Halfway in numbers

Since if reached the half way mark, I thought I'd spit out a few numbers for the techies:

• Distance travelled : 11600km                      ( Original plans about 8500km)
• Fuel used in Africa : 314 liters
• Cost of fuel : £270
• Moving average : 61km/hr
• Average daily distance : 210km
• Fuel consumption in Africa : 29km/l         ( I used to get 22km/l riding around the UK, am very surprised that the loaded bike has improved fuel consumption)
• Friendliest officials : Mauritanian gendarmerie
• Most corrupt officials :
• Tan-Tan cops, Morocco
• Mauritanian border officials at Diama border crossing
• Unofficial payments/Bribes : about £100

• Countries Visited : 7                                     ( Original plans 5)
• Days on the road : 55                                   ( Original plans 50 )
• Minor falls : 4
• Major falls : 0
• Accidents : 0
• Most scenic route : Todra -> Dades gorge loop - Morocco
• Worst Route : Douentza -> Timbuktu - Mali
• Friendliest people : the Gambia
• Lost items :
• Camera - It didn't even make it out of France
• Original Documents - left them on the ferry to Morocco.  Idiot! Luckily staff kept them
• Luggage straps
• Various bits and piece that I didn't need and conveniently 'lost' along the way
• Broken items:
• Windscreen
• Mirror
• Kindle (Gutted, all my guides and books lost)
• Earphones
• Best accessory :
• Crash bars/ bash plate
• Scott oiler
• Worst Accessory : Touratech folding brake/gear lever. Horrible.  Changed back to originals in Morocco.
• Worst performing part :  My front tyre.  It was supposed to last all the way to SA.  Initially it lasted well, with no real wear after 5000km, but it just shredded the last 3000km.  Will need a new one very soon.  10000km with a knobbly tyre is still very good.  Cannot complain to much about it.

To hell and back

Baby corrugations

Everyone who has travelled some distance on gravel roads will know about corrugations, or wash-boarding.  Not really too big a problem on the road.  The trick is to travel fast enough to skim over the little bumps and smooth over the ride.  If you drive to slow it will be extremely bumby and very, very uncomfortable.  These corrugations are half of what made the road to Timbuktu hell.

Hiding from the blistering sun

Hard work

Normally corrugations are quite small and with the bike 50km/hr is enough to smooth over the ride.  You just need a road in good enough condition to keep the speed up.  It was like that for the few first few kilometres on the gravel to Timbuktu.  Just as I started thinking the road might not be to bad things changed.  The corrugations started getting bigger and bigger, to the point that I needed a speed of about 80km/hr to keep things smooth. Fast for good gravel and extremely hard with a road that was rapidly deteriorating with big potholes and loose deep sand.  Still not to bad just had to work really hard on dodging the holes and sand, and try and stay on the smoother parts of the road.  It was very hard on my bike though.  I repeatedly had to slow down to dodge the potholes, or go through the sand and then speed up again to smooth over the corrugations.  I was not always successful and hit a few potholes really hard, or I would be to slow on the corrugations and it would feel like the bike is shaking apart underneath me. If the road stayed like this it would be 200km of hard hard work.  My luck didn't hold though, the corrugations increased to monster size, and I couldn't go fast enough to smooth out the ride.  No matter how fast I went the bike would literary shake to a near halt.  Was hell.  No matter what I did it felt like my bike was slowly being ripped apart below me.  I tried everything to smooth things out, and even tackled the loose sand, and donkey tracks on the side off the road.  Didn't help much, I just got stuck in the deep sand. My best bet was to stay on the main road and just take the big corrugations at a very slow pace and hope the bike holds.  I ended up doing fast sprints of 60-80km/hr to smooth out smaller corrugations, and then shuddering to a halt on the big corrugations and going at about 10km/hr on these stretches.  All the time still dodging potholes and sand to the best of my abilities.  My bike was being tortured, shaken to death, and I could clearly understand why some bikes just don't make they journey. On the worst stretches I managed only 10 kilometres in an hours hard work.  I have never driven a road so punishing and was really worried about my bike.

Lunch stop

It took me 4 hours to reach the halfway mark, and I was shattered.  It was a tiny little village in the middle of nowhere, but they had delicious rice and sauce for lunch, and very friendly locals.  They where all very surprised that I was tackling this road alone on a big motorbike.  Not even the locals take their bikes on this road.  In the 200km stretch of road I saw one other moped on the road.  The locals take these bikes everywhere, everywhere else in Africa the roads have been littered with these small bikes.

Sand trap.  Waist deep.

Transporting chickens to Timbuktu
They are all alive

The second half of the road was part better, with less big corrugations, and part worse.  The big corrugations where replaced by massive sand traps.  During the rainy season the trucks on the road dig big mud holes, which then fill with loose sand blowing in from the dessert. This sand was unbelievably slippery, and it sometimes it felt like you where on an ice rink.  Other times it would be so loose that your bike just wants to sink in,  really hard to keep the bike going through this.  The deepest of these sand pits was waist high (I stopped and climbed in) and the longest was about 40-50 meters long.  On the worst stretches they where every 100 meters or so, with the area in between littered with corrugations.   At least the sand traps where not as punishing as the big corrugations, but they where physical hard work, and a came very close to falling quite a few times.

Making a fire and tea on the ferry

Just before Timbuktu there is a ferry crossing witch I wanted to reach before it closed down for the night.  Would then be a quick ferry crossing and about 10km of tarmac to get into Timbuktu.  For once my luck held and I reached the ferry with 10 minutes to spare.  Phew.  Was prepared to wild camp along the road but it would be safer to reach Timbuktu.  My quick ferry crossing turned into a marathon crossing.  The boat's engine was broken, so they strapped two piroques with 25 hp engines to the side to propel the massive ferry.  Was extremely slow going, but I was entertained the whole way by some very friendly locals on the boat.  Great stuff.

Kids eat cat as delicacy and then hang skins over the phone lines

I didn't reach the legendary Timbuktu until about 8pm that night.  I have been on the road since 7am.  I was so exhausted that I nearly dropped my bike on the sandy streets a few times.  I just managed to unload my bike and drag myself to bed.  Dinner was never even an option.

Happy Musaka making tea

Timbuctu was exactly as expected, nothing but a few sandy streets and mud houses.  The hell I went through to get there made it all worth it.  I had a fantastic time just looking around. I had a great guide (Yes, I had a guide) show me around and thoroughly enjoyed it.  Even had some tea with a Tuareg in his tent.  He was fantastic company, and I was even invited to his village in the desert (Am sure it was part of his sales pitch, but still a nice gesture).  Would love to have the time do do something like this one day.  The rest of my day was spent recuperating and giving the bike a quick once over.  Everything looked ok. Massive relief.

Caught in a sand trap

The next day I was on the road with daybreak.  This time I knew what to expect and wanted to try and do as much as possible before the midday heat struck.   I also practised some riding on loose sand in Timbuktu, so I was ready to take on the deep sand with more confidence and try my best to evade the long big corrugation sections.  It helped quite a bit, but on most long stretches there was no way of avoiding the monster corrugations.  My bike still received a massive punishment.  The deep sand had it's own pitfalls as well.  It was very loose and slippery and I came close to falling many times.  Usually I would loose grip on my front wheel and it would slide away to the point where you think 'oh shit, this is gonna hurt!!' but every time I was lucky enough to find just enough grip at the last second.  Very, very lucky!!  I also managed to get my bike thoroughly stuck in one of the deep sand pits.  It struggled for more than half an hour to get it out, but only managed to sink in deeper and deeper. None of the tricks I was taught worked.  The next step would be to take all my luggage off and try and drag the heavy bike out.  Luckily a truck came by and the guys helped me out.  This was the only truck I saw on the road for more than an hour.  So very lucky.  Again.

Trying to get out

I reached Mopti about 6pm that day, Morton and Dominique waiting with an ice cold beer.  Whoop whoop!! I was completely exhausted and shattered, but so happy that I tackled this road on my own.  It is one off the best feelings in the world!!








This road was really bad, I find it quite impossible to explain it properly.  It is easily the hardest thing I have ever done on the motorbike.  Each time it was nearly 8 hours of hell.  I am very impressed with how my bike handled everything.  I nearly made the mistake of starting to think my bike is invincible, but of course it isn't and there was some damage   Nothing serious.  My one mirror was shaken off the stalk that holds it on.  Literary broke from the vibrations.  I found a couple loose bolts, and one off the nuts holding my subframe together came off with the bolt just barely sitting in the frame (Could have been serious if I didn't spot it).  All in all not bad for what I put it through.

The road wasn't all bad either.  I loved the isolation and scenery.  It was so quiet at times that the only thing I heard when stopping for a break would be the slight ring in my ears.  Not even a breeze rustling through the trees.  Was fantastic!!

Gathering of the three

Trying to help local with flat tyre

Guess who arrived in Bamako on my last day there? Morton.  He literary flew through Guinea to get to Bamako.  All three motorbikes on roughly the same time frame where now in the same place.  Weird if you think of the size of Africa, but good for us.  Our plans where different for the first few days, but we planned to hook up in about a week in Mopti and then all travel together for the next bit.

Friendly locals.

Morton needed to get some visas in Bamako and Dominique was going to go part way north with me.  There were quite a few security warnings issued by various governments during the last year or so about the area north of Timbuktu.  The Belgian government actually went so far as to request that all Belgians who are in the area leave it ASAP.  Ouch.  Because of these Dominique wasn't keen for the last bit north to Timbuktu,  he planned on heading east to a world famous rock formation, Fatima's hand.

Djenne's mud mosque

I was still very keen to go all the way to Timbuktu.  Not so much for the place it self, but the last 200km was supposed to be a really hard gravel road which I was quite keen for.  I am still desperate to put me and the bike through some rough travelling.  On my initial plans Timbuktu is also roughly the half way mark (calculated by distance not time), so a nice idea to celebrate half way in the legendary Timbuktu.  The part of the Niger river between Mopti and Timbuktu is also supposed to be stunning, so I wanted to try and put the bike on a boat and spend a few days lazily cruising to Timbuktu, and then tackle the gravel road on my way back. Initially, I was a bit worried about the travel warnings, but everyone I spoke to who was there recently said it was perfectly safe.  The owner of the backpackers in Bamako regularly travels the route and lots of the people staying there have been to Timbuktu with no safety issues.  So my mind was made up, but I couldn't convince Dominique to join me all the way there.  He was only willing to go north up to Douentza, from where  he would head east to Fatima's hand.  I didn't mind doing the last bit alone,  I have been thoroughly enjoying the parts that I have done alone.

Filth running down the streets of  Djenne

Travelling to Mopti was pretty straight forward.  A great little drive, with very friendly locals in the small villages.  Funniest bit was our accommodation for the night.  We wanted to camp but ran out off daylight playing on a beautiful piece of gravel.  We arrived at our camping after dark so tried to stay in the dorms.  The manager wasn't very happy because the dorms haven't been used for a few years.  We didn't mind.  Just wanted a bed for a few hours and a shower, so we convinced him to let us stay in the dorms.  On entering them they where filthy, with a dead bat and rat droppings on the floor.  At least the mattresses looked clean with fresh new linen.  When I tried to shower thick red mud came out off the shower.  Ironically the place had a huge big swimming pool with perfectly clean sparkling water.  Pure bliss after a day's driving.

The worst part was the mud mosque of Djenne.  It is the world's largest mud mosque and a World Heritage Site.  Huge on the gringo's trail, but because of the travel warnings very few tourists where there, and the area is massively dependant on tourists for income.  There where so many guides and touts following you around that they actually ruined the whole experience.  It was one of the few times I didn't feel safe leaving the bikes, so we just had a quick peek and left.  Djenne was a huge disappointment,  it could have been really nice with a gorgeous setting, mud houses and a beautiful mosque, but it was filthy and falling apart.  Funny how the people would rather chase the few tourists away than do something constructive with their town.  We even had to pay tourist tax to enter the town, supposedly to help with reconstruction, but I'm sure it all went into someone's back pocket.

No sunset in the desert.  Sun just disappears behind a haze of dust

Mopti's harbour

Mopti was a gorgeous place set right on top off the river, but we got completely screwed by the 'boat mafia.'  We had some guides help us find a possible boat to ship the bikes on, but in the end they just increased the price to impossible levels.  I was really keen to do a few days on a boat but at the prices the people where asking it was not worth it.  We decided to try and find a boat without the help off guides, a lot easier said than done.  It took us more than an hour to get rid of them, so it wasn't until the afternoon that we managed to go around on our own.  The prices for the trip was still ridiculously expensive, but at least the owners where willing to negotiate.

Fishermen unloading their catch

This lead to some fun and interesting negotiations. That is until the 'boat mafia' found us and then negotiations stopped or the prices went up again.  Aaaggghhhh, so frustrating, and in the end way too expensive.

Grandfather biker.  7 years on the road.

Mopti sunset

These guides made a claim to us because they saw us first, and wanted a cut of everything we where willing to pay for.  What we later figured out is that the guides are stuck in 'the good old days' when hordes of tourists would come and pay ridiculous amounts to get to Timbuktu.  Paying a fortune to hire a whole boat or plane to get them there.  With the world wide credit crunch and the numerous travel warnings this has stopped, but the guides refuse to lower their prices (law of supply and demand doesn't exist), and some even go so far as to make things more expensive.  The idea is that the few tourists who go there must make up for the ones who don't.  Even at the best of times as tourists we pay huge amounts more than the locals, but the guides would rather make no sale than lower their prices to more affordable levels.  It is phenomenally sad to see people so desperate for extra income, but they are so greedy that they would rather take nothing than lower their prices to something closer to local levels. Don't think that the people where scared of making a loss, even with the best negotiations we would pay more than double what the locals pay.

Greeting the village chief.   He's naked. Brilliant.

Even with the guides and touts trying their best to ruin everything I had a great time in Mopti.  It's a beautiful little town, with a gorgeous harbour.  Very colourful and very lively, but I couldn't stay long. Timbuktu was calling.  With the boat option not being viable I would have to do the gravel road twice.  I really hope it is not to bad.


 The next day Dominique and I drove to Douentza, but we didn't arrive there until lunch time.  I didn't want to tackle the gravel in the late afternoon, so I shot  through to Fatima's hand with him.  Was fantastic to see some mountains, and I am glad I did the detour.

The plan was to backtrack early the next morning and start the Timbuktu gravel road as early as possible in the day.  A decision I am very glad I made.  The road was 200km of HELL!!

Unbelievable

I HAVE MY NIGERIAN VISA!!!

No  hassle, no fuss... WOW!!!

Road to Bamako

Beautiful gravel piste next to main road

As I said before my mission for the road between Gambia and Bamako was to find some good gravel roads.  Up to the border it was mostly tar, but did find a few good gravel stretches.  Bliss!! And a few bad streches. Fun.  But nothing to hectic. Leaving for the border, I went to the police station to make sure there is a frontier post to stamp passport, documents etc, and according to the police man everything gets stamped at the border.

Gently!!

It was a quick 100km to the border, just a boom across the road, and a very nice policeman stamped my passport.  Again no hint at bribes.  After he stamped my pasport I showed him my bike documents and he said, that I need to get them done at customs.  On enquiring where customs is he said it moved to the previous big village 50km back on the road just done.  AAAGHHH, in spite of my enquiries a 100km detour there and back.  Only in Africa.  Customs was easy, the guy has never seen my bike's document.  I had to explain to him what to do, and then he still did it wrong.   Loving this.  There was no frontier post on the Mali side, had to go look for customs, and the police station in the first big town.  Quite hard to find, but people very friendly and helpfull.  Again they helped me quickly and no hints of bribes.  I am currently really lucky with the borders and police blocks.  Don't know whats happening but am loving it.  Just have this nagging feeling in the back of my mind that things are building up to a horrible one somewhere along the way... Only time will tell.

The road from the border was all new good tar.  Where is the gravel everyone promised?  And the uncompleted bridge?  Luckilly for me there was a detour route running next to the new tar.  This was what the vehicles used while they where building the tarmac, and was all beautifull perfectly rideable gravel streches.  Whoop, whoop.  I spend half the day riding next to, or criss crossing the main road on the gravle pistes.  Had the strangest looks from the locals though,  no one could understand why I was riding next to the new road.   I was loving every bit of it.

Safely on board

Just as I was starting to think about stopping for the day I reached the unfinished bridge.  The only way off crossing was by pirogue,  with steep sandy sections going up and down the river bank.  Luckilly there was a huge bunch of locals all willing to help.  I unloaded the bike, and they then carried my 200kg bike onto the pirogue.  Scarry to trust my life line to others but all went fell and we quickly reached the other side.  By the time I  finished loading up my bike on the other side there where about 20 locals around my bike, all very curious and friendly, wanting to chat and know my plans further.  This was great.  Loving it to the max.  The best was when I took my camera out.  Pandemonium followed.  Everyone wanted to be in the centre off the photo.  Great stuff.

Across the river

Not long after the crossing I had to stop for the day.  Was getting dark and there where huge rain clouds on the horison.  Found a great spot and had my tent up just in time.  The storm breaking just as I climbed into my tent.  Cold tinned sardines for a combined lunch and dinner.
I am pretty sure I heard some footsteps outside my tent during the night, but was to sleepy to be bothered.  No tracks the next day though.  Maybe just dreaming or some animals.  Who knows.

Add caption

The next day my plans where to shoot through early to Bamako.  Try and get to the Burkina Fasso embassy before noon so that I can hand in my visa application.  No such luck.  Coming into Bamako was exceptionally bussy, the road jam pack with trucks and hundreds off scooters zipping all around.  Definately the worst I've seen in a long time.  I reached the embassy just after noon and they where already closed for lunch, and I had to go back at three.  Which I did, and had the worlds grumpiest woman help me.  She explained that they only accept passports in the morning and you then pick them up in the afternoon or the next day.  I thought it was Thursday and said I will be back tomorrow, at which point she said: ' Today is Friday, we only open on Monday again.'  AAAGGGHHHH.... IDIOT!!

Where to camp?

Luckilly a bit off begging helped, she phoned her boss and he said she should accept my visa application.  I had my visa by 18:00 that evening, her boss actually came back to office to sign my visa. Wow.  Result. At the embassy I also ran into the Belgian dude who is doing the same trip.  How lucky can you get?  I now met both bikers who are on my time frame.  There are a few bikes a month or so ahead or behind,  but don't think to many.  Amazing how rumors spread about other bikers.

Great camp spot

Except for Angola, the Nigerian visa is my biggest nightmare.  The SA government screwed the Nigerians during the Soccer World Cup, and now Nigeria is getting their sweet revenge.  I've met people along the way who had to wait ridiculous amounts off time, or had to pay huge sums for their visas.  I tried to apply in the UK, and had my application rejected three times already.  OUCH!!  My job for this morning was to go and apply for said visa.  It was with great trepidation that I walked to the embassy.  To my utter astonishment, they where supremely nice at the embassy.  All smiles, and very helpful.  I even paid less than the Belgian for my application.  BUT, and a BIG BUT, I don't find out until tomorrow afternoon if it has been successfully   Fingers crossed my run off good luck continues!!!

The single biker road block sidestep

Nice ass

I have been travelling alone again for the last few days.  Morten and I always knew we would have to split up at some point.  He has way more time than me, and wants to slow down a bit while, I need to speed up a bit.  He wanted to explore the Guinea area and I needed to start heading to Timbuktu, so Banjul was the logical split point.  Was great travelling together, he was a good companion, and two people make the work of travelling phenomenally easier.  I do regret not being able to do the Guinea exploration, it is supposed to be stunning and very rural, but that would have added another 2 to 3 weeks to my journey, and I don't want to have to rush Central Africa.  Still hate to say 'no' though.

Sunset over Gambia river

Accommodation

My plan was to try and get off the main tarred roads and tourist trail.  I've loved the bits of off-road pieces we did and really enjoy travelling through the rural areas.  Mali would be very touristy so I wanted some rough travelling before going back the touristy areas.  There are two main roads from the Gambia coast heading inland back to Senegal, the southern one being in the worst condition (chose that one). You then join the main road from Dakar to Bamako (Mali).  I heard rumours  off a possible route through South East Senegal, entering Mali from the South West.  On my maps the official road ends about a 100 km before the border and there is not much after the border until about a 100km before Bamako.  Leaving you with about a 300km stretch off unknown roads, possible only small tracks.  I though this sounded perfect.  The guys where discussing this road when we where in Nouakchott, but I  wasn't really listening.  Remebered something about a road being built and a bridge not completed, but I wasn't sure if this was even the same stretch.  Sounded like a possible adventure.  Whoop whoop.  Lets see what Africa produces.  My chosen route was from Banjul, follow southern border of Gambia river to the border, enter Senegal, head towards Tambacounda, head south west towards Kedouko (where the road on my maps end, none on GPS either), find a way across the border and then head east to Bamako.  Easy.

Huge Boab

I picked up man-flu a few days before we entered Gambia, it knocked me for a six.  I never thought I would be so run down from a few weeks on the bike, but I felt horrendous.  I rested for a few days in Banjul, but I soon became restless so decided to hit the road anyway.  Funny how addictive the road becomes! The plan was to keep my daily kilometres down and take it easy.  Try and find some decent accommodation at the end off the day and leave the roughing it for when I felt better.

The road east from Banjul was gorgeous.  A mix between tar and good gravel, snaking all along the river.  It is phenomenally lush and green.  Since entering Senegal it has been a continues mix off green, alternating between forests, wetlands and savannah.  Stunning after the month in the desert.  My favourite part has been the boab forests, amazing huge big trees standing in the long grass.  I love the boabs, they look just like giant bonzais.  Ironic.

Bus stop shelter

The only bad thing about the road through Gambia was the road blocks.  At least one in every village and sometimes there are separate ones for the police, customs, army etc.  One road block can take anything from 5 min to more than half an hour.  Luckily I had some great advice : The motorbike road block side step.  As you approach the road block slow down as if to stop, putting the guards at ease.  When you get close enough wave very friendly, and when the guard waves back you gun past him, before he gets a chance to show you to stop.  Works like a charm,  especially when the guards are sitting in the shade next to the road.  Some are more diligent though and stand in the middle off the road forcing you to stop.  Still out off more than 30 road blocks the first day, I only got stopped about 5 times.  Result.  Wonder how it will work in more aggressive Africa.   Not all road blocks are bad, the Gambians are very friendly and chatty, and sometimes they just wanted to chat, look at the bike and hear your story.  Loving the English chat after all the French, but you can't spend the whole day chatting.

Fun roads

Crossing the border to Senegal was a breeze.  No problems, not even a hint off a bribe.  Funny how lucky I have been with my border crossings.  I have heard some horror stories from people along the road.   The roads around the border posts where the worst so far.  Lots off deep loose sand, big ruts, and huge potholes, some filled with water or mud.  Fantastic bit off fun.

Alarm clock, 5am

The road to Kedougo was great again.  Newly laid tar, and  then later where they where still working on the road it was pristine gravel.  Felt like the first person on powder after a good snowfall.  My bike loved the good gravel,  I think it handles better on good gravel than on the tar, or maybe its just me getting excited about leaving the tarred roads.  The road block sidestep still working a charm.  This area is supposed to be the most remote are in Senegal and was really gorgeous.  Tiny, backwards villages scattered along the road, until the big town Kedougo, where I spend the night to get some info about the road ahead.  According to my map the proper road stopped here, but to my great disappointment the locals said the new tar continues to the border and beyond.  Gutted.  But they did promise there was some gravel on the Mali side.

This area has been very poor.  You can't help feeling sad for the locals, and wondering how things are stuck in such a bad way.  The ground is very fertile, the roads are not bad and being improved  and there are lots off rivers around.  In other parts off the world this would have been prime agricultural country, but here things are stuck mostly at the subsistence farming level.  I can understand the desert being poor, but its harder to get your head around it here.  Would love to know the complete story of cause and effect.  One off the saddest things I saw here where small kids (6,7 years old) collecting scrap metal for a living.  I arrived in the village and stopped for a drink just as the scrap metal dealer arrived.  There where loads off small kids bringing all the scrap metal they could find for some small change.  They should be in school or playing.  I know this is how it is in lots of the world and I have seen similar many times in SA, but I still don't like it.

 Some updates on 'the beard.'  Looking good.

World's oldest profession v2.0

Bed crawling with ants

Senegal has been absolutely fantastic.  Entering it, we finally felt like we where in the real Africa.  Loud colours, lots of music and very friendly people.  Smiling faces everywhere. We really loved it. The roads are slowly getting worse, and the bikes love it more.  Even the police are friendly, we did not get stopped once at any road blocks, everyone just let us pass.  Amazing!! The bit I saw off St Louis looks so interesting, and we would have loved to spend more time there, but we had admin to sort out for the bikes.  They only give you 48 hours to get from the border to Dakar, where we needed to get some papers stamped for the bikes.  Again something that should not have taken long, but it took us more than half a day.  I ended up in the port commander's office trying to find the right people.  Everyone is really helpful, but have no clue as what to do.  You would think we are the first people to take bikes into Senegal, the home of the Paris-Dakar Rally.

Breakfast in heaven

Slave monument, Dakar

The only thing I struggled with in Senegal was the heat and humidity.  OUCH!!  The humidity has slowly been building as we have been moving south.  It is unbelievable.  To the point where it is useless to try and do anything.  The moment you move you are dripping with sweat.  The only way to get some relief is to cover miles on the bike.  As long as you are moving it is bearable,  but 5 minutes after stopping you are soaked.  I initially thought we would miss the humidity because the rainy season just ended, but according to the locals the ground gets so soaked that it takes about 2 months for the humidity to come down.  The dry heat off the desert is much easier to deal with.

In Dakar we had our first experience off the worlds oldest profession. Prostitution.  The accommodation in Dakar is really expensive compared to everything so far, so I  was negotiating really hard for a discount.  The manager refused but said the girl in reception comes free with the room.  Morton and I laughed and thought nothing off it, went to our bungalow and unpacked the bikes.  10 minutes later there was a knock on the door, and it was the girl, wanting to come in.  Luckily Morton was quick to say 'no thanks' and close the door.  She was half way in before the door was even properly open.  WOW!!  Once the shock subsided we had a good laugh.

We didn't stay long in Dakar.  The humidity was even worse than the rest off Senegal, so we decided to keep moving rather than sit and suffer in our rooms.  It was impossible to do anything outside.  Again, it looks like a very interesting city, with loads off history and I would have loved to see more but we heard the humidity is better in Gambia so decided to head there.

Gorgeous road

Gambia has been fantastic.  Still hot and humid as hell, but for some reason less than North Senegal.  Was 32 degrees in the shade by 10 am yesterday, with high humidity so still not a walk in the park, but after Senegal its a relief.  Gambia is the friendliest country so far, and people speak English.  Such a big difference being able to have normal conversations with people.  It's like being released from jail.  Verbal freedom.

Fishing village,  in the water

Here we got to see how the upgraded version of prostitution works.  It all started when we went to the beach for a couple of bears and some sun.  I saw a Gambian guy in on the beach, standing there for hours pretending to do exercises, and poses showing off his muscles.  He was unbelievably cut, every muscle group perfectly visible.  But not really doing much, just standing there showing off.  I later noticed a few hundred meters away was another guy doing a combination of yoga and exercises, and past him a guy splashing in the shallows doing the whole surfer act.  Weird!!  Turns out these guys are 'bumsters,'  they hang out around the tourist hotels and show off their goods.  The idea is to get a western girlfriend, and access to her funds, but fee for service is the other available options.  Every bumster tries to act out a stereo type that he thinks the girls like.  Hilarious to see, especially once you know its all a act.  But it works, saw loads off bumsters walking around with their tourist girlfriends.

Relics of worse times

Next is the girls.  They are a little more subtle, but not much.  They befriend the older male tourists, show them the local hangouts, introduce them to some friends, and show them how great Gambia is.  Amazing to see how the tourists melt from a little flattery by a hot young girl.  Again the main mission is to work your way into a long term relationship, where you get funds regularly, but fee for service is always available. The locals we spoke to are very open about their  western partners that send money monthly.  They live a good life from few hundred Euro a month, and need to do very little work.  The weird part is that the locals we spoke to dont see it as prostitution, but as entertaining tourists with a bonus on the side.  A great way to make a living.  Before the trip I knew prostitution is big business in Africa,  but not for one second I thought it would be so open and accepted.  And this among relatively well off young people. Huge culture shock.

First ferry crossing

Perfect road

Perfect Coke add