on the side of the road before reaching Lamberene to take a break. As soon as you stop you are able to hear all the sounds of all the different creatures living within the jungle. Birds, frogs, crickets and what sounds like monkeys. It’s lovely! I stood there trying to imagine what it must be like to live within a jungle like this with all the sounds that would surround you at night. I for one would love it! Just before I reached Lamberene Allan caught up with me. Huh? I stopped at a garage just before reaching town. At least this time they had fuel and we were able to fill up. Allan then told me that he had gone into Mouila to find fuel. That’s where we missed each other. I had already decided that when we reach Libreville I would carry on, on my own. But when we reached Lamberene Allan pulled up next to me and signaled to me to stop. He had seen a Hotel on the side of the road and had decided he would stay there for the night. The next day he would then carry on to Cameroon! I was relieved, to say the least. We wished each other luck for the road ahead and I then carried on towards Libreville. Going to Libreville you cross a river in Lamberene, twice. I got a little lost in town but thanks to my trusty GPS I was able to find my way back to the correct route. Lamberene is a pretty big town, much bigger than I had anticipated. A big river runs through the town and there are a few bridges crossing the river to lead you to different parts of Gabon. It felt like Lamberene is the central point of Gabon. I knew I would soon cross the Equator and was eager to carry on with excitement growing inside of me. The road isn’t straight. You are met with curvy bends that just carry on forever all the way to Libreville. A good tarmac road. All alongside the road you find little villages with people walking all alongside the road in between the different villages…going about their daily lives. I took it easy at 80 km/h because of the fact that there are so many people on the road. Though it soon became clear that people are not my main concern on the roads. It’s dogs!! The dogs love chasing my bike and I was so afraid I might hit one of these animals. I adore animals and just would not be able to forgive myself if I hit a dog on the road. I would get a mini heart attack every time a dog shot out from the side of the road to chase me. I was starting to get closer to Libreville and still hadn’t seen the Equator sign. I was starting to get worried thinking maybe I had missed it. How the hell does one miss the Equator? As these thoughts started running through my head I reached a stretch where there were some roadworks going on. There were trucks parked all along the road side with a “stop ‘n go” system in place. It wasn’t a very long stretch, but as I made my way to the other side something caught my eye. The Equator sign!! It was behind one of the big trucks on the side of the road! Just my luck!!! There was no way I could get to it and seeing as it was getting late I had no choice other than to carry on. I was sooo miffed, but kept telling myself: “It’s okay, you’ll be crossing it again on the other side of the continent”. With a heavy heart I started entering Libreville. It was now almost dark and I decided I would stop at the first hotel I see and spend the night there. No hotels came into sight though. I was still exhausted from the previous day’s escapades and couldn’t focus properly anymore. So I took a chance and stopped on the side of the road to take a break. I had a smoke and watched the cars passing by, honking and waving, shouting at me in French. A truck stopped right behind me. A man got out and walked to the front of the truck right behind where I was standing. He put down a prayer mat and starting praying to Allah. For a moment I just stood dead still staring at this guy thinking to myself: “Isn’t this a little unethical on some level”?? I just smiled and waited for him to finish. I felt it would be disrespectful if I started my noisy bike in the middle of his prayers. When he had finished he rolled up his prayer mat again and greeted me. He asked where I was from and all the other usual questions. I explained to him that I was on my way to Libreville and asked him if he knew of a hotel where I could stay for the night. Turns out he could speak English and told me to follow him as he knew of a good hotel where I could stay and would take me there. Woohoo!! I followed Duklua (that’s his name) into town. As we entered Libreville I could see the line of traffic we would still have to negotiate our way through. I had started getting used to the chaos that every town brings with it. Crazy traffic and loads of people on the streets. Markets lining the roads, cars and taxis hooting like crazy all around you. I just followed the truck in front of me and made sure I stayed right behind him. We stopped at a hotel, but they didn’t have any rooms available. So we then made our way to another hotel. But first we went to drop off the truck so Duklua could pick up his car. This would make it easier getting through traffic. The road leading up to his place is a steep road and very rocky. I lost my balance and put the bike down. Before I had even stood up a bunch of men standing by the side of the road had already rushed to my side and helped me pick the bike back up! I told Duklua I would wait for him there and made my way back to the bottom of the road. When he returned we made our way to “Hotel du Stade”. It’s a hotel right across Libreville’s old stadium. Here they had rooms available! Woohoo! I could choose a room at fCFA 28 000 or fCFA 30 000. I chose the one for fCFA 30 000 ($60) as I figured I deserved to spoil myself a little bit. Duklua helped me to carry my bags up to my room. My room had a double bed, television, shower, Air conditioner and fridge! Perfect! Duklua offered to go buy me something to drink as he said it was too expensive at the hotel. I gave him fCFA 5000 and he came back with chips, two 1,5 liters of cold drink, two yoghurts and two bread rolls. He had also bought some throat lozenges as he figured I sounded like I needed them. LoL. What a sweet guy. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1361.jpg I was so happy to be in Libreville…on my own. I couldn’t believe my luck and how it seemed that I keep meeting just the right people at the right time on this journey. I stood on my balcony watching the hustle and bustle going on down on the street. I phoned home and had a long conversation with Hanret. That night I went to sleep with a big smile on my face. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ibreville8.jpg The next day I slept until I woke up…which was around 10:00! Duklua came around at 11:00 to check on me and to find out whether I needed anything. I told him that I have a contact in Libreville and needed to phone him. I asked Duklua if he could help me to get where I then needed to go? He agreed without hesitation. I phoned Fernando, the contact given to me by the guys in Pointe Noire. Fernando explained to Duklua where his house was and we packed up to head over to his place. When we arrived I met Kathie and Fernando. They welcomed me with open arms and showed me into the house. Kathie can speak a little English and Fernando speaks Portuguese as well. I loved how we communicated using three different languages! I unpacked and settled into what would be my new home for the next week and a half. Kathie and Fernando are two wonderful people. I instantly fell in love with both these beautiful souls. They’re down to earth, fun, caring, loving people. We spent most of Saturday afternoon just relaxing. Later on that evening Vanessa Vincent, a friend of theirs arrived. The four of us played a few games of pool on the pool table standing on their porch. Afterwards we went out for dinner at Cigalou restaurant, right on the beach. I ate pizza and drank beer, chatting away with my new friends. It was a great evening. I really love Gabon! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ibreville4.jpg The next morning I slept late. We were supposed to go out for breakfast but by the time I got up Kathie had already gone to breakfast and Fernando had gone to work. Vanessa was still at home so the two of us sat chatting until Kathie returned. It was Sunday, so we spent most of the day just relaxing. The neighbors, Lara and Henry and their daughter Valentine came over when Kathie and Fernando had returned later that morning. We were joined by more friends and all sat on the porch chatting whilst Vanessa, Lara and Henry helped me to undo my braids. I loved my braided hair, but it wasn’t the most practical thing to wear when you have to put on and take off a helmet several times a day. After we had finished we all went out to lunch at Cigalou again. I would visit this restaurant several times whilst staying in Libreville. Later that afternoon I met another friend, Bruno Grandgirard. It was hot and we all jumped into the pool at Kathie and Fernando’s place. We spend the whole afternoon just soaking in the pool. Later that night Bruno took me out for dinner and we chatted all night long. The next day was a public holiday and I spent most of the day working on Dax. Gave her a good wash, cleaned the air filter and chain. Checked all fluids. I had a few dents in my panniers that Bruno helped me panel beat out. On Tuesday I went to stay at Vanessa’s place in the center of town seeing as Kathie and Fernando works during the day and their wifi wasn’t working. Vanessa could also help me by taking me to the Nigerian Embassy so I could apply for my visa. During the next week I spent my time with my new Sister in Libreville, Vanessa. We went all over town and I met a whole bunch of her friends. We went to the Nigerian Embassy where I had no issues and got my visa within a day. We had lunch and different wonderful restaurants. Went out at night to clubs and meeting up with friends. I got to listen to Vanessa and her brother Alexander’s band: The Sand Quarry Band. We really had a great time. Before leaving I met some more friends, Muriel Gilardetti and Marie, Jack and Christophe, the owner of the Guenguette. “Guenguette” is the French word for like a local get together spot, like a restaurant. I met up with the local motorbike club of Libreville at the Guenguette. They gave me two T-shirts and some stickers to add to my collection, which I was very happy for. We arranged that some of the riders would ride out of town with me on Sunday when I leave Libreville. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ibreville6.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ibreville7.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ibreville3.jpg Muriel also gave me the contact number for a friend of hers in Cotonou, Benin, whom I could stay with after I’d made my way through Nigeria. When it became time for me to leave Libreville, I was extremely tempted to stay a little longer. I had grown so fond of this town and especially the people I had the pleasure of meeting. I will definitely be returning in future for a visit! What’s great is that South Africans don’t need a visa to travel to Gabon. My dearest friends, Kathie, Fernando, Vanessa, Bruno, Muriel, Marie and all the rest of the bunch…I will certainly miss them all a great deal! I am amazed at the connections I am making on my journey. I will carry these friendships with me for the rest of my life. |
Cameroon - A mix of kindness!
I left Libreville on Sunday, 3 June ’12. I left from Kathie and Fernando’s house where friends and members of the motorbike club gathered to see me off. Kathie had prepared breakfast with croissants and coffee and juice. They hung balloons outside on the porch to mark the occasion. Kathie, Fernando, Vanessa and Bruno would follow me out in Bruno’s car and some of the members from the motorcycle club would also accompany me outside of town. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ibreville9.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...breville10.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...breville13.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...breville14.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...breville16.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...breville15.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...breville19.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...breville18.jpg We set off around 09:00. My next destination: Oyem, in the North of Gabon. Bruno and Fernando had phoned ahead to organize a place for me to stay with friends of theirs in Oyem. What I had forgotten is that I had to cross back over the Equator seeing as there is only one road in and out of Libreville! So I got to take a photo of the Equator sign after all. I ended up crossing the equator three times!! Haha. Going into Libreville, going out of Libreville and then turning back up North to Oyem. I had a good day on the road, no issues whatsoever. Kathie had packed me some croissants and cheese, which I had for lunch next to the road. I reached Oyem around 19:00. My new hosts were waiting for me as I entered the town. Henry and Yvette Weber, French citizens working and living in Oyem. Turns out they’ve been based all over Central and West Africa. They led me to their place, situated next to Oyem’s brewery, which they happen to be in charge of. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...breville17.jpg After I had a chance to relax for a few minutes and have an ice cold Coca-Cola, we went out for dinner. Even though they could only speak French, we were able to communicate pretty easily. My French had now improved to the point where I could have a full on conversation. Not in perfect French of course, but I can make myself understood. I spent a wonderful evening with my hosts. We chatted about my trip and experiences I have had on route. About Africa and places we have all visited. I turned in for the night around 23:00. The next day I would cross into my fifth country – Cameroon! Before leaving Oyem I was given a tour of the brewery that supplies beer and some soft drinks to surrounding towns, covering a 600-kilometer radius. It was my first time in a brewery and I found it really interesting. The processes involved in making beer. Since I’ve grown quite fond of the stuff on this trip and try to sample a bottle of local beer in each country, I found it all the more interesting. LoL. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...eville21-1.jpg From Oyem I headed off towards the Cameroon border. Just outside of Oyem there is a Police control point where I was stopped so they could take down all my details. I had a nice chat with the police officer on duty whilst he wrote down my passport details in his register. From Oyem I made my way to Bitam, which is situated about 30 kilometers from the Cameroon border. What I didn’t know is that I had to stop in Bitam to have the Customs Police stamp my passport as they are not actually situated at the border. When I arrived at the border I stopped at the “Duane” office to have my Carnet stamped. From there I made my way to what I thought to be customs to have my passport stamped. Here they told me that I had to go back to Bitam to have my passport stamped there. I was annoyed, not with the border control but rather with myself. Andrei and Chris, the riders who I met in Namibia had told me that sometimes the customs police are situated in the last town before the border and not the actual border. Bummer! So I made my way back to Bitam where I had my passport stamped and then returned to the Police control at the border as the officer in charge asked whether he could have a photo with me when I returned, before continuing on to the Cameroon side. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1534.jpg When I crossed the border into Cameroon, the first stop was at the Customs Office. At least on this side the Customs Office was situated at the border. The officers on duty invited me in and sat chatting to me for about 15 minutes whilst flipping through my passport and writing down my details. They then stamped me in and welcomed me to Cameroon. All of them asked for my number before I left. I just smiled and explained to them that I would be changing numbers in Cameroon. They accepted this information and sent me on my merry way. The Duane office was situated about 5 kilometers further on. It didn’t seem like there was much going on when I stopped outside the offices. When I went inside I found the officer on duty lying on his desk…asleep. I unfortunately had to wake him up because I needed him to stamp my Carnet. Lucky for me he didn’t seem too annoyed at my having interrupted his seemingly blissful slumber. He didn’t have a pen to fill in the necessary details, so I gave him mine. At least he was quick about stamping my Carnet and I was out of there in no time. I was now officially in the fifth country on my trip. Next stop – Yaounde! Here I would meet up with a friend of mine named Divine Ntiokam. Divine and I met each other through and NGO we both supported whilst I was still going around Africa on my bicycle. We kept in contact and had become friends, although this would be the first time we would meet in person. Divine was very happy and excited when I phoned him up to tell him I am in Cameroon. I almost immediately noticed certain differences in comparison to Gabon. The building styles were different. In Gabon you are more likely to see wooden houses in the villages all alongside the road. In Cameroon you have more brick houses. In Gabon the villages seem to be build into the dense jungle surroundings. In Cameroon I could notice the jungle starting to thin out. And in Cameroon just about every second person I passed would signal to show me that my lights are on. This would carry on all the way to Nigeria!! This would also be the main reason why I would get pulled over at Police and Military control posts. Every time I get pulled over the first thing that gets pointed out to me is that my lights are on. Then I have to explain that it’s automatic and that my lights cannot switch off. Only when I switch my bike off does the lights switch off as well. (In reality I could switch the lights off by pulling out the connection to the lights but seeing as there’s duct tape over the unit this would prove a bit of a mission, so I rather opted explaining my way out of it every time). The roads in Cameroon are good. Tarmac almost all the way to the Nigerian border. Although I had planned on making it to Yaounde, I didn’t count on the delays at the border or the delays on route being stopped at the control posts on route. It was starting to get late and it became obvious that I wouldn’t make it to Yaounde. I phoned Divine and we both agreed that it would be better if I stopped and stayed over in Mbalmayo, the town before Yaounde. Divine had phoned a friend, who phoned a friend in Mbalmayo who happened to have a guesthouse. The guesthouse turned out to be situated about 500 meters off the main road. The only problem with this is that the roads that lead off the main road into the villages are very difficult to negotiate on a bike. Especially a heavily loaded bike! These roads are more like jungle trails than actual roads. I had to stop a few times to ask for directions to the guesthouse. The last 50 meters was a really bad stretch and I ended up putting the bike down. Two young guys passed me and helped me push the bike to the guesthouse. The staff at the guesthouse were already expecting me and were kind enough to help me carry my bags inside. It is a humble establishment that makes up in lack of facilities with kindness. The staff prepared me some food that consisted of fish and rice. I hadn’t eaten all day and certainly welcomed the food. I washed myself out of a bucket and settled in for the night. Though around 23:00 I received a call from Divine telling me that he had to go to Bamenda, which is on route to the Nigerian border. So we decided it would be best if I carried on to Bamenda the next day rather than stop over in Yaounde. This would place me closer to the Nigerian border. It started pouring down with rain and one of the staff members had to bring a bucket to place behind my bed, as there was a bad leak in the roof. I was tired and even the persistent dripping all night couldn’t keep me from sleeping. The next morning at 6:00 Divine phoned me again to let me know he had arrived in Bamenda around 4:00 that morning. He had taken a bus from Yaounde. I snoozed until around 7:00 and then got up to pack the bike and hit the road. The only thing that was bothering me was what the downpour during the night had done to the route leading out to the main road. The staff helped me to push the bike all the way out! Heading out of town, I stopped at a Total garage to fill up with fuel and then headed for Yaounde. Getting into town I had some traffic and it took me about half an hour to make it through the town. Once through I stopped at another Total garage to check my tyre pressure. With the previous day’s riding I could feel that I was running on really low tyre pressure. Some of the garage staff came over to chat to me. There was a shop at the garage, just like back home and I went in to buy myself a snack and a cold drink. I asked the staff whether they knew where I could get an MTN sim card for Cameroon. They sent one of the attendants to buy me one! I was able to sort out fuel, tyre pressure, food, drinks and communication at this garage. Not bad at all!!! The ride to Bamenda took a bit longer than I had anticipated though! In essence it’s not THAT far, but you have quite a few control posts you have to pass through and navigating your way through the towns can be challenging as well. At one of these control points I was able to witness a spectacular fight. I was pulled over by the two officers on duty. A military control point. They were rather friendly and just asked for my passport. As I stood there, a truck came past and the driver was shouting through his window. It stopped right in front of me. The female officer walked up to the truck with her firearm hanging over her shoulder and pulled the driver out of the truck. By now everyone and their dog were getting involved in the fight and they completely forgot about me. So I just smiled and rode off. The next interesting encounter came in the way of a few people trying to sell me monkeys and rats next to the side of the road. They would hold the dead creatures by their tales and run after you to try and make a sale on their daily catch. I’m not really into monkey…and or rat meat, so I just rode on. Just before Bamenda you get to a town called Bafousam. This town had crazy traffic and I got lost several times. I stopped at a garage to ask for directions and a man was kind enough to help me. Though further on I came to a roundabout where my GPS took me to the right. About 15 minutes out of town I stopped for a break. It was getting late, almost 18:00 now. A man stopped next to me and we started chatting. I told him that I was on my way to Bamenda. “You’re going the wrong way”, was his reply! Damn!!! He explained to me that I had to go back to Bafousam and at the roundabout as you get into town, you have to turn right. I knew exactly which roundabout he was talking about and immediately made my way back. By the time I got to Bamenda it was dark. I stopped as I got into town and phoned my friend Divine to let him know that I had arrived. Divine took a taxi and rode to where I was to pick me up. It was a joyous occasion, finally meeting in person. Big hugs and even bigger smiles followed. We then made our way to the hotel where we’d be staying. “Clifton Hotel” in Bamenda. Here, more people speak English as it’s nearing the Nigerian border. It was nice to be able to have a conversation in English. I unloaded the bike and the hotel staff helped me to take my very heavy bags to my room. It was a small room, but more than sufficient for my needs. Plus, there was HOT water in the shower!! Which is always a bonus. I cleaned up and then we had dinner at the hotel. A dish with chicken, vegetables, peppers and grilled bananas... all mixed together in one dish. I have come to grow quite fond of these grilled bananas. They cut it up in slices and then it gets grilled. Some grill it in oil, others on an open fire. I’ve been eating this since Congo. I wonder what bananas are good for. You know how carrots are supposedly good for your eyesight? Because I have certainly been eating a lot of bananas. The next day I took the day off to prepare myself for the border crossing into Nigeria, one of the most notorious countries in the world. I met Nina; she was the girl who had organized for my stay in the guesthouse in Mbalmayo. Turns out she actually stays in Bamenda and after Divine had phoned her she phoned a friend of hers in Mbalmayo to organize a place for me to stay for a night. That’s what you call ‘team effort’! Divine, Nina and I spent the day together. First we had breakfast and then headed off to the Internet café. Here I was able to catch up on emails and Facebook etc. We were at the café until lunchtime. After having lunch at the hotel I had a nap. Divine had decided that he would hire a transport bike (taxi), so he could accompany me to the Nigerian border. He was very concerned about my having to ride through Nigeria! We left the next morning around 8:00. Divine, his driver James and myself. Our first stop would be a town called Mamfe, which is about 60 kilometers from the border. The road up until Mamfe is a good tarmac road. From Mamfe onward it would be off-road. I just didn’t know what ‘kind’ of off-road. It took us about two hours to get to Mamfe. Divine and James would ride in front of me and could only average between 60 – 80 kilometers and hour. One can see that this is a fairly new road as the Chinese are still finishing off the last touches. They’re also working on the road between Mamfe and Ekok (the Nigerian border). http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1557.jpg In Mamfe we met with some of the Community Leaders at the Youth Center. We sat in on a community meeting for a few minutes. I found it very interesting, listening to how the communities here organize the way their villages run. The particular topic they were discussing was what the youth should do during school holidays. They felt that more and more of the youth are getting involved in ‘unhealthy’ activities and should be outdoors exploring their environment or engaging in more intellectual activities. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1559.jpg We left Mamfe around 12:30 to make our way to the border. Only 60 kilometers…that would take us near to 3 hours to complete! Mud, mud…and more mud. We passed a ceremonial convoy for the inauguration of a community center. First a group of men dressed in their police and military uniforms, then community members and after a group of dancing girls dressed in traditional clothing and two men in big wooden masks that reach to the ground! This was the first time that someone shouted out: “White, white, white”. It caught me off guard at first and I thought to myself: “Huh? What are you referring to”? Of course it didn’t take me too long to realize who and or what they were referring to! There is a stretch on the route where you make your way down a mountain pass with waterfall running over the road. Although it was challenging to negotiate my way down this road, I had a great time admiring the surroundings. The tall trees again. The greenery is absolutely beautiful. There were points where we had to stop and wait for trucks that had fallen stuck. The road isn’t wide enough for trucks and other traffic to pass next to one another. So when you get to a point where a truck has fallen stuck, you have two options. Stop and find a shady spot or pitch in and help dig it out. We were lucky in that whenever we got to a truck that was stuck in the middle of the road, we were either able to pass around or it didn’t take too long to get the truck going again. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1560.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1562.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z.../Cameroon8.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z.../Cameroon9.jpg We finally reached the border town, Ekok, around 15:30. First things first I changed money and went about getting something to drink. I bought myself and Divine a Sprite each and then we went to have passports stamped and paperwork sorted out. Divine had decided that he would cross with me and accompany me all the way to Ikom, which is the first town on the Nigeria side. James, the taxi bike rider was too scared to cross with us and stayed in Ekok. Getting through customs on the Cameroon side of the border went without hassles. Though when we got to the Nigeria side I was met with a rather unfriendly female customs officer. Even though my Nigerian visa clearly states that I have 14 Days in Nigeria, she only wanted to give me three days!! I asked her whether she would be able to ride my bike through Nigeria in three days time? So she gave me 7 days and nothing more. I figured I could have it extended in Lagos if need be and left it at that. Divine hired another rider to take him to Ikom and we were soon on our way. |
Nigeria!!!! - A quarter of the way!
I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous when crossing into Nigeria. Well, truth be told, I wasn’t nervous once I had entered the country. The night before, in Bamenda (Cameroon) I had butterflies in my stomach. In my mind I had always told myself that if I could only make it through Nigeria, I should be okay on this journey. I realized that the only way I could keep myself focused is to treat Nigeria just like any other country. It’s just another country that I am riding through. This way I could just focus on where I needed to be at the end of each day and getting there in one piece. For my first day in Nigeria I needed to be in a town named Ikom. I needed to go to GT Bank and ask for Nkem, the branch manager. He was my contact in this town. I had been in contact with riders in Lagos since Congo. News about my arrival had spread across the country, to all the different motorcycle clubs. So by the time I had arrived I had contacts in every town I would stay in. Nkem took Divine and myself to a hotel in Ikom where we could stay for the night. I paid for both my and Divine’s accommodation. I felt it only fair as Divine had paid for my stay in Bamenda. We went to have dinner at an eatery not far from the hotel where I tried out some of the local food. It was the equivalent of “Pap en marog” in South Africa. My Afrikaans friends will know what that is. It was rather tasty and I enjoyed my meal. Afterwards we went to another hotel where we had a drink before heading back to the hotel for some much needed rest. I was tired and could see Divine was at the point of nodding off at the table. The next day I would ride to Calabar. Andrei and Chris (The riders I met in Namibia), had told me so much about this town and how they enjoyed their stay here. A friend of mine back home, Ingrid, who had lived in Nigeria for quite some time, had told me that Calabar was her favorite place in Nigeria. So I was looking forward to reaching this town! Divine left at 6:00 in the morning. I got up to see him off and then went back to sleep until around 8:00. I knew I could afford the sleep-in seeing as Calabar is about a 3-hour ride from Ikom. I sat outside the hotel waiting for Nkem who were supposed to meet up with me before I left. By 10:00 he phoned to say he wouldn’t be able to make it. Many people at the hotel came over to chat to me. Everyone was very friendly and welcoming. I finally left around 11:00 and first stopped to fill up with fuel. Luckily for me the hotel was situated right on the road that I had to take to Calabar, so that meant there was no way I could get lost, seeing as my GPS wouldn’t even pick up Calabar when I tried searching for it! The road from Ikom to Calabar is pretty good. It’s just the first 100 kilometers that you have stretches of corrugation here and there…but I’ve definitely seen worse! At first I was a little nervous about being on the road on my own, my main concern being the notorious military control posts one gets stopped at. I’ve heard SO many stories about these stops. About how they get aggressive towards you and only try to scam you out of money and will intimidate you with their firearms. Well I can certainly report that I did not experience anything like this whilst on the road. I did pass a couple of military control posts. But all they would do is wave at me and shout out: “You’re welcome”. So either things have changed…or I’m just the luckiest person on Earth. The roads are always busy in Nigeria no matter where you’re heading and traffic can be a little scary at times. It’s like there are no rules on the road. First off, there’s no speed limit (seriously). Secondly, it would seem that the first rule of survival is that: “he who is fastest, wins”. Trucks come at you from the opposite direction, in your lane…and you just have to either duck or take your chances with playing chicken with a ten-ton truck. Nevertheless I made it to Calabar safe and sound. First things first, I phoned my contact in Calabar: Chief Matthew Olory. I had made contact with him before I entered Nigeria so he knew when I would be arriving. He directed me into town and organized for someone to meet up with me seeing as he wasn’t in town that day. From the pick-up point I was taken to my hotel where I would spend the next three nights. I spent my first evening in Calabar just relaxing, and got to bed pretty early. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1575.jpg The next day I got to meet Chief Olory when he came to my hotel. I also met with the club’s road captain: “Kenny G”. Olory took me to have my bike washed and we spent most of the day meeting up with other riders and riding around town. Late afternoon we went to a restaurant on the Calabar river where we had something to eat and drink. There are two things I wanted to see in Calabar: The Calabar river and the Slave Musuem. Unfortunately I didn’t get to see the Slave Museum but at least I had lunch on the river. Here I met the Nigerian National Motorcycle Club President. They call him “the King”, seeing as he’s the president over all the existing motorcycle clubs in Nigeria. There are quite a few clubs all over the country. The Easy Riders – in Lagos, The Millenials in Calabar, The Angels – in Lagos, The Crazy Riders – in Port Harcourt, and a clubs further North as well. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1570.jpg I really had a good time in Calabar. It’s a beautiful town and has a very laid back energy to it. When time came for me to leave Calabar, Olory rode out of town with me. He accompanied me to the turn off that would put me on the road towards Benin City. He had written down the directions for me as my GPS wouldn’t pick up the route and I would have to make a few turns in the different towns I would be passing through. The clouds overhead seemed threatening and I was really hoping it wouldn’t rain all the way. It didn’t. Only three quarters of the way! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1605.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1601.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1593.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1598.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1597.jpg The road wasn’t too bad. Tarmac road with potholes. From Calabar I had to make my way to Ikot Ekpene, then Aba and onwards to Owerri, Onitsha, Asaba and finally Benin City. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1612.jpg I will never ever, for as long as I live forget the town of Owerri. It is officially THE most chaotic town I have had the misfortunate privilege of having to negotiate my way through! First off, it was pouring with rain. You have single lanes going in and out of town. In the middle you have huge rubbish dumps dividing the two lanes of traffic all the way through town. On the roadsides you have thousands of little stalls covered with umbrellas and even more people! Luck would have me fall stuck behind a truck for about half an hour. All around me little yellow, three wheeled taxi cabs (exactly as the ones you see in India) gathered in anticipation of squeezing past the truck. People zig-zag through the traffic between stalls. All around me people would point and shout at me (in local language so I couldn’t understand what they were saying)…and even if I could understand, I wouldn’t have been able to hear them as I just cranked up the music playing on my headphones in my helmet, allowing me to almost disappear into my own little bubble. At a junction a female police officer was directing traffic with a baton in hand. If anyone dared ignore her instructions or jump the queue, they would have to face a whack from her baton on their vehicle or any body part that might happen to stick out! I witnessed one such unfortunate queue jumper receiving a whack on his car’s bonnet! I was just too happy when I finally made it out of there! From Owerri I made my way to Onitsha. About 20 minutes from Owerri I stopped for a break and noticed a car turning around and pull up next to me. A news reporter from NTA (Nigeria Television Authority) introduced herself to me and inquired as to who I am and what I am doing? After I had explained my mission to her she pulled out a camera and asked to conduct an interview with me. This interview would feature on that night’s news. I spent about twenty minutes riding up and down the road so she could get a few shots of me in action. Then she asked me a few questions and gave me her card. She was also kind enough to direct me to the Asaba road. If not for her I might have missed it because of detours on the road. From Owerri the road got much better and I was able to get on the “Express” road (like a highway). The road was good and I could get up to speeds of 120 kilometers an hour for the first time since Angola! Asaba is a town just after you’ve passed through Onitsha. There is a big bridge crossing the river that divides these two towns. I was told to stop after I had crossed the bridge and phone up the contacts I had been given in Benin City. So I did just this. As I stood just a few meters from the bridge, waiting for information from the guys in Benin City, a car stopped in front of me. Two guys got out and ran up to me, greeting me in German! I just smiled and told them that I’m not from Germany. I let them play the guessing game for a while, to my amusement and then eventually gave them the answer they were looking for. Once they heard that I am a South African they both hugged me and told me how much they love South Africa. These two guys bought me lunch and drinks in town (Asaba) and helped me get to a fueling station, before I had to carry on again. They tried really hard to get me to stay in Asaba for the night, offering to have my bike washed and serviced and to put me up in a hotel etc etc. They were two really nice guys and I could tell that they were sincere. But unfortunately I had to get to Benin City. A bunch of riders were waiting for me and I had to get going again. I met up with one of these riders just before getting into Benin City. He then took me to a hotel; the Uyi Grand Hotel. Here I got to meet about 4 riders who had ridden from Lagos to meet up with me, and two riders from Abuja who also just happened to be in the area. I was very happy to meet up with the guys, especially knowing that I wouldn’t have to ride alone into Lagos. Plus, I got to meet Mohammed Ducati. The guy who’s T-shirt I’ve been carrying since Namibia! One delivery made successfully! That T-shirt went from Romania, to Namibia and then back up to Nigeria! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1623.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1620.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1631.jpg We only left around 12:00 the next day for Lagos. We were six riders, though I would only stick with one of the guys (Busayo) all the way. He was kind enough to slow down to my speed and stick with me throughout the ride. The other guys sped on ahead, then stopped and waited for us to catch up and then sped ahead again. Speed, that’s the name of the game in Nigeria! 250/260 kilometers per hour is the average speed of these riders. It rained pretty much all the way to Lagos! A few kilometers outside of town, more riders from Lagos met up with us and rode with us to the hotel where I would spend my first night. |
Nigeria to Cote D'Ivoire
** Please forgive me. I don't have photos for this post. If you read to the end you'll understand why ** I spent five, very enjoyable days in Lagos. For my first night, one of the members of the ‘Easy Riders’ motorcycle club sponsored my stay at a hotel in Ikeja. For the rest of my stay a number of riders pulled together to sponsor my stay in the PENTHOUSE of another hotel! They surely went all out to make sure I was comfortable and enjoyed my stay in Nigeria! I arrived in Lagos on Tuesday, 12 June. My visa would expire the next day, so I had to urgently have that sorted by way of an extension on my visa. Chris Odigie, one of my newest close friends in Lagos, helped me to get this sorted out. In the end I received a one-month visa (although I only needed 4 days), and it only cost me $120! That’s double what my original visa cost me! LoL I met a number of riders from the club during my stay, as well as Gemina, one of only a few daring female riders who is a member of an all-female club in Nigeria known as “The Angels” which currently has about four members. Even here it is a novelty to see female riders. Though I have no doubt that the sport will see significant growth, especially under the female demographic in the near future, judging by the enthusiasm I have witnessed amongst all the different motorcycle clubs across the country. I did not stay in Lagos proper, but rather on the outskirts in an area known as Ikeja. It is situated on the mainland, whereas Lagos city is situated on the island. I did make my way across to the island with Chris when we went to have my visa extended. You can see the high-rise buildings from the bridge as you cross over from the mainland and I could sense the energy of city life. Lagos, in all honesty, was like any other big African city to me. What I found extremely funny is how Lagos’ reputation precedes it as one of the most dangerous cities in Africa, but when I told people in Lagos that I am from Johannesburg they would respond by saying: “Wow, that’s a dangerous place!” I got to attend a birthday party of a friend of the club Here I was interviewed by a journalist from one of the local newspapers. I rode around with members from the club all over Ikeja and also got to see their training school which another member, Busayo runs. I ate some local food and hung out with friends at restaurants and bars. All in all I had a great time in Nigeria! Plus I was able to deliver the T-shirt that I offered to carry for Andrei Georgescu, the Romanian rider I had met in Namibia, to Mohammed Ducati! That is now one very well traveled T-shirt! From Lagos I would make my way to Cotonou, the economical capital of the Republic of Benin. The border to Benin is not that far from Lagos, but the traffic will delay you some. I had five riders who would accompany me to the Benin border. It was raining when we left the hotel and before we had even made it out of the city one of the riders had a crash. Not a major crash but enough to ensure him having to go to the hospital for a potentially broken arm. To me, this incident was a reminder of just how vulnerable I am out here. It turned out that his arm was not broken, thankfully, and we were able to proceed when his family arrived to take him home. Getting closer to a border always means chaos! Border towns are always crazy and you have to have your wits about you, especially when travelling on a bike. With the rain it meant a lot of mud and traffic delays for us to negotiate through and around. When we finally arrived at the border I had to say my farewells to my Nigerian friends and fellow riders. Though Mohammed would cross the border with me as he had some business to take care of in Cotonou. Even though we would both be crossing into Benin, we would not cross at the same border control post! The expression: “There’s more than one way to skin a cat”, comes to mind here. If you know the right people you can cross the border without needing any paperwork or even a passport. I opted to rather cross at the conventional point, as I needed to have my passport and Carnet de Passage stamped. Though it took me three times longer to cross than it did Mohammed. This is what I recall from my time crossing the border from Nigeria to Benin: First off, it looks like one big mud bath that you have to negotiate your way through, which in itself can be a cause for fun and games for my heavy bike and her wide load! I had no issues stamping out of Nigeria. Everything went quick and easy with no hassles. Stamping in to Benin was a completely different story though! First I arrive at customs to have my passport stamped. This goes without hassles. Next up comes the issue of having my Carnet de Passage stamped, and this is where everything goes pear shaped! The Customs officer tells me that I must pay him fCFA 35 000 to have my Carnet stamped. I refuse and tell him I need to go to the Douane office to have my Carnet stamped there. This argument lasts for about twenty minutes. Then he tells me to go ahead to the Douane office, as they’ll just tell me the same thing. When I get to the Douane office I see five uniformed men, four of whom are sitting and drinking beer and either watching a football match on the television fixed to the wall behind the door, or chatting on Facebook on the computer on the desk situated in the middle of the little room. Behind the desk there is a man sitting and sleeping on his arms. The guy who is sleeping turns out to be the ‘Chief’ and I unfortunately have to awake him from his slumber to have my Carnet filled out and stamped. He sits flipping through the pages of my Carnet and just stares at each page for about two minutes before flipping on to the next page, even though every page has exactly the same information on it!!! I realize that he actually has no idea what to do and out of pure agitation I take my Carnet and his pen from him, fill out my Carnet myself, stamp it and then show him where to put his signature! After all of this, sleepy returns to his drunken slumber, happy at the door gives me a cold drink and grumpy next door remains huffing and puffing because he wasn’t able to get a cent out of me after all. And yes, as you might have guessed, in this bizarre fairy tale that would make me, (pun intended) Snow White! Back outside three riders from the motorcycle club in Cotonou had arrived to welcome me to Benin and accompany me to town. A few hundred meters ahead Mohammed was waiting for us. He had gone to have a coffee, went for prayers and changed money in the time it took me to cross the border! We stopped for a quick photo opportunity and then the five of us started making our way to Cotonou. The muddy mess that is the Benin border would give me one last ‘welcome’ to Benin before finally letting me go by way of a drunk old man on the side of the road with a long grey beard and stick in hand, whacking my bike with his stick as I rode past him!! Needless to say I was just too happy to finally get away from the border and make my way to Cotonou. Even if I actually had no idea as to what Cotonou would be like, it certainly could not get any worse?! Mercifully it did get much better as we got closer to Cotonou. The city has a far more relaxed energy to it and I instantly felt safe and secure as we entered on the main road leading into town. First off we stopped at the president of the motorcycle club, Djamiou’s house (read mansion) where I would be staying whilst in Benin. From here we made our way to the airport to welcome a friend of Djamiou’s, who he hadn’t seen for thirty years and would be arriving from Libreville. I thought this very interesting as a friend of mine in Libreville had given me a number of a friend of hers in Cotonou in case I needed any help, and now here I am in Cotonou and the person I will be staying with has a friend arriving from Libreville! I did phone the contact my friend Muriel, in Libreville gave me. Sylvie met up with me at the Airport and I was able to at least say a quick hello to her before we left for a ride around town. At this point we were about twenty riders at the airport to welcome Djamiou’s friend when she arrived. Afterwards Djamiou took his friend home and the rest of us left to meet up with more riders before heading out for a drink. Djamiou has eight bikes and gave me his Honda CB 1000 to ride whilst in Benin. With this I was easily able to keep up with the other riders! After we had stopped to pick up more friends, there was a bit of confusion and Mohammed and I lost the rest of the gang. We were now lost! Since I don’t know Cotonou at all I followed Mo around and we made our way back to Fufu’s house. (One of the riders). We sat around waiting for about half an hour until Fufu eventually found us and we were able to rejoin the group. Instead of going out we made our way back to Djamiou’s house where we had a drink and played some music in Djamiou’s very impressive studio! As a last performance, Djamiou and I played drums together with Djamiou on the bongos and yours truly on a djembe. Benin is voodoo country. Here about 50% of the population practices voodoo from what I was told. And for such a small country they have a pretty dense population of 12 million people! I thought we (South Africa) had a lot of people at over 50 million, but right next to Benin, Nigeria has over 120 million people! Djamiou took me to see Porto Novo, which is the capital of the country. From what I saw it’s a very quiet town with some stalls next to the road selling all kinds of merchandise. A lot of people are either sitting and chatting next to the road under a shady tree or sleeping under a shady tree. We drove a bit further North so I could get to see some of the country side. There are many small villages spread out all along the roadside, just like I had experienced in Gabon and Cameroon. Tropical surroundings and lots of greenery, but not as dense as in Gabon and or Cameroon. Djamiou helped me to sort out my visa for Togo and Cote D’Ivoire. I knew that there is a common visa for French speaking West-African countries and inquired as to whether I would be able to obtain one? We went to see a friend of his at immigration who told me that only citizens of these countries (Benin, Togo, Burkina Faso, Mali and Cote D’Ivoire) could apply for this visa. After some negotiating and sweet-talking he eventually agreed to help me out. This would mean I would have to get a visa for Benin. As a South African passport holder I do not need a visa for Benin. But now I would have to get one in order to get the Entente visa for Togo and Cote D’Ivoire. I agreed of course and paid the fees so they could start processing the visas. It only took 24 hours to process both visas and soon I had my passport back in hand with my Entente visa valid for 2 months! Now I still needed to sort my visa for Ghana. Djamiou phoned Fufu who phoned a friend in Togo, who in turn phoned a friend at the Ghana border and they assured me that I could get a visa at the border. Okidoki, so now I was set to make my way to Cote D’Ivoire! Djamiou and four other riders would ride out with me to the Togo border. From here I would make my way to Togo and cross the border into Ghana and on to the capital, Accra. Three countries and two border crossings all in one day! The roads are good and we flew to the Togo border. Here I thanked Djamiou and the boys and crossed over into Togo without any hassles. Within an hour I was at the Ghana border! Togo is really tiny! Fufu gave me the contact number of his friend at the border. He would help me if I had any issues with obtaining a visa. So when I arrived I gave him a call and he said he’d be there within 20 minutes. In the meantime I was swamped by border ‘fixers’ who offered to help me with getting all my paperwork stamped. I thanked them but denied their help, as I knew this would just result in my having to empty my pockets to them. I slowly started making my way to the Ghana side. Though after I had my passport and Carnet stamped on the Togo side, my contact was still nowhere to be seen and I had no choice but to cross to the Ghana side of the border and see what I can do about obtaining a visa. The Ghana immigration officials were very helpful and after I had explained my situation to them they said that they could do one of two things: 1. They could give me a 48-hour transit visa, which would cost me $35. 2. They could give me an emergency visa for up to two weeks for $120. I opted for option number 1! As they were busy processing my visa, Fufu’s contact arrived. Although I had already been sorted he stuck with me and gave a contact number for someone that would help me to find a place to stay when I arrived in Accra. I have always heard so many stories of how friendly the people are in Ghana. I was looking forward to experiencing it first hand and already had my first taste of Ghanaian hospitality at the border. The roads are good in Ghana! Every twenty or thirty kilometers you find a village. At just about every village there is a Police control point. Some of them would stop me to ask the usual questions and then send me on my way with big smiles on their faces. At one of these control points I was asked for my driver’s license for the first time on this trip, which I happily produced. He barely looked at it and then said to me: “Give us some Cedi (Ghana currency) then you can go”. I laughed and told him that I do not have any Cedi on me. Then he asked me for some CFA. So I told him that I do not have any money with me. I guess he could see that I wasn’t going to pay up so he just sent me on my way. This is the only disappointment I had in Ghana. I arrived at the outskirts of Ghana just before sunset and phoned my contact, Abam. Whilst waiting for him a number of people stopped to chat with me. Very friendly, outgoing people. When Abam arrived he greeted me with a big smile and then took me to his house. We left my bike in front of his house and he then took me to a hotel around the corner from where he lives. I had a look at the rooms and was very happy to spend the night in Apple Hotel. I had a bed, television, ceiling fan and bathroom with a shower and a toilet. Perfect! I was tired and really just wanted a shower and a bed to sleep in for the night. So I was very happy with what they offered. The room cost me $30 for the night, but I paid it with a smile. I only took what I needed with me to the hotel and left the rest of my baggage and my bike at Abam’s house. He later brought me a 1.5 liter bottle of Coca-Cola and a bottle of mineral water! I had some food left from the morning, which Fufu had bought me in Benin. The only problem was that it was fish pies and with the pies having been in the sun all day, I wasn’t too sure as to whether it was still okay for consuming, but took a chance anyway. I suffered some minor stomach cramps the next day, but that was the worst of it. I had underestimated how far it is from Accra to Abidjan. My GPS doesn’t have maps of this area so I had to stop a few times to ask for directions, just to make sure I was still on the right track. I can navigate by just using the compass on my GPS, problem comes in when getting into a little town and you have to take a left turn here and a right turn there to get out of town. Back home in South Africa, Hanret was trying to help me by sending me town names via sms. Getting out of Accra was fairly easy as there is a great highway leading out towards the towns on route to Cote D’Ivoire. Whenever I would get stopped at a Police control point, I would double check with the officers whether I was still on the right track. They are usually fairly friendly and willing to help. Nearing the border it started raining and would carry on raining all the way to Abidjan. I had gotten so used to passing through so many towns and villages situated next to the road, but after passing through Axim the villages became few and far between. The road also started deteriorating slightly with more potholes and muddy patches. Next to the road I would see signs indicating that I was now riding next to a rainforest and a National Park. Arriving at the border I passed a very long line of cargo trucks. The usual chaos that Central and Western African borders bring with it ensued. First stop, as per usual, the customs office. The customs officer wrote down all my and Dax’s particulars. Afterwards I was shown to the Douane office to have my Carnet stamped. I did not have my Carnet stamped when I entered Ghana, so slipped past Douane to go straight through to the Cote D’Ivoire side of the border. Here I met a customs official that could speak a bit of English and took it upon himself to assist me in getting all my documentation stamped. The other customs officials were not as friendly and would stare at me blankly, shooting questions from all directions. Who are you, where are you going, what’s in your bags, where’s your driver’s permit, where’s your bike’s registration papers, etc etc. If not for my new friend, I’m sure I would’ve only made it through the border by nighttime. I made it through the border by 17:30. The journey from the border to Abidjan would take me two hours. This meant that I would indeed have to ride in the dark. Riding at night in Africa is not easy at the best of times. Riding at night and in the rain makes it a nerve-wracking experience! I stopped to refuel at the first town after crossing the border and asked about the road to Abidjan. Because my GPS had no information on this area I wanted to make sure about the directions. I was told to keep on heading straight to Abidjan. I finally made it into Abidjan by 20:00. As I entered town I stopped at the first landmark I could see to phone my friend, Jackie, with whom I would be staying whilst in Abidjan. I explained to him where I was. As you enter town, right across the road from the first Shell service station you see. As I had just finished explaining to him where I was a guy came past and snatched my phone out of my hands and made a run for it! I called after him and then realized that it wouldn’t do me any good. I just burst out laughing, quite honestly. Because what else could I do? It’s just a phone, right? The only really annoying thing is that almost all my photos and videos from Nigeria to Cote D’Ivoire, were on that phone. As well as all my voice notes about my trip all the way from Angola! Welcome to Abidjan. Or as the locals would say: “AKWABA”. |
Cote D'Ivoire and the Elephant's Bikers...
I spent sixteen wonderful days in Abidjan. The main reason for my extended stay: to decide on how to proceed from Cote D’Ivoire onwards. A friend of mine in Libreville (Gabon) made me promise him that I would not go through Liberia, after he spent a month in captivity in a prison somewhere deep within Liberia’s jungles – stark naked! Now, captivity I could probably deal with. Considering I had a small taste of what it’s like when I had a full-on abduction/torture/interrogation session on my last night of training with a few military operators, who offered me training because they were concerned about my safety, before leaving on my trip. But the mere thought of what mosquitoes (these bloodsuckers seem to consider me a delicacy) might do to my naked body sent shivers down my spine! I asked around and the feedback was mixed. Some said it was okay-“ish”, others said it was a total no-go. If someone had given me a clear: “there are absolutely no issues”, I might have considered it. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...9at72526PM.png So my options were: 1. Liberia. 2. Head through Guinea (but here I was told that there’s growing unrest in the West of Cote D’Ivoire and the Guinea border). 3. A boat from Abidjan to Dakar. (Though there are only cargo ships running this route). 4. Ride through Mali to Senegal. The growing unrest in Timbuktu with Islamist radicals breaking down sacred tombs and a growing number of kidnappings is a cause for concern, but seeing as that’s in the North and I’d be heading through the South, I decided Mali would be my best option. Though it took me almost two weeks to finally arrive at this decision. I spent my days carefully weighing my options against one another. The rest of my time was spent hanging out with fellow bikers in Abidjan, (members of the Elephants Bikers Motorcycle Club – mainly Harley Davidsons) and seeing the sights. The president of the club (he shall only be known as Mammut), kindly took me in for my entire stay in Abidjan. Everyone made sure I was well looked after and had everything I needed. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z.../DSCN17352.jpg Seeing as my phone was stolen upon arrival in Abidjan, Bruno, a member of the club, gave me his phone so I could at least phone the mother ship and inform those concerned that I had arrived safely. Ivan, another member of the club, very generously gave me one of his back-up phones for keeps the very next day! Abidjan, to me, is a vibrant city with a mix of cultures from all over the world. I ate at so many different restaurants ranging from local, to Vietnamese, Lebanese, Chinese and French. The people are very friendly and courteous. (Just don’t lose sight of your phone – hehe) I got to experience the nightlife that the city has to offer on numerous occasions. Admittedly sometimes greeting the sunrise on our way home from the previous night’s excursion. I stayed on Boulevard de Marseille. Across the road there is a Lebanese restaurant that looks out over ‘Lagune Ebrié’. Here you can sit and drink strong Turkish coffee, smoke Sheesha pipe and look out over the lagoon. I was there only once, after we had returned from a ride out to Grand Bassam. A 30-minute drive from Abidjan, it used to be the French colonial capital city from 1893 until 1896, when the administration was transferred to Bingerville after a bout of yellow fever. Now Grand Bassam is a city lined with stalls stocked with local art, clothes, statues, jewelry and all kinds of souvenirs all along the roads. The beautiful beaches host an array of restaurants where you can relax and enjoy some good food, massages and sunbathing. Every now and then you have entertainment in the way of traditional dancers and drumming. I really enjoyed Grand Bassam. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...and-bassam.jpg I took a trip out to Yamoussoukro with a group of Chinese friends. We wanted to visit the Basilica of Our Lady of Peace. Listed by Guinness World Records as the largest church in the world. This would also give me an opportunity to see what the road looks like as I’d be heading out on this road to Mali. A three hour drive from Abidjan, our first stop was to see the crocodiles that live in the lake surrounding the presidential palace, a thirty minute walk from the basilica. We then went for some lunch. I’m very sorry to say that my pasta (Bolognaise with Tagliatelle) was THE worst food on my entire trip so far. It tasted like it had been lying around for about a decade. The rest of the food wasn’t too bad. I even enjoyed some frog legs. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1683.jpg The Basilica of Our Lady of Peace is a pretty impressive sight and something definitely worth seeing. Côte d’Ivoire President Félix Houphouët-Boigny chose his birthplace of Yamoussoukro to be the future site of the new capital city of his country in 1983. As part of the plan of the city, the president wanted to memorialize himself with the construction of what he called the greatest church in the world. He is even pictured besides Jesus in one stained-glass panel. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1695.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1696.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1700.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1701.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1702.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1711.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1716.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1720.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1726.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1709.jpg Back in Abidjan my friends Sunny and Ivan Bouquet treated me to a massage session at a local Chinese spa. The very next week they treated me to an acupuncture session at the same spa! Sunny also took me to a local market as I wanted to find the next edition to my growing ‘ride report’ on my arm. A collection of bracelets from some of the countries I have traveled through thus far. I love markets. The energy about a market as every stall keeper tries to attract your attention. The goods and the bargaining for prices, it’s a lot of fun!! Sunny bought me a silver bracelet and I bought myself a bracelet made of elephant hair. When I finally decided on making my way through Mali, the issue of obtaining a visa came up next. Mammut organized for his driver to take me to the Malian Embassy the next morning. At the Embassy I was shown to an office where a woman indicated to me to have a seat. She gave me a form to fill out whilst she jotted down all my particulars from my passport. Afterwards she told me that it would cost CFA 20 000, which I handed to her. She stamped my passport and that was it! It took only a few minutes, no hassles, no queries, no issues whatsoever and I had a one-month visa for Mali! Fantastic! The day before my supposed departure my friends from the Elephants Bikers held a farewell party for me. We rode out to a very nice hotel/restaurant where we were showered with food and drinks. I had great fun and it only cost 1000 euros! WTF??? (Luckily I didn’t have to pick up the tab, otherwise I’d have to push my bike for the next 10 000 kilometers!) I never left the next day as the party just carried on and we finally got home around 4am the next morning! After the farewell lunch, a number of riders asked me to stay another day. When I agreed, the wheels came off! Dinner, then bars, clubs and karaoke! Who would’ve thought I could sing in French?? LoL. (I actually do know one song in French, now I know a couple!!) http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1739.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1756.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1757.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1751.jpg I had a wonderful time with my friends in Abidjan on their Harleys. Especially Mammut, Bruno, Clotilde, Ivan, Sunny and Sylvan. I spent most of my time with these people and they really looked after me like one of their own! For that I say: Merci beaucoup! On Monday, 9 July 2012, I set out from Abidjan towards Mali. The plan was to ride from Abidjan to Dakar in four days. 2500 kilometers and three countries in four days! The reason for the rush was that I didn’t want to tempt fate and spend too much time in Mali. Just in case, you know. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/IMG_2591.jpg Ivan would accompany me until just outside of town. From here I was familiar with the road to Yamoussoukro. From Yamoussoukro I would make my way to Bouake, Katiola and finally Ferkessédougou where I would spend the night before crossing the border into Mali. From Abidjan you have a beautiful tar road pretty much all the way to Yamoussoukro. Just outside of town you reach a big Police control point. They stopped me here and just had a quick chat. Further on the clouds hung low, threatening to open up at any second. It’s rainy season in Western Africa, so I am bound to hit some rain on the road at some point! We had a lot of rain whilst I was in Abidjan. Though Mother Nature seemed to take pity on me and didn’t throw even a drop on my helmet! From Yamoussoukro the road gets a little trickier with big potholes all over. Not really an issue for a bike as you can just ride around these suspension killers. Though you do get stretches where there is no road anymore. Not long stretches, maybe 20 meters or so. But these stretches would sometimes resemble a pool of mud with treacherous rocks sticking out all over. I had more and more of these stretches as I progressed towards Ferke. I’d have to slow down considerably and this caused for a miscalculation in how long it would take me to reach Ferke from Abidjan. I finally reached the town just before nightfall. Luckily the sun only starts setting around 19:00, which worked in my favor this time round. I am trying my best to not reach towns at nighttime anymore. I’ve done so a number of times and know it’s not a good idea. I easily found a hotel just before entering the center of town, on the right hand side of the road. Five hundred meters off the road lies Hotel Le Chateaux. Prices range between CFA 15 000 and CFA 50 000. I took something in between. A room with a bed, air-conditioning, television and toilet with a shower with HOT water!!! If it has hot water, it’s a bargain! I decided to make up on spending a bit more on accommodation by not eating out. I rummaged through my dry bag and found a tin of bully beef and a tin of mixed veg that I’d been carrying from…South Africa!! Hey, if you haven’t eaten all day, these make out for a fantastic meal! I left some for breakfast and turned in for the night. |
Mali! Plan for two days...stay for a week!!
Next morning I ignored my alarm and only got up around 8:00. I quickly packed up, loaded the bike, thanked the friendly staff and headed out. I filled up with fuel at a Total garage in town and bought myself a Coke and a chocolate bar. My GPS doesn’t work in this area but I consulted my maps the previous evening as to which route I’d have to take to reach the Malian border. If I took a wrong turn I could end up at the Burkina Faso border. In reality this wouldn’t have been a problem as I have an Entente visa which allows me entry into Benin, Togo, Cote D’Ivoire and Burkina Faso. So if I happened to take a wrong turn that would only mean heading through Burkina Faso a bit and then entering Mali from another angle. Though I found the route pretty straightforward, so chances of my taking a wrong turn was pretty much zero. Forty kilometers outside of Ferke, you have a road splitting off to the left. They even have a sign up that indicates that this is the road to Bamako. Then from the split you have another sixty kilometers to the border. As a delightful surprise the road instantly improves and as soon as I turned left towards the Mali border I found myself on a superb tar road with absolutely NO potholes! If you’re pushed for time, good tar roads always help a great deal. As I reached the border I rode right past the Senegal customs post, by accident of course. I somehow just didn’t see them and just kept riding. Luckily I was going at a slow pace and when I heard people calling from behind, I looked back and realized that they were calling me back! Oops. No harm done though. The customs officials were very friendly and I had a long chat with one of them who seemed very concerned about my safety in Mali. He asked me whether I was SURE I wanted to ride through Mali as: “It’s very dangerous”. “Do you have a map”? Yes. “Do you know the roads”? No. “But you know where you’re going”? Yes. “Good, go quickly”! On the Mali side things went quick and easy. I was ordered to sit and eat peanuts with the customs officials whilst they went through my paperwork and stamped my passport. I didn’t argue. Had my passport stamped and then went to have my Carnet stamped. Here I was shown to a yard with a few busses and cars parked next to a building. Obviously the Douane building. I was left standing next to my bike as one of the uniformed officers went to have my Carnet stamped. This is the first time someone had something stamped FOR me! I felt rather spoiled! Whilst standing next to DAX, an array of people came over to have a look at the bike and to chat to me. Some guys gave me their numbers and told me to call them when I got to Bamako. Some offered me tea and others tried to sell me bracelets or clothes. A few minutes later the officer returned with my Carnet in hand. Luckily I checked and noticed that they had not stamped my Carnet, so I had to send him back. Once I had all the stamps in the right places, I greeted the crowd around me and pushed on towards Bamako. The officer who had my Carnet stamped shouted after me to be careful of the potholes in the road! I am yet to find these potholes, as the roads in Mali are beautiful! Okay, I think I maybe saw ONE pothole on my way to Bamako. From the border I made my way to Sikasso, from here my GPS had information on routes again. The first thing that hit me upon entering Mali is how QUIET it is here! There’s this tangible calmness in the air. In stark contrast to the North! There aren’t as many people on the road as I’ve become used to in Central and the rest of Western Africa. On the contrary I noticed that mostly people are working in fields all along the roadside. You don’t hear anything. People just go about their daily lives, working in the fields. Whenever I stopped for a break next to the road maybe one or two people would walk past me. I would greet them and they’d shyly smile and move along. It’s like I’ve entered a completely different Africa now. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1782.jpg That’s until I reached Bamako! From Sikasso I made my way to Bougouni, heading west. Then from Bougouni I turned north towards Bamako. I underestimated just how big Bamako is and only arrived around 20:00. From about 10 kilometers outside of the actual city I could see long files of traffic snaking through the countryside, making their way in and out of town. I followed my GPS into town and then I got lost! Crazy traffic EVERYWHERE! I was trying to find a good landmark to phone my contact, Valerie, from so they could then meet up with me. But it became impossible and as soon as I found a gap to pull off to the side of the road I phoned Valerie and we agreed that I should make my way back to the “Tour de l’Afrique” statue you see as you enter Bamako. I would estimate the statue/ memorial to be about 12 meters tall, so it’s not like you can miss it! It’s situated in the middle of a big ‘rond-point’. (Roundabout) I found myself a spot within the roundabout and parked off to the side, waiting for Valerie and her friend to meet up with me. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ur-afrique.jpg Whilst sitting on my bike, watching the traffic playing ‘ring a ring o’ roses’, a guy stopped next to me on a scooter and asked whether I needed any help in perfect English. I told him that I was waiting for my friends. And so we started chatting and my new friend Ali, told me how he had to flee from Timbuktu with his family because of the violence and unrest in the North. He used to be a travel guide in Timbuktu and showed me pictures of many a traveler he had taken around. He stayed with me until Valerie and Paul arrived. It took them about an hour to get to me and in that time many guys stopped to chat to me. Ali just showed them away. At one point a guy insisted on wanting to buy my bike from me! He obviously loved my bike and hung around up until the point that I left; probably hoping I might change my mind! Sorry buddy! I thanked Ali for keeping me company, greeted Valerie and Paul and then followed them to my hotel. Hotel le Campagnard. My original plan was to stay here for one night. I would spend the night and then carry on early the next morning to Kayes just before the Senegal border. Little did I know I would spend the next four nights and I’d never get to Kayes either! The decision came the next morning when I woke up around 05:00 from the prayer calls coming from the surrounding mosques. I promptly turned around, switched off my alarm and went back to sleep. I was tired! I could feel it on the bike since the previous day. I don’t know why I am so tired. It’s not like I have any reason to be after over two weeks rest in Abidjan! But the little voice told me to stay and rest. The reason would be revealed later that day by way of three strangers who ended up in the bar downstairs from my room, by ‘chance’. I went down to the restaurant/bar around 12:00 for a cup of coffee. Whilst sitting there Paul also arrived and introduced me to some of the people around the bar. The guy sitting next to me starting chatting to me and asking me about my route to Senegal. Whilst chatting to him three more people arrived. They sat down at the bar across from me. Whilst chatting to the guy sitting next to me I overheard the newcomers talking in English, and I recognized the guy’s accent. When I had a gap I leaned over and asked him: “Sorry, where are you from?” South Africa. Then I smiled and asked: “Ja, maar van waar”? To which they burst out laughing. Here in my little hotel I ran into Francois and Janita from Bloemfontein! They were on their way back to South Africa after a three months working on one of the mines near the Senegalese border. They work three months and go home for one. This is the first time since Namibia that I got to meet fellow South Africans on the road. I know we are all over Africa, but I always seem to miss everyone! So I was very happy when I met Francois and Janita. This also meant I could speak my home language, Afrikaans, for the first time since leaving Namibia. Every now and then it really is a treat to bump into fellow countrymen. With them they had Pat, a French born Aussie. Now there’s a confused accent if you’ve ever heard one! But an awesome guy! Upon hearing my story he immediately got to work on sorting my visas for Mauritania and Morocco. He phoned a friend at the Moroccan embassy, organized an appointment for me and put me in a taxi. Upon arriving at the embassy I was asked by the security officer whether I am the South African? I was shown to an office and told to take a seat. A few minutes later a lady arrived and handed me the application form to fill in and with that, two photos and CFA 20 000. I was so happy about the opportunity to have these two visas sorted in Bamako. I always feel much more at ease once I have the visas needed for the next country in my passport. Having the next two countries is a bargain! I don’t need a visa for Senegal, so that’s an easy one. Though, sadly, after about twenty minutes the woman returned with my passport and my CFA 20 000. She told me that they could unfortunately not process my visa application and that I’d have to do it in Mauritania. From what I understand with my little French is that it was because I am not a citizen of Mali. A bit confusing and disappointing. You win some, you lose some. It was worth a try. I headed back to my hotel. By the time I got back it was already very late in the afternoon and Francois, Janita and Pat had already left. I went to my room and checked my emails, Facebook messages etc. I had an early dinner and then went to bed. I spent the rest of the week in Bamako. For no reason other than I enjoyed it! I would walk around every now and then, down the street to the bank to draw some money. Then stop off at the garage shop to buy a cold drink. Then explore the area a bit before heading back to the hotel. Downstairs from my hotel there’s always at least five guys sitting and selling their goods. They’ve tried flogging everything from clothes, to bangles (I did buy one…my Mali addition), sunglasses, shoes, cd’s, dvd’s. You name it, they’ve got it! Everyday when I came out of my room they would call up to me, greeting me and asking me if I had a good sleep? Persistent salesmen that they are, they’d throw out the bait to see if I didn’t want to bite and buy at least one CD or one T-shirt. I give them a ten for determination! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1770.jpg Francois and Janita had given me the contact number for one Derick du Plessis who is another fellow South African working in Gounkoto, right on the Senegalese border. Turns out Derick did a stint with his dad last year August/September from Mali to England. Yay, a fellow adventurer! And this is how the route change came in from heading to Kayes to rather heading to Gounkoto. You won't find the route on any map or GPS as the new road leading to Gounkoto only opened in December. When I told my friends in Sali (Senegal), that I’d change my route they told me that I would struggle as it’s a bad road and with all the rain recently I’d only reach Dakar in a month’s time! Though I had faith that I’d been given the correct information, and armed with a hand drawn map that Pat had drawn me whilst we sat in the bar, I set off towards Gounkoto on Saturday 14 July 2012. And indeed, there is a brand new tarmac road leading all the way to the Senegal border! I phoned Derick on route to keep him updated on my progress. I must just say once again, I find Mali to be a very beautiful country! Beautiful landscapes, lush green grass and trees all over. It reminds me a bit of the Lowveld in South Africa. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1781.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1807.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1794.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1832.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1825.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1795.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1805.jpg I had no issues with navigation. Pat’s map drawing skills proved to be very good. I made great progress and landed in Gounkoto around 16:00 the afternoon. Yay, I reached a town before nightfall! Before you get to Kenieba, which is the town just before you get to Gounkoto, you go through a police control point. Just before this point there is a service station. I stopped here to fill up and as I was about to pull off again a white Toyota Land Cruiser just nicked me from behind, on my right side pannier. But it was enough to just push me over and have me drop DAX. Before I was even up on my feet, three of the attendants rushed to my side to help me pick up the bike. The first time I’ve put the bike down since Gabon! Grrrrr. After I had passed through the control point a yellow BMW f800gs pulled out in front of me and I immediately knew it was Derick. He had ridden out to wait for me and lead me to their base. On route we saw a guy on one of those 100cc Chinese jobbies with a monkey as pillion! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1854.jpg When we arrived at the base Derick introduced himself and I also met Chrisjan. First things first, they invited me in, gave me a cold beer and we watched some rugby whilst they asked me some questions in between. I felt right at home. I also met another South African family here; Stefaans and Colette with their three children Jancke (10), Inge ( and little Faans (2). I arrived just at the right time it would seem as Jancke celebrated her birthday on Sunday and the little one turned two yesterday. So we’ve been spoiled with potjie, steak and chips and lots of cake! Yum. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1857.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1864.jpg I’ve now been here for almost a week. The guys keep telling me to please stay as long as I want. In the meantime we’ve sent my passport back to Bamako to give the visas one last try. Once I have the visas in hand, I’ll head over into Senegal and on to Sali where I’ll spend my first night. Then it’s off to Dakar, St Louis and finally Mauritania and Morocco. I’ve heard SO many horror stories about the Rosso border between Senegal and Mauritania. I’ll post some here later. And then soon I’ll be in Dakar, with my BMW Dakar. And riding through the desert. Meeting up with friends in Morocco. So there’s still so much to look forward to! In the meantime, I’m enjoying the sights. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1873.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1879.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1891.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1901.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1903.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1912.jpg |
:thumbup1: Outstanding Jo :thumbup1:
And Allan !!!!! What can i say :glare: Roll part two bier Cheers Phil |
Mali to Mauritania!
I had a wonderful time in Mali! Despite all the unrest and turmoil going on in the North, the rest of the country is very peaceful. People go about their daily lives and shyly smile when you greet them. I stayed at the G&S camp on the Gounkoto mine, almost right on the Senegalese border in the West of Mali. I never even planned on riding through Mali! But ended up spending almost a month! It was a good choice! I had the opportunity to meet many wonderful people! I felt right at home with Derick and Chrisjan who kindly took me in and gave me a place to stay for as long as I needed. On my first attempt I was not able to acquire my visas for either Mauritania or Morocco. Right after I had reached the mining camp a friend in Bamako said he could help out and I immediately sent my passport back. It took about two weeks, but ‘Pat the miracle worker’ was successful in getting both my Mauritania and Moroccan visas in Bamako. To top it all off he hand delivered my passport back to me and refused to let me pay for anything! Everyone welcomed me with open arms and made me feel to be part of the family! I got to explore the area a bit, get to know loads of interesting and wonderful individuals, go on rides with my buddies Derick and Chrisjan, and got to meet Mr. Mark Bristow. (Another avid adventure rider and CEO of Randgold Resources) [IMG]http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1970.jpg[/IMG] http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN1979.jpg I would’ve loved to stay even longer, but my visa for Mali was about to expire. Originally the plan was to ride to Saly (Senegal) and spend one or two days with friends there. Then ride to St. Louis to stay at the Zebra Bar before taking on the Rosso border into Mauritania. Though Mr. Bristow invited me to stay at their guesthouse in Dakar for a night. I was up at 4:30 to load the bike and get ready to leave for Senegal. The boys at the camp were up early as well and we enjoyed our last coffee together. Derick would accompany me to the border (about 10km away) to see me off. A friend, Abdoulaye, arrived just before 6:00 and took my passport to the border. He sorted everything out before I even got there. I said goodbye Derick (knowing that he was itching to join me to Morocco! I knew how much he misses the road after he and his dad rode to the UK last year) and crossed over into Senegal. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2068.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2066.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2067.jpg Abdoulaye rode with me to the first town in Senegal (Kedougou), filled up my bike at his expense, shook my hand, wished me luck and turned back. What an awesome guy! I knew what to expect from the landscape and surrounding as Derick painted a colorful picture when reminiscing about his trip. This new road that was built in December 2011 is known as the Millennium Highway. It lasts pretty much until you reach the national park. The surroundings are beautiful and wild. For the first time in a long time I got to see animals, other than cows, donkeys and goats. I saw monkeys, warthogs and meerkats running across the road. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2075.jpg After exiting the park the land suddenly starts to flatten out and you quickly drop in elevation. On my GPS I could see the saltpans that stretch from the coastline to Kaolack being indicated to my left. The geography changes so dramatically and suddenly you’re riding through flat terrain, surrounded by water and salt mining heaps on both sides of the road. And it’s windy! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2091.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2100.jpg The distance from where I was staying in Mali to Saly is about 750 km’s. I reached the town of Mbour (just before Saly) around 6:30pm. My friends Laurent and Sahar Desmarets were waiting for me at the Shell garage as you enter Mbour. First things first, we headed to a local restaurant for ciders to celebrate my arrival! And then I dropped the bike! Hahahaha. (It was before I had the ciders!) http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2110.jpg I spent a wonderful day relaxing in Saly. Sahar took me into town because I needed to do some shopping! Saly is a lovely little town with stalls lining the streets with merchants selling their goods. People are extremely friendly and warm and welcoming! Love it! I needed to find a bracelet for my ever-growing collection! I met a Touareg who has a shop making silver jewelry. He didn’t have any bracelets I was interested in, but offered to make me one. I explained to him what I wanted and he said he would deliver it to me later that night. A few shops down the street I met a tailor and an artist who had heard about me from Sahar. They both welcomed me to Senegal and gave me two bracelets as presents! Awesome! I went about shopping for some clothes and by the time I got back to the Touareg’s shop, my bracelet was ready! Hand made, especially for me! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2112.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2114.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2121.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2134.jpg That night Laurent and Sahar invited another South African over and we all had dinner together. I was almost sad to have to leave so soon! I would’ve loved to stay in Saly for a few more days! Though I really wanted to get the Rosso border crossing out of the way as soon as possible! So the next day it was off to Dakar. It’s only about an hour’s ride from Saly so there was no real rush. I only left late in the afternoon and reached Dakar just before dark. Reaching Dakar…on my Dakar! A joyous occasion! A driver escorted me to the guesthouse where I would spend the night. Later on David and Moustapha arrived so we could discuss how to go about the Rosso border crossing. Mark had asked them to assist me! I was given a contact number for another David at the border who would meet me there and run me through the procedures. Next morning I was up at 5:00 and left Dakar in the dark. Senegal, to me, is horse and baobab country! All along the roadside there are horses! And they’re well looked after. The baobabs I started noticing from Kaolack onwards, spread far and wide across the countryside. Absolutely beautiful, these majestic giants! Vegetation starts thinning out as you close in on Mauritania and starting noticing old Arabic style structures. And then, I reached Rosso! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2139.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2156.jpg I did not stop until I reached the border gate. The street is filled with hordes of people, small bikes and donkey carts. The second I stopped I was surrounded by at least six men. Frantically talking to me in a mixture of English, French and Arabic. I calmly got off the bike and asked for David. I was instructed that once I located David I needed to phone Moustapha so he could talk to him and verify that it was indeed the right guy. I did as instructed and after I was satisfied that this was indeed the David I would be dealing with, we started with processing my paperwork. Within about ten minutes I was standing on the other side of the gates in the holding area where everyone waited to board the ferry to Mauritania. The ferry arrived before long. Though I could not board, as there were no less than 100 camels waiting to be loaded first. A crowd had gathered around me and we stood watching as the men in their white and light blue robes rounded up the camels in small groups to get them onto the ferry. It was a timeous and ‘not-all-that-fun-to-watch’ procedure. I hated how they kept hitting the camels with their big sticks! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2146.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2183.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2187.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2189.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2191.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2199.jpg On the second round I boarded the ferry with the rest of the camels. It only takes a ten-minute ride over the Senegal river to get to the other side. Though it was a Friday and Ramadan, so by the time we reached the other side I would have to wait for about two hours as everyone was off to pray. In the meantime a couple arrived on a red BMW f800gs. They were from Spain, riding down to Dakar. The man started chatting to me and complained about how bad this border is. I smiled at him and said: “Well brace yourself, the other side is worse”! Which is true, in my opinion. I found the Mauritania side to be much more relaxed. By the time I had my passport stamped and all the paperwork filled out, it was too late to try and gun it for Nouakchott. I would certainly only reach it by night and Mauritania is not really a country where I felt comfortable riding around at night. Just after you cross the border there is a hotel on your right. Clean and cool, I thought it a good idea to rather spend the night and get an early start the next morning. In retrospect, I should’ve pushed through to Nouakchott....... |
Mauritania to Western Sahara
I settled into my hotel room. It was hot as hell outside and I was really grateful for the air conditioner in my room! I checked in around 05:00pm. Being Ramadan, I knew I would only be able to get food a little later that night. David (the man that handled my paperwork when I crossed the border) kindly offered to bring me some food later on. With accommodation and food sorted, I had a shower and a nap. It had been a long day and I was exhausted! The TV in the room even had movies showing in English! I felt comfortable that I had made the right choice in rather staying than trying to make it to Nouakchott before dark. Around 09:00pm there was a knock at my door. Yay! David had brought my food, as promised. I was very happy to see him as I hadn’t eaten all day (Ramadan), and I was super hungry! He put the food down on the counter. Grilled chicken with fries and salad! Though my happy feeling suddenly disappeared when I noticed him closing and locking the door to my hotel room. He then approached me and tried to kiss me. I pushed him away and made it CLEAR that I was not interested. Of course he became even more persistent. He pushed me onto the bed and a wrestling match ensued. I completely lost it and went into ninja mode! I managed to fight him off and started shouting at him and told him to get out! He stood staring at me with wild eyes for a few seconds and then became apologetic all of the sudden, saying: “Excusez-moi. Ce pas moi, c'est mon cœur.” You’re aiming too high asshole! I promise you it’s not your heart! And then he left. That's him, sitting next to me on the ferry from Senegal http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2198.jpg Apart from experiencing intense anger and a few bruises in my neck, I was fine. Even managed to get in some sleep. I was up at 6 again the next morning. I loaded the bike, paid for my room and left for Nouadhibou. I didn’t want to hang around in Mauritania and rode through the country, border to border, in one day. I had been warned about all the security control points on route and came prepared with my “Fiche”. Control points are spaced only a few kilometers from each other and you run into one about every 20 kilometers or so. They’re usually situated before and after towns and villages. What’s different from these control point, in comparison to control points in most of Central and Western Africa is that you MUST stop at the sign that says STOP. This might sound as a given, but all the way up until here I’ve noted that one only stops at a control point if the officer on duty signals you to do so. I didn’t stop at the first sign, but did stop in front of the officer and he asked me why I didn’t stop at the sign? I noted the line of cars that had stopped behind me, behind the sign, and then I understood. Every time I reached a control point the officer would greet me, and then just say: “Fiche”. Fiche is basically a copy of your passport with details written on it, such as: your vehicle’s make and registration number, your visa number and occupation. I prepared about 20 copies before entering Mauritania. I ran out of copies before I reached Western Sahara! It’s a very long road leading up to Western Sahara. I was very excited to get into the desert though. It’s a bit of a ‘shock to the senses’ after emerging from Central and Western Africa’s jungles. (Literally and figuratively speaking). The road is in good condition and ranges between light grey shell-grit and black tar sections. The light grey road sections mostly consisting of shell grit and the black sections normal tar road. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2175.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2176.jpg The two biggest cities on route to Western Sahara are Nouakchott (the country’s capital) and Nouadhibou. After stopping at no less than fifteen control posts, I finally made it to Nouakchott. I stopped at a Total garage to refuel and asked about fuel availability on route to Nouadhibou. The stretch between Nouakchott and Nouadhibou is about 480 kilometers. I can reach around 360 kilometers on a full tank (17 liters). The attendant assured me that there is no fuel available on route to Nouadhibou, so I filled my two 7-liter fuel bags as well. That ought to do it! Though I did find a Total garage about halfway between Nouakchott and Nouadhibou with fuel! And a little shop where I bought myself a nice cold Coca-Cola! It is HOT out on the road and I was lucky enough to ride through two sandstorms on route to Nouadhibou. What I loved is watching how the sand gets blown over the road. It never settles ON the road, but would rather just blow across the road in thick streaks or in beautiful patters if the wind is from the north or south. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2205.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2218.jpg When entering Mauritania you have proper sand dunes surrounding you. Then as you progress through the country the scenery changes to a more rock desert environment. There are small villages next to the road and nomadic tents that I could spot every now and then further in from the road. The only animals I spotted were camels (of course), donkeys and dogs. There are also a lot of dead animals on the side of the road. Throughout the country I would catch a whiff of a decaying animal on the side of the road every now and then. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2210.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z.../DSCN22142.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2207.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2221.jpg The second sand storm I went through was quite intense and reduced my visibility to about 20 meters. A crazy wind blowing in from the coast – west to east. It felt like I had to hang on for all I was worth! And even in that sand storm I got pulled over at a control point. The officer on duty had to hold my bike whilst I fished out my Fiche for him! We couldn’t hear one another but I knew he wanted the Fiche, so I handed it to him and then carried on. By the time I reached Nouadhibou the wind had subsided somewhat. The sun starts setting around 07:30pm, which gives me lots of daytime to work with. It took me close to 10 hours to ride through Mauritania with all the control point delays. I had the name of a hotel that Moustapha in Dakar had given to me and immediately went about searching for said hotel. After riding around for about half an hour without any luck in finding the hotel, I decided to try a different tactic. I rode right into the middle of town and stopped in the busiest intersection, got off my bike and removed my helmet. Knowing that this would attract attention, two men approached me in no time flat. I told them I was looking for Tiriz Hotel and they kindly pointed me in the right direction. Five minutes later I arrived at the hotel and checked into my room. Street in Nouadhibou http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2224.jpg Next morning when I woke up, I looked out my window and noticed someone was sleeping on the rooftop next to the room I stayed in. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2222.jpg Another wonderful day on the road, exploring, riding and experiencing! |
Crossing into Western Sahara
During Ramadan, the towns are jam packed at night and dead quiet during the day. Which suits me just fine. Makes it easier to negotiate any traffic (though the only traffic you’ll experience around here is when you ride through a town…and towns are few and far apart), and by the time the streets get crazy I’m already cozy in my hotel room. I had a bit of a lie in and only left Noudhibou around 09:00am the next morning. The staff at Hotel Tiriz were very friendly and helpful. The concierge brought me some food the previous evening (Okay this time I stood by the door and kept it open…just in case). The staff helped me drag all my bags up and down four flights of stairs. (It’s the small things that count, I feel very spoilt when someone actually helps me). It’s about a 50-kilometer ride to the Western Sahara border. You turn off the main road; cross a railroad track and then about 5 kilometers later you’re standing at the border gates. Then it’s the usual routine. Get out my passport and Carnet de Passage and start getting them stamps. All went fairly easy and without hassles on the Mauritania side. Then when you pass through the gates, you enter ‘No Man’s Land’. The 3-kilometer stretch between Mauritania and Morocco. There is no road! You have to make your way through some rocks and sand and a vehicle graveyard. There are signs that warn you not to wonder off in the wrong direction, on account of you might just run over a landmine! The best way to cross this stretch is to wait for another vehicle and then follow them to the other side! I made it to the other side, unscathed and rode past customs. Oops! I do that on a regular basis! Hee hee. A group of robed men sitting on the side of the road was shouting and waving at me, indicating that I needed to go back. No harm done though, when I got back to the customs window the officer on duty just smiled and asked: “France or Spain”? “Neither, I smiled”. He tried a few more: “Germany, Italy, Sweden…”? “Afrique du Sud”, I finally replied. “Ohhhh, you’re from Africa”. Ummmm, yes…and you must be from…Uranus??? He was very friendly and efficient though. Even added me as a Facebook friend whilst processing my details. After having my passport stamped I went about having my Carnet stamped, but then things turned into a bit of a run around. First I had to go to Douane. They then sent me back across the road to the Police who had to search my things. Police searched my belonging and stamped my little blue form, and then it was back to Douane. Where is your insurance form? I don’t have one. Okay, see that office over there? You have to buy insurance. Off to the office, I go to buy insurance. The office is just beyond the border gate entering Western Sahara. I buy insurance (900 Dirham for one month’s insurance). Then it’s back to Douane once more. They process all my information and stamp the blue form again. I ask them to please stamp my Carnet. They stamp both the entry and exit forms. Huh? Okay, whatever, I’ll sort out later. It’s hot as hell and I need something to drink. Finally with all the right stamps in the right places I head towards the boom. There is a long line of trucks waiting to get through. The officer manning the boom asks for my passport. He supposedly cannot find my stamp and tells me to park to one side. I do as I’m told and follow the officer around as he quibbles with the truck drivers. I follow him around for about 15 minutes. He just ignores me. He finally hands my passport to another officer who just hands my passport back to me and tells me I can go. Huh again? Just beyond the border there is a hotel on your left with a little shop next to it. I buy a one-liter Sprite, a buddy Coke and 1,5 liter water and hit the road. I passed the line of trucks and found a quiet spot a few kilometers away where I stopped and downed the Coke and half the bottle of water. The border is in the background, where you see that cellphone tower http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2244.jpg I was now in Western Sahara! Woohoo! There’s just something immensely intriguing about the Sahara. The vastness, the mystery, the world’s largest hot desert! Next stop: Dakhla! World renowned for kite surfing action! About 380 kilometers from the border and the road carries virtually no traffic. Whenever I’d stop for a quick break, the sudden intense silence that surrounded me would make my ears ring! I could hear a vehicle approach from miles and miles away. Even the simple act of swallowing a mouthful of water made me feel like the nomads might have heard me miles into the desert. On route to Dakhla you’ll come across camels grazing next to or lazily crossing the road. You’ll see one or two cars and lots and lots of desert! The sun will turn your ATGATT into a cooking suit. But you’ll love it. Because you’re in the SAHARA baby!! Well, the Western part of it anyway. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2239.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2240.jpg One of the questions I get asked the most is: “What goes through your mind when you’re on the road, all day, on your own”? Well…if you were to go to a travel agency they would tell you that Mauritania and especially Western Sahara are no-go zones for tourists! It’s very dangerous and you might get kidnapped. So that’s what went through my mind on route to Dakhla. Say I got snatched, dumped in the middle of the desert with only the clothes on my back…how would I survive? How would I survive long enough to reach civilization? This is what I came up with: I would try to figure out at what time I got snatched and based on the time lapse between time taken and consciousness regained I would try to work out how big a radius I’m looking at, based on last known destination. Assuming that I’m still in Western Sahara I would start heading in a northwesterly direction (to reach the coast). And then, maybe I’ll eat that blue camel hovering over there…or maybe I should get out of the sun! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2274.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2275.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2282.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2297.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2324.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2327.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2328.jpg Just before you reach Dakhla you really hug the coastline for some distance. There’s a particular stretch where you can turn off the road (if you want to) and have a great view looking out over the ocean. In some sections it really looks like the earth just broke off into the ocean. Vertical cliffs with about a fifty-meter drop in some sections (guesstimate). Then as you start turning to get to Dakhla you cross over a hill and then all of the sudden, literally hundreds of kite surfers to your left! It’s a pretty awesome site and not quite something you’d expect if you didn’t know about it! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2310.jpg I treated myself when I got into town and booked myself into the Sahara Regency Hotel. A few Italian guys outside the hotel were very interested to find out where I had come from and helped me unload the bike. Turns out they had ridden from Italy to Dakhla a few years ago. Now they were just here for the kite surfing. There were quite a few foreigners in the hotel, here for kite surfing. There’s a camp outside of Dakhla as well where most of the kite surfers stay over. The kite surfers http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2331.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2332.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2333.jpg I settled into my room and had a view over the main street from the second floor. Later at night I watched as the street filled up and people walked around, kids played on the sidewalks and men sat at café’s drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2334.jpg Entrance/Exit - Dakhla http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2335.jpg Next stop…Laayoune! (A.K.A El Aaiún) |
Interview on television in Laayoune. It's all in Arabic though. :)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mKCI...layer_embedded |
Laayoune to Rabat
I left Dakhla around 09:00am the next morning. Riding out on the peninsula heading North I noted a train on the tracks to my left. A caravan of camels was lazily shuffling through the desert sand. On top of the train I noted men standing with their robes blowing in the wind, like something out of Lawrence of Arabia! And then I think to myself: just a few months ago, Morocco seemed so far away. I romanticize scenes of being swept off into the desert by an Arabian prince whilst sweeping through the South of Morocco with DAX faithfully roaring underneath me as I steer us further north. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2346.jpg The stretch from Dakhla (pronounced Daghla – ‘g’ as in gooi) to Laayoune is about 540 kilometers and the road leads you all along the coast. For the first time in a long time I am actually cold! Riding next the coastline with the wind blowing in from the ocean turns it into a huge natural air conditioner! The day is fairly uneventful but I am happy riding along with a feeling of absolute contentment. There’s a certain feeling of calmness here. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2352.jpg The ever-present control posts carry on throughout. Though I never have any problems. I get stopped at each and every single one, but I just greet the officers with a friendly smile and hand over my paperwork. They return my greeting and react with astonishment when they open my passport. “Vous êtes une femme?” (You’re a woman?) I smile and just nod. They never ask me to take off my helmet like in Central and West Africa. Seems the guys are more trusting up here. The coastline is dotted with men casting their lines into the ocean down below. The wind is insistent and I contemplate stopping to take out a jacket. The road is starting to carry more traffic and I can feel myself getting closer to the bigger towns. Whenever I do stop for a break, passersby greet me by hooting and waving, carrying a smile on their faces. I also start passing through small towns more frequently. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2360.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2362.jpg Just before entering Laayoune I am stopped at yet another security control point. Here they keep me for almost half an hour. I do not really understand why? They keep asking the same questions over and over – where are you heading? What is your profession? (Always a tricky one – apparently ‘adventure motorcyclist’ does not exist as a profession? Says who??? LoL) I am asked where I will be staying in Laayoune? Luckily I do know where I will be staying as one of my best friends in Rabat, Larbi Sbai, had organized for me to stay at his cousin’s hotel in Laayoune. I tell them that I will be staying at the Parador Hotel and that my contact is the owner, one Abid Sbai. With this they immediately hand back my passport and even give me directions to the hotel. I thought it all to be very odd! On route to the hotel, a car stopped next to me and asked whether I was looking for Parador Hotel? This left me really puzzled. They told me to follow them, which I did. What happened next I really was not expecting! As I pulled up in front of the hotel a sort of welcoming committee was waiting for me. The owner of the hotel as well as the staff and a television crew. I was a bit stunned. They gave me a warm welcome and then took me on a quick tour of the town with the television crew in tow. In the middle of town there is a big square where, especially in Ramadan, people come together. I conducted an interview with the crew and afterward we returned to the hotel. I was given the residential suite and the hotel staff helped me unload my bike. Later on I was back outside working on my bike. A strange site in these parts I’m sure. A few men came to stand and watch, asking about my journey. I even met a bunch of guys from Ghana. I had a wonderful evening meeting people over dinner and being taken on a tour of the town at night. A family welcomed me into their home where I drank tea with them (the wonderful Moroccan mint tea I have come to love) and ate all kinds of wonderful food. Once again back at the hotel everyone gathered to watch my interview from earlier on, they were already broadcasting it! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2378.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2379.jpg Next morning I was packed and ready to go around 09:00am. Abid was there to bid me farewell and lead me out of town. Laayoune is a small town, but navigating through it can be a little tricky. It’s a bit like a maze and if you don’t know where you’re going you could easily find yourself going in circles. This busy little town remains one of my favorites! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2392.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2395.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2396.jpg The next stretch was from Laayoune to Agadir – about 600 kilometers. The surroundings started to change a little and instead of flat desert-like typography it now changed to more ‘mountainous’ scenes. The road started snaking through and around more hills and it was a nice change in scenery. I stopped for a break about 200 kilometers into the ride. Next moment a KTM pulled up next to me. He waved (the rider, not the bike) and asked whether everything’s okay? A quick introduction followed as he got off his bike and lit a cigarette. We inspected each other’s bikes. Very little was said. And then, as if we’d been riding together all this time, we gave each other the nod and got on our bikes to carry on toward Agadir, together. (Remember what happened the last time I rode with someone?) http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2402.jpg I was later able to figure out that he was a psychologist from Italy and that he had ridden down to Mauritania for a holiday. He had ridden most of Northern Africa and was now on his way back home. He didn’t seem too happy about it though…the having to go home part. He was a real gentleman though. When we stopped for fuel, he bought us each a cold drink. We stood chatting, giving each other the nutshell version of who we are and what we do. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2404.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2410.jpg I led our two-man pack as we made our way, snaking through the hills and plunging down into valleys. It was evident that we were closing in on the bigger cities as the road started carrying more traffic. There were two memorable mountain passes where we had to leapfrog a few trucks slowly making their way up some impressive inclines. Riding on these roads can be a bit like playing Russian roulette. Everyone is impatient and you have a line of cars behind you, honking for you to get past the truck so they can pass as well. If you take too long, they’ll shoot right past you with colorful hand signs! No matter if they can see whether there is a vehicle approaching or not. Though, apart from the few close calls, I loved this stretch between Laayoune and Agadir. It really is beautiful! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2417.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2418.jpg We finally arrived in Agadir just as the sun was setting. Once again, I had a hotel and contact name and now had to set out finding it. My Italian companion proved to be a walking, talking GPS and had us parked in front of Hotel Royal in no time! Although he had planned to stay at another hotel, he negotiated with the concierge and booked a room for the night. We unloaded our bikes and each settled into our rooms. I had dinner with the owner of the hotel later on that night. I went searching for my KTM friend but could not find him anywhere. He wasn’t in his room and I figured maybe he had gone out to search for something to eat. Being Ramadan, the hotel wasn’t really serving food but made dinner especially for me. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2421.jpg The next morning I was up, loaded and ready to go around 09:00am again. I still had loads of fuel in my fuel cells and decided to fill up the bike using that, seeing as I wouldn’t be needing to carry extra fuel again for the next month or so. I waited around for a while, hoping that I’d see my KTM friend to wish him Godspeed. Alas, I eventually had to get going and left a note on the KTM. My GPS was directing me to the “old” road between Agadir and Rabat. I decided to take the highway. I haven’t really been on a highway in quite some time and although the adventurer in me was telling me to seek out alternative routes…I was tired and wanted to see my friends in Rabat. I made my way past Marrakech, through the mountains, past Casablanca and on towards Rabat. My good friend Larbi was waiting for me when I arrived and led me to my new home in Harhoura, right on the beach! I spent a week in their beach house just relaxing and having some me-time. Not like I really need it, I have me-time all the time! After Ramadan I moved in with Larbi and his family in the city of Rabat and this has now been my base for the last three weeks. And what a crazy three weeks it’s been!!! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2430.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2432.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...t/DSCN2434.jpg |
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From Morocco I had to return to South Africa, on account of not being able to get a Schengen visa and/or visas for Algeria and Tunisia. I was told that I'd have to get these in my country of residence.
When I got back, I took part in a number of route scouting outings with friends. On one of these scouting trips I rode pillion on a BMW 1200 Adv. My buddy slipped with us in some mud and put the bike down...on my ankle! LoL http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...1-2012S0I0.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps856da2f1.png This caused quite a delay, as you can imagine! But I am happy (read ecstatic) to report that I will be returning to Morocco next week to continue my trip around Africa! :) |
SH1T !!!!! thats going to sting in the morning :oops2:
Thanks again Jo , great morning read and i'm sat here nursing a broken rib, bloody bikes :clap: i wouldn't have it any other way Enjoy Morocco and try and get into the High Atlas as well as the desert it's awesome up there , i'll be back there for the 3rd time in Sept/Oct Ride safe and if you end up North of Toulouse (long shot i know) but you've got a place here Phil |
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You never know...I might just pop in. I will be riding through France btw. From Morocco I will go over to Spain and then ride through France and Italy, from where I'll catch a ferry to Tunisia. :thumbup1: Though I'll mostly stick to the coastline. But if I should decide on heading a bit further north, I'll give you a shout! :mchappy: |
Hi Jo. Got your story off the HU latest news letter. Great stuff. I take my hat off to you and am eagerly waiting to follow the rest off your journey.
Take Care. If ever you are back Windhoek side let me know. |
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Part 2: Back on the Road!! Morocco to Spain: It’s been ten months since I had to leave Morocco and return to South Africa! Can you believe it? Time flies! I set foot back on Moroccan soil on Saturday 6 July’13 and from the get-go I was in for some fun and games. A friend whom I was supposed to stay with had gotten the dates wrong and thought I was only arriving the next week, so he wasn’t in Casablanca. I phoned my good old friend Madani, who quickly came up with a solution and put me up in a hotel near the Airport for the night! What would I do without Madani here in Morocco? Fifteen hours travel from South Africa to Morocco and another 2 waiting around on the airport. I was thoroughly exhausted! I settled into my room. (Beautiful hotel. Hotel Atlas near Casa airport). I had a shower and went down to have a coffee on the terrace next to the swimming pool. By 8pm I was back in my room and fast asleep. * Madani picked me up from the hotel the next morning and we went to watch an enduro race on the beach and camels standing in the waves at Mazagan, a beach resort in El Jadida. Madani showed me the casino in the hotel. We wanted to have a beer, but seeing as it was just days before the start of Ramadan, we weren’t allowed. Well, I could have a beer if I wanted. I just needed to get a special bracelet from reception, but Madani wasn’t allowed. I didn’t think it fare on my friend to have a beer without him, so settled for coffee instead. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psc9f4d8d5.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psc1b13d98.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psb4922392.jpg The next few days were spent in Rabat, which has now become a bit like a second home to me. I stayed with Madani’s cousin, Momo (Mohamed), in the center of town and he absolutely carried me on his hands! Taking care of my every need. He helped me to sort out my precious Dax. For three days we went up and down between customs head office in Hay Riad and customs in downtown Rabat. Between Momo and Madani they wrote an impressive letter in French on my behalf, explaining my situation and hoping this might sway the chief of customs to drop the fine they had slapped on me for leaving Dax in Morocco for so long. A hefty 10 000 Dirham (USD 1200) fine to be exact. At first we were told that it was not possible to have the fine dropped. But we eventually got it down to 6 000 Dirham (USD 700). Still a bit much in my opinion, but that was the offer on the table and I took it. Madani paid the fine for me and will try to get a local club to maybe ‘sponsor’ the expenses. If that doesn’t work, I’ll pay him back. After we had paid the money to customs and got my keys and paperwork back, Madani took me to fetch my Dax! What a joyous moment, seeing my bike again after such a long time! I couldn’t help but get the feeling that she was a little miffed with me for leaving her alone in a strange place for so long. I don’t blame her. She’d get even on day one back on the road…but more on that later. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps1a6e1bdc.jpg Madani organized a mechanic who changed the tyres for me on my bike and give her a quick once over. The guys from Speed Moto in Casablanca serviced her for me the last time round, so there wasn’t much to do. New tyres, change battery and we’re good to go! Ramadan started on the 10th and I decided to also take part. Well, at least until I got to Europe. It’s an interesting experience. I’d say the only thing I really miss during the day is something to drink, like a glass of water or a cup of coffee. At night, Momo and I would go to eat at a little Italian restaurant near the Rabat train station. A traditional Ramadan meal, consisting of a kind of vegetable soup with chickpeas and spaghetti in it, almost like minestrone. Some dates and Moroccan honey cookies called chebakia. (I love these honey cookies!!) A bread roll accompanied with some kind of meat, it differs every night. First it was chicken kebabs, then fish the next night etc. A glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, a yoghurt and a hard-boiled egg. I know it all probably sounds pretty plain, but I found it to be pretty heavenly! Chebakia I've been carrying a stash from Morocco. :) http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps1e066f2a.jpg I also love that, during Ramadan, everyone seems to be out and about at night between 21:00 and 1:00am. After dinner, you walk through the streets and it’s chockablock with people walking around, men lining the outsides of café’s drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes, groups of children playing all over. Hordes of men standing in front of the mosque before going in to pray. The city comes alive at night. I guess because during the day everyone is half asleep as a result of no food or drink. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psc678d048.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psc7906fc8.jpg When the time came to hit the road once more, Madani and a friend of his, Patrick, said they’d ride about halfway to Tanger with me. Madani on his Ducati monster and Patrick on Madani’s Harley. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps43b10427.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps1cda775b.jpg Momo and Dax http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psefd03464.jpg We left just after 10am on Sunday. It was absolutely fantastic being back on the bike! Though it did feel a bit like Dax and I had to become better acquainted again after all this time. So we stopped off halfway to Tanger and I had an interview on SAFM (South Africa) and chatted to a friend, Stephen Kirker. We stopped off at a friend of Patrick’s which is a bit off the main road and I got to hit some thick sand on day one of being back on the road again! I was a bit wobbly but all went well on the way in. On the way out though, Dax got her vengeance for my leaving her alone in Morocco for so long and promptly plonked down in the sand. My friends were very concerned and rushed to help me pick up Dax. I just laughed and said: “This happens pretty often, don’t worry about it.” Now the trip had really begun! I always feel like the trip only REALLY starts after the first fall. Luckily it happened very early on. So no more falls from now on all the way home! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps2e257f81.jpg I then bid my companions farewell and set off to Tanger on my own. The road to Tangier is easy and straightforward. When I arrived in Tanger I phoned Hicham, a guy who I met on couchsurfing.com and on who’s couch I’d be sleeping for the night. He gave me directions to a meeting point and I set on through Tanger city to the beach. Hicham met up with me and led me to his apartment. And WOW! What an amazing place he has. Right on the beach on the 4th floor looking out over the ocean and the entire city and port to the left. We got along fabulously! Later the evening I sat with my legs dangling over the balcony, looking over the ocean and the pink limousine down below in the street, squinting and trying to see Spain off in the distance. It was a wonderful relaxed evening, lying on the couch and dozing off to music being played on the beach outside. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps3be35507.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps545cb654.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psc5db2e12.jpg |
Crossing to Spain
Next morning I had to ride to Tanger Med port. At first I wanted to try and changed my ticked from Tanger Med to Tanger Ville as the city port was right around the corner from where I was staying. But I had booked my ticket with Acciona and they only leave from Tanger Med. Madani and Patrick had told me that Tanger Med is pretty hectic as you have to negotiate your way through so many people. In my mind I saw Rosso border between Senegal and Mauritania in my mind. I had a choice of route between either taking the highway or the coastal road. I’m sure you can guess which one I took. The curvy coastal road of course.
I was pleasantly surprised when I finally got to Tanger Med. Maybe it’s a bit different at the pedestrian entrance, but with a vehicle you go to a different entrance which is clearly marked and easy to find. At the ticketing offices you park your vehicle and get your ticket. There were maybe 50 people in total that I could count and it was very clean and organized. It all seemed pretty new as well as I could see a lot of recent road and construction works around me. After I got my ticked I head off to the ferry. I had to stop at the police checkpoint, then at customs, then at another two security checkpoints. The customs official didn’t fill in my carnet correctly. That irked me slightly but other than that there were no fuss or any hassles. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psf2fa6733.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psa1194318.jpg I arrived at the ferry and rode on. (This ferry crossing is FAR easier than Senegal/Mauritania!) The crew secured Dax and I went up to find a seat. There were maybe 20 people with me and many open seats all over the place. I picked a spot near to the lower deck so I could check on Dax if need be, but fell asleep before we even left the dock. I only woke up when an announcement came over the speakers to inform us that we’d arrived in Spain. I stumbled down below, still half asleep, and arrived just as the crew was freeing Dax of her constraints. There was another loaded BMW parked behind me and a guy and his girlfriend had been riding in Morocco on his f800gs. They were out before me (still in snooze mode), and when Dax and I rolled off the ferry we head straight for customs. It took all of one checkpoint and 5 minutes to get checked into Spain. Quick and easy and in no time I was heading toward Malaga. Initially I had planned to stay in Almunecar at Patrick’s (In Morocco) mother’s house. But then I also had a potential place to stay in Motril with Jose and his wife. Jose met me on the road at Malaga and rode with me to Motril. I stayed over in Motril with Jose and his wife in their house on top of the mountain, which is just absolutely amazing! The view from up there is just spectacular. And it’s so quiet and peaceful which is fantastic. We spent the evening eating, drinking, chatting and laughing. I had such a good time. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps093f4d6e.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps0c6165e1.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...pse2cde7b8.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psbb6f55ea.jpg The next morning we had breakfast in town and Jose helped me to get a local sim card for my phone. He rode with me to the city limits and set me on my way to Valencia. It was a bit of a stretch at about 600 km to Valencia, but I have a bit of a schedule to maintain as I have friends in Montpellier, France, Genoa and Tuscany that I need (want) to see. * It was along day’s ride to Valencia. Though I love being on my bike and on the road. I stopped off 3 times to fill up and take a break. I also like that one has to fill up your own vehicle here. (In South Africa you have attendants that do this). It has a kind of ‘Route 66’ feeling to it. Don’t ask me why, that’s just how it feels to me. From Motril toward Alicante there are a lot of greenhouses and plantations next to the road. For miles and miles you see greenhouses lined next to one another pretty much as far as you can see. All the way you have the mountains on your left and the Mediterranean on your right. It’s so beautiful! And the closer you get to Valencia, the greener it is all around. Pink flowered shrubs line the road in the middle all the way and you ride through so many tunnels all the way along the coast, from the South of Spain all the way toward France. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps693563d1.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps572e8e55.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psb503f177.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psabb8188a.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps6dfea1c9.jpg Tomorrow, Carlos and his wife Alicia whom I am staying with here in Valencia, will ride about halfway to Madrid with me and in Madrid I’ll meet up with another fellow rider – Alicia Sornosa who has also been all over on her bike. Search for “Amigos de Alicia Sornosa” on Facebook to like her page. I’m really loving Spain and people are really taking care of me! And I’m really, really, really loving their sangria and paella!!! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psa5a49e99.jpg |
Good to see you're back on the road Jo
Phil |
Spain - France - Italy
I had a wonderful time in Valencia with Carlos and his wife Alicia. They were fantastic hosts. And what’s more is that they rode with me from Valencia till about halfway to Madrid. Solidarity amongst riders/bikers, is something that I’ve come to really appreciate and cherish so much. It really is something special. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psbe07358b.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps19e96173.jpg I was really looking forward to visiting Madrid as I’d be meeting up with a fellow adventurer named Alicia Sornosa. Alicia has ridden through America, from Alaska to the most southern point in South America. Through Australia and also from Egypt to Kenya. Later this year she will ride from Egypt to South Africa and we hope to meet up somewhere along the way. I arrived in Madrid in the afternoon and met up with Alicia at her place. Unloaded the bike and had a quick shower before it was time to meet some friends and accompany Alicia to her talk at the National Geographic store in central Madrid. I met so many wonderful people and made so many new friends that evening. It was absolutely wonderful. We were a group of about 12 people, all adventure bikers, who spent the night eating tapas, drinking beers and talking bikes and adventure. Absolutely in my element! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psc3f2147f.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psc0434222.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps2b7fc866.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...pse5f5d769.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps966282b5.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps20eaecd1.jpg The next day was spent doing some ‘admin’. Editing photos and uploading updates etc. And also getting my phone fixed as the screen was giving me trouble. Then we spent the night exploring the ‘old city’ of Madrid and hopping from one café to the next sampling delicious food and beer. It was then decided that Alicia and a number of friends would accompany me the next day till about halfway to Terrassa, which is about 30km from Barcelona. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psbe422481.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps9253f033.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...pse9d63281.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps5397999a.jpg Alicia and I only got home around 3am. I knew the next day would be a long one (about 600km) so headed straight for bed to get some sleep. I got up at 7:30, had a quick shower and loaded my bike. By 9:00 we were ready to hit the road. Some of the guys pulled out and we were left with only 4 riders (including myself) out of the original 6. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps1c122c89.jpg And then, about 200km from Zaragoza, my chain broke at 120km/h on the highway. It broke at the master link and went whizzing past the 2 riders behind me. Luckily everyone steered clear of it and I also had no trouble with the chain getting caught on anything. We pulled over and assessed the damage. I have some spare links with me but I don’t have a chain breaker. Either way the chain was too damaged to repair anyway. So my fellow riders all jumped on their phones and within minutes it was decided that Emilio would ride back to the nearest town where he would buy a new chain. Polo and I pushed Dax to the nearest station and the three of us (Polo, Alicia and I) had breakfast…and of course some beers! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps4fad4634.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psbe1c0217.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps99a1c21c.jpg Emilio returned with a new chain AND a BMW mechanic in tow! We ordered more beers and the boys went about fixing my chain problem. Within no time the problem had been resolved, I had a new chain, a full tummy and having fun with great friends. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps146d9f53.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps2a0abf5b.jpg Although this had put quite a delay on the day’s riding and I worked out that I would probably only reach Terrassa round 9/10pm that night. We were all pretty tired but I knew I could cover the distance. About 100km from Zaragoza the rest turned back as they still had to ride all the way back to Madrid, and I carried on toward Terrassa. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps16ccd402.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps142c980b.jpg Another friend, Domingo, met up with me about 100km from Terrassa and rode in with me. We finally reached his place around 11:00pm. I was finished! I had a quick shower and we sat chatting a bit and sampling his father’s home-grown tomatoes and locally sourced cheese and then I hit the sack. Hard! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psc100fddd.jpg Next morning I got up around 8:00 and got ready to get going again. I would crossing into France and staying with some dear friends in Montpellier. Domingo took me for breakfast and much needed coffee, then I filled up with fuel, checked tyre pressure and off I went again. There are so many countries I would like to return to one day and Spain is definitely on the top 5 list! Seems I have a knack for timing in terms of heat-waves. Throughout Spain and in France the weather hit 35 degrees plus. Just to get me ready for what lay ahead! I, unfortunately, mostly stuck to the highways to make up for time. Never again! Firstly, it’s helluva expensive. Secondly, you miss all the good stuff! Initially I would’ve stayed in France for 3 or 4 days. One night in Montpellier, one night in Marseille, one night in Nice and one night in Grenoble. But this was also where I needed to make a decision on whether I’d be gunning it for Tunisia and Libya, or take the long way round and catch a boat to Egypt. I really, really wanted to visit Tunisia and so decided on taking the boat from Italy (Civitavecchia) to Tunis. I booked my ticket in Montpellier and had 4 days to get there. And with that I decided on spending an extra day in Montpellier and then head straight for Italy. I spent two wonderful days in Montpellier with my wonderful hosts, Charles and Michele. Really exceptional people. They took me on a small tour of the city and we went to a jazz concert under the stars. It was wonderful. I really wish I could’ve stayed longer but now I had a boat waiting for me. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps7f12e6c7.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psc0bfef98.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps1c8adf75.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psf6ef6d91.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps611c4b9d.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psc9be2d65.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psf619e586.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...pse00623bb.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps98e9bf1f.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps08665dc2.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps31b0b732.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps610fcec5.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps64a0f9cb.jpg Next up I’d be heading for Genova where I’d meet up with the ‘Cape Town to Dublin by Scooter’ boys from South Africa. We first met up in Johannesburg when they had just set out on their journey, riding through Africa on their scooters to raise funds and awareness for the Red Cross Children’s Hospital. And now we’d meet up again way up north, just about on the opposite end of the world! I was very excited to meet up with the guys! Two things on my ride to Genova: 1. I have NEVER in my life ridden through so many tunnels in a single day. 101 tunnels from when you cross into Italy until you get to Genova. I counted them!! 2. Genova is probably the most confusing city I’ve ever been in. It took me about and hour and a half to finally find the guys. It’s a crazy, busy, noisy city operating at full steam with the hustle and bustle of people going about their business. I managed to get hold of Chris (one of the scooter boys) and he gave me a landmark to search for. “Search for the big ship with a tweety bird on it”. Well I eventually found the tweety bird and the guys. First thing was to buy some food and drinks for the evening. The boys were hosted by the Genova Vespa club and were kind enough to let me spend the night as well. So we all bought some pizza and beers and then headed back to the ‘clubhouse’ where we had beds and showers and food. What more do you need? http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps94a39dff.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps34523000.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psc3aee852.jpg I spent the night catching up with the boys and we exchanged stories from our adventures. The only thing that was missing was a nice campfire! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psbab1a673.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...pse260c62c.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...pse79924e3.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps1205a897.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psa11ba5b0.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps36ee8c49.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps931c1e69.jpg Next day I headed off to Lucca, where I would meet up with yet another old friend of mine. Though first, I would make a new friend on route. About 20km outside of Genova I noticed a bike behind me and I could sense this was someone also touring. Maybe on holiday or so. He passed me and signaled to pull over. It turned out to be a man named Rik, from Germany. He was making use of his holiday to tour around Italy a bit. We had a quick chat and decided to ride together for the day. This was also the only day I spent not riding on the highway and exploring the smaller roads a bit. It was fabulous!! I really had a fantastic time and will definitely have to return to do a proper tour of Europe someday. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psacabc7e4.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps4de47866.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psbd5c226f.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psceee8ae2.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psa4130e2a.jpg I said goodbye to Rik in Livorno and headed back towards Lucca to meet up with Federico. We first met up last year in Morocco between Laayoune and Agadir. I had stopped off on the side of the road to take a break and Federico had spotted me and stopped to find out whether I was okay. He was touring from Italy to Mauritania and back and we happened to bump into each other here, in the middle of nowhere and decided to ride together until Agadir. And now we got to meet up again in his hometown in Italy. It was so good to see him and I spent two very relaxed, wonderful days with him and his wife Bruna, relaxing and doing washing and bike maintenance etc. During the day I was home alone, left to sleep in and do my thing. At night we spent time together eating good Italian food, drinking good Italian wine and talking adventure. Of course. * http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps9dc69424.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psdb807315.jpg My passport landed in the wash in Montpellier and was still wet when I got to Lucca. Oops! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psd98031e2.jpg From Lucca I would head towards Civitavecchia to catch the boat to Tunis. But first I had to stop in Pisa to see the famous leaning tower. Getting into Pisa is easy…finding the tower or parking for the tower, not so easy. It took me a good hour and lots of riding around before I finally found my way to the tower. I spotted a couple on a loaded Super Tenere and decided to follow them. We pulled into a paid-parking garage and were chased out immediately by a guy waving and just saying: “No bikes, no bikes”. They couple stopped a block further and so did I to chat to them. Turned out it was a couple from the UK on holiday. We promptly decided to stick together and find a place to park so we could take the obligatory photos of the tower. If need be I’d look after their bike whilst they went in and they’d do the same for me. We eventually found parking close to the entrance and I spoke to the Senegalese parking attendant in French to make sure he’d look after our bikes. With that we headed in, snapped a few pics, and back out again. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps635c391f.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps311037f6.jpg I bid my friends farewell and off I went towards the port. I arrived at the port around 18:00, checked in and took my place in line to wait for boarding. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps97a3d4fc.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps340c8dd7.jpg |
Go jo
Through your words and photos, we have tasted Africa. Thank you for being an inspiration to humanity, for just being you, and for representing beyond words, the peace and understanding that comprises the heart of every true overlander. We love you Jo.
Xfiltrate and Rosa del Desierto |
Magical Tunisia!
After standing in line for about 4 hours I was finally led onto the ship and parked Dax on the bottom deck with the rest of the bikes. Mine would be the only one heading for Tunis. The rest of the bikes would be disembarking at Palermo. Tunisia is a country I have dreamed of visiting for a long time. For one, Cap Blanc in Tunisia is the most northern point in Africa, so literally the opposite side of the continent for me. (Being from South Africa). Secondly, I have friends who live in Tunisia who were very dear to me before I had even met them in real life. And lastly, it just holds some kind of magic that captures my soul. On board I grabbed something to eat and then headed out on deck to watch as we hoisted anchor and started heading out of the port. There was a young man standing close to me and I could almost feel him burn a hole through me in the way he was staring at me. After a few minutes he approached me and said he’d seen me with my bike and wanted to know where I was from. From that point on the young man that was Bilel from Sousse didn’t leave my side until we disembarked in Tunis. He had obviously appointed himself as my personal guardian on board and we spent the next 24 hours chatting in four different languages (mainly French), drinking coffee whilst sitting outside on the deck and watching the stars overhead. He bought me food and drinks and made sure no potential unsavory characters came near me. Sweet boy. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps8c57c1a3.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps06b3c17f.jpg Meanwhile in Tunis my dear, dear friends were waiting to welcome me at the port. I had told them that we’d be arriving around 21:00. I was one of the first people to disembark but with customs and all the paperwork to get through I finally made it out by 23:00. It felt good to be back on African soil! Sahbi and Anis http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psd3915dcb.jpg Sahbi and Nawfel were standing just outside the port and waved at me as I went through the last few checks. When I was finally free to enter Tunisia I was welcomed by the rest of the group – Anis, Sahbi’s son Mehdi and daughter Ramla and Mehdi Barrak. First point of order was to get something to eat and drink and then I’d have to ride about 60km to where I’d be staying with Sahbi and his family in Nabeul. They were so kind as to let me stay with them in their beautiful home. I also had the pleasure of having dinner during Ramadan with Sahbi and his family. Next day I spent on the beach in Hammamet (a very popular touristic area) with Mehdi and Mehdi. (Sahbi’s son and a friend of his) And later on Sahbi and some friends joined us (Including the crazy and very entertaining Jean-Baptiste). It was a day for relaxing and just soaking up the sun. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps1ac01a9b.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps95a39666.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psf1a1da8b.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps83c545d2.jpg At night the guys took me out riding about town and drinking coffee at the medina in Jasmine Hammamet. I loved spending time with my friends. From Nabeul I moved to Tunis where I stayed with Nawfel and his wife Lamia and their beautiful daughter Nadia. Such a kind family who I had a wonderful time with. Nawfel rode with me to Bizerte, about 60km from Tunis, where I finally got to visit Cap Blanc. The most northern point in Africa! And this also marked the halfway mark of my trip! A great moment and joyous occasion. I always said that: “If I can make it halfway, I can make it all the way”! At Cap Blanc in Bizerte with Nawfel http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps747f6462.jpg At Cap Blanc in Bizerte with Mehdi Bachrouch http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psec32f48a.jpg In Bizerte http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps37dc682e.jpg Nawfel helped me as I serviced my bike back home and in return I spilt oil all over his floor! LoL. He was so kind he bought me new globes for my rear light, oil for my bike, gave me chain cleaner and new chain lube and even washed my bike! At night we’d all have dinner after breaking fast and I met so many wonderful people over wonderful meals. Nawfel and his family also took me to visit Carthage to see the Carthaginian ruins of Phoenicians that populated the area before the Romans took over the city. I love that one can literally FEEL the history when you visit these places. I try to imagine what it looked like in ancient times. What the people looked like. The markets, the ports, the trade. Fascinating! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps8a07aee7.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psc5d68665.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps06a4b2b6.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps7274a30a.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps0fde2e84.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps70030547.jpg In the meantime I also had some admin related issues to attend to in the way of sorting my visa for Libya. Sahbi accompanied me and helped me to get my passport translated into Arabic and spoke to my Libyan friends over the phone and then relayed the information back to me. It was touch-and-go for a little while and at first it seemed that I would be refused a visa. I had to consider my options and come up with a plan B. *The only other option I’d have really is to return to Italy and then either take a boat from there to Israel or to Greece and ride through Turkey and then take a boat from there to get to Egypt. I was convinced that somehow everything would work out and I’d be granted my visa for Libya, so opted to take some time out and go on a four-day road trip to the southwest region of Tunisia with a good friend of mine, Anis, before tackling the issue with the visa again. Before leaving for the south-west I spent a night with Anis and his family at their house. We all had a wonderful dinner together and then I had the opportunity to attend the protest in Le Bardo just west of Tunis. Although I try to refrain from getting involved in any political issues, I do have a great deal of respect for people who stand up for what they believe in and I was really excited to be part of this historical event. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps69658d8b.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps9424fff0.jpg Next morning Anis and I were up early, had a quick coffee and loaded our bikes. Me on my Dax and Anis on his Transalp. Direction – Tozeur, about 450/ 500km from Tunis. We had a good ride and made it to Tozeur around 4pm. We unloaded our bikes, had a quick shower and then headed to Naftah as I wanted to visit the Star Wars set. I am a die-hard Star Wars fan and had been dreaming of visiting the Star Wars sets for a long time. There’s a narrow, but good road that leads you through desert surroundings to the set. We made it just in time for the sunset, which was the absolute perfect time to visit this magnificent place. A dream come true! It was just like I imagined it! There are small markets in the ‘city’ where you can buy all kinds of souvenirs. The buildings are just as you see it in the movie and I was just waiting for a real-life Darth Vader to show up at any moment. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps9a118152.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps64609a13.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps538fb161.jpg Next day we hit the road to do some really fun off-road riding to a lesser-known location known as Rommel Piste, near Gafsa. It is a road that was built by Erwin Johannes Eugen Rommel (15 November 1891 – 14 October 1944) (also known as the "Desert Fox", Wüstenfuchs), who was perhaps the most famous German Field Marshal of World War II. It’s a windy (fairly challenging) road up and over a mountain from which the view is absolutely spectacular! From what I understand this road was built to carry supplies over the mountain during the war. (My more knowledgeable Tunisian friends can help me out on this one) http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...pse302c0aa.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psdc52c305.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps97a89bed.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psec19d826.jpg We made it in a cool 52 degree dry heat and took a break at the top to just sit on top of the world and take in the sights. Then we made our way back down the other side and rode on to Mides gorge which is just a few kilometers from the Algerian border and then we also went to visit the waterfall and oasis in Tamaqzah. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...pse108fa74.jpg Anis - chilling out http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps30df94bd.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...pse0f74f24.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps42776df1.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psd408a435.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps5c2cb17a.jpg There are so many wonderful and interesting sites to visit in this magnificent country and I’ll definitely be back to explore more…on a regular basis! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...pse92ce9cd.jpg Next day our route took us back to Gafsa, then through Kasserine and on to El Kef where we would spend the night and another friend Mehdi Barrak would join us from Tunis. Part of our route took us along the Algerian border, which was both exciting and annoying as it’s the only North African country I would not travel through due to being denied a visa. We also visited the Table de Jugurtha (which made me miss Table Mountain back in Cape Town in South Africa), before heading into El Kef. We booked into a hotel for the night, parked our bikes and headed out for dinner and to meet up with Mehdi a little later on. We walked around town a bit and got to experience a bit of the nightlife. It’s a unique and interesting experience how places come alive at night during Ramadan. I really enjoy it. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps2d07edc6.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps3cded1e2.jpg Next day Anis, Mehdi and I rode together further north to Tabarka, which is a city on the coast, again, near the Algerian border. What caught my attention in this town is it’s obvious love for music and arts. Everywhere in town you will find big sculptures of musical instruments placed at intersections. It’s lovely. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psdd22c302.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps43c88266.jpg From Tabarka we then headed back ‘home’ to Tunis. By the time we got back I had received confirmation that I would be able to get my visa for Libya at the border! Since I now received the go-ahead to enter Libya I could start planning for my trip south to the border. Nawfel was so kind as to offer to ride with me! That evening we joined some friends for dinner with their family and another fellow North African Rider, Sofiane Meddeb, also offered to join us for the ride to the border. And so it was arranged! We would ride from Tunis to Tataouine, where I would get to visit more Star Wars sites and other really interesting and beautiful places. From Tunis we headed to Sfax, then Gabes and on to Matmata for lunch. After Matmata we stopped off in Toujene to visit local carpet makers and were kindly offered tea and locally made flatbread and olive oil. From here we visited Ksar Hadada, another famous Star Wars site. From Ksar Hadada we headed for Tataouine where we booked into a hotel for the night and all jumped into the pool for a well-deserved ‘cooling down’. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...pse8a8e44a.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps12402f70.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps23a5907b.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psff3cb835.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps3ad5d48c.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps18133a10.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps6c79133c.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psb4fed199.jpg Next day we left Tataouine and visited the the town of Chenini and then the abandoned city of Douiret. A town built up on the hills by nomadic folk years ago. These cities were used as the main storage facility for their food and supplies and the reason why it’s built high up on top of the hills is to give them a vantage point so as to see when enemies approach to potentially attack the village. Very interesting. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psc566d827.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psa7384d9b.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps492885c3.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps5460898a.jpg Sofiane and Nawfel http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps3dce2ec4.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps1b22bdf2.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps7e50e780.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps110e432f.jpg From here we then carried on to Djerba island. First stop was a pottery visit at a local potter’s shop. Here his son gave us a demonstration as to the processes in pottery making. Nawfel bought me a very cool souvenir. (I’ll try upload a video at some point of this genial souvenir). http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps563b8f88.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps89512787.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps0c5ab503.jpg We then had a wonderful, freshly grilled fish lunch at Guellala. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps1c099370.jpg We then stayed at Hotel Riadh in Homt Souk for the night. A wonderful hotel with a beautiful open foyer where you can sit and have coffee and just relax. They even allowed us to park our bikes inside. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps4d674e9f.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps1e1a63d6.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psa3ceb5ff.jpg Next morning we had breakfast at Café Ben Yedder and then headed for the Libyan border at Ras Ajdir via Ben Guerdane. Nawfel and Soufiane rode with me all the way to the border and didn’t leave until I was received by the Libyan guys from the other side! At first I was told that non-Tunisian and non-Libyan vehicles were not allowed through the border. But after some waiting and negotiating and calls to the chief, I was finally allowed through. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps3507829a.jpg And with that I had to say farewell to my beautiful Tunisia! Definitely my favorite country so far. I love all the countries I’ve traveled through so far, but Tunisia has something extra special! I met so many amazing, amazing people and am super grateful for the fantastic hospitality and support shown to me. I really hope to return again very soon!! Inchallah! Tunisia and her beautiful people will always have a special place in my heart!! |
Quote:
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Hi
Jou reisverslag sorg vir inspirasie. Fantastic read, :thumbup1: For me as a newbie to adventure riding this quite inspirational. |
For JoRust from Buenos Aires
Sometimes it really is beyond words.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=li7GSExto0A xfiltrate and rosa del desierto |
Liberating Libya:
Not the easiest country to get into or travel through. Firstly, it’s not easy to get a visa for Libya nowadays. They don’t give tourist visas, which means you have to get a business visa or transit visa, both of which are quite pricy. Secondly, you need to arrange with a travel agency to hire a guide/escort, who will accompany you throughout. And then there are the countless checkpoints you have to negotiate your way through. I crossed the border from Tunisia to Libya at the Ras Jdir post on the northern coast, which is also Libya’s most northern point. Libyan Border http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps40499638.jpg It had been arranged with a friend from Tripoli to meet me at the border and accompany me to the capital. What I did not expect to find is more than twenty bikers to be waiting to surprise me on the other side of the border! I was astonished. What a wonderful surprise! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps1e1cf18d.jpg The paperwork went fairly quickly and smoothly on the Libyan side. I was issued a transit visa and had to pay 100 LYD (Libyan Dinar – 1 USD = 1.2 LYD). And in no time I was introduced to the group and we headed for Tripoli. First stop would be to see the 2000-year-old ancient Roman ruins in Sabratha. But first, I would be welcomed by way of automatic gunfire before we even reach Sabratha. About halfway between the border and the ancient ruins, we pass a pickup with a man sitting on the back, holding an AK47 / Kalashnikov. He fires a few rounds as a way of ‘saluting’ us as we pass by. Immediately, all eyes shoot to me to see how I might react? I just smile and give a thumbs-up to let everyone know I’m fine and not freaking out…yet. We stop off in Sabratha and the guys show me around, giving me an informative tour of the ancient ruins. It’s a pretty amazing place to visit. These places fascinate me as I try to imagine what it must have been like back in those days. In the time of the Phoenicians and the Great Roman Empire. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps2cd743a7.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psd6c8cc1c.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps7cc77325.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...pse4115d91.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps47955076.jpg After the tour and a rest under the trees, we continued on. We stopped at a fuel station and one of the riders asked me: “Why do you smile the whole time? Do you know you’re in Libya”? I found this a bit strange. Why do I smile all the time? Because I’m happy to be alive. Because I’m on a grand adventure. I have many reasons to smile. We arrived in Tripoli and I was checked into Hotel Thobacts on Omar Al Mokhtar street. A very nice hotel that the ministry of tourism was so kind to put me up in for four days during my stay in Tripoli. I had initially planned to spend only a few days in Libya. Maybe one night in Tripoli, one night in Misrata, one in Sirte and finally in Benghazi. But it soon became very clear that there would be no chance of that. My hosts were extremely kind and adamant that I stay on longer. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps6373ac10.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psb2c42d68.jpg I got to meet many riders in Tripoli and the amazingly talented (and slightly crazy) stunt riders that Libya is famous for amongst the biking communities. I was received by the Minister of Tourism, Ms Ikram Bash Imam, who welcomed me to Libya and wished me well for the rest of my journey. Very kind and she also offered any assistance I may need during my stay in Libya. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps003e25bb.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psee6b6e19.jpg I also had the opportunity to meet with the head of the Libyan motorcycling federation, Masaud Jerbi who invited me for dinner and then surprised me with a donation from the federation towards my trip! A big, huge thank you to him for his amazing kindness and generosity. And also Mr Harim Al Turki who organized to meet with Mr Jerbi and who also serviced my bike at no charge. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps8035f469.jpg Whilst in Tripoli I also got to meet up with a friend whom I first met in 2011 when I was still cycling around Africa. I met up with Philip Zaayman and his wife Janine in Namibia. I was on my way North towards Angola and they had ridden up from Jeffrey’s Bay in South Africa to attend a wedding in northern Namibia. And now, all this time later I got to meet up with Philip again on the other side of the continent! It’s a small world! When the time came to finally hit the road again, I had two Honda Gold wings and four riders to accompany me all the way to Misrata. Normally, tourists are not allowed to travel alone in Libya and I was happy and grateful for the company. I had heard so many horror stories, especially when it comes to negotiating your way through checkpoints with heavily armed men who are not always interested in your long sad story. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps306837a9.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps36409427.jpg The road from Libya to Misrata is fairly straightforward and easy to follow. Busy in places and maybe a bit broken here and there, but overall a good tar road. Before getting to Misrata we stopped off in Khoms to meet up with a group of riders and have a tour of the world famous Leptis Magna ruins. To quite from Wikipedia: “Today, the site of Leptis Magna is the site of some of the most impressive ruins of the Roman period.” It really is spectacular and well worth the visit! Good luck with reading the sign posts http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps78ffc4b2.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps878c22a1.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps4ca787c6.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psb3008d27.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psfbd6e219.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...pse5f1b205.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psb69ae8df.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psf62e0bc0.jpg From Khoms we headed to Misrata where we would spend the night. I stayed in a hotel and the boys elsewhere with friends. I checked into my hotel and then went out with the guys to meet up with a big group of bikers who had come together to celebrate the wedding of a friend and fellow rider. It’s a custom in Libya that when a fellow rider gets married, all the riders in that city/town come together to celebrate the occasion by way of revving engines and spectacular stunts. The group comes together in a certain location and then awaits the groom’s arrival. Then the show starts. From here all the riders follow the groom’s car to the area where the rest of the wedding’s proceedings take place. The groom and bride are separate and the men don’t get to see the women as they celebrate on their own. The groom sits on a chair/sofa as his brothers, uncles, nephews, friends and rest of the men of the family come up to congratulate him. I got to congratulate both the groom and the bride. But out of respect I cannot reveal what goes on behind the curtain where the ladies celebrate. It’s a secret. It’s also become a custom nowadays in Libya for pistols and automatic rifles to be fired in celebration, especially at weddings. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...pscbfe419c.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psf6ff0434.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...pse2154294.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...pseef6b612.jpg Seeing as everyone and their dog have a gun in Libya, I became quite used to shots being fired around me all the time. As long as it’s not aimed at me, I don’t mind all that much. After the celebrations I returned to my hotel and turned in for the night. Next morning I was informed that I would have to carry on, on my own as the guys would be returning to Libya. At first I was a bit shocked. As I mentioned, normally a foreigner is not allowed to travel alone. I didn’t have much of a choice and just sent out positive vibes that everything would be okay. I rode alone from Misrata to Ajdabiya, which is a city just south of Benghazi. Just over 600 kilometers and countless checkpoints in between. First checkpoint – no problems. I was just waved through. So far so good. Second checkpoint – I get stopped and told to remove my helmet. I do as I’m ordered and the ‘officers’ (not all the checkpoints are manned by military officers, some are civilians, some are ‘other’ groups) are, understandably, taken aback to see a woman riding in Libya on her own. At first they tell me that I cannot ride on my own as it’s too dangerous. In my (very) limited Arabic, I try to explain to them that I was told that it would be no problem and the minister of tourism is aware that I am traveling through Libya. I phone my friend Ahmed Busefi in Tripoli and hand the phone to the officer. After a few minutes of incomprehensible discussion the officer hands me my phone back and indicates that I am free to proceed. He tells me not to stop for anyone and to keep going until I reach Ajdabiya. I thank them and proceed, wondering if this will be the case at every checkpoint. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psb60a0e33.jpg I am happy to report that I do not get stopped at any of the checkpoints I pass through all the way to Ajdabiya. On route I stop off in Sirte as I wanted to visit this city that had been nearly destroyed in the war. A friend of Ahmed receives me with a cameraman in tow. A very kind gentleman who takes me to his house and offers me dates and fresh milk. He takes me on a tour of the city and describes to me what it was like to sit in his house whilst bombs are being dropped outside and automatic weapons tore down his walls. My heart breaks as we ride through the city and I bare witness to the catastrophic consequences that war brings with it. The pain and anguish is so tangible it’s like a thick fog that hangs in the air. And for what? Visiting Sirte had an immense impact on me and it’s something I will never forget. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps8f4f8ee4.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psf510d241.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps65ae8ada.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps5b7f2014.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psf8f4663a.jpg |
After my visit to Sirte I headed straight for Ajdabiya and had no hassles at any of the checkpoints. Hamdoulah. (Thanks God in Arabic)
On route I had a few cars who hung around, either with kids who waved non stop and took pictures (very sweet) or people just following me out of curiosity. There was one Ford pickup who rode behind me, then passed me and slowed down again to ride next to me. The driver opened his window and shouted to me in English: “Where are you from”? I answered him and then his next question was: “You are a woman”? I guess he could hear that I am a woman because you can’t really tell when I’m wearing all my gear on the bike. I just nodded. He then tried to persuade me to load my bike on the back of the truck saying: “It’s really not safe to be riding in Libya”. I thanked him but refused his offer and told him that I would be fine. The last time I trusted some guys in a Ford pickup was when all my belongings got stolen in Angola. Once bitten, twice shy. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps8e4f108f.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps443fb994.jpg I did, admittedly, stop once before Ajdabiya to take a quick break. A car pulled over next to me and the man driving asked me if I was okay? “Kolo tmam” I answered. (All good) He invited me to stay in his house with his family for the night and to have a meal with them. I had to decline as I had people waiting for me in Ajdabiya. I thanked him for his kind offer and then set off again for the last push to the town. I arrived and luckily found the guys that Ahmed had arranged to meet with me and take me to my hotel. I stayed in the Amal Africa hotel and I was not to pay anything as my hosts kindly made me understand that it’s against Arab culture to let your guests pay. I am astonished at the number of really nice and high-class hotels in Libya. But I wonder how they manage to survive? I was starving as I’d only eaten a few dates so kindly offered to me in Sirte and a glass of milk. The guys took me out for dinner in town and we sat chatting about my trip and my time in Libya. Then on the way back to the hotel I asked if we could please stop at a shop so I could buy some snacks and cold drinks for the next day to Benghazi. In the shop I wanted to buy a can of Sprite and a pack of cookies. The owner of the shop took out another can and a handful of chocolate bars, put it in a bag and gave it to me. When I wanted to pay he refused and said: “Welcome in Libya”. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psab66d89a.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps770f60eb.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps7c94d081.jpg Next morning, a good friend of mine named Nabil rode to Ajdabiya along with four other bikers to meet me and accompany me to Benghazi. I thanked my kind hosts and we hit the road. It was very windy on the way to Benghazi. The road is good, surrounded by desert-like views most of the way. We stopped off for a quick coffee halfway and here I met a Tunisian man who owned the coffee shop. He was married to an English girl so his English was really good and we had a nice long chat. I told him how much I love and miss Tunisia. He also refused to let me pay for my coffee. In Benghazi I stayed in Hotel Juliana. Amazing hotel! I met the owner of the hotel as well. A very kind, decent man who, once again, refused to let me pay for my stay. My friend Nabil looked after me very well and took me on a tour of the town. At night I had dinner with the guys who had ridden with me from Ajdabiya and we all became good friends. One of the things I will always remember about my time in Benghazi is the sound of fireworks and gunshots at night. Every night there would be wedding celebrations taking place right near the hotel. And every night we’d bare witness to firework shows and gun shots going off in celebration of newly weds. View at Hotel Juliana http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps40cb6569.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps00935e24.jpg At this point is when the proverbial paw-paw hit the fan in Egypt and I had to make a decision. Either I would have to return to Tunisia or carry on to Egypt. A very good friend and very well known fellow adventure rider in Alexandria, Omar Mansour, was advising me on the situation in Egypt on a daily basis. Although I would’ve loved to return to my beloved Tunisia, there was just no way I could skip out on visiting ‘Om Edonia’ – The mother of the world, that is Egypt. So after three nights’ stay in Benghazi I headed for Tubruq with my new friends who accompanied me all the way. We took the quiet desert road to Tubruq which was great. I love the desert and enjoy riding through the desert. (It’s a tar road, surrounded by desert) http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps75035434.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psfbb74364.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psffa08ef0.jpg At a stop to refuel I had a wonderful experience that brings a smile to my face even as I think back now. I was refilling my bike and an old man came to stand next to me. The guys explained to him who I am and in no time a small crowd of men gathered around me. This old man with wisdom in his eyes and deep settled wrinkles of experience on his face took my hand and repeated a dozen times: “Ahlan wa sahlan, marhaban, ahlan wa sahlan, ahlan wa sahlan”. Which basically means: welcome, welcome, welcome. Just outside of Tubruq, a big group of riders had come to welcome us with a television crew in tow. After greetings and quick introductions I was taken to the Tubruq Square where snacks and refreshments had been prepared for everyone and lots and lots of photos were taken. A grand welcome in my last town in Libya before I would cross to Egypt. Tubruq Square http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps8473e73c.jpg I spent two nights in Tubruq in a nice little hotel near the square, my room overlooking the town with a nice view over a beautiful mosque nearby. I don’t know why but I feel deeply nostalgic when I hear the Adhan (Azan) – The call to prayer. I had a small incident in this hotel when a young man who works in the hotel came to my room the morning after my arrival. He came under the pretenses of finding out whether I wanted to have breakfast brought to my room? I had just woken up and told him I would take breakfast in the restaurant a little later. He then pushed the door open and took a step towards me, trying to kiss me. I immediately stepped back and he asked: “Are you afraid of me”. No buddy, but come any closer and I’ll give you reason to be afraid of me! I pushed him back against the wall and told him to leave. He looked surprised and said: “Please, don’t tell anyone okay”? Later in the restaurant he brought me a chocolate as to ‘buy’ my silence. It wasn’t a big deal and at first I didn’t want to mention it. But later on that day I went to the beach with my friends and Nabil asked me if everything was okay and if the people at the hotel were treating me well? I decided to tell him about what happened. I explained to him that I didn’t want a fuss made over the issue. He told me not to say anything to anyone and that it would be taken care of. Next morning I got ready to leave for the border. The guys arranged to meet me in front of my hotel early in the morning and then they would ride with me all the way. 7 Libyan riders arrived at the hotel and the head of the Tubruq riders asked me to point out the boy to him that had come to my room. I knew then that this was not to be a pleasant start to my day. How would you feel if seven big strong Libyan bikers descended on you all of the sudden? You would crap yourself! Trust me, I almost did and I was standing outside. Suffice it to say that the boy learned a very valuable lesson, the hard way. There was no blood, I can tell you that much. But there was a lot of screaming and shouting as he was dragged outside to apologize to me. I felt really bad! And so, with some excitement to start the day with, we hit the road to the border. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps494525f9.jpg ..................... |
Egypt: Mother of the world.
I’ve heard so many horror stories about the border between Libya and Egypt and with the morning’s excitement as a start to my day, I was feeling a tad more nervous as to what may lie ahead for me. My Libyan friends rode with me from Tubruq and stayed with me all the way to the Salloum border. They even sorted me out in helping me get local sim cards for Egypt and also changing my Libyan Dinar to Egyptian Pounds. I spent about an hour at the Libyan side of the border. I’m not sure what the holdup was but was made to wait, sitting between three customs officers and one very trigger-happy military officer that insisted on firing a few shots into the air right next to me. Libyan friends with me just before the border http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps494525f9.jpg After about an hour I was let through to Egypt side of Salloum. An officer from Egyptian customs accompanied me into the customs and immigrations offices and I started with processing all the necessary paperwork. “This is all going pretty well”, I thought to myself. I was directed from office to office and offered tea and biscuits. Everything went pretty well until I was taken to see two gentlemen who are the equivalent of the Egyptian secret service. Then everything came to a grinding halt. Meanwhile a good friend and one of Egypt’s very own adventure riders, Omar Mansour, had ridden all the way from Alexandria to meet me at the border. They eventually let him through and allowed him to join me in the building. He was a great help as nobody could really speak English and he was able to translate between the officers and myself. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps6c89dbc1.jpg Omar stayed with me the entire time and in the end I spent about nine hours at the border! Though I can honestly say that all the officers and staff were very friendly and helpful and accommodating. I spent my first night in Egypt in the border town of El Salloum. Next morning we left early and made our way towards Marsa Matruh, had fresh lemon under a tree on the side of the road and then on to Marina where we had lunch. We weren’t sure whether we’d be able to make it to Cairo in time for the curfew that had been enforced at the time. I was supposed to have a police escort with me all the way but when they weren’t at the checkpoint in the morning when we left, we carried on without them. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psb2fc5e41.jpg I made it to Cairo from the border in one day! Something that kept delaying us on the road, were the military checkpoints where we needed to unpack all my kit every single time. One can understand this precaution, especially during those troubled times. Needless to say I was pretty tired by the time I crossed the Nile River (posed for a quick photo first of course) into Cairo. I unfortunately had to say goodbye to Omar as he had to return to Alexandria, but a friend of his (Bakir) took over and rode with me until the city limits where another friend, Mahmoud Mazen was waiting to escort me the rest of the way. I had planned on spending maybe ten days to two weeks in Egypt. My first point of order was to sort out new visas for Sudan and Ethiopia. With the delays, waiting in Libya for things to calm down in Egypt, both my visas would have expired before I could make it to either Sudan or Ethiopia. It also soon became clear that Egypt had big plans for me. I met up with the BikerZone team in Cairo who organized my stay at Le Meridien hotel in Heliopolis and also a big group ride to the Pyramids the next weekend, which was absolutely amazing. I have had many layovers on flights in Cairo before and always had this rule that I was never allowed to look out the window during landing or taking off, as to avoid seeing the pyramids. I had to see it in person, on my bike…and I finally did! I instantly made so many new wonderful friends in Cairo and everyone made me feel right at home. All over Egypt really. Wonderful people. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...pseabe9d33.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psd71b99b8.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psdc465c84.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps7602b1db.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps25b7450c.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps6cd5f0ef.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps1ca1f5e0.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psd188f3e6.jpg I was kept busy in Cairo with meeting fellow bikers, conducting press conferences and working on plans for my next project after I finish my tour around Africa. The Dakar Rally! I got to chat with the BikerZone team and they were very eager to get involved with my future plans. After some brainstorming and negotiating I signed with the team and they are now my sole representatives and managing team! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps53df52db.jpg I took some time out whilst in Cairo and rode to the Bahariya oasis over a weekend to see a bit more of the country. Things to see in the area are the white and black deserts, which are amazing! A lot of friends were nervous about my riding out to the oasis area by myself because of banditry in the area. About a 730-kilometer round trip and I didn’t see any suspicious activities on the road. Just beautiful views of the desert all the way! I spent about three weeks in Cairo and had a fantastic time. After I managed to sort a new visa for Ethiopia I set off for the coastal town of Hurghada. Omar joined me again for the ride to Hurghada, along with three other friends. (Ehab Hassanein, Emad Hassan, Mohamed Fareed El-Gohary). Omar, Ehad and Emad rode with me all the way and even spent a night at the resort as well. Very nice of them. A very famous touristic spot for diving, desert safaris and just relaxing next to the Red Sea. My stay was sponsored by the Sunrise Grand Select, Crystal Bay Resort! How awesome! I spent four nights at the resort and they even organized a guided quad desert safari and snorkeling, which was absolutely AMAZING! Going snorkeling opened up a whole new world for me. It was my first time and I didn’t want to leave. I just wanted to stay there in this new magical underwater world. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps7b7a3790.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psb6067b50.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps6e175987.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psf8f5b19d.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps2d74123f.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psccad517b.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps2520a1d5.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psd01baeef.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psf12aa1e7.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps8107affe.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps09d2fe89.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps72f6dc30.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps9f08cdf1.jpg A press conference was held at the hotel and the Governor of Hurghada presented me with a medal to honor my efforts on my trip, which was so humbling. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps1aee0003.jpg From Hurghada, my next stop was in Luxor in Upper Egypt where I was hosted at the beautiful Maritime Jolie Ville hotel and resort on King’s Island. Luxor has frequently been characterized as the "world's greatest open air museum", as the ruins of the temple complexes at Karnak and Luxor stand within the modern city. I had the opportunity to see the temples, which are absolutely amazing! You can literally feel the history when walking among the ruins. Really something worth putting on one’s bucket list. The one thing that did break my heart was seeing how the tourism industry is suffering in Egypt. So many vendors tried desperately to get me to please just buy something as business is slow and they’re struggling to support their families. The day I visited the temples we were told that it was the busiest day since June! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psb7bce82c.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psfbc01259.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psbb3f17d5.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps74fff0aa.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psf7d72ce0.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps6454b92e.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps656626f2.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps04c186b5.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...pse9b401ab.jpg After a tour of the temples I joined a group of men at a café, sitting outside on the street and drinking tea. I absolutely love these cultural experiences. One of the guys, nicknamed ‘Sisi’ (if you know a bit about what’s been going on in Egypt, you’ll know who General Sisi is), was absolutely adamant that I visit his family at a nearby tribe. He also wanted to ride with me to Aswan. I graciously declined his offer. Though I was a little worried that I might find him waiting next to my bike the next morning. He threatened to spend the night sleeping next to my bike as to not miss me the next morning. Hehe. Next morning, I was up early and heading to Aswan, my last destination in Egypt. There are two roads one can take between Luxor and Aswan. The main road and the desert road. If I’m not mistaken I think one needs a permit for the desert road though. The main road is a very busy road with speed bumps every few kilometers. It’s not that far (About 220 kilometers) but it took me five hours to do because of the heavy traffic. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psaa867752.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psac5099f5.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps1db5500e.jpg Once I arrived to Aswan I met up with Kamal, THE fixer in Aswan. Many, many overlanders know Kamal and have made use of his services. With Kamal was a French guy named Francois. I later found out that Francois was there on his BMW R1200GS and planning on riding down to South Africa. First point of order was for me to sort a new visa for Sudan. We headed straight for the embassy and handed in my application. Quick and easy process. They assured me that I’d have my visa before I had to leave on the ferry to Wadi Halfa. After sorting the visa, Kamal led me to the hotel where I’d be staying. Mövenpick Resort Aswan. Again, this resort offered to sponsor my entire stay in Aswan! And I had the most wonderful welcome with traditional Nubian music and dancers. I even joined in and danced along as we took the barge across the river to the island on the Nile where the hotel is situated. Stunning hotel and I was absolutely spoilt rotten! I had my own double story apartment, complete with lounge and sliding doors that lead out onto the banks of the Nile River. Management and staff welcomed me with drinks and snacks in my room with a personalized welcome note. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps36052c1d.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps6bc5a247.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps1c85a10a.jpg I really had a wonderful stay in Aswan and appreciate all the effort the hotel’s staff and management went to, to make me feel special and right at home. I had dinner with management members every evening and also got to meet the Governor who had come to meet me and once again, I was given a medal in honor of my journey. (My luggage doubled in size in Egypt with all the gifts and medals! Haha) http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps6c28dbe6.jpg I was taken on a felucca tour on the Nile to a traditional Nubian village where we had drinks looking out over the Nile. I also got a henna tattoo done by one of the local women. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps6cd7a804.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps879a76cf.jpg Next day I had to take my Dax to be loaded onto the barge for Wadi Halfa. Another adventure rider, Obai, from Sudan had also arrived in the meantime. I knew he was on his way as friends in Tunisia first informed me that he was heading to Sudan. I could hardly believe that he had caught up with me. He started his trip in Senegal and was on the home stretch to finishing in his hometown, Khartoum. I was actually grateful for the company and all three of us (myself, Francois and Obai) all loaded our bikes on the barge for Wadi Halfa. We only got on the ferry two days later. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...pse02ba605.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps12733cee.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps0b5c07e6.jpg The famous ferry between Aswan and Wadi Halfa. What can I say? It’s an experience and a half! We arrived at the port around ten in the morning. We headed straight to the ticketing office to sort out tickets. We all decided to take first class cabins so we could have a place to store our baggage. Then we headed off to board the ferry. We were WAY early as the ferry was only set to leave around 16:00. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psd6daefdb.jpg A first class cabin consists of a set of bunk beds, and air conditioner and if you’re lucky (I was) a window. *You do NOT want to have to use the toilets, as it’s absolutely revolting! The food was actually quite good. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps1306de51.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psafd63a8f.jpg We headed out onto the deck to watch as people boarded and goods were loaded onto the, already, overloaded ferry. 16:00 came and gone and we finally got word from some of the other passengers that we were waiting for a group of forty young Sudanese men that were caught trying to cross to Libya illegally. They got lost in the desert and were now being taken back to Sudan. The sorry-looking bunch arrived around 18:30 and we finally set off around 19:00! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psa072229d.jpg Francois, Obai and I went to have dinner, which consisted of foul (a bean dish), bread and some salad. *Next day's lunch was the same but with chicken added. Obai kept teasing me saying I’m like a typical Egyptian because I love foul and drink a lot of tea! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psd7c3d74f.jpg After dinner we all turned in for the night to pass the 20-something-hour journey to Wadi Halfa a little faster. I woke up around 03:00 and went outside on deck *and found a spot between the hundreds of people sleeping under the stars to watch the stars overhead. Absolutely gorgeous! I considered dragging my sleeping bag outside to also lie under the stars as I crossed from Egypt to Sudan. But the chilly wind soon had me retreating back to my cabin. I was sad to leave Egypt. I left my heart there and will certainly return again soon! |
Sudan: Smiles and Kindness.
We finally arrived in Wadi Halfa around 13:00 in the afternoon. A bit of a frantic scurry broke out on board as people were grabbing their baggage and pushing to get to the front of the queue to disembark. I was met by Mazar, THE fixer in Wadi Halfa. He came on board and led me to the dining room where we sat and started filling out all the paperwork I needed to go through. Francois disappeared somewhere in between all the chaos, I later found out that he used another fixer. Obai and I got off together and made our way down the dock to the waiting area next to the customs and immigrations building. The barge with our bikes on it arrived literally minutes after we had docked. So we were rather hopeful that we might be able to get our bikes off the same day still. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps4b558a7b.jpg I sat among the rest of the passengers and numerous people struck up a conversation with me whilst Obai and Mazar went about trying to get our bikes released. Sudanese people are incredibly friendly! Before I knew it I was sitting on a bench between about six men, eating peanuts and chatting about my trip. (Why is it always peanuts?) About four hours later it became clear that we weren’t going to get our bikes and they’d only be able to release them the next morning. So Mazar took us to our hotel where we met up with Francois again. Turns out he’d been at the hotel the whole time. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psc9e252f5.jpg We settled in and I took a long, blissful, hot shower, after which we headed out to find something for dinner. As this was Obai’s home turf he insisted on looking after us and refused to let us pay for any of our meals! Not only are Sudanese people super friendly, they’re also super generous! There’s not much to see in Wadi Halfa. It’s a tiny, dusty border town with a hotel or two that offer you the basics and a number of curios shacks and little outdoor restaurants. Though it makes up in personality, smiles and good food. We took a tuk-tuk into town and had a wonderful meal at a local restaurant. Various fried meat strips with onions and humus. Very yummy. Obai also helped me get a local sim card for my phone before we headed back to our hotel to turn in for an early night. Wadi Halfa http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps9b5700e5.jpg Next morning we headed back into town for breakfast, which consisted of deep-fried balls of dough, covered in sugar and very sweet milky tea. (Made with only milk) http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps1c267868.jpg After breakfast we headed back to the port to sort our bikes. Mazar was already at the port and sorted all the paperwork. I never even came into close contact with a single customs or immigrations official. Mazar sorted everything. We headed off to the barge and there were immediately a dozen men gathering around to help and watch our bikes be offloaded. Off loading meant having to lift the bikes over the side of the barge and then maneuvering it down a plank back to solid ground. Obai’s bike was first, then my beloved Dax and Francois’ 1200 last. When all the bikes were safely back on solid ground I let out a great big “eHamdoulillah”, (Thank God) which was echoed by all the guys standing around, followed by a big round of applause. And with that we headed straight back to the hotel to load the bikes and within an hour we were off! Next stop – Dongola! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps3a86088a.jpg The 'road' to our hotel. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psa6e70859.jpg Mazar on his KLR that a South African guy gave to him. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps4e4ff227.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps35e6d7a6.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psb3c98327.jpg The new main road through Sudan is absolutely fantastic! Beautiful lazy turns surrounded by desert as far as the eye can see. We stopped off about halfway for lunch. Every now and then you can find a little settlement on the side of the road with small restaurants where you can stop off for something to eat or drink. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps40f0c100.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps13207bb9.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps2fcb5fc2.jpg We made it to Dongola and crossed the Nile into town late afternoon and Obai suggested a hotel for us to stay in whilst he’d be staying with some relatives of his. We agreed to all freshen up and then we’d meet up again to go out for dinner. When I left the hotel, Francois was sitting across the road having tea and there were a few admirers ogling our bikes parked in front of the hotel. The hotel owner offered for us to park our bikes inside the lobby but we felt confident that our bikes would be fine outside. That’s another amazing thing about Sudan. I felt like I could leave Dax outside with all my gear on the bike and the keys in the ignition and not have to worry about anyone coming near my belongings. The only other place I’ve had that feeling has been Tunisia. A few minutes later Obai and a cousin of his arrived and we, once again, got into a tuk-tuk to take us to the center of town where we’d be having dinner. It’s amazing how many people you can squash into a tuk-tuk! This time Obai’s cousin insisted on paying for dinner saying that we are all his guests. We had a wonderful dinner and decided to walk most of the way back to the hotel so we could see a bit of the town. It’s rather big in comparison to Wadi Halfa. Though it’s not difficult to find a town bigger than Halfa. And people are just so friendly everywhere! The next day was a big day for Obai as it was the last day of his trip and he’d be arriving back home in Khartoum. I felt so excited for him and both Francois and I shook his hand and wished him luck before we set off. It was a real honor to be a part of those last few days of his journey. It made me think of what it will feel like when I near my finish line. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps130e882d.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psfa86a31b.jpg We left Dongola just as the sun started rising and it was obvious that Obai was eager to get home as he led and pushed our average speed quite a bit. There was a sense of accomplishment in the air and I found myself riding with a constant smile on my face, as I was just so darn happy and excited to see Obai finish his journey. I loved watching the sun slowly bringing light upon the desert and people with sleepy eyes emerge as we whizzed by on our bikes. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psbd80c90a.jpg It’s just over five hundred kilometers from Dongola to Khartoum and we made it into town by around 15:00. With a breakfast stop and refueling and hydrating breaks on route. A television crew was waiting for Obai a few kilometers outside of town and followed him in. We followed behind and when he finally reached the finish line there were a big group of family and friends and television crew waiting for him. Awesome! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps859dde12.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...pscad57c58.jpg Francois had already booked himself into a hotel and I met up with another friend and fellow rider in Khartoum, Mohammed Nasir, who suggested I stay at the local youth hostel. Mohammed rode with us and we dropped Francois off at his hotel and then he rode with me to the youth hostel. I booked in and paid for two night’s as I knew Francois needed to get a visa for Ethiopia and we were hoping he’d get it sorted the next day. We had decided to ride together until Nairobi. I settled into my dorm room and found out that I was the only person at the youth hostel, so had the whole dorm to myself. I unloaded Dax, freshened up and then went out to find something to eat. I found a Subway shop near the hostel and the owner started chatting to me right away. It just so happened that friends of mine, three guys on scooters, who had ridden from Cape Town to Dublin, had also stayed at the hostel and also met this guy at the Subway shop! Small world! Later on we went out to dinner with Obai. I was surprised that he was willing to come out with us to dinner, as I would’ve thought he’d want to spend the time with his family. But he considered us his guests and would go out of his way to make our stay comfortable. He even helped Francois to get his visa the next day and invited us for lunch at his house with his family. It was wonderful! There were many reports of protests and instability in and around Khartoum, though I never saw any evidence of this. I walked around on my own and felt completely safe doing so. We had dinner with a group of bikers that evening before we left Khartoum and had a bit of a ride through town. The guys tried desperately to convince us to stay longer but Francois had time constrictions and a schedule to keep to, so we unfortunately had to decline their offer. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps017c2b7b.jpg We hit the road early the next morning and the plan was to find a place to set up camp about fifty kilometers from the border. It’s amazing how the landscape starts changing from Khartoum to the south. It starts getting greener and suddenly you’re surrounded by thorn trees and more and more animals (donkeys and goats mainly). The road is good all the way through and makes for easy riding. About sixty kilometers from the border we came to a checkpoint and I asked the officers if they maybe knew of a spot nearby where we could pitch our tents? They just shook their heads and said that it’s not permitted to camp wild anywhere on the road. So we carried on for another ten kilometers and then we found a spot to camp anyway. Out of sight just next to the road. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps12829b30.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps05cb1e90.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psb8030d27.jpg We had stopped for lunch during earlier at a hotel in Qadarif and stocked up on bread, boiled eggs and some deep fried fish, knowing that we were planning on camping. So we pitched our tents and got out our food and watched a thunderstorm rolling in with a spectacular lightning show as we pondered what Ethiopia might be like when we cross the border the next day. |
Amazing Trip
Hi Jo,
In NZ at the moment returning to UK via Cape town up the East side Sudan Egypt Libya and Tunisia to Italy next year, but with a few reservations, but you seem to have bypassed the problems we hear on the news. I would rather return through Africa, but plan B is to return via Vladivostok through Russia. You have feet on the ground in Africa, I'm only guessing what the situation is like. I have until January to decide. I think you whole journey has been fantastic and brilliant pictures. I'm just keeping an eye on all news on Horizons site to make a decision. Ride Safe, Paul. |
ETHIOPIA:
I was up before the sun the next morning and went about boiling some water for coffee on my cool MSR expedition stove. It was my last day in Sudan and I was happy I’d spent it in a tent. I hadn’t spent much time in my tent and I was, after all, lugging it with me all the way around Africa! Might as well use it every now and then! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps12829b30.jpg Francois got up as the first rays of the sun peeked over the horizon. I had already packed my bike. We had our coffee and enjoyed the fresh morning air, contemplating what the next border might be like? We filled up just before we reached the Ethiopian border. We had camped only 40 kilometers from the border, so it didn’t take us all that long to reach the invisible line that divides Sudan and Ethiopia.* We were directed to a building next to the road. A small decent down a muddy path brought us to a small group of immigration officials. We were greeted with friendly smiles and shown inside. No fuss, no hassles. Quick and easy. So quick and easy that I wondered off in search of some coffee at one of the little “cafés” that are situated all along the road. After we’d had our coffee it was off to immigration to have our baggage checked and our Carnet’s stamped. Once again we were met by a friendly face and efficient service. You are shown to a seat inside a building and the officer on the other side of the desk asks you questions. “Where are you from”, “Where are you going to”, “Any electronics to declare?” – and here you declare things like your mobile phone, cameras, laptops, tablets, gps etc. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...pse7d7a31e.jpg After the paperwork has been completed, you get ushered to your vehicle, where they check that your vehicle’s VIN number and the VIN number on your Carnet match. And then you’re free to proceed. We planned to stay over at Tim & Kim Village (Tim & Kim Village) in Gorgora next to Lake Tana that night. Not that far from the border and so we weren’t in any rush. Francois took an early turn-off toward Lake Tana and I could see on my GPS that this was not a tarred road. This was an off road detour. Francois stopped and looked back at me and asked whether this was the road we were supposed to take? I quickly made some calculations as to whether we’d have enough fuel for the detour, and figured, seeing as Francois didn’t have a great deal of off road experience…the more practice, the better. I smiled quietly and indicated that he should take the detour. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps784132ed.jpg It wasn’t that bad. Maybe 60 kilometers off road with fairly good graded gravel and the odd river crossing. I was having a ball. Although Francois was a little stressed out, I think deep down he was also enjoying himself a great deal. There were a few deep and tricky water crossings, but Francois just soldiered on right through them. He did a fantastic job I’d hoped this bit of off road would help him get into a more comfortable rhythm by the time we reached ‘hell road’ in Kenya. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps6eea6dcd.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps16b50bb3.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps25ca2ae8.jpg Reaching Tim & Kim Village in Gorgora was like arriving in paradise. It is an absolute jewel of a place. You make your way up and down a two-track road and then you’re most likely to be greeted personally by either Tim or Kim…or both, as you’re welcomed to their beautiful piece of heaven. You can choose between staying in a bungalow or pitching your tent or staying in one of their tents. They have great facilities. You’re right on Lake Tana and as a result you can enjoy the most spectacular views whilst kicking back and enjoying an ice cold one after a hard days riding. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps40ffc665.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps4facdbfd.jpg We did exactly that and spent the afternoon relaxing. Later that evening we were introduced to another South African who joined us for dinner. Seeing as there were now two South Africans at the village, a fire and a braai (BBQ) was in order. We spent the rest of the evening in conversation with our hosts and swopping out stories with everyone around the table. The next morning I was up early enough to watch the sun rise over the Lake. After breakfast we loaded our bikes and headed off towards Debre Markos, where we would spend the night before heading to Wim’s Holland House in Addis. We had to take the same gravel road out towards Gondar to fill up with fuel before turning southwards again. It had, by now, become apparent that we might struggle with finding fuel everywhere. We were shown away from a number of filling stations before finding one that was willing to help us out. Seems that Ethiopia has a bit of a fuel problem. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps5f79c8f4.jpg The road to Debre Markos is a good tarmac road leading you through some beautiful Ethiopian countryside. We also made our way through a number of smaller villages. We stopped off in one of said villages for a coffee and the obligatory Injera (traditional Ethiopian flatbread) and inadvertently became the main attraction as hundreds of locals started gathering around our bikes, pointing and engaging in pensive conversation. The children come closer and put their hands out, chanting: “you, you, you…money, money, money”. Though at the same time I’ve had children come up to me and simply ask for stationary! Broke my heart that I didn’t have any pens or books to give them. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps612e9902.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps1a75dd79.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psb3e61ba5.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps74f98d23.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psd7608c6e.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psf348cb7e.jpg We were going at a very easy pace through Ethiopia, which gives you a chance to really take in the scenery. It is such a beautiful country and definitely one of the top three most beautiful countries I’ve ridden through. It is such a rich and fertile land with lush green hills that just roll on forever. Mountains that tower over you in all their majestic greatness and valleys that plunge down beside you to reveal neat farms down below. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps19ff8853.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps4b6efec2.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps1aa64709.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psd4439cd1.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psfaa754c3.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps5759fdc6.jpg That being said, Addis Ababa was not one of my favorite cities visited. When we arrived in Addis it was raining. Coming down the steep hill into town visibility was minimal and the traffic at a slow-go. It all seemed pretty straightforward at first and I thought I’d have us at Wim’s Holland House in no time…until I realized that half the city had been dug up in road works and what seemed to be a new underground train system in progress. I got us within 500 meters of our destination, but just couldn’t find a way that would get us TO Wim’s place.* I eventually admitted defeat and phoned Wim. I had stopped just beyond a big roundabout and hoped it might be enough of a landmark for him to explain to me how to get to his place. Whilst talking to him on the phone, a young boy came and stood next to me. Really close, right up against me. Then another appeared. And another. And another. And then, I felt a little hand slipping into my bag that I’ve always carried over my shoulder, under my jacket and kind of on my hip. I’ve never had any issues despite people always thinking it makes for an easy target. The boys pretended to be looking at my GPS and asked me questions whilst the one that was right up against me went to work with finding whatever he could in my bag. I didn’t make a fuss. I just reached down, took hold of his arm and started twisting. With a somewhat surprised and slightly bewildered look in his eyes, the teenager just turned and walked away. I was trying to indicate to Francois that we needed to get out of there, but he was talking to two guys on a bike who said they could take us to Wim’s. My inner voice was telling me that this is a very bad idea and before I could stop Francois he was following the two guys on their bike. I started chasing after them and after almost 20 kilometers of riding in the complete opposite direction I got Francois’ attention and we turned around. The two guys on the bike ahead of us turned around as well, chasing after us, but we managed to lose them in the traffic. I’ve heard some horror stories in other countries where travelers had been mugged or had their vehicles stolen after being told to follow someone, so I’m glad we got out of that one. We made our way and I tried to find a way around the road works to Wim’s place. The city was in chaos with construction vehicles all over and no way of figuring out where one might find a detour. We eventually landed up in front of a police office and I phoned Wim again. We were still only 500 meters from his place and still just couldn’t find a way through to the street we needed to be on. He told us to stay put and he’d come and fetch us. It took him half an hour to get to us, 500 meters away! Wim instructed one of his workers to show us to his place and left to go do some shopping. This poor man ran all the way, through the traffic to show us where to go and after an eventful few hours since we’d arrived in Addis, we finally made it to Wim’s Holland House. We immediately went straight to the bar to have something cold to drink and then found out that they didn’t have any accommodation available. When Wim arrived back he said we could either camp in the parking area (there was some grass) or he’d let us sleep in his house. He even provided us with some mattresses and made some space for us in his living room. The only reason we didn’t camp was because it was raining.* http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps72a3f012.jpg The bar is like a local hangout for overlanders of all walks of life. We spent the evening meeting people from all over the world and swapping out stories. Some traveling in Land Rovers, others by public transport and a guy in a car who had some crazy stories to tell about how he was chased by Bedouins through the desert in the south of Egypt. How he was thrown in jail in Iran. It seemed that everywhere this guy went, trouble followed. I loved chatting to all these interesting people. I sat chatting to Wim for a while as well and asked him about routes going south. He suggested we not take the main road heading towards Kenya but rather take a back route that’s not as congested and far more interesting. He drew me a map and wrote down directions on 3 different scraps of paper and with that I turned in for the night, confident that I’d be able to navigate us safely out of Addis the next morning. Luckily I am pretty good with directions and managed to get us out of Addis and onto the back road Wim had suggested. I am not very fond of Addis. In fact, it might make my top 3 “least-favorite-cities” list. I felt very uneasy, even before the attempted pickpocketing incident and wouldn’t go there again unless I absolutely had to. And so we made our way towards Arba Minch, via Butajira and through Sodo. Francois had read about a very posh looking lodge next to Lake Abaya, which he wanted to check out and so, it was decided that we’d head in that direction. This road was far quieter and I felt more at ease on it as well. Felt like I could breathe again. We stopped off alongside the road for breakfast at a small hotel, which was really good, and then kept a very easy pace making our way through the beautiful countryside.* http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psb871068f.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps59b4db54.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps326e16bc.jpg When we got to the town of Arba Minch we first went in search of fuel as both of us needed to fill up. After two unsuccessful visits to filling stations I was getting a little nervous. We were told that they might have fuel the next morning. We had little choice and started searching for Francois’ lodge. We couldn’t find the place and eventually were helped by two local boys on a scooter who showed us to different lodges in the area. (This time I felt completely comfortable following them around. Amazing how your instincts guide you!) It was getting dark and we needed to make a decision as to where we were going to stay. We found a beautiful lodge with the most stunning views over the Lake, but it was pricey. $60 per person per night. I wasn’t willing to pay that and we tried to negotiate for a better price. We eventually got away with $40 each. Still a bit steep but we decided to bite the bullet. Just the views made it worth it. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psdf871591.jpg Next morning we started our hunt for fuel after we’d had breakfast. We couldn’t find fuel anywhere, but a tour guide back at the lodge arranged for another two local boys to help us. Again we were following two young men on a bike. They led us down into the valley to a village and then stopped about a kilometer outside the village. They told us to wait next to the road because, if we went into the village with them to buy fuel off the black market and people saw we are tourists, the price would automatically be doubled. I thought it rather considerate of them. We did as we were told and waited next to the road. Within minutes we had attracted quite a crowd. People pointing and smiling, conversing, frowning, laughing. I was starting to get a tiny bit claustrophobic and then our two saviors appeared with twenty liters worth of fuel in two liter plastic bottles. We emptied the bottles into our tanks, paid the boys (we still had to pay quite a hefty price for the fuel), bid farewell to the crowds and hit the road. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps4c06697d.jpg We had just passed through the village when we came down a hill and the most extraordinary site greeted us…There, in the road…not on the side of the road but IN the road…blocking the entire road, were thousands upon thousands (I kid you not) of cattle. I have never seen so many cows in my life! It quickly became clear that we were going to have to, painstakingly and very slowly, weave our way through all these cattle. My bike is pretty loud and I hoped this might help in clearing a path through the herds, but it was obvious that these cattle were used to all kinds of traffic making their way around them. No amount of revving or hooting really helped. I just tried to avoid their horns. Every now and then a bull would bump into Dax and I’d struggle to maneuver as to not bump into another bull. It was chaos! But fun in a limited kind of a way. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps6a8385c6.jpg The tarmac road ended as soon as we finally got through the herds of cattle and we had quite a bit of off road to do until we’d rejoin the main road down to the border town of Moyale between Ethiopia and Kenya. It was a good, graded, gravel road though and we could easily average 80 kilometers per hour, sometimes a bit slower as we climbed up a beautiful mountain pass and then plunged down into an equally beautiful valley. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps21f0f577.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps79175951.jpg When we finally rejoined the main road heading down to Kenya, we stopped off for lunch and refueled the bikes. Tomorrow we would start on the notorious ‘Hell Road’ after crossing into Kenya. I knew it would be challenging, but I was looking forward to it! |
Kenya!
The road towards Moyale, the border town between Ethiopia and Kenya, was clearly being worked on and we found ourselves riding on a piece of tarred road running alongside the new road in progress. On arrival in the border town we filled up with fuel and went about looking for a place to stay for the night. We found a cheap hotel that seemed popular to overlanders just before the border. (I can’t remember the hotel’s name. It’s on the right hand side as you approach the border. It has secure parking, clean rooms, restaurant and bar and wifi. And relatively cheap) http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps8a76e5a9.jpg Francois’ bike started losing spokes on the rear wheel. This was a little concerning and we started checking on all the spokes. Some of them were pretty loose and we went about tightening them. He also wanted to fit his knobblies that he was carrying for ‘hell road’ and went in search of a workshop that could do this for him. I remained at the hotel, had a shower and went to find a guy I had seen earlier on another 1200 adv. The guy on the 1200 turned out to be an Israeli gentleman named Odette and I also found out that he’d run into some South African adventure rider friends of mine in China on their tour earlier in the year! Small world! I sat chatting to Odette and having a beer whilst waiting for Francois to return. It started getting dark and I was getting worried. It doesn’t take THAT long to change a set of tyres. Alas, before I could saddle up to go rescue the Frenchman, he pulled up about thirty minutes later with a new set of tyres and a beaming smile. I think, psychologically, this gave him more confidence for the road ahead. In the end he wouldn’t really need it. Next morning we were up early and joined Odette for breakfast before we started heading south to cross the border and Odette would head up north towards Addis. Hell road – here we come! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psef1a88a7.jpg And then…30 kilometers in…this happens! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps4b672653.jpg My poor bike’s rear suspension gave in only 30 kilometers into Hell Road! This meant I’d have to do almost 300 kilometers of off road without a rear shock. It was like riding a pogo stick for hundreds of kilometers. Once the shock went I knew that we wouldn’t be able to make it to Nairobi the next day. We had planned on making it to Marsabit the first day and then Nairobi on day 2. I told Francois that I thought it best if we stayed over in this tiny village called Torbi and then carry on to Marsabit the next day. I could only get up to 40 km/h max so there was no way we’d make it anyway. The going was slow and tiring. The riding wasn’t anything technical but my body was just taking a beating, as it was now acting as the shock absorber. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...pscf52428f.jpg We made it to Torbi and asked whether the ‘hotel’ could accommodate us for the night. The people were extremely friendly and kind and invited us in to sit in the shade whilst we negotiated a rate for two single rooms. We were told that we’d have to wait a little while whilst they prepared the rooms for us. This didn’t faze us at all and we ordered some lunch and something to drink whilst waiting. Lunch consisted of some meat strips with flat bread. Simple but really tasty. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps7a342372.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psdf7ea1d6.jpg The rooms were very basic. Two single beds in each room, no electricity, no running water. I asked where I could wash myself and was shown to a shack about 30 meters away and given a bucket of water. I’ve washed myself out of a bucket many times, so this was not an issue for me. Francois however, found it a little difficult. Of course there were no flushing toilets either but a ‘long-drop’ across from our rooms. Personally, I prefer to rather go out in the bush than use a long-drop. I just think it more hygienic, personally. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psfc3b7529.jpg I couldn’t sleep as it was so hot and decided to rather go lie outside a bit to cool down and watch the stars. Though when I opened my door there was a man lying on a mattress in front of the door. I had to step over him to go outside. I still don’t know what that was in aid of? Maybe some security? Didn’t bother me though…I just carefully stepped over him when going in or out of the room throughout the night. Next morning, as we were loading the bikes and getting ready for the road to Marsabit, a Rastafarian approached me and indicated that he was absolutely fascinated with my collection of bracelets from all the countries I’d been through. He asked if he could have one? I explained to him that most of the bracelets had been given to me as a gift from someone in each country I’d traveled through. He stood quiet, pondering this for a little while…and then took off one of the bracelets and gave it to me! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps758d9c86.jpg With that we bid our hosts farewell and hit the road. It was a long, hot slog towards Marsabit. There’s not a great deal in the way of scenery in northern Kenya. Besides I was so focused on the corrugated road and dodging rocks and carefully making my way through the sand patches as I was adamant that I would not fall on Hell Road! My friend and fellow adventure rider Omar, in Alexandria (Egypt) bet me that I’d fall at least once on Hell Road. Challenge accepted of course! Francois unfortunately wouldn’t win the bet. I really felt for him and wished we could pretend it never happened. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps844d56e0.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...pseacfdbbf.jpg We passed a military officer carrying his AK47 somewhere between Torbi and Marsabit. He gesticulated, trying to tell us to stop. I was a bit weary of stopping for anyone on this road and so just smiled (slightly nervously), waved and carried on riding. I figured that the chances of him chasing after us was so slim that, even if he did get into his vehicle and come after us, we’d have put enough distance between us and him to successfully outrun him. Francois later told me that he was really worried and seeing as he was at the back, he was afraid he might get shot at first. LoL. I assured him I’d never leave him behind. The road wasn’t that difficult, just tiring and even more so without my rear shock. Both Francois and I grew quiet and just concentrated at getting to Marsabit. Every now and then we’d pass by a group of men working on the road and be greeted with whistles and waves. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psf96c280f.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps7161c486.jpg When we made it to Marsabit we headed straight to a hotel called Nomads Trail. Clean hotel with secure parking, restaurant and wifi. We had something to eat and decided we both needed some rest and turned in to our rooms for a shower and a nap. Later on we went about exploring the town a bit and search for a few cold beers which we found at a local bar that had a big screen television and were screening a movie. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps1d6a717b.jpg I asked the locals about the road ahead and how far we still had to go before we would hit the tarred road? Answers ranged from 40 to 120 kilometers! Haha! So I figured I’d go with a number in between and set it at 60 kilometers. Francois was obviously getting fed up with Hell Road now. Next morning after about 40 kilometers (I found the last bit to be the worst of it with loose rocks and some ruts and sandy patches), whilst taking a break Francois turned to me and asked: “How far still to go Jo? This is your Africa. You should know!” In the end it turned out to be about another 90 kilometers until we reached the tar road. I’ll never forget the look of relief on Francois’ face! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps6fe87e5f.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps8161a44e.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps6ba40b0f.jpg From hereon out the landscape also started changing from the arid, dry surrounding we’d seen the last few days to more greenery and some hills surrounding us now. From Marsabit we made our way to Nanyuki where we’d spend the night with a friend of a friend of mine who lives near Mount Kenya. This was also the point where I crossed the equator again, on the other side of the continent! I could feel that I was now entering the final stage of the tour and it filled me with mixed emotions. Though I still had quite a way to go! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psfdd46b11.jpg Form Nanyuki we headed into Nairobi where we’d stay at the famous overlander camp, Jungle Junction, run by Chris. Jungle Junction had just moved from their old spot and Odette in Moyale was kind enough to have given me a leaflet with directions to their new address. They were now situated at the southern end of Nairobi and we braved the traffic through the city. When we got to JJ’s the first thing I could see was a load of bikes parked at one end of the property and 4x4’s all over the place. This felt like home! We decided to treat ourselves to rooms as opposed to camping and settled in for a few days. The next three days were spent catching up on admin such as washing, and giving Francois’ bike a once-over as he’d be carrying on, on his own from hereon out whilst I stayed behind in Nairobi to fix my Dax. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps655e6a18.jpg We met a number of travelers from all over the world ranging from a Japanese bloke on a bicycle, a French couple with their 4x4, a South African bird-watcher, a lovely girl photographer from the Netherlands and a group from Namibia. It felt both strange and wonderful to be amongst like-minded people and our evenings were spent around a table sharing stories from our different journeys. Meanwhile I had the issue of Dax’s broken rear shock. A good friend of mine back in South Africa and, yes you guessed it, another adventure traveler along with his wife (Michnus and Elsabie Olivier from ATG) offered me the spare shock of one of their Dakars. They were traveling Europe at that time and so the planning started to get the shock shipped up to me in Nairobi. I approached TNT back in SA and they very kindly offered to ship the shock up at no charge! Awesome! So now just had to wait for the shock to arrive. In the meantime I made arrangements to move to a friend’s place when Francois left. The day came and I bid Francois farewell, wishing him well for the road ahead and said I’d try to catch up to visit with him and his girlfriend in Cape Town. His girlfriends was flying out from France to visit him at the end of his journey. I later found out that Francois settled my bill without saying anything at JJ’s as a way of saying thank you for being his ‘guide’ on the first leg of his trip. Incredibly generous and very kind of him. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psa1f0c040.jpg I then met up with Chantal Young and her family. Chantal had contacted me on Facebook after reading about me on a mutual friend’s page. So this was the first time we actually met in person. We were like best friends instantly and it turned out that they lived just around the corner from JJ’s, so I just had to ride around the block to their house where they very kindly allowed me to stay for the next few weeks whilst waiting for the shock to arrive from South Africa. Most of Chantal’s family has been or are currently involved in rally racing. Chantal herself is a rally car navigator and so when it came to having to fit my new shock it was no problem for a bunch of petrol heads like ourselves. In the meantime Chantal kept me entertained by going on a road trip to Nakuru National Park where I got to view some wild animals for the first time in (what felt like) forever! It was absolutely wonderful and I had such an amazing time! We were very lucky and got to see loads of buffalo, zebra and giraffes and we even saw some rhino and lions! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps7cbafa98.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps8d8540a2.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps161a2d6a.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps2d48bcaf.jpg Riding around in a car in Kenya was a different experience and it also gave me the opportunity to have a look around and note things I might normally not see when concentrating whilst riding on the bike. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps74ba6691.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps5f75d680.jpg Back in Nairobi my shock had arrived and I, along with my amazingly skilled team, fitted it in no time flat! It was a bittersweet occasion as this meant I could now continue on my journey, but I’d have to leave my new-found family in Nairobi! (Thank you to the Youngs!) http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps5f441abd.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps4d1a5145.jpg I also had the opportunity to visit the David Sheldrick Wildlife trust and see elephants…wait for it…bare yourself…FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER! Elephants are my favorite animals so this was a very special occasion for me! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps5d61069f.jpg I tried to delay for as long as I possibly could, but then the time came for me to get on with it and make my way to the next country on route. Tanzania! |
Tanzania:
From Nairobi I made my way down to the Namanga border, which is near the Amboseli National Park. The best view of Mt. Kilimanjaro is supposed to be from Amboseli. I’ve definitely seen some stunning photos of the majestic mountain taken from this park. Chantal rode out with me a few kilometers and we stopped off for breakfast on route at a place called ‘Whistling Thorns’, about an hour’s drive from Nairobi. They also offer accommodation here. www.whistlingthorns.com After breakfast it was time to finally bid farewell to my new sister/friend/travel companion. It was really difficult saying goodbye and so I didn’t hang around for too long. I hate goodbyes! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psd0ec36c3.jpg At the Namanga border I ran into two of the Holgate 4x4’s. I got so excited! I’m a big Kingsley Holgate fan! Though there was no sign of the man himself, and not surprisingly I was through and done with my paperwork before the two 4x4’s. (I figure they have more things that have to be checked on/in the vehicles). I stopped on the other side of the border to buy a new sim card. Though I stopped too far down the road and the telecoms-shacks were the ones just as you exit/enter the border. I didn’t feel like walking back and decided I’d go about finding a sim card in Arusha. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps4a3411e2.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps3f8ed055.jpg In Arusha I stayed at a place called Sakina Camp (www.sakinacamp.com) . Basic but affordable. So affordable that I opted on taking a room rather than camping. Besides, it looked like it might rain. The owner of the establishment is super friendly and helpful. After chatting for while and helping me carry my bags to my room he gave me information on where I could get food and anything else I might need. I liked Tanzania already! I was looking forward to seeing Mt. Kilimanjaro the next day, but it soon became clear that it was just not meant to be. It rained throughout the night and it was still drizzling when I left Sakina Camp. By the time I got to Moshi and passed Mt. Kilimanjaro I could just make out the base of the mountain, the rest was just clouds! I didn’t bother waiting around to see if the clouds may lift as I still had a long way to go. I opted to skip Dar Es Salaam and would head for Morogoro instead. From here I’d make my way inland down to Malawi! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps3b598ac8.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps3c60af8c.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps715ebb13.jpg I soon learned that Tanzania has a great plethora of accommodation options! There are hotels and guesthouses and camping spots around every corner and at really affordable rates! I could afford to stay in hotels or guesthouses every night, as it was just so cheap! (US$20 average – this wouldn’t give you 5 star accommodation but the basics) From Morogoro I made my way down to Mbeya via Iringa and stayed in a hotel right on the outskirts of town, overlooking the main roundabout that leads you to the Malawian border. On route I passed through ‘Baobab Valley’ situation between Mikumi and Iringa on the edge of the Udzungwa Mountains National Park – it was stunning! All these baobab trees for as far as the eye can see! It was a very welcome surprise, as I didn’t even know about the existence of ‘Baobab Valley’. Lovely! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...pse34d9e18.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psf97888dc.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psb0a2aed5.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps03f7df08.jpg You don't want to accidentally hit anything whilst riding through the park! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psae3184e8.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps5a0ccf1b.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps32dfe553.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps19ce499a.jpg That thing of: “You have to be extra careful nearing the end of a journey”, is very true! Although I was still some way from home, I was now in the home stretch and wouldn’t have anticipated that I’d come off for the first time ever on tar…and hard! It was raining a lot whilst I was riding through Tanzania and on route, just before getting to Mbeya I was riding up this beautiful mountain pass. Right before getting to the top I was in the final corner, a tight hairpin bend to the right. I didn’t see the spilt diesel in the road though and next thing I knew I was high-sided and skidding across the road on my stomach. I hit my chin on the tarmac first (thank goodness for protective gear!) and then felt myself sliding off the other side of the road. Amazing how many thoughts go through your mind in a split second! First thought that went through my mind was: “Shiiiiiiiit”. Second thought was: “Please let my bike be okay”. Third: “Please don’t let me break any bones!” After I’d come to a halt, I jumped right up as I knew my bike was lying right in the turn and wouldn’t be visible to oncoming traffic! I could immediately assess that I hadn’t broken anything. Well all my limbs were functional so I figured I came off lightly! I hobbled across (okay I was hurting a bit), to my bike that was now lying in the road and facing the wrong way. There was a man that had been standing at the top of the hill. He saw it all happen and ran down to check if I was okay. All I could say was: “Please help me move my bike!” Once we got Dax out of harm’s way I started with damage assessment. Dax seemed fine, apart from a new dent in the right hand side pannier, a few scrapes and the handlebar guard was loose. My left arm was in a great deal of pain. I hit my elbow coming off and my arm got stuck under my body as I was skidding across the road. My left shoulder was killing me! I didn’t think anything was broken though. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps6c19d709.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps67515a81.jpg After five minutes of going over Dax and myself, I thanked the Samaritan and then I was on my way again. By the time I reached the hotel I had such a headache from a) the knock on the road and b) the adrenalin that had worn off …and I couldn’t move my arm. I took a hot shower and plonked myself down onto the bed and promptly passed out after I’d ordered some food. A feeling of urgency started to fill me. I guess because I was now so close from the finish line, and yet so far! Just two more countries to go and I’d be back on home soil! I found myself in two minds. I just wanted to get to that finish line…but at the same time I didn’t want this journey to end just yet! |
Malawi & Mozambique:
My camera (Nikon Coolpix – such a cool little camera!) unfortunately broke in the crash, so from hereon out I had to mainly take photos on my phone. When I got up the next morning my body was one huge ache. Especially my left arm. I suspected it just to be some bad bruising. Breathing also hurt so I suspected some bruised ribs to go along with my other bruised muscles. But nothing was broken, which meant I could carry on! I made my way to the Songwe border crossing between Tanzania and Malawi which is about 115 kilometers from Mbeya. Arriving at the border I firstly went about changing money. Usually I wait until I’m actually ‘in’ the border to change money, but for some reason I decided to stop and change money before the border on this day. Mistake number one. Mistake number two was remaining seated on the bike whilst attempting to change money. I always count out how much I want to change before reaching a border, then I’d usually put that away in a pocket and only take the money out at the border…as opposed to taking out my wallet. On this day I also didn’t do that. So the ‘gentleman’ that was assisting me asked me how much I wanted to change? I told him and he handed me a pack of notes. The pack was divided into smaller packs with denominations of tens in the pack. Though he counted it as hundreds. This is an old trick! So I started arguing with him, saying that he didn’t give me enough money. As the argument started heating up, more and more ‘gentlemen’ started joining in and before I knew it I had half a dozen hands grabbing at my wallet! They got away with about US$150! To brighten my day a little more, I was pulled over after I’d crossed the border. Routine checks. It was then discovered that my ‘COMESA’ third party insurance that I had bought in Tanzania wasn’t COMESA insurance after all! And so I had to pay a fine. (I paid $100 for my fake COMESA insurance! Haha) I was not in the best of moods by this time. Though as I made my way further south I came across a very pleasant surprise. A man had contacted me sometime back on a riding forum, asking me for advice and info as him and his son would be riding up to Egypt at some point. ‘Them’ being Jan-Lukas and Bas de Vos. (Amsterdam on the forum) And then I ran into them in Malawi! Yay. It was not too far from the border and just after I had been pulled over, I remember passing these two bikes and it was like we all had the same thought instantaneously, thinking: “Hang on a minute, isn’t that…”. I pulled over and the guys turned back. We spent about half an hour on the side of the road quickly catching up as I gave them information and contacts for the road leading up to Cairo. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps329e79b5.jpg After a long chat and some photos, they were off to Tanzania (I warned them about the scammers) and I was off to find a place to stay next to the Lake. I had dreamt about what it would be like to get to Lake Malawi one day. It’s just one of those mysteriously amazing locations! Nothing could’ve prepared me for actually being there though. It really is just beautiful. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps75da8a8d.jpg I spent a night at Mayoka Village (www.mayokavillagebeachlodge.com) . I decided to spoil myself after the last few mishaps I’d had and booked myself into a room, overlooking the lake. I was in heaven and didn’t want to leave! I decided I’d take a rest day when I reached the southern tip of the lake the next day. I didn’t want to leave Mayoka. It’s a magical place and I’d go back in a heartbeat to just spend a few weeks next to the Lake. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps333791f3.jpg Next day would see me riding down to the southern region of the Lake where I would stay at the Fat Monkey Lodge in Cape Maclear. (Fat Monkeys (Cape Maclear, Malawi) - B&B Reviews - TripAdvisor ) Friends and fellow adventure riders who I’ve mentioned before, Michnus and Elsabie Olivier from ATG (www.atgear.co.za) (Their blog: Piki-Piki) had referred me to Fat Monkeys. And what a cool place! I opted to camp this time round. I hadn’t camped since Sudan and felt it time. The road to Fat Monkeys http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps4f6d974e.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psddc450d5.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps75a6cef9.jpg I came across a weird phenomenon on my way riding down south though. I approached what looked like a smoke cloud. I even held my breath just before I entered said ‘smoke cloud’. It turned out to be a humungous swarm of tiny little bugs! I had to stop as soon as I’d passed through the swarm as my goggles were just packed with a layer of bugs! Strange! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps3c48d737.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps81fb7058.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psfd5e7893.jpg I spent two blissful days relaxing next to the lake and met a whole bunch of overlanders ranging from a Dutch couple who’d been riding all over Southern Africa for a few months. A bunch of guys from London who were doing a trip from South Africa up to Tanzania. And Yves, a French cyclist with a very American English accent (he’d spent quite a few years as a rickshaw rider in New York) who’d cycled down the East Coast of Africa and would be making his way down to South Africa before heading back up the west coast again. We hit it off immediately and became camp buddies! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps8007c01a.jpg My rest day was spent sleeping in, having Dax washed, and generally just lazing around either on the beach or at the bar in the shade. It was heavenly! I witnessed an amazing sunset that greeted my on my last evening in Malawi before I’d be leaving for Mozambique. Thought here were still a few ‘kinks in the cable’ to deal with on route before I could make it to South Africa. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps1371bd98.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps00b5914c.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps2ac336bb.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps4d592d89.jpg First kink came the next morning when I had to pay for my accommodation. The entire area’s electricity was out and my visa card didn’t want to work for some reason. Yves offered to pay for me and I could pay him back when he got to South Africa. I politely refused though and asked the lodge whether they’d accept some dollars. I only had singles left though. Well it’s not like they had much of a choice. I was out of Malawian Kwacha and my card didn’t want to work. They did accept the hand-full of single dollar notes though and I was on my way. Next I had to fill up with fuel! But of course the ATM in town wasn’t working as a result of the electricity being out, and there was only this single ATM in a fifty kilometer radius! So I hung around for a while until the electricity came back on. It did come back on eventually but my card still didn’t want to work! I phoned my friend Hanret back home to please phone my bank and find out why my card wouldn’t work. In the meantime I tried to find out where the nearest next ATM was. The other little problem I had was that I only had about 40 kilometers worth of fuel left! The bank confirmed that there was nothing wrong with my card and I had sufficient funds, so I had no choice other than to chance it to the next town to find a different ATM. I rode along at no more than 80 kilometers per hour as to try and preserve whatever fuel I had left. I did make it in the end and when I filled up I had less than half a liter’s worth of fuel left in my tank. Main thing is it all worked out fine though and I could continue to Mozambique! I was about 250 kilometers from the border and still wanted to make it to Tete, about 370 kilometers away! Best I got a move on! I would cross the border into Mozambique just beyond a town called Mwanza in Malawi. It’s a fairly quiet border crossing and I was stamped through both sides in no time flat! The first 60 – 80 kilometers of road towards Tete is being worked on though so I faced a number of diversions that slowed me down. Normally this would not really bother me all that much but I had entered Mozambique just as the Renamo (Mozambican National Resistance) unrest broke out and I didn’t want to ride around at night. By the time I reached Tete and crossed the Zambezi river into town the sun was just setting. I started searching for a place to spend the night. The first motel I pulled into was obviously under construction and they referred me to a guesthouse just after the bridge. I found it easily enough as it was just down the road back a few hundred meters. There I met a South African guy who was working in Tete at the time and helped me book into the guesthouse. After I’d done offloading my bike and had a shower the gentleman accompanied me down the road to a local restaurant where I ordered some food. It was nice to catch up with a fellow South African. I was now really getting close to home! I can’t remember the name of the guesthouse but it’s ‘Casa’ something. Right on the Zambesi river, on your left hand side, just as you exit the bridge over the river. From Tete I would make my way to Chimoio where I would spend the night before braving the ‘red zone’ between Inchope and the Rio Save (River) region. In all honesty I had no idea how big the ‘red zone’ was or where it ended. I knew there were two armed convoys riding up and down each day. Though I had no idea where they were leaving from or what time. So in the end I decided to just gun it in my convoy of one. How bad could it possibly be right? Well it was one of the most uncomfortable stretches on my entire trip, let me tell you that. At first it was awesome. No traffic, so quiet. Just me on my Dax enjoying the Mozambican bush. But then it just started to become a little eerie. After 300 kilometers of not seeing a single soul I simply had to stop for a break. I had pictures in my mind of armed rebel forces groups lying in wait in the bush, looking on at me taking a break right in their attack zone and thinking…WTF? http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psaeb308cd.jpg After I got back on the road an armed convoy passed me by and pushed me off the road. Thanks guys! I eventually made it to a checkpoint where I was stopped and a very confused officer kept checking for ‘more of me’ to arrive. He asked me why I rode alone and I explained to him that I didn’t know where or when to meet the convoy riding from the north. He radioed his superior officer who radioed on ahead and after they’d cleared it with the checkpoint further ahead I was allowed to proceed. I was advised not to stop anywhere though as a convoy had been shot to pieces the previous day. Just the reassurance I needed! After I made it past the next checkpoint at Rio Save I started noticing people going about their daily business on the side of the road again and sighed a sigh of relief. I had now made it through the final hurdle on the trip! Bridge over Rio Save: http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps844578a6.jpg That night I stayed at Sunset Lodge near Inhambane. A beautiful lodge right on the beach! Though it seemed that my body had, had enough. The fall in Tanzania and the last few days’ physical, mental and emotional fatigue had caught up with me and that evening my body broke out in a fever. I spent most of the night with fighting a fever and my body aching. Then a thought hit me…’Malaria’! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps8f41b68b.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps6a9faf95.jpg The next day I’d meet up with a South African friend in Matola and told myself I just have to make it there, then I’d have myself tested. I felt a bit better the next morning though and had a really pleasant ride down towards Maputo/Matola. I was stopped a few times by police. I did’t infringe on any traffic laws, so they just stopped me because they could. Sometimes not even saying anything…just stopping me and then waving me on again. Strange. Then, about halfway down to Matola, the sub frame bolts on my bike broke!! I immediately knew what had happened when I felt it go. It felt like the bike simply snapped in half! I pulled over and remembered that I still had some spare bolts and then found a spare nut I’d been carrying in my handbag for over a year! Haha. Now I finally got to use it! I fixed up my bike on the side of the road (how far I’ve come, mechanically!) and carried with a smile. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps0ecc491c.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps0661f8d0.jpg Fellow South African and rider, Ken Vaughan, met up with me just outside of Matola and rode in with me. He arranged for me to stay at The Courtyard Guesthouse in town. (www.thecourtyardmoz.com) When they got to learn about my journey they offered to let me stay for free! I told Ken that I wasn’t feeling well and he took me to a clinic so I could have myself tested for malaria. The test came back negative, and I was convinced it was just pure fatigue! That evening I was spoilt to dinner along with a group of South Africans living in Matola. On the menu? Prawns of course!!! We had a fantastic evening at a local restaurant famous for the best prawns in town and I regaled the guys with my travel stories whilst sitting with butterflies in my stomach as it was my last night before re-entering South Africa! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps6775d8b3.jpg This was it! The final push to the finish line! |
THE FINALE!
The final stretch to the border was filled with a mix of emotions. Ken would ride with me to the South African border through Swaziland. On the other side, a group of friends and fellow riders were waiting to welcome me back onto home soil!! We made our way to the border and crossed into Swaziland at the Mhlumeni border post. It is probably the quietest border I’ve ever crossed. We were the only two people there at the time, apart from customs and immigration officers. As a result we were stamped through in no time flat! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps5be6c2a1.jpg We then made our way to the Oshoek border where I would cross back into South Africa. When we arrived at the border, I took my time. I didn’t go into the customs and immigration offices straight away to get myself stamped out of Swaziland. I wanted to savor the moment. Ken stayed with me until I indicated that I was ready and went in to have my paperwork stamped. He wouldn’t cross with me and so wished me good luck, congratulated me and then started heading back to Mozambique. I slowly rolled over to the South African side of the border and could see the group of bikers standing right at the entrance. I went about having my paperwork stamp for the very last time. The very last stamp in my passport and the very last stamp in my carnet de passage. Back outside the office I handed my passport over for the very final check before I could enter back into my homeland. The officers took my passport, checked that everything was in order then handed my passport back to me and said: “Welcome home Jo.” The bunch awaiting my arrival had obviously told them who I was and what I had done. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps26a1e04f.jpg That line hit me in the pit of my stomach and tears started welling up in my eyes. I thanked them, put my passport away and received a very warm welcome from my friends. I very nearly started ululating! I worked out my route and itinerary whilst I was still in Kenya so everyone back home would know when I’d be where. The response I received over the week and a half it took me to get from Kenya to South Africa was absolutely staggering! I received so many offers from friends, followers and fellow riders for a place to stay on route and plans were being made in every town where I’d be staying over for a social get-together where people could come say hello. The celebrations started the second I crossed the border back into South Africa and continued, pretty much non-stop, all the way to the finish line - Cape Agulhas. The most southern point in Africa! My route back down to Cape Agulhas would take me through: Piet Retief, Durban, Port St Johns, East London, Port Elizabeth, Jeffreys Bay, George, and finally Robertson where I’d meet up with a group of riders for the annual “Breede Bash” next to the Breede River before being accompanied by a whole pack of bikes down to Agulhas. I became a package…collected from the border and then carefully passed on from one group of riders to the next, all the way down the coast. Durban boys meeting me on route: http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psd065c451.jpg More Durbs: http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps20056694.jpg East London: http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps7e4c3b89.jpg East London: http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps09a03fa1.jpg Port Elizabeth: http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps41a00788.jpg George: http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps198c9e4c.jpg More George: http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps11f0c68f.jpg It was absolutely wonderful seeing some old friends again and making new ones as I made my way from one town to the next. Every night was a celebration in anticipation of the grand finale! It was both awesome and slightly surreal, being back in South Africa. So much familiarity after so much exploring of the unknown. It’s like waking from a dream and not being sure whether you want to be awake or rather go back. The unfamiliar has become what you are most comfortable with and everything seems all upside down and inside out. Alas, the last few days were too much of a blurry haze of exciting events and reunions for me to delve too deeply into the inadvertent philosophical consequences a prolonged journey of self-exploration brings with it. I savored every single moment leading up to the conclusion of my journey, knowing how long I had dreamt of this day. The hardships and challenges faced. The ups and downs. The people who had touched my heart along the way. The places I’d seen, the moments I had experienced, the person I had become. I got up on that final morning filled with a great range of feelings. Excitement, happiness, anticipation, sadness, love, joy, gratitude, nostalgia…you name it. Gerard's (Jupiter) tent was pitched not far from mine and he was the only person in my immediate vicinity for most of the morning. I was glad because he has this ‘zen’ energy that helped calm my nerves. Everyone started slowly packing up. Those that wouldn’t be joining us down to Agulhas came to congratulate me and wish me good luck for the last day before they left. And then the time came to get on with it! I had no idea what to expect. I knew that Agulhas tourism had organized a little something and would meet up with me before I headed down to the marker, but that was about it in terms of any special arrangements. When I left back in April 2012 I wasn’t allowed to take my bike down to the marker. This time round I promised myself I would ride down there no matter what! A whole group of riders joined me for the ride down. More people joined on route and the numbers started to grow…as did my nerves! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psf766098b.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psedb16c57.jpg The arrangements were that we’d stop at the Caltex fuel station as you come into Struisbaai. Here an NSRI (National Sea Rescue Institute) vehicle would escort me to the lighthouse where representatives from the Agulhas Tourism office would be waiting for me. And then the final moment would be when I make my way down to the marker. I stopped at the Caltex fuel station to wait for more arrivals and to meet up with the NSRI vehicle. Then I noticed a sign outside the station: “Welkom terug Jo Rust” – Welcome back Jo Rust. This is where I started to come apart. I walked into the little curios shop and burst into tears. The owner came up to me and after I’d thanked her for the sign she was also in tears…as was the girl behind the counter. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps97246477.jpg I think everyone could see I was highly emotional and seemed to keep their distance. More people joined and we then finally started making our way down to the most southern point in Africa. I met up with Cape Agulhas tourism representatives at the lighthouse, where I was received with huge hugs and congratulations. One of the ‘Cape Town to Dublin’ scooter boys had also come down to congratulate me! Simply awesome! After a few photos and a quick interview with the local paper, it was time. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psd2bccf32.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psc8c6d435.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps03efd921.jpg I got onto my Dax for the very last time on this trip and started rolling down to where it all started. I was crying so hard in my helmet. It was like 29 years worth of emotions were erupting from me like a volcano. I was singing the song: “The Story” by Brandi Carlile in my helmet whilst riding down to the marker with tears streaming down my face. (Go listen to it) http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps5a904c5b.jpg The guys helped me maneuver Dax over the last obstacle and then there we were…my Dax and I. We were standing in the spot where it all started all that time ago! A friend of mine, Jan (Heimer) was the first to hug me and I wasn’t too sure who was more emotional? All in all it was a huge moment! http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps09d509a6.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps7559475a.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps0c600bd3.jpg http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...ps8498dd39.jpg We did it!! We made it all the way around the African continent!! My beloved Dax and I. http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/z...psf5e2457e.jpg ***THE END*** |
OUTFCUKING STANDING GIRL bier LOVED EVERY MINUTE OF IT bier
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Thanks for this wonderful story! Stefan Gesendet von meinem GT-I9300 mit Tapatalk |
Unbelievably Wonderful. :clap:
Now you got me crying too Jo - and we've never even met! All the best Keith |
Such a fantastic job you've done of telling your story, Many Thanks!!
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Phil |
Respect!
This is a very inspiring read! Great photos as well! And a real gutsy performance!
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Pretty pictures- thank you- but I cannot agree with your T shirt " I conquered Africa" - yeah right - really? more like Africa let you go chikita!
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Was that my friend Wouter Brand (Mr T4a ) I spotted in the George photo?
Margaret |
African Odyssey
A
May Zing! Marco & Ursala |
Jo,
Wish I could have followed your thread while you were riding. I never had an interest in riding Africa. But recently decided to see what was there. Yours was the first I looked at. It got me interested. The political environment and diseases worry me a little. You didn't seem to have any problems though. Your being robbed was certainly an adventure. Could have been an ugly mess. One of your guardian angels delivered you from evil, I think. There seems to be a lot more bikers in Africa than I imagined. Thanks for posting. I know how much time it takes to do a ride report. But it encourages other to get out and see the world.:thumbup: |
Hi
will you come to Spain again? |
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