From Dakar. Senegal to Banjul. The Gambia.

The Mali Embassy in Dakar were brilliant. They really helped me out. Visa is officially 15,000 CFA. But you only get a receipt for 10,000 CFA. I'm sure you can work that one out.

It's meant to take 48 hrs,but I explained my bike's Pasavont was running out,and they did it that day. Mali is in the middle of a bloody civil war.Well armed  Muslims wanting to impose Sharia Law on one side, Government forces on the other. Backed by the French Army,as it was previously a French colony.

I could have gone direct towards Mali,but had always planned to go to The Gambia, to the south. There I could get my bike serviced and fixed if needs be. A previous British colony,they are pro and speak good old English. A major pit stop if you like. Before I push into some very poor and dangerous countries. Where infrastructure is even less.

Visa in passport,I followed the very poor and car crammed coastal road out of Dakar. A city that is chocker block full of people and polutution. And a stulid taxi driver drove into my bike. Trapping my leg and nearly knocking me and the bike over. I'm sure he didn't care I punched his bonnet, as their wasnt a panel on the car that was straight.

I simply wanted to get as my kms under my belt before dark. Leaving Dakar at 4 pm I eventually arrived at Mboor. Not far away,about a 100 kms south.Nowhere to pitch a tent,I reluctantly paid for a cheap Auberge.

Next morning, yesterday, was going to always be another big day. Remember I don't have gps. As Suzuki GB pulled their sponsorship. As I shared a story about an ex Taliban fighter allowed live in the UK. Who was given a free house for him,his four wives and children. Who subsequently recruited and trained British Muslims for acts of terror !! I shared the published story. And lost all Suzuki GB support. Common sense, national security and freedom of speech spring to mind.

So I have had to save the Gps money,£430 and use it to getting me and the bike to Johannesburg. Thank you Suzuki GB for making my life infinitely harder and more dangerous! !! But im sure you're loving the free publicity you are getting.

I left Mboor at 9 am. Through the usual villages and towns. And then through this large region of swamp,come little islands.  All connected by the road I was on. Wild cows with big horns, were a common sight.

The temperature and humidity high,I pulled over a number of times to take in water from my Camel Bak.( back slung 3 lt water bladder. )
Twice guys on mopeds stopped to see if I was ok. And to have a chat. And both times in pigeon English. ( A good sign I was nearing The Gambia. )

The road connecting these islands was deserted. But in very good condition. And then. ....and then...the road ended !!! Water...about a mile of it,till the next island!!! Oooops !!! O for GPS.

On que I saw a fisherman. And four locals getting into a boat. A boat about two feet wide and fifteen feet long. 3000 CFA later, we'd got my bike into the boat. As it tipped heavily to the left and right. And off we went to the the next island. Come main land. Check the pics and video.

From the fishing village the other side,the road went from good tarmac,to red clay. This last part was a good 70 km off road and 100 in total.

Stood up on my pegs I was wizzing around the pot holes . The Van Van coping with all I asked of it. Yes,occasionally the rear shocker bottoming out. But it is a road bike. Forget the knobbly front tyre. This bike has just 12 hp and is designed to pop to the local shops. My bike was a star. My upper body felt like id been beasted in the gym. Big style.

I stopped outside a village of huts. And WOW.....kids came from nowhere and everywhere. 24 in total. I was surrounded. One was about 9. And amazingly spoke English. I asked the name of his village.  He laughed and said " all one family " !!!!
His parents definitely do not have jobs.

Onwards to the Senegal and The Gambia border. A 200 Gambia $$ bribe and I was in. Then it was 11 km to the ' ferry'. It's the river come sea that you cross. Takes over an hour. My bike was last on. 6 "from back of the boat.ahum....no barrier, just an edge and the sea. With a heard of those cows with horns not two feet away !!!

I watched as they banged into the old Range Rover next to me. I didn't let go of the  Van Van for the whole journey. As the heardsman smashed his stick into their heads. Keeping my bike on the ferry and not the sea.

Now in Banjul port. No tail light and no sfreet lights. I pushed on looking for a place to kip. I've sorted a place for 500 $ a night.(10 quid).

Called the British Embassy 34 times,without an answer. Doesn't it make you feel proud ?? I was expecting some prearranged help. Never mind.

Ok. Waffled on. Check the pics. Facebook London to Johannesburg and watch the video. I can't upload vids on mobile Blogger

All good. Servicing the bike and getting some good food into me.

Will

Africa. Two sides. The good.

I left a flooded Nouakchoot, Mauritania, two days ago. A good foot of rain fell over night. Le foot,for those of you who are European. :)

My tent is getting well worn,I've been sleeping in it 95% of the past 6 or 7 weeks. It has the odd hole in it now. Which I have patched up,as best i can, using my puncture repair kit.But under those conditions, it did leak a bit. My sleeping bag getting wet and some kit. Then the sand of course making a lovely comfortable combination. But that doesn't bother me,there is always a solution.

The storm was a complete freak of nature and almost unheard of. ( check the photos. Not easy to ride off road, in water and take photos.  But gave it a go. ) :))

The 'road' had turned into a mud bath. Cars stuck everywhere. My back end wanted to spin to the front. In the end I went for the flatest ground. Which happen to be in the middle of the water. Just went for it at about 15 mph. Not wanting the water to cover the electrics. Worked fine and I got into the town.

Floods we have all seen. But in a 3 rd world country ? They couldn't cope. Simply a lack of infrastructure. The water was above the curbs and you now couldn't see all the pot holes. So I decided to ride on the pavement and gently drop off the curbs. I don't have a sump guard, but will sort that in the English speaking Gambia. :)))

Traffic was mental, and there wasn't one single road sign for Senegal or Rosso. But used my poor French to ask. Totally drenched, I decided to try out the Islamic belief of ' helping a stranger '.

After some 100 km I pulled over and into a tiny rural village. Half a dozen traditional tents,goats and chickens. I asked if I could camp the night. To the oldest male I could see. He noded and off I went to pitch the tent. Not 5 minutes later,a smartly dressed Muslim, in traditional clothes approached. Speaking in English, ( wow ), he asked if I had a problem ? I explained the rain etc. Turned out he was just passing and saw me. He told me it was important for Muslims to look after a stranger in need. And no problem with staying in the village. He returned to the slightly bemused villagers. Where upon they all prayed together.  Im guessing, for me. How privileged was I ??

What it gave me was a chance to dry my kit by a fire. Dry ish,some food and a brew. All I need. Sorted. :)

Following morning I said my thank yous. And headed to the notorious Rosso border crossing,to Senegal.

I rode for another 100 km or so and decided to test the locals response, when I stopped for water,in their villages. Everyone was inquuzatative and friendly. One young lad spoke to me in English. Two on the trot !!! The other kids all were scared of my camera. (See covered faces on pics )

He invited me to tea at his house. Loving the local fused brew. I was up for it in a flash. We sat on the floor in his house. Speaking English, as he told of his opinions of his country. It's problems and his desire to join his brother in America. What a pleasure and privilege.

Two sides to Africa. I've actually edited this. But it's that sort of experience, that is my payment in all this.

You will read in the next blog, the other dark side.

All good with me. Bike has been asked to do what some say is impossible for a commuter 125. Yer here we are in Saint Louis.  Senegal.

Have a heart and donate by clicking the Help for Heroes logo. Top right.

Will.

Nouckhout

Update. Just got to the capital. Did 285 km today. Hot, humid and solitry.Knackered !! For the distance, the most tiering ride so far.But i found a place to camp, right on the beach. I had expected to pitch up at a Gerndarme check point. This place is run by a French guy, called Nicolas. Food is very pricey. More than European prices, but it's only €5 to camp. The beach is white sand and has few people using it. By all accounts, wealthy Mauritanians and Embassy personal come here.

Apparently the capital is an absolute dump. Rubbish everywhere and full of mosquitos. So I'd say I got very lucky. What a contrast. 99% of the country lives in either home made wooden shaks or nomadic tents. Yet here I could be in Barbados.

Just had a German guy come over. We spoke at the Morrocan border. Small world.  He sells cars from Germany in Mauritania. Makes a profit and then lives the good life in northern Morocco.

There seems to be a little industry doing this. In particular selling in The Gambia. Where there isn't any import documents. Going to take a look at it myself.

Well, long day. Very humid. Drank 4 litres of water today, whilest riding. All good though. :) Going to have a quick swim in the morning. :)))

Speak soon.

Will

Sahara Desert Part Duex

Salada madi cum

Through Agidir and Guelim. And now in Tan Tan Plage. Chipping away at the 1, 200 km of desert region. Met Tash, an English girl, who just married a local guy. Who works at the camp site. Between them I sorted out some bread and fuel. And got the low down on black market petrol from Anglers.

The desert road is almost totally straight, so not too exciting. Two days ago I put my i pod on, whilst riding, for the first time. I'm sure I look like the Sheik of Cool, as I ride along, singing and boping in my helmet and enduro suit. Infact, entertainment is when I see some camels !! And they seem to look at me all confused.

Back in the north of Morocco, I'd see Police at most roundabouts. But they always waved me through. Now, there are very official check points. With a mixture of Morrocan Army and then Police. All armed. (This region has had issues in the past.)

They now always pull me over and ask for my passport. I need to print off and fill in something called a 'Ficshe'. (Might not be spelt correctly. )
It's a bit like a questionnaire for a dating show. What's your name, where do you come from, where are you going. And do you prefer brunette or blondes ? That sort of thing.

The desert is still a mixture of rock and sand. Not quite the Lawrence of Arabia set, you might expect. Temperatures and humidity are all tolerable. But I have noticed the bike is rusting at an unseen before rate! ! Any exposed metal and it rusts. I think the Sahara is like a microwave ruster. :(  so I have baby wiped the bike. Honestly, I have.  To remove all oil, I have a slight leak, so the sand can't stick.

I need to Google " cado " or " cadu". I'm guessing it means " can I have your cash buddy ". As ever kid I pass says it to me !!! Lol.

Presently being entertained by a four year lad. Who is pointing at bits of my bike. Wanting to know what it's called in English.  Nice just to be ' talking ' to someone.

Going for it tomorrow. Making good head way towards the Mauritania border.

Not much to report. Apart from sun, sand and dating questioners.

Find me on Facebook . London to Johannesburg. "Like" and get updates and more sarcasm.

Will