Lows and Highs of Abuja

World's biggest alarm clock

We have now been in Abuja for 9 days. A lot longer than I wanted to, but that’s how long it took to sort out visas, the admin for the tyres and to recharge our batteries.  Very little of the time has been spent lazing about.  I thought recharging would just take a few nights of good sleep, and a couple of lazy days sorting out our next visas.  But in Africa things are never that simple.

The good sleep never happened. The building right next to our camp is a dog kennel and the dogs where barking and howling all night, and then to top things off there is a huge mosque about half a kilometre away.  Every morning 4am we where woken up by the call to prayer.  It was so loud that it sounded like someone was standing with the loudspeaker outside my tent.  Definitely not the way to convert me to Islam.

Dressed up for visas.  Breakfast at roadside stall

The first morning here we dragged ourselves out of bed bright and early.  As with any capital, visas was our first priority. Initially we did well with friendly staff at the embassies and it was a breeze getting our Cameroon and Congo visas.  Abuja is also the place where we were supposed to get our Angolan visas.  This was not so easy.

Camp Sheraton

We arrived there early one morning to get our applications and hand them in. When we walked in we where told they only email the application forms, and don’t have any at the embassy.  What?  We made a beeline for the nearest internet cafe and all sent emails requesting application forms.  Some tense waiting followed,  The embassy shut at 12:30 and wouldn’t be open again until Monday morning for visa applications (It was only Wednesday).  To our relief we got send one around 11 am, but they wanted a lot of information.  We worked at a frantic pace and it all paid off. Walking into the embassy just after 12, with everything ready.  Phew.  But that is as far as we got.  They wouldn’t even accept our applications.  Supposedly the rules changed and none of the embassies along the way can issue an Angolan visa for us.  They tried to convince us that we can get a 5 day transit visa on the border.  The guy at the counter gave us some web pages that would confirm the transit visa story, but none had the information we wanted.  All bullshit.  Massive blow to us!  We where gutted, and a bit stuck!!  Big dent in our plans!!  (Yes we will try every consulate along the way, but Abuja was supposed to be the easy place for an Angola visa.)

Back of camp

Our second mission was to find the tyres we sent from the UK.  They where sent with parcel force a week ago and by that time should have been in Nigeria.  We thought if we could find the Parcel Force offices for Abuja or Nigeria we can speed up the customs process.  A simple enough plan, but in Abuja it was close to impossible.  Abuja looks like an European city, but in functionality it’s definitely very African.  Getting a decent internet connection was close to impossible.  Just to many power cuts and very bad connections.  Nearly a whole day was lost trying to find the details of parcel force in Nigeria. 

(The irony is that Sheraton has brilliant internet, I could pick up 3 perfect Sheraton wifi signals, but because we where not ‘in house’ guests they wanted to charge us business rates. About £50/hour. Ridiculous).

Abuja bike show.  Weird watching people try burnout tyres
while we are desperate for new ones

Next we tried contacting Parcel Force in Nigeria.  What a mission.  Because of some funny cell phone rules we couldn’t dial out.  Skype was to slow to make a phone call. The Sheraton business centre to expensive.   And it was nearly a day before we managed to register a local cell phone number, only to find out that none of the numbers we had worked.  The address we had has been a hotel for 5 years.  Parcel Force Nigeria turned out to be a ghost, and we where extremely anxious about our tyre shipment.

Out of desperation I bit the bullet and phoned parcel force UK from the Sheraton, only to find out the tyres just left the UK the previous day.  To make matters worse Nigeria Post would handle the shipment at our end.  I was furious and very disappointed with Parcel Force.  We paid a huge amount to courier the tyres for two reasons, one to track them (didn’t work) and the other to dodge Nigerian Post.  There are web posts of people who have waited weeks for similar shipments, and the longest wait was more than 40 days.  This combined with the Angolan news and the fatigue hit me hard.  I sunk to a massive low.  Probably the worst so far.  All that time and effort to get things done and for what?  I enjoy the country side so much and I always get stuck in the capitals wasting precious time.  It was impossible to get myself motivated to do more, and I couldn’t see any good reason to even try.  Suddenly, Africa wasn’t fun anymore.

Changing rear while waiting for front tyre

At least it was weekend.  No reason worrying about things you can’t change, and I tried very hard not to.  I used the weekend to do some mechanics one the bike.  Very therapeutic.  Put on my new back tyre.  Phenomenal feeling finally putting it on after carrying it around for 12 000km.  Yes, 12 000.  Also sorted out every little thing that was nagging on the bike.  Never thought working on bikes would be so good for the soul.  Add in a few good meals, a movie, some semi decent sleep and Morton’s optimism, and by Monday I was ready to conquer Africa.  I was back, and psyched to tackle Nigerian Post.

All the psyching up turned out to be completely unnecessary.  The friendly Nigerian people came to the rescue.  The two ladies working parcels at the post office turned out to be angels.  After hearing our story they immediately started phoning around (internet was down, and they had to buy airtime to phone to Lagos) and by the afternoon they confirmed the tyres where at customs.  Out of desperation we offered a side payment if they could speed up the process, and they went into over drive.  Pure magic at work.  The next morning they promised the tyres where released from customs and we would have them the next day.  That is tomorrow!!  Whoop whoop!  I don’t want to get excited until I have the tyres in my hand, but it’s hard not to.  Fingers crossed.

Loving our bikes at the Sheraton

I have been quite surprised at how entertaining Abuja has been.  The highlight has definitely been the Sheraton.  It is like a mini country, with it’s own little economy.  There are numerous side businesses running from the hotel and masses of people coming and going.  First is the dog kennels.  Initially it was only for the guard dogs, but someone decided to expand it to breeding and selling dogs.  Now they have about 20 dogs in the kennels at the back (these are the ones keeping us up all night).  The car wash for the hotel has been expanded to VIP cars and, naturally, our bikes.  The grass in the back is available for campers.  But the biggest one here is by far the ladies of the night.  There is one bar here where they gather to pick up clients and we had an very entertaining night watching them cornering their prey.

Every day as soon as the sun sets we see gorgeous girls, dressed to the T, enter the Sheraton and gather at said bar.  We knew exactly what their business was, but fuelled by a bit of bush fever, boredom and curiosity we decided to have dinner in the bar and watch the proceedings.  Upon arriving at the bar there was a little table for cover charge.  To our surprise we didn’t have to pay, it was only for the single girls coming to work.  What a good way to make sure you get your cut.  Brilliant.  And one few times in my life I didn’t have to pay cover charge but girls did.  Loved it.  Walking in the bar it was packed with girls. More than 5 for every guy there, any mans dream, except they all were the working type.  It turned out that the girls are only allowed inside the bar, because they are too visible on the terrace.  The irony was that there where so many girls inside that most of the other people where sitting outside.  A cat and mouse game followed with the girls trying hard to stay outside and corner clients, while security was trying their best to keep them inside.  Very entertaining to watch after a few beers.

Our embarrassment turned out to be the funny moment of the night.  One of the girls came to speak to us.  Thinking we where the business type she tried hard to make intelligent conversation, but we couldn’t reply.  After weeks in the bush and her shoving here cleavage in our faces all three of us ended up blushing and mumbling like teenagers.  With our wonderful conversational skills she didn't stay long, and we where left red faced sipping our beers.  Needless to say we didn’t stay long and ran for the safety of our camp.

Again I was very surprised at how open everything was.  Africa's biggest profession is definitely running strong.  These poor girls though, they pay when entering the hotel gates, when entering the bar, when entering the nightclub and again when leaving the grounds.  Without a guarantee of income.  Definitely not an easy life! 

(I am not slagging the Sheraton, they have been great to us.  The staff all are unbelievably friendly and we had a flow of curious visitors at our camp.  But we have been here so long that watching the whole place at work has become quite interesting.)





Update : Went to the post office this morning.  They had our tyres there.  WHOOP, WHOOP!!  The small fee definitely paid off.  The bikes now look stunning with brand new tyres and we are ready to hit the road.  Tomorrow morning we start heading for Cameroon.  I am unbelievable excited!!

Welcome in Abuja

Abuja is Nigeria’s nearly purpose built capital city.  The spot chosen because it is pretty much in the middle of the country and will promote unity among all the different groups in Nigeria.  Abuja looks like a typical European city with city blocks, freeways, big government and corporate buildings, and huge five star hotel complexes.  First impression is really that you left Africa and was transported straight back to Europe.  Even the cheap Chinese bikes are gone, all the cars look relatively new and there are tons off big American type vehicles.  Coming out of the back country it was really hard to get my head around this.  How do people afford this when an hour away it is phenomenally poor?

(Lonely planet says the Nigerian Government ‘lost’ more than 350 BILLION dollars of oil money in the last 40 years, this is four  times the amount of foreign aid flowing into the whole of Africa during the same period.  It looks like Abuja is the place to find the money.)

Thanks to all this development, accommodation in Abuja is easily the most expensive so far, with the budget options in our guide books running at $50 a night.  OUCH.  Luckily for us the Sheraton has opened their doors to overlanders.  According to the internet forums they should allow us to camp in the back yard off the hotel.  For dirt cheap.  Unbelievable, and initially we where very sceptical about this, but at the same time we where shattered to bits.  We didn’t have the energy to go looking for other options so we headed straight for the Sheraton.  To our big relief the gate staff knew all about the camping and let us straight in. This is just what we needed, quick access to a hot shower and a decent meal. While waiting in the parking lot to be shown where to camp our luck suddenly ran out…

Two big guys with big guns approached us asking what we where doing there.  They looked like some private security firm and we didn’t give them to much notice, but knowing the warnings about Nigeria, we did try and politely explain that we are camping at the Sheraton.  One off the guys looked a bit trigger happy and didn’t quite buy the story, he wanted one of the managers to confirm that they allow campers.  The staff send for the manager and in the five minutes it took for him to come all things went downhill significantly.  He thoroughly convinced himself that we where up to no good and wanted to take us in for questioning.  Questioning where? By the time the manager arrived he was so worked up that even the manager struggled to convince him that we where legit.  The manager was keen to show us where to camp but the dude wanted us to come with him straight away.  It took some time but we convinced him to allow us to park our bikes at the camping spot and then we would happily go with him, there wasn’t a chance we would leave the bikes unsecured and unattended.  At this stage we still thought it was some hotel security outfit, and it wouldn’t take more than 5 minutes.  This dude was so worked up that he didn’t even want us to start our bikes to drive them to the camping.  He wanted us to push them.  Obviously he had no idea how heavy these bikes where and how shattered we where.  Another five minutes of talking and numerous orders and counter orders and we where allowed to slowly ride our bikes to the back of the hotel to be shown our camping spot.  These guys where definitely unprofessional enough to fit the bill of a local hotel security outfit, but on the other side they where way to aggressive and the manager had zero authority over them. 

Our convoy must have been quite a sight for the other Sheraton guests.  Three dirty big bikes and even dirtier riders, with a manager ( smiling from ear to ear, and happy to have us) showing us where to go.  Flanking us two sourly heavily armed guards and behind us their vehicle.  These guys where acting like they where escorting VERY dangerous criminals.  To a camping spot!  All I could think was WTF?

Our camping spot was nothing more than a dumpy patch off grass far around the back of the hotel, clearly out of sight off any important people, but it was ours and we where happy.  We where very keen to unpack and clean up, but the guard was quite persistent that we had to go with him immediately.  We had no choice but to oblige.  No reason to fight with an assault rifle. We would much rather oblige some idiots power trip than cause trouble.  We had to unload everything from the bikes and put it in the back of their truck.  AAGGHH!!  It wasn’t until we left the hotel grounds with our friendly guards that we realised this isn’t some local hotel security outfit.  SHIT.  We had no idea where they were taking us. All I could think was ‘Thank God we are three and I’m not alone.’

Our dodgy hotel security outfit turned out to be the Nigerian State Security Services, and they where at the hotel to protect some special VIP’s.  Because we looked so alien compared the rest off the hotel guests, all alarm bells went off and we where seen as a threat.  They took us straight to their main offices, a huge complex completely walled off from the outside world.  We should have been a lot more worried, but we where so tired and they where so unprofessional.  No one knew what to do with us, or where we should go, or who was going to question us and everyone’s orders where different.  This was a really big test of patience, but again guns where at the ready and we couldn’t do more than mumble our disagreement.  While waiting to be questioned we spoke to some secretaries telling our stories and where we came from and how we travelled to Nigeria.  You could see that it dawned on the sourly guard that he made a mistake, but it was to late.  We where in shark territory, and it was lunch time.

Our questioning session was a disaster.  We where under a new guy and he found it even harder to believe we where traveling through Africa by choice.  And impossible to comprehend that the Sheraton would allow campers.  Our biggest frustration was that he never gave us sufficient time to answer any questions.  He was definitely trying to rush through things, but at the same time his inability to listen made it impossible for him to understand what we where doing and why we where at the Sheraton.  Half way through an answer he’d leave for 10 minutes to discuss things with his colleagues and then come back with new questions which clearly showed he missed our first answer. Frustration, frustration, frustration.  When he found out we stayed in a village he nearly lost it.   He gave us a long speech about safety in Nigeria, clearly he had no idea how safe and welcoming we where experiencing rural Nigeria.  I was burning to tell him that the only time I felt unsafe was in the hands of his people, but common sense prevailed and I didn’t.  In the end we had to write an statement about our motivations and movement through Nigeria. After the statement things lightened up a bit and our questioner even managed a few jokes.  We where finally going to go back to the hotel.  Or so we wrongly thought.

Again, no one really knew what to do with us and where to take us.  We desperately tried to go back to the hotel.  To our great disappointment, we where taken to the back of the building where there was an X ray scanner.  We where ordered to unload all our luggage and send it through the scanner.  At this stage fatigue really set in. I could barely manage to unload my luggage off the truck, and we had to unpack every thing for a luggage search.  To make things even worse the guards wanted to see every little thing, and they wanted explanations for the strange stuff.  What did security know about camping and motorbikes?  With the amount of explaining we did, obviously very little.  When Dominique started unpacking his pannier things looked very bleak, these guys where acting like we where unpacking bombs.  One guy looking over his shoulder with a cocked pistol and another a couple meters back with an assault rifle.  Very itchy and way over the top!!  What happened to the jokes they where making 10 minutes ago?

Morton was my saviour with a hilarious and witty encounter with one off the guards :
Guard : ‘What's that?’
Morton : (taking out a bag with his dirty laundry) ‘A present… For the cleaning lady’
G : ‘Show me’
M : ‘It’s my dirty laundry.’
G : ‘Show me’
Morton then shoves his dirty underwear in the guys face.  Absolutely brilliant!!

Patience is a virtue and ours was definitely running thin.  We’ve had a few days difficult ridding, and have been on the road since 7am, had a really hard days ride and now all this.  It would take hours to unpack and pack every tiny little thing.  Our saviour was the big boss, he was waiting in his office for everything to finish, and was desperate to go home.  He came down and told everyone to take us back to the hotel.  Just like that.  All over.  Guns away.  Jokes and friendly faces back.  The boss even apologised and said we have to understand their job is to keep people safe… Blah blah.  Funny how quickly things change.  Just because the boss wants to go home our threat level is taken down to zero.  Don’t get me wrong, I am not complaining, I was and am very grateful.  I was desperate to leave and go back to the hotel.
 
It didn’t take to long to get back to the hotel and we set up our camp as quickly as humanly possible.  Hot shower next.  Bliss.  And a good meal.  We reached the restaurant just as the kitchen was about to close.  Luckily the chef agreed to make our meal.  Six hours after we arrived at the Sheraton and at 11pm I finally had my steak and ice cold beer.  IT WAS SO GOOD!!


(Please do not take this incident as how Nigeria is.  It is a completely isolated occurrence.  Every day in Nigeria has been fantastic with some of the friendliest and most welcoming people I have met in Africa.  The whole day was just so way out and over the top that I really want to remember it and I thought by putting it in the blog I wont forget.)

Contrast’s of Nigeria

Beautiful gravel, absolute bliss

Nigeria is a country well known for it’s internet scams, corruption and on going fighting.  It is also one of Africa’s most fanatical Christian countries,  a little like the African version of the US bible belt. Some overlanders absolutely loved it, while other one’s hated it with a passion.  Because of all this we where very curious to see what it would deliver.  For safety reasons we chose to try and do as little of the far South and North of the country and we had to go to Abuja for the next set of visas. Our route would loosely follow a strip through the middle of the country and then right at the end dip down south to the Cameroon border, hoping to miss all the trouble areas.
It was with much trepidation that we entered the Nigerian border and went to get our passports stamped.  We where flabbergasted, both the customs and immigration went as smooth as ever, with unbelievably friendly officers working in both offices. Not even the slightest hint at an extra payment or ‘dash’.   Completely the opposite of what we expected.  Upon enter the first village the same followed. Friendly face after friendly face.  Every where we stopped people wanted to know how we are, how the road was, where we were going.  Smiling people everywhere, and we where overwhelmed by curious kids.  This was fantastic.  Africa at its best.

Soaked and dirty.  Life is good!

The road we took started at Chikanda (on the border) and loosely headed east to wards the main roads and Abuja.  The first bit was a hellish gravel road.  With lots of sand, deep ruts and numerous potholes.  Not really much more than a wide track at most times.  Very technical, tons of hard work and very slow. But importantly still a phenomenal amount of fun.  The second bit was terrible tarmac.  Numerous and big potholes.  At times the road was so broken up that the big trucks, mini vans and cars where actually doing long stretches next to the road.  A strange sight seeing these big trucks just dive off the tarmac for a bit  (usually at speed) and then swerve back on. And very scary when they swing towards you to miss the potholes.  The bad parts made for some tense riding, not what I would call fun.  Just very tiring hard work.  It took us nearly two days to cover the 200km stretch and we where all shattered to bits.  We where all desperate for some rest, and hoping Abuja would give us a chance.

Is bigger than it looks.  Infamous rock

Friendly locals

It was on the gravel piece that I also had my second big crash.  It was late afternoon with lots of shadows across the road.  I was close to the side to miss some deep sand, and didn’t see a big rock close to the edge.  It was covered in shadows and long grass and perfectly camouflaged.  Next I heard and felt an almighty bang.  My right sided pannier hit the rock full on, at speed.  The force was so much that my bike was thrown over onto its left side (The left sided panniers left deep ruts in the sand) and nearly fell down.  Somehow I managed to keep the bike up, but only for a few second. My front wheel then hit some deep sand and I smacked down.  Ouch!!   This was a big one!!  I was ok.  Luckily.  My bike had a partly broken indicator and a lot more scratches.  The pannier’s locking and fixing mechanism was bent and it wouldn’t quite fit back on the bike.  A bit of bush mechanics, some banging and bending, and it fit again.  Phew.  The pannier now sat even higher than before and a bit skew.  The right side pannier is really taking a beating.  Why always the same side?  I am quite impressed with what it has survived, so far.  I am even more impressed that there wasn’t more damage.  The rock was big, so big that I couldn't budge it,but the force off the crash rolled it out off the ground.  My guardian angel was definitely watching.

Camping in the village

Early morning obstacle

After my beautiful crash we where all desperate to stop for the night, and we took the first side road looking for a place to camp.  The little road continued for about half a kilometre and then ended in the most gorgeous little village.  A cluster of about 8 little huts sitting smack in the middle of some grain fields with chickens running around everywhere.  It was stunning and clean and well kept, so much different from the dumps we constantly see hugging the roads.  I immediately fell in love with it.  Only one woman in the village spoke tiny a bit of English, but we managed to ask to stay the night and they where happy to have us.  WHOOP WHOOP.  I have been desperate to stay in some villages, and its finally going to happen.  We where shown our camping spot for the night and had our tents up in no time.  A bucket full of water was our shower, but after a few days in the dirt it was as good as any western shower.  After we just relaxed and watched the people, I loved it.  This was the Africa I have had in my head for a very long time.  Everyone was extremely friendly and welcoming, and super curious about our trip.  We tried our best to explain, but language was difficult.  Luckily hand signs and photos worked great.  For dinner they killed a chicken, right in front of us.  It was sitting in a tree next to us, getting ready to roost for the night, they shot it out with a slingshot and then killed it.  Brilliant.

Breakfast on the road

For dinner they brought us three huge pieces of chicken, I felt so bad, there where more than ten people eating from our pot and they gave us nearly half the chicken.  Their hospitality was out of this world.  It is amazing that people with so little so easily share what they have.  Dominique worked his magic and managed to fix a broken phone.  No running water and no electricity but there was two very old cell phones in the village.  There was one spot where they just managed to get a single line of signal for the phones.  As soon as the phone was fixed, there was a queue of about 10 people wanting desperately to send messages.  The poor kid who knew how to work the phone had to type everyone’s messages for them. 

Loving and hating the lens

The peaceful night’s sleep we where all desperate for didn’t happen though, we set up our camp right next to the tree the chickens roost in.  And they are a noisy bunch!  The roosters started crowing at about 3 am.  To our frustration they where all trying to out do each other.  Ouch!!  Sadly we had to leave early the next morning.  I had an unforgettable time, and the one night in the village is definitely one of  the highlights so far.








The last stretch towards Abuja was 350 kilometres of tarmacked main road.  On the bikes 350 km is a full day with good roads, but this road was horrible.  We started at 7am and didn’t arrive in Abuja until about 5 pm. I was so shattered that I was struggling to keep the bike up, and so saddle sore that I couldn’t sit on the bike anymore. All I wanted was a shower, some food and tons of sleep.  But thanks to the State Security Services (big guys with big guns) this was to be delayed by quite a few hours…

Tyre saga III

Cleaning the bike

Lomé is nothing more than a typical dirty, over crowded and crumbling African capital city.  The only thing in it’s favour is the beautiful beaches. But because off all the filth running into them, you cannot swim in the water, and because of the crime you are discouraged from going there after sunset.  What a waste.  I was so disappointed at not being able to swim in the sea.  The good side was that we where able to spend the time searching for tyres.

Hard at work

Lomé has the only proper big bike shop and service point in west Africa.  All thanks to an ex Paris-Dakar KTM rider who opened shop in town.  They where our best bet for finding tyres, but in typical African fashion there was no new tyres.  The new tyres where on their way on a ship, but no-one had any idea when the ship would arrive.  The best we could manage after two days of searching where some second hand tyres about 50% worn.  Only enough for about half way to Cape Town.  Everyone we spoke to knew of someone who might have new tyres and we were sent off on many small wild goose chases.  No result.  Luckily I had a plan Z.  Shipping tyres from the UK.  After my last experience with DHL and customs I wasn’t very keen, but my options where running out fast.  My front wouldn’t make it much further than Abuja, Nigeria.  If I want the tyres to arrive in Nigeria at roughly the same time I do I would have to order them ASAP.  Luckily Morton was in the same predicament, so we decided to bite the bullet and order tyres from the UK. We could share the shipping cost, which would be about double the price of each tyre.  OUCH!  

At least we knew what we would get and they would be good for the whole trek to SA.  The supplier in the UK was extremely helpful and had the tyres away relatively quickly.  Fingers crossed there isn’t a long customs delay in Nigeria.  This is my fourth shipment from the UK, and only one went smoothly.  Wonder what is going to happen this time?

We also spent one whole day giving the bikes a big service.  The KTM dealership had a fantastic workshop that they allowed us to use.  Their mechanic was extremely friendly and helpful.  Both Morton and Dominique needed some major repairs that would have been close to impossible without the workshop facilities.  This was exactly what we where hoping for on the way to Lomé.  This was also the first time I did a major service on my own.  Took a bit of time, but in the end I was very pleased with myself.  Amazing what I have learned since starting to plan this whole trip.  It has been a steep learning curve, especially on the road, but I am happy with everything.

Big repairs

By the time we where finished with all the bike stuff we had enough of Lomé so decided to hit the road and head for Benin.  Most overlanders only use Benin as a quick crossing into Nigeria, but we where warned about Lagos and also the coastal border crossing into Nigeria.  In the end we decided to cruise about halfway up Benin, and then head east to Nigeria.  This would also mean more dirt roads and less tarmac.  Perfect.

Togo II

First rains after the desert

Dominik at his best

The famous Badou waterfall is actually a few kilometres out of town and about an hours hike into the forest, so we decided to stay in the small village where the hike starts.  We where hoping to get away from the crowd of guides in Badou and to find a little peace and quiet.  What a mistake.  As you drive into the village there was a big crowd of guides sitting and waiting for, and we ended up a big crowd of them trying to show us where the hotel is.  I felt so sorry for the owner of the hotel, he had a mass of people around him, all asking for a finders fee.  Some where even new faces, who only arrived to claim their fee.  It was chaos.  Luckily for me it just started raining, a heavy downpour and the first rains since the desert.  Was fantastic to just stand there and let all the dirt wash away. A moment of bliss in all the chaos.

After the rains and unpacking, the chaos continued with the guides.  Everyone was desperate to get us to hire him for our hike to the waterfall.  In the end we chased everyone away except the guy we spoke to first. He seemed friendly and the least pushy of the lot.  He quoted us a ridiculous amount, and also said that we needed two guides for the walk, doubling the price.  We seriously considered just skipping the whole hike, but in the end we asked him to meet us at sunrise the next morning.

Gorgeous forest

I really liked the owner of the auberge, he was extremely friendly and tried very hard to make us feel welcome.  He just didn’t have any control over the guides.  They where constantly in and out, harassing us for other excursions.  Our peace and quiet was not to be.  Dinner time we tried to eat at the auberge, but the owner said the chicken is still running around, and would take a long time to prepare.  He politely hinted that we should rather get some food in town.  I was flabbergasted.  We are the only people in his hotel, the only tourists in town and he says no to business.

There wasn’t any place to get food, so we stocked up on bread, sardines and spam.  Great bikers dinner.  While we where stocking up we met another guide who was willing to take us on the hike for a third of the current quote.  That was more like it, a reasonable price and we said we would consider it.

While having our five star dinner another new guide came and spoke to Dominique for about ten minutes.  He was supposedly the boss of the guides and he had found out about the counter offer.  So he came to offer us the same price, but we where not allowed to tell the original guy because the boss would take out his cut from what we pay.  Fishy to the max, but we where so fed up with these guys we said yes to get rid of him.  Not 5 minutes later he was back.  AAGGGHHH!!!  With two girls, maybe 15 years old.  WTF!!  He was trying to sell us two kids for the night. Unbelievable.  Luckily they didn’t want to stay either so we politely got rid of them.  I was fuming, but what can you do?

Ants at work

Stunning

The next morning our original guide was in a fowl mood.  He was obviously not happy that his boss undercut him and took a big chink of his pay.  Poor guy.  I felt sorry enough that I took with  a big tip to give him afterwards, but he ended up shooting himself in the foot.  Halfway to the waterfall he told us to just follow the path and took off.  Missing out on his bonus.  Typical for a bunch of guys we didn’t really care and head off for the Waterfall.  Ten minutes later we took the wrong turn off and was lost.  Our quick hike engulfed the whole morning.  Hilarious.  It all ended good though, the peace and quiet was fantastic, and the walk was just what we needed.  Phenomenally nice get away from all the hassle for a few hours.

The waterfall

 Feeling recharged we set of that afternoon for Lomé.  The first part of the road was a nice groomed gravel road winding through the forests and some small villages.  Half way we found a nice wild camping spot for the evening, and the next morning left the hills to join the main road into Lomé.  I really loved the back roads of Togo, especially the last few days in the hills and forests.  It was surprisingly sad to say goodbye to them, and join the tarmac.






Our mission for Lomé was tyres and giving the bikes the big half way service.  The tyre saga continues… Brilliant.

The back roads of Togo

Enjoying great African gravel

While planning my trip in the UK, I wasn't sure whether I would go through Togo.  It was a bit of a detour with the shorter route going from Burkina straight to Nigeria, and the most common route from Burkina, to Benin and then Nigeria. Two things changed my mind.

Dirty biker, it's only 7am

One was our desperate need for some tyres.  There is a big KTM dealership in Lomé (the only proper big bike garage in West Africa), and the forums are full of people who managed to get tyres there, and of course some who didn't.  This is Africa and availability is a bit sporadic.  I am carrying a spare rear tyre, and that should last me to SA, but my front tyre is nearly finished.  I could at a push reach Abuja (Nigeria), but it would be completely bald by that time.  Morton needs both a front and back tyre, and his bike has some niggles he wanted to sort out.  The steering bearing has been giving some problems with his bike being difficult to steer at times.  Changing the bearing is quite a big job, and would need a proper workshop.  Putting it that way, we didn't really have a choice, we had to go to Lomé.

Fantastic single tracks

Secondly, the owner of our accommodation in Ouagadougou is a very keen motorcyclist and he takes groups of people on off road tours through Burkina and Togo.  He had a group coming in a few weeks and gave us the planned route, it looked fantastic.  Criss crossing the width of Togo while taking us down south to Lomé.  It also meant spending very little time on the main highway south, which is supposed to be a potholed mess, with lots off big trucks.  Something we would love to avoid.

Single tracks with high grass

Dom's first boat pirogue crossing

The first of these tracks started of as a nice gravel road, running along some small villages, but it became progressively smaller and ended up being nothing more than a wide walking track.  Was loads of fun to ride.   It was here that Morton had his first crash.  His steering locked and he fell over in some softish sand.  Luckily nothing serious but his bikes steering was now completely stuffed, luckily he managed to bush mechanic it enough to get to the next big town.  After some deliberation we decided that the plan was for Morton to try and fix his bike, while we do the next trail.  Worst case scenario he would have to transport the bike to Lomé, and we would be of no use and best case he would have the bike fixed in a day or so and meet up with us.  I didn't like leaving him, but we would be of no use, and Morton is a great mechanic.  He knows his bike very well and didn't need any help from us non-mechanical people.  And, of course, we all have phones, it not like we where abandoning him  in the middle of the desert.  We left him at the only hotel in town and set of for the next side track.

Overwhelmed by villagers 

Checking to see if safe to cross

This was a 100km semi loop of gravel road running next to the main road.  Was nothing more than a walking track running through some fields.  Was absolutely gorgeous with it alternating between rice, cotton and grain fields with patches off head high grass.  Sometimes the grass was so high that you couldn't see what was next to you.  Really stunning.  After about a hour we reached our first river crossing.  It was just after the rains so the river was quite full and we needed to cross with some pirogues.  I have done this a couple of times on the trip and was a bit used to the whole process.  Dominique hasn't, and he was very reluctant to trust his bike to these small little boats.  It took some time convincing him it's safe, and in the end I loaded up my bike and crossed the river.  Denying him the option of going back.  In the end we both crossed safely, and Dominique was very relieved that he finally did a pirogue crossing with his bike.  The track continued to run through fields and small villages, with the villagers being super friendly, and everyone wanting to chat.  In the one village we were told that we are the first guys with trail bikes in a few years.  Result!!  It was slow going on the trail and we weren't even half way when darkness and fatigue set in.  I had a low speed fall in soft sand.  Just lost my front wheel, but I had my bike up before Dominique even managed to stop properly.  Definitely time to stop and at the next village we asked the chief for a space to pitch our tents.  The town had a catholic mission with place to stay for travellers.  Great stuff, our first stay in a mission.  And what an interesting stay it turned out to be.

Our accommodation at the mission

The main priest wasn't there and in typical fashion Africa took over.  The hospitality at the mission was faultless.  They took us in after dark and gave us a place to sleep and shower.  It just after unloading that a guy came over and asked us for a present in exchange for the services of a young girl (15/16) that was with him. WHAT!!  He was a bit drunk so we just ignored him, and that was the end of the story.  For the rest of our stay we had a constant crowd off onlookers though. Five or more people just standing around, looking at everything we where doing.  It was really weird to be scrutinized like that.  Still everyone was very polite and they where just curious to see what these strange white people where doing.  Very funny!! Had a great night sleep under the starts and then head off early the next morning.  The rest off the track was easy riding, and we had a fantastic morning just cruising through to the main road.  When we reached the main road I was covered in a layer of red african dust, makes you feel like a proper dirty biker.  Whoop, whoop!!

Some of the crowd at the mission

We then spend the rest off the day cruising south on the main road to our next detour point.  The main road was decent tarmac with some potholes just to keep you awake, and enough big trucks to make sure you don't daydream to much.  The scenery was stunning though, with it slowly becoming more hilly, and the vegetation transforming gently into green forests.  Love the way you can see the landscape change after a few days on the road, and so glad to finally be out of the desert.

Small river crossing

The next morning we met up with Morton again, he managed to bush mechanic his bike and it will now last to Lomé.  Fingers crossed.  Our next detour was to a small town called Badou on the Togo/Ghana border.  The road there was absolutely gorgeous and loads of fun.  It was a small tarmac track, with big potholes, lazily snakking up and down some beautiful little hills with dense forests and plantations.  After the long flat dry desert stretch this was absolutely breath taking.

Red dust everywhere

Breakfast

Beautifull forest tracks

Badou has one of Togo's few big tourist attractions, a big waterfall in the forest.  Naturally this meant lots of guides trying to get hold of our cash.  We had quite an adventure with dodgy guides and people trying to sell us under aged prostitutes.  But I'll leave that for the next blog.

Blasting through Burkina

As much as I hate saying it, that is exactly what we did.   We blasted straight through Burkina Faso, with a quick stop in the capital for visas and some recuperation.

Breakfast on the road

Coolest kid on the block

Our first impressions of Burkina where fantastic.  The people are very friendly, polite and quite curios.  In one the small villages we unintentionally stopped right in front of a small mosque, with the call for prayer going out while we were having a coke.  The people where so curious about us and the bikes that the Imam stopped the prayer so that they could all watch, with him right in front.  Brilliant.  Still everyone was extremely polite, standing on the side walk, and not bugging us in any way.  But there where more than 20 people happily gossiping about us in front of us, very funny.  Even the town mad woman was out in full force, standing in the middle of the road, dancing and singing and chatting away to her self, while chain smoking one cigarette after the other.  This ended up being a very curious spectacle, but we loved it.

So far in Africa the transport of livestock is a bit of a thorn in the side.  Animals are being tied up in every available space, no matter how small, with no thought of comfort or pain.  Some being in those positions for hours, in blasting hot sun and horrible roads, unable to move an inch.

Transporting goats

We have become quite used to seeing chickens have their feet tied together and then hung upside down from every possible position on motorbikes.  Some bikes where so covered in chickens that it looked like a blanket surrounding the bike with just the drivers head sticking out.  Amazing that they can drive like that.  The worst we saw was a guy transporting goats.  He had at least twenty goats tied up by their feet and then hung upside down around his bike.  They were screaming in agony and you could hear them from very far away, but this was his way of transporting goats and he was happy to do it.  Horrible and inhumane.

Curious villagers, the town nearly came to a standstill 

In the capital we easily and quickly got our visas for Togo and Benin. So we seriously contemplated to do a bit of a detour through more of Burkina, but the owner of our Auberge was a keen motorcyclist and organised regular motorcycle rallies through he area, and he advised us to rather spend the time exploring the back roads of Togo.  He was even nice enough to show us the route he had planned for a tour in a couple off weeks time.  It looked very interesting, so we decided to keep our time in Burkina as brief a possible to give us more time in Togo.  Turned out to be a good decision, with the back roads being gorgeous and the scenery mind blowing (more in the next blog).

Cause of Dominique's crash

The first few days in the capital where spend organising visas and giving the bikes a good service.  This has become the regular routine, first get visa applications away, then make sure the bikes are ok. Only after that do we spend some time exploring.  We do sometimes miss some of the attractions in the capitals, but in the end the bikes have first priority and a capital city is a capital city.  The country side is always the more interesting and rewarding part of our journey.  In Ouagadougou we had the usual guides trying to rip us off, and we found a good restaurant with fantastic pizzas and good ice cream for dessert.  I have become so bored with the lack of variety with the street food that this was good enough to put a smile on my face for days afterwards.

The road to the Togo border was a good mix off potholed tar, good gravel and some bad potholed gravel to keep you on your toes.  Again we had a very easy crossing, everyone very friendly, no hassles, and no attempts at bribes.  My luck seems to be holding.

After the crossing Dominique had his first fall of the trip.  He rode over an empty can which got stuck to his front wheel, causing it to lock up.  He had a nice soft little put down right in front of all the people at the crossing.  Very funny in deed.

My first big crash

My crash spot, can just make out tyre tracks heading for tree and rocks

After the trail of Timbuktu my initial plan was to spend a day in Mopti recuperating, but since all three of use where together we decided to spend the day exploring Doggon country.  It would be a very chilled out and relaxed day on the bike so I thought it would be as good as a rest day.   I was also very keen to see Doggon country, it is supposed to be the one of Mali’s tourist highlights. 

Scratched up pannier

The Doggon country is set on a escarpment with 200-300 meter high cliffs to the valley below.  The people built their mud houses right next to or on top off these cliffs. Because of this they where very isolated and managed to hold on to their culture and evade the Islamic invasion.
The road there was absolutely stunning.  With nice green scenery (great after the desert) and mountains slowly building up.  The last 40km was a twisty and narrow little gravel road.  Great to play on, and this is where I crashed. 

Afternoon siesta

Market day, very colourful

I think I was probably still fatigued, and of course way too cocky after the bad roads I just survived.  I was gunning it up a hill and on top off the hill was a deep ditch with a sharp right turn.  I hit the ditch, lost my front wheel, but managed to keep my bike upright. Just.  When the road turned I went straight off, charging towards a group off rocks and a tree.  I tried to steer the bike back onto the road, but the grass was to slippery and I lost my front wheel again.  Coming to a crashing halt on the rocks.  Ouch!!  Luckily (AGAIN), no obvious serious damage.  My pannier had some big scratches, my shoulder was a bit bruised and my water bottle was laying in the road some 10 meters away.  Morton was just in front off me and he quickly stopped and helped me get the bike up.  Only after did we even think of photos.  Gutted.
Later when I serviced my bike I saw that my one pannier now sits about 2cm higher than the other and my bash plate is sitting a bit skew.  The force off the crash must have been a lot more than I initially thought it was.  The panniers did a good job thought, they stopped the bike front squashing my leg as I was lying semi underneath the bike.

Stunning Doggon 

The rest off the road to Doggon was uneventful.  I learned my lesson and gave the gravel some proper respect.  That afternoon we had a guide (they really are useful, sometimes) show us around the villages in our area.  Stunning little mud villages and colourful markets built right next to the cliffs. The views where stunning.  The kids where more than happy to play next to these huge drop offs, definitely no health and safety here.  I did feel very sorry for the villages at the bottom of the cliffs, because the guys at the top use the cliffs as their toilets.  HAHAHA.  Brilliant.

Friendly local

After Doggon country we zig zagged towards the Burkina Faso border.  Great dusty gravel road most off the way there.  Amazing how a couple of weeks ago I was desperate for gravel, but found mostly tar, and now after Timbuktu when I’m less bothered it’s mostly gravel.  Still loving it!! 

Gorgeous scenery

Kids waiting to ambush us with cries for presents

The border crossing was fantastic on both sides.  No hassles, not even a hint for bribes.  The staff where super friendly and the only hassle was the amount off time it takes to do all the paperwork.  If that is my main complaint then there really is nothing to complain about.  I still can’t believe how lucky we have been with the borders.  I think the fact that we stay away from the main crossings might help, but I also think that a lot of the West African countries are trying really hard to attract more tourists.  It seems like they have realised that friendliness goes a long way and does keep the tourists happy and coming back for more.

Living right on the cliff edge

Chilling with the kids

It is hard to think of highlights when you have only been on the road for two months, and just as hard to talk of friendly people when Africa is the smiling continent.  But Mali has brought this to a new level.  The people are fantastic (when you get away from the nagging guides), very friendly and very chatty.  We where overwhelmed with curious villagers no matter where we stopped.  I had awesome chats in the most random places, and when I was alone the people tried very hard to break the language barrier.  Maybe we where lucky, but I never felt unsafe even with all the warnings floating around.  I am very glad we made the time and effort to explore Mali, and would have loved to see more.