Cameroon, the muddy way

Hey folks - well, I survived the first round of the Nigerian general election and escaped over the border to Cameroon in time for the second vote, which is today. The bad news is that the Angolan embassy wouldn't give me a visa - some new rule, which I'm sure they made up on the spot! Instead, I was told to apply in Congo. Lucky white heather.

My ride South from Abuja was mildly interrupted by the aftermath of a riot in Lafia, with the streets still strewn with burning tyres and loads of unhappy looking people standing about. I picked up a couple of slow punctures in my front tyre from the debris, but didn't hang around to change the tube!

The next day, I was waved down by a plain clothes 'Security Officer' with no ID who demanded to see 'all my valid papers'. Needless to say I rode off at speed but was surprised and alarmed to find him following me in his car. The only course of action was to race to the nearest police checkpoint and dob him in, but amazingly he'd had the same idea and, between us, we nearly ran the duty officer over. Luckily, none of the police knew the 'Security Officer' and were, I think a little sceptical of his authenticity, so 1-0 to me. However, my adversary got a late equaliser when I introduced myself as 'Andy' and handed the police my passport, which says 'Andrew'. Apparently it's a Federal offence in Nigeria to give a false name to a police officer. I think I must have turned quite pale when they told me this, as they then just laughed and waved me on. The rest of the ride to Calabar was scenic and mercifully uneventful as my nerves were a bit shot by then!! To be fair though, everyone else I met in Nigeria has been pretty sound.

After enduring a day of beaurocracy getting my Cameroon visa, I headed for the border on the 'less used' Ekang route. Man, it was beautiful - rolling rainforest all the way. Sadly, the road got a bit erm, rutted toward the frontier - see bottom pic. The border crossing, which consisted of two houses divided by a rickety bridge with 2 gates on it was a scoosh and I rode off into the jungle on a narrow dirt road in a cloud of butterflies - cool.

The scenery in Western Cameroon was even better, with tea plantations, rainforests and teeny villages all at 1500m-plus above sea level. Cor blimey - awesome. I've put up a pic, but it doesn't do it justice. The only downside seems to be some of the local food, as Bushmeat rules in Cameroon. So, far I've resisted the temptation, but my resolve is weakening. 'Mine's a tortoise and frites, hold the shell...'

Today, we've reached the coastal village of Kribi. There is apparently a nice waterfall that flows into the sea nearby, so I'm off to get my Timotei in a minute. The coming week is set to be a visa-fest in Yaounde as I need to get visas for Gabon, Congo and DRC there. Then it's South baby - hopefully!

Thanks as ever for the comments :-)

Election time

Hey folks - well, I've got to Nigeria, one of the bits of the trip I was most worried about (along with DRC and Angola) and I've only gone and barged into the middle of their general elections! There were 65 people (at least) killed in rioting last night as the usual evidence of election rigging became apparent, so I'm consulting anyone who'll listen to get the best route options from Abuja, where I presently am to Calabar on the Cameroon border.

One the upside, with the possible exception of Lagos, which still has it's old Mad Max charm, I'm finding the country and people surprisingly pleasant. So far, I've been waved through every AK47-fest of a police checkpoint with a smile, entertained at the house of a government vet (pic above) and escorted through the (beautiful) hinterlands of the country by a federal official on his way home for the election hols.

On the downside, I'm now stuck in Abuja waiting for things to reopen so I can apply for an Angola visa (a hard thing for us UK peeps to get, and only really an option from Nigeria). Having said that, the beer is cold and the taxi drivers are amusing. Nobody believes that I rode Naartjie down from the UK, so that's fun too.

Since the last post, Naartjie has had a good seeing-to (and a new tyre) at Toni-Togo, a KTM dealer in, erm, Togo (pic of Naartjie in the buff above) and I've caught fleas in some vile hotel in Benin. However, it's all good 'cos there is (strangely) an empty and working fridge/freezer in my hotel room, and I read somewhere that fleas are best frozen to death. As such, I've been putting all my clothes and my helmet in the freezer and nothing itches any more!

On a personal note, I'm both delighted and sad that it's my daughter Lauren's birthday tomorrow (16th). She'll be 3 and I'm sad that I won't be there. So, Happy Birthday Pop! Daddy Loves You.

As for the rest of you, well I at least like you. Next stage is hopefully Cameroon and then Gabon. After that, time for some Congo action - but there are many miles between here and there.

All the best - A

Oh Crikey, it's Togo!

Well groovers, this update comes hot and direct from the improbably narrow land of Togo. I actually had to turn sideways to get through the border and Naartjie has had to stay in Ghana as he won't fit. The days since the last update have been filled with tropical-weather action, mostly involving constant reminders of how bad a choice it was to use leather riding pants every time it rains.

After a few days in charming Burkina Faso, I headed for the Ghanain border with other Brit-In-Africa rider Paul Hurcomb who I'd met again in Ouagadougou, or 'Waga' as everyone seems to call it. Alas, he didn't have a visa, so they sent him avay with a mosquito in his ear to go and get one. Meanwhile, I (bravely and manfully, I might add) soldiered on into the amazingly undeveloped hinterlands of Northern Ghana where roads haven't yet been invented. The ride south to Accra saw things getting greener and lusher and more and more developed until, by the time I got there, I thought I'd got lost and ended up in Penrith. Accra really is a proper metropolis - with unleaded petrol and everything!! The only slightly alarming event en route was when I accidentally spent the night in a brothel, as it was the only roadside hotel about. I thought it was a bit odd when the lady asked how many hours I wanted the room for.

Anyway, next job was securing the dreaded Nigerian visa. This is the subject of many travel-forum horror stories but turned out to be quite easy, if a bit expensive at USD100 for a single entry 14 day visa. Spurning the Rastas and musicians of the Ghanain coastal resorts (not my cup of Oolong, old chap) I headed East and squeezed into Togo.

The capital, Lome is unique in West Africa having a KTM dealership, which apparently opens on Monday. As such, I'm hatching plans of buying a new back tyre and getting Naartjie serviced. As with all things in Africa though, you can't count your chickens.

Next plans are to blast through Benin, and head for Nigeria. Have to admit, I'm a wee bit nervous about the next bit of the adventure but as Claire and the kids are South, it's South I must go. Meanwhile, here is a pic of Africa made out of shells. Its was proudly shown to me by a Togolese shingle farmer yesterday, who insisted I share it with the world.

Best wishes to you all. Thanks for the comments and Haikus. Keep 'em coming :-)

Ouagadougou the noo!

Yo dudes - well, gosh its been a busy week or so. If I hadnt had Timmy the dog for company and lashings and lashings of homemade ginger beer, I dont know what Id have done. Actually, the only lashing Ive had was a verbal one from the customs official in Timbuktu for not having the paperwork for Naartjie in order, but thats another story.

So, whats been going on? Well, I escaped Nouakchott and got to Bamako in Mali in 2 long days with some more clandestine bush camping en route. Mali is ace, as we would have said in 1986. Here are 4 key things I observed there:

1. Mali is a nation of motorcyclists - which was a nice surprice. Everyone seems to have a bike of some sort, be it a Chinese copy of a CG125 or a metallic pink moped that isnt a copy of anything. Cool.

2. Beer is plentiful and quite cheap. Cool.

3. Claire will kill me for saying this, but Malian women are very beautiful. I dont think its so much about how they look, but the graceful way they glide along when either walking or on pink mopeds. They even look graceful when carrying a bucket of water on their heads. Cool.

4. There is a really big river in Mali that is confusingly called the Niger [which is also the name of a country]. Someone told me that it doesnt flow into the sea, and instead has an inland delta, whatever that is. Im not sure I believe them - its extraordinarily big, so the water must go somewhere!

Anyway, we [me and Naartjie] rode from Bamako on to Segou, Mopti and Douentza, before taking the hellishly-corrugated 200km piste up to Timbuktu. I have to confess that Timbuktu was a bit of a disappointment, though I did see the house were Gordon Laing, Queen Victorias envoy, stayed for 3 days in 1826 before the locals killed him. There was also a big mosque made of mud that they have to rebouild every year. And lots of souvenir sellers. And not enough tourists for all the souvenir sellers!

After that, it was a ferry back across the Niger [did I mention how big it is?] and home to Douentza, where I stayed at the excellent Chez Jerome run by an ex Paris-Dakar Rally racer called, erm, Jerome. On the way back to Doutentza, on the Tibuktu piste, where there had been almost no traffic, I met another British motorcyclist! His name is Paul Hurcomb, and hes also heading South. Bizarre. Anyway, were planning a meet up later this week to reminisce about mushy peas.

The next day, I did an awesome piste from Doutentza to Koro along the side of the Bandiagara escarpement and through Dogon country. The Dogon villages were amazing and the ride was a real high-point.

Now its Burkina Faso [formerly Upper Volta for the older reader]. Currently waiting for a visa for Ghana [wasnt in the original plan, but I quite fancy a change from trying to speak French]. The exotically named capital, Ouagadougou is pretty cool, though I did get lightly run over by a moped this morning.

Hope all is well and, if anyone is still reading, cheers!

(Btw, the pic here is of the result of some slightly over-zealous parking by a lorry getting onto the Timbuktu ferry.)

Piste again!

Wahey! Well, we made the piste from Nouadhibou with 250ml of fuel to spare... It was a great ride, with a section of dunes Id been dreading proving to actually be a more or less gently undulating sand sheet, though it did go on for 50 miles. Since then, its been food poisoining, bike repairs and sleep. Now in Nouakchott, Malian visa in hand.

Tomorrow, we blow this popstand and its next stop Timbuktu (unless I get lost). More news to follow. A :-)

En Mauritanie!

Hey up! First, thanks for the posts - its great to hear from everyone. Missing you all, though to varying degrees!

Yesterday I finished the butt-numbing 1500kms from Agadir through Western Sahara, so Im delighted to be reporting from the green and lush town of Nouadhibou in Mauritania. Actually, the only green things here are the national flag and the meat. On the good side, the border crossing from Morocco is bordering on slick, compared to how it was first timle I came here - only 1 1/4 hours for the whole thing, as opposed to 6 last time. The journey through Western Sahara is just as empty as ever, though there now 3 petrol stations between the Dakhla fork and the border - a fact that will be of interest to precisely nobody! Spend a great night on the beach in on the way down, with Naartjie disguised as an old carpet in the interests of keep a low profile.

Today Im setting out on the 540km piste to Atar - this being the longest single offroad stretch oif the journey. There is now fuel at Bou Lanouar, I hear, so that takes the edge off my fuel-range worries. Next post, hopefully, with dramatic pics, from Atar or Nouakchott. Stay tuned :-)

Out on the Piste!

Yo dudes, well as promised Im writing with tales of unplanned excursions into the scenery! Starting to learn that motorcycle overlanding and desert biking are different and not entirely complimentary activities! Having had reasonable success on some open trails in Eastern Maroc (as the French call it) I thought Id tackle the 250km run from Rissani to Zagora. Everything was going fine til I realised that Id forgotten to fit my offroad tyres. The simple act of remembering this fact sent me and Naartjtie flying into a heap on a sandy berm. That was fine and, dare I say to be expected, except with all the gear, I could hardly pick him up. Anyway, first crash over - almost a baptism - I carried on, knackered and concentrating on not falling off again, as it was sore. Alas, minor considerations such as navigating went out of the window and, before long, I realised I was on the wrong track and heading in the wrong direction. Sadly, there is no TomTom in this neck of the woods, so the only thing you can do is turn round and go back to the place where you were last not lost. Except, I didnt. Instead, (to my eternal shame) in my addled state, I asked my newfangled routing-GPS to plot an intercept course over the seemingly flat plain to the next correct waypoint on my route. Alone and off-piste! What a pillock!

Anyway, before too long, I was marooned on a plain, surrounded by uncrossable wadis and completely lost. Yep - the GPS told me exactly where I was, but without good terrain info on my map, that was no help at all! So I learned the hard lesson, as one German rider I once met put it 'the GPS tells you exactly where you die'.

OK, so I didnt croak, but it took 4 hours of blundering around and picking up my 250kg monster to find a way out.

Since then, its been much better. Ive put my GPS away and have been using map and sun only, and weve done some great pistes. Today, after an 11 hour marathon, weve reached the coastal resort of Agadir - in time for a beer before the Big Ride South. Speak to you next from Maurtania - inshallah!