28th February 2013

Ghana

It was a bit of performance getting a visa for Ghana. We arrived at the the Ghanaian embassy in Abidjan to be told that we can only have a tourist visa  if we have a letter of invitation from someone living in Ghana and 2 references (address and telephone no). To us, it was a ridiculous requirement, but like any bureaucracy we have to comply in order to get this visa. We could not get passed the receptionist who was a real 'job's worth'  person. She was very polite and correct, but she was unable to help us. If we didn't have an invitation letter, she could not take our application for processing - that was the end of the matter.

We came back to the hotel and frantically emailed  all our Ghanaian friends in UK and Ghana, anyone who could be of help to us. One of the problems of using emails is that you can get lulled into  a sense of security, and expect all those whom you emailed to reply the minute you hit the 'send' key, of course, this was not the case. By the next morning we still did not get any response, so we decided that we would go back to the Embassy and ask to see the Consul in order that we could explain our situation. The receptionist reluctantly agreed. We met with the first secretary - a very 'nice young man' who was very understanding of our problem, we explained that we wanted to ship our van from Ghana to Namibia, and that although we do have contacts in Ghana, we were still waiting for a response. He was amazed that we had driven from London, showed great interest in our road trip and was keen to help. He advised that we print out the email from the shipping companies that we've made inquiries about the shipping process, and this will suffice as evidence of our intention to leave Ghana.

We then went to a internet cafe, where when I logged on to my email, I saw a  response from our friend Alexandra, (thank you Charles) and printed this out. (Thank you to Shika, Katie's friend, Ricky and Nesta, all of whom who responded later).  We submitted our applications with these 'evidence' collected our visas the next day, and left for Ghana on 14th February. 

      
              Road from the Border

Arriving in Ghana is like coming home, English speaking, it is beautiful, it reminds me so much of Malaysia - lush green tropical rain forest, the rubber and oil palm plantations, coconut trees swaying in the breeze and the beaches that goes on forever.  I am sure the filth, smell of drains and dirt roads are out there in the towns and cities, but staying in some idyllic resorts protects you from all of that.

                           
                        Same country, worlds apart.

It is so very hot and humid! Noel has had to fit yet another fan,to stop me complaining and we had to consider more mosquito netting so that we could sleep with the back doors open.

We had our 9th puncture on our way to "Big Milly's backyard", a wonderful rustic resort, favoured by many Ghanaians and tourists escaping Accra on weekends. You have to draw your own water from the well to have your bucket bath in the open air shower area, but you can also stay in luxury A/C accommodations with all the services.The staff here were delightfully helpful and nothing was a problem.

         Omei and Ping at Big Milly's

At "Big Milly's" we have met some very interesting people from all over the world and spent alot of time talking about our adventures and theirs. There wasn't much time to relax as we have had to get the van ready for shipping. Noel had some carpentry to do to secure the van for shipping to South Africa.

We had to go into Accra as Noel needed a dentist urgently. When we found one, Noel spent 2 hours having root canal treatment, not sure which was more painful, the treatment or the bill of US$780. I hope the insurance claim is not going to be a hassle. 

After the treatment we drove across Accra to the Rising Phoenix Magic Beach hotel (it's got a website) where they had promised us a place to park our van and camp.  We arrived to find a  Rastafarian establishment and the air was thick with the smell of marijuana and the sound of loud Reggae music.
The promised camping ground turned out to be the town car park adjacent to the hotel.  It was getting late, Noel wasn't feeling too good after the dentist and we had just spend an hour driving through the heavy traffic of Accra to get here, so, we had no choice but to take a room. There was no electricity for the first 2 hours and everything was conducted in pitch darkness  lit by candles or tiny LCD lights. However, the room, shower and toilet seemed clean enough. What we couldn't see, we ignored. The staff were so helpful, charming and welcoming and things got better after we've had a shower and something to eat. 

Amazing views from the veranda 

We were able to sit on the veranda, playing scrabble and be cooled down by the breeze from the ocean, accompanied by whiffs of drains and sanitation from the beach below, and ganja from the other residents. The hotel is perched on the cliffs in the heart of the city, and has some amazing views of the Gulf of Guinea, perhaps a little spoilt by the amount of litter being thrown over the cliffs. Having said all this, The Rising Phoenix Magic Beach Hotel may not have been our ‘cup of tea’ but it was delightful in its own way and we were glad to have stayed there.

                         Coffee on the beach with Conrad and Sarah

We were very lucky to meet with Conrad and Sarah when we first arrived in Ghana, lovely people who showed great interest in our road trip.  We mentioned in passing that we were worried about shipping. Conrad, who is working in Ghana, was able to introduce us to the shipping branch of the company that he works for and which has helped us to ship the van with very little trouble. We have been very well looked after by the staff and managers of the shipping company, as a result we have been able to avoid most of the hassles that nearly everyone experiences when shipping in this way. The van left last night on the the Hoagh 'Trapeze’ and with amazing technology, we are able to track its journey!  Why South Africa and not Namibia is another story, including all the details which Noel will write about in the next blog.

We hope to be in South Africa in the next week for the next stage of our journey where I hope we'll be able to see some wildlife which has been disappointingly elusive up till now.

Keep the emails coming, missing all of you at home.

Ping and Noel

pingbow54@gmail.com

noelbow51@gmail.com

18th February 2012

Cote d’Ivoire

The early impressions of this country were mixed.  First we had passed through two customs posts and got all our paperwork stamped.  So as we drove on two white Toyota 4 wheel drives pulled onto the road in front of us and gave us quite a scare as they drove directly towards us with guns bristling out of them. I suddenly saw their blue helmets and realised that they were in fact Bangladeshi Army peace keepers who had forgotten to drive on the right hand side of the road.

 They changed their course and all was well, but it was just in time for us to see another thing that would become a familiar sight, that is a roadblock with a kind of crude iron trolley with large spikes sticking out of it. It is placed across the road in order to ‘discourage’ any driver who tries to drive on without permission.  This particular roadblock was another customs post. It became clear that they had received a call saying that we had failed to stop at their headquarters office.  We were escorted back down the road about 5 km with a customs officer on a moped in front. As we passed through the market of the town we saw the UN patrol again. It seems that far from keeping the peace they had popped out to the market for a spot of shopping.

When we got to the customs HQ we were told to wait to see the ‘Chef’ he explained very politely that we should have come to see him before driving on. That seems to be the sole purpose of this detour and does beg the question; just how many customs posts can the country have? We were soon to find out.

We arrived in the city of Man quite late as it was getting dark. This is rarely a good thing to arrive in a place when the light is bad and you don’t know where to go. We were tired after a pretty gruelling drive. (Don’t all these reports start with ‘it has been a difficult drive’) Anyway, we had a recommendation for a place to park in a hotel. It turned out to be quite difficult to find, in a road that had been ravaged by civil war. The hotel itself was quite run down and it was hard to get them to understand that we really wanted to stay in the van and maybe have use of a shower and toilet. Instead we ended up taking a room. It was a bit expensive and not very good. As it turns out hotels will become a feature of our time here.

We needed to clean the van again as we were once more dust laden, and we also wanted to  rest up a bit as we were rather tired and worn out by the unrelenting bad roads. Strangely the people at the hotel suggested that we try another hotel up the hill. So off we went. The hotel ‘Les Cascades’ was a fairly posh looking place at the top of a hill. We explained our needs and were asked to wait for the manager to return. When he came back, he was so kind and helpful.(Ping thinks he felt sorry for us). He was happy to let us park up in a corner and do our own thing. He went further and let us used a staff room for shower and toilet, telling us there would be no charge. 

This man, Denis Djeneao was really quite a star, he was kind helpful and did not seem to think that we constituted an eyesore in this upmarket place that is frequented by the great and the good of the UN and all the NGOs. I could go on but suffice to say ‘Thank you Denis you really helped us out and we truly appreciate it’.

The situation has much improved, but at one time these were more common than taxis

After staying a couple of days in Man we set off again. We drove further south down to the coast  The countryside had turned to a rich green but on the way we saw just what damage has been done to the rainforest and the wildlife within. It is truly shocking there are miles and miles of land which was once covered with rainforest  but all the trees have been cut down  leaving large area that have become little more than grassland with stumps of trees that could have been several hundred years old, even in the preserve of the National park which was home to the most sophisticated primates, chimpanzees that have learnt to use tools and to develop skills to gather food.  Now there are less than 800 surviving. It is a crying shame.

Of course Ivory Coast has had its fair share of troubles and the scars of civil strife and war are around but there is nevertheless an air of optimism among Ivorians.

The Bascilica rises from the jungle. Astounding beauty, even if extravagant

On the way toward Abidjan we made a trip to Yamasoukro, which is the capitol of Ivory Coast even though all the infrastructure and the mechanisms that operate the state are in Abidjan. It is the resting place of the founding President who though a true dictator built the country from independence. 

As a mark of gratitude to God for blessing his country he built the most astounding basilica which is of similar dimension to that of the Vatican. To say that no expense was spared would be a serious understatement.  As you drive towards the city of Yamasoukro it rises out of the jungle and is truly magnificent, when you visit and look closer it does not disappoint. It is huge and really beautiful. 

We visited with two groups of UN peacekeepers, about 10 from thePakistan Army and a further 15 or so from Bangladesh.  I commented lightly, that this must be the first time that the two armies had been together socially since they were at war some 40 years ago. We spent a really lovely afternoon with them, but was shocked to be reminded by one of the Bengalis that the war between their 2 countries, although 40 year ago, is still very much in their memories. This made it an even more poignant meeting which I will not forget.

I will keep in touch with one of the Pakistani officers. Quite a day!

Our new friends from Pakistan and Bangladesh On our first trip we actually visited the home towns of both groups. Multan and Jaflong. So many good connections.

By the way the Basilica is officially not Ivorian soil but is part of the Vatican. The Pope handed his resignation papers in the next day! I hope there was no connection. 

 To give an idea of the sheer magnitude , the two dots at the bottom of the door, centre, are people!

We have had to come to Abidjan which is a sprawling city to visit the Ghana Embassy to get visas.  On the phone they made it sound easy but when we made our application it was rejected as we didn’t have an ‘invitation’. This means that we were having to contact all our Ghanaian friends to see if we can get this  invitation without causing too much delay. The time would not be too much of a problem except that it was really not possible to camp in the van in Abidjan, hotels are pretty costly, but hey ho we had to wait.

Abidjan the bustling metrolopis

Hotels.

Hotels have become a bit of an issue for us in the Ivory Coast. As we have traveled across the country we original hoped that we could get a camping arrangement at most hotels. However what has turned out is that is has become difficult to explain what we need and then equally difficult to get agreement. So we have had a few really quite nice rooms that are a bit over our budget though it does sometimes make a pleasant change. Once in Abidjan it has become a rather different story. Camping is out of the question and the city is notorious for expensive hotels.

   A ceramic version of the Alamo. You can just imagine the balcony being mounted by Mexican soldiers!

Because of the delay at the Ghanaian Embassy we were rather committed. We found a room at a very reasonable rate, in a quite new hotel and has fantastic hot showers and air conditioning that really works, even a good wifi set up. It is run by a delightful woman and infectiously pleasant staff, but................

There is a bit of a downside though.  It was fairly clear that they are new to the game and the hotel seemed to be made entirely out concrete and ceramic tiles. The construction was a bit reminiscent of ‘The Alamo made of Lego’. It had heavily fortified gates and a gallery with rampart that appear to serve no useful purpose.  There was a huge courtyard secured by the gates so we should have our van nice and secure, not so, the van did not fit under the ramparts so it had to stay outside.  Everything was made of tiles and concrete. The walls, the reception desk, floors, the whole bathroom, bedroom including the wardrobe and the bed was tiled.

Everything was,

   made of tiles and concrete 

If you were expecting me to say that ‘the bed was surprisingly comfortable', you were wrong! It was excruciatingly uncomfortable, with a foam slab cut to size to fit snuggly into what may have been a filled in swimming pool with square pillows that sit on a tiled ledge at the top the mattress. There was a wall around the mattress about 4” thick that you scrape your shins on every time you get up or get in, which made nocturnal trips to the toilet a moderately painful  experience.  

There is advice around that says that as one gets older it can get more difficult but I don’t think that bleeding shins is what was meant. We found that it was easier to bring our own soap,bog paper, towels and actually we had our folding chair from the van as there was only one chair and it was impossible to sit on the bed.

Having said all of this we were quite happy here, it suited us well and it was about 100 meters from the Ghana Embassy.  I wanted to stress that the owner and staff were delightful.

Health.

Ping in her last dispatch spoke a bit about the need to maintain our health and in particular to avoid accidents and injury.  I completely agree that this is vitally important.

However I have not entirely been pulling my weight on this score.

When we were in the Zebrabar all those weeks ago, I was sitting at the bar in the evening  when my friend arrived unexpectedly on his motorbike. As it was dark, I didn’t want him to miss us so I ran over to greet him. As I ran, I failed to see the log rail that was just out of sight in the dark. I fell over it and apart from the overwhelming self pity I experienced as no one actually saw me fall and so it took a while to get any help, I was pretty sure I had broken a rib. I still don’t know though the pain continues.

While in The Gambia I was walking in the dark and was distracted by something. I turned but continued walking and fell over a high kerb landing in a flower bed in the pitch dark. I banked my shin and hurt my back which of course was nothing compared to the self pity I experienced as yet again, no one saw me go down so I was left flailing around in the pitch dark among spiky plants and, no doubt, dangerous African creepy crawlies.

Then while at the Auberge in Conakry, I missed the last step of the bloody stairs. This time I was not all alone I managed to time it just as a group of new guests arrived!  Oh the humiliation!  Oh yes you have already guessed haven’t you they were members of an aid charity and were all doctors. There was a brief flurry of competition over who would be best placed to help me and so the Consultant Gynaecologist came to my aid and bandaged up a rather badly sprained ankle. 

          My ankle still hurts but my fibroids are much better.  

Thank you Michel, you were very kind. Martine, the paediatrician gave me a sticker for being good and Muriel, the midwife stood by just in case.

What has all this got to do with the tiled concrete hotel I hear you ask. 

Well, I now have a fairly impressive collections of aches and pains and swollen bits that are resolutely not going away. The concrete bed is, frankly not the ideal place to rest up one's aching bones. The final straw came when we had collected our visas, thanks to the kind intervention of the very understanding first secretary and were leaving the next morning, there was a knock at the door.  Ping answered it.  They had given us extra rectangle of foam rubber, pillows, just to make the bed bearable but as all the rooms were occupied in the rest of the hotel, they needed them back as they didn’t have enough.  Ping was so stunned that she handed them over without a word.

The next morning we set off for Ghana which will be for another day.

By the way some people have suggested Ping does not have much to do with producing this blog.  Not so.  She does all the tiresome cutting and pasting and submitting to the blog site it is all rather wearisome,  she never complains, well not that much.

Cheers - Noel and Ping

keep the emails coming, we really love hearing from you.

noelbow51@gmail.com       pingbow54@gmail.com

7th February 2013

Guinea is crackers!

This is the maddest place we have ever been to. Every time we arrive in a place that brings out this remark, we come to another place that moves to even greater heights.

But first.

Sanatorium, God’s bridge and Miriam Makeba!

After another moderately difficult, but generally pleasant drive, that is other than for the driver of the artic which was completely overturned in a deep gully, which had happened during the night and the driver was calmly sitting on a blanket eating some food. The road was winding mountain tracks with a treacherous surface but stunningly beautiful. This is a busy road populated mostly by the transport mainstay of West Africa, the ubiquitous Peugeot ‘taxi’.  It seems to me that this carmaker should be enormously proud of their contribution to the matter of keeping Africa moving. I am really not kidding, these ancient cars, mostly around 20- 30 years old, ply these difficult roads day and night, carrying truly monster payloads. Typically they will carry between 6 and 10 people, depending on whether it is an estate or just a saloon. They then carry a load of goods and luggage on the roof. Often this roof load is huge. (I am sorry but I am running out of superlatives.) All manner of goods from loud coloured plastic buckets, agricultural equipment to livestock.  I have seen ten goats and several chickens in addition to all the goods that the nine passengers have bought at the market. These cars have reinforced springs which help them to charge along these terrible roads at breakneck speeds. Often with the bumper(if it has one) all but dragging on the ground amid huge clouds of bright red dust.  Oh I almost forgot, they will generally have 2 or 3 passengers calmly clinging to the roof . This is how people and goods are generally transported around this region by hardworking and seriously skillfull drivers.

Not too top heavy!

We have many times found ourselves using all our abilities to negotiate these roads and feeling rightly proud of our efforts and considering what an excellent choice of vehicle we have to take us on our mammoth journey. These thoughts will be interrupted suddenly by a Peugeot streaming past us in a cloud of red dust bouncing along with its massive load of humanity and essential goods. This will invariably followed by another one. These drivers keep Africa functioning! Mr Peugeot should also be very proud.

Garden of the SiB hotel

Anyway, back to our next stop, we entered the town of Delabar heading for the big hotel, which was so popular with the French in the old colonial days. The hotel is built on the sight of a location considered by the French to be both beautiful and health giving. The hotel setting is lovely. There was an old Sanitorium not far from the hotel, now derelict.

Looking down the waterfall

Many surprises here, we were able to visit some beauty spots nearby with the help of a guide. We were taken to an old botanical garden, where plants were brought from Europe to Guinea as an experiment to see how well they thrive. The garden just about survives, surrounded by a forest of pine trees – very European!

                         
                   Traditional carved mud floor that withstood time

We went to the place where the regional chiefs met in the early 50s to decide on demanding independence from the French. Now in very poor condition this traditional meeting hall is impressive with a carved mud floor.  It is as hard as concrete and bears a beautiful geometric pattern.  It seems an odd kind of pity that Guinee which struggles to feed its people also has hard choices to make about maintaining its heritage. Despite the best efforts of UNESCO there is little money here for heritage.

On to Gods bridge, which is a complex of small but lovely waterfalls with a natural stone bridge which passes over it. Followed by a short visit to a traditional village where we met a few people just doing their thing. That was nice.

For me there was a high spot however and it is this:

Ever since, the early 60s I have had a great interest in the music on the so called ‘Protest movement’ and the Civil rights movement in the USA. One of the most significant characters of that time was a woman who was exiled from aparthied South Africa, settled in America but who was eventually so unsettled by the lack of progress in the way that black people are regarded in America that she then exiled herself from the US.

Miriam Makeba came first to Guinee for a few years before settling in Mali until her death about 2 years ago. She left a legacy of music and peaceful political agitation which will continue. 

We were privileged to be allowed to visit her home in the grounds of the hotel, and met with local people whose lives were touched by her. The house remains as it was left about ten years ago. It is a beautiful, though never ostentatious house with a living area that was clearly built for music with a vaulted acoustic ceiling. There were pictures on the wall and books on the shelves.

Yes it is really true, I was allowed to visit an empty almost derelict house and fell quite privileged!

We had to make our way to Conakry, the capital, so that we can seek visa for the countries on our new route plan. On the way, we passed through the city of Kindia. As we entered the city, we made a stop to see if we can get some cash from an ATM. Ping went to get the dosh while I stayed in the van. I was parked in a frantically busy market place. Thousands of people were dodging around cars and trucks passing this way and that. I watched the myriad of motorcycles, whizzing in and out and around the cows, goats, the occasional chicken, street vendors, pedestrians,  and young children wandering around without supervision. I sat there for about 20 minutes and came to the conclusion that this was the maddest place I have ever been in it was really crackers!

Looks, calm, neat and orderly ..............not!

Needless to say that Ping couldn’t get the cash, as the machine had run out of notes. Ah well!

Our Belgian chums had info on a good hotel and off we went to search for this hotel. We gathered from information from local people that the latest news was that the hotel had been burnt down. So we went to see the very few others that are scattered around an army base in a very poor part of town. We found one in an obscure little corner, it was quite a tidy place though rather oddly all the trees in the ground had all been felled and the place appeared deserted. It was some 15 or 20 minutes before we found someone who firmly said we could not camp there. This was a bit odd, but the last place on the list was even more so. It was a hotel which was described in the lonely Planet guide as being ‘a delightful place even though it is a bit past its prime’. It spoke of the air conditioned rooms, the restaurant and the swimming pool.

We found the place, the gate was open and as we drove in we could see a television on, in what we took to be the restaurant.

The only cars were 2 dilapidated taxis.

The place looked on the face of it to be quite pleasant but……………

Closer examination showed that the pool was empty and had probably been so for a couple of years.

The only people were two men who were apparently completely drunk or stoned and it was impossible to get their attention to find if we could stay there.

                     Bates motel in Kindia, abit past it's prime

I have to say it was a really spooky experience. (Made The Bates motel look like a Howard Johnson) We really got the impression that the owners had thrown in the towel and had just left leaving the place unattended and that local ne,er do wells had moved in. It was weird!

Anyway we were concerned that we would not find a place and eventually settled on a small hotel where we had to get rooms.

We stayed overnight and then left the vans at the hotel as we set off for Conakry.  Oh I almost forgot, I found we had another puncture!  The staff of the hotel said they would get it fixed while we were away.

Taxi!

We went back into town to get a taxi to take us to Conakry some 3 hours away. We really didn’t want to be squeezed into one of the taxis described above. So the driver from the hotel agreed to find one for us. The first attempt was a so called ‘9 seater’ but the driver expected us to pay for 5 of the empty seats which was exorbitant. Attempt #2 - a private car turned up and as he opened the tailgate a swarm of flies flew out and we were hit by a dreadful stench! 

So what next?  We set off to the taxi station where our car were jumped upon even before we stopped. Several young man all appearing to be shouting and gesticulating that we should go into this or that taxi, we really had no choice and in the end got propelled, pushed and channelled into a 9 seater and found ourselves squeezed into one of the taxis described above. Fortunately, there were no loads or passengers on the roof. So off we went to Conakry.

Conakry is not an easy place. It is very hot dusty and dirty. It has the most unlikely shape for a capital City. It is situated on a small peninsular so it is very constricted. As a result all the growth, it has been a massive sprawl,  mostly of poverty I am sorry to say at the top end of the city. The traffic is unbelievable dense, busy and completely crazy. It can take a couple of hours sometimes  to cross the city as the main highway to the centre is full of potholes with little left of the original tarred road. On the whole it is hard to find pleasure here but it has been a necessary journey to get a visa for Ivory Coast and to get good information on visas for the other countries we have to pass through. The only problem is that Ghana will not issue visas though they say it may be possible to get one at the border. We shall see.

When we returned to our vehicles 3 days later, I found that the tyre was inflated but I noticed that the tube had been changed and as we had not been charged for a new one I was a bit suspicious.

We have now parted company with our Belgian friends, though sadly not on the best of terms. They have found that West Africa does not offer them what they need and have decided to return to Gambia and then to Belgium.

Actually, it is quite nice to be travelling on our own again, driving when we feel like it, and staying put when we need to rest. The journey to bring us to where we are now has been a bit rough with the difficult roads. I am starting to think that the clutch may need attention soon. When we were stopped at a checkpoint the Gendarmes demanded to see, ‘licence, insurance oh and by the way your tyre is flat’.

I found myself changing a wheel on a very uneven surface in the heat of the day. Surrounded by about 20 ladies who with bowls of fruit on their head crowded round me trying to get me to buy their oranges. They were completely oblivious to the notion that I may have other things on my mind. It was a surreal scene and the colour scheme must have been odd as they were dressed in a riot of colours and I was bright pink and shiny as I tried to pass between them with tools, jack and wheel. Add to the mix, the drab green of the gendarmes  who stood on the sidelines, unstinting in the amount of advice they would offer.  Needless to say I got a bit grumpy.  When I eventually got the tyre to a repair shop it turned out that the tube had been replaced with a smaller one that was filled with holes.

Football.

I have little interest in the game of football but I am truly fascinated with the way that Football is such an important social force, in a way that I find really heart-warming. There seems to be several levels. One is that nearly everyone we see is interested in Manchester united, Chelsea or Barcelona.  Then there is the general interest in all major football games, satellite football channels broadcast in every village and community. Most villages have a blackboard posted with the fixtures displayed.  The only thing that makes this surprising is when does anyone get the time because they are all playing football on the pitches that are everywhere. These are mostly makeshift pitches but almost always with regulation size goal posts.  One day we were walking out in the bush, a long way from anywhere  as we walked out into a clearing I was amazed to see a proper football field. They even have pitches on the roundabouts.

What really appeals to me is that hardly anyone has any money here so it all about the sport. Long may it remain.

Just at the moment the Africa cup of Nations is being played off  and it seems the whole world is glued to it. As you may tell it has even got my attention. As I write I learn that Mali has just smacked the botty of South Africa in a penalty shoot out. Come on you Malians!

As we have driven away from Kindia We find that the road is once again dreadful. I think that, rather than grumbling about it in a general way it worth taking some time to speak in a bit more detail so that you, dear reader, may have a feel of how it is here.

The first thing is to know that for us it is a discomfort, a nuisance and something to bear and of course we had a choice about coming here. For the people of Africa as they try to make their way through life they have to live with these kind of problems day in and day out.

What kinds of roads are there?

                 Route Nacional (N1) to the border

                 We  covered 45 kms in 4 hours

                    Fording the N1 to Cote D'Ivore

Dust and more dust

Well, first of all there is a strong movement of various Chinese interests to improve the infrastructure in Africa. This is because they are most keen to exploit the minerals that are locked away here. So they are building roads among other things. This in turn has prompted others  to compete. Here in Guinee, for example, Rio Tinto is incredibly active as they work with the government to exploit the huge Iron ore deposits.  So there is a lot of improvement taking place.  Roads are being upgraded but there is much still to be done.

So you can often drive long distances on perfect tarmac roads.  Then suddenly it’s gone!

By the way as I write Ping is listening to the Archers Omnibus on a BBC download.

So we find sometimes that although fairly flat we are driving on those dust roads that I have spoken of so often.  It might just as easily be patches of loose fine sand. If you hit one of these your wheels sink in and all momentum is instantly lost and you are very often stuck sometime you are stuck a bit and sometimes you are stuck a lot. Either way it stopped being fun weeks ago.

The most common is where there has been tarmac but it has not been maintained and the potholes appear.  So you have to navigate along the blacktop avoiding the holes, which can vary enormously in size and frequency. Sometimes there is much more hole than tarmac sometimes the hole make a bit of a bump and sometimes you have to measure the size. If it is big, you stop, get out the truck go on foot to the edge of the hole and you drop a stone in and count the seconds till you hear it hit bottom that way you know how deep it is. I did hear one description that some holes are big enough to hide a fridge in. So that is potholes, for now at least.

Then sometimes the sandy surface gets worn or washed away and what is left is the bedrock. This can be a real trial as it can go for miles in unrelenting fashion. Sometimes it is the so called washboard surface where as the name suggests it is a kind of stony corrugated surface. This can take out the fillings from your teeth and will loosen every nut, bolt and screw on the van.  The other surface is where water coarses have formed valleys and gaps, these can cause violent undulations that are hard to foresee and can cause severe jolting. This can go on all day and every day. Can be a real trial.

So there you have it just a taste of what working Africans put up with daily.

So back to our most recent leg of the journey.

We have driven on some difficult roads and have been somewhat undermined by the way that cash is a bit difficult to get and evaporates in the midday sun.

We had a rather odd and really quite difficult adventure when we went to buy diesel.

It seemed that the pumps were not working and we were overwhelmed by people arriving with plastic cans and syphoning fuel into our tank.

I only needed half a tank. Ping went to pay and amid the usual struggle of working out how may zeros there should be, we drove off and she realised that we had been badly overcharged. So we went back and argued.  They insisted it was correct. And I was beginning to believe that it was our mistake when the man said he had given us 80 litres. Not only was my tank almost half full before we started, it does in fact only hold 50. So I returned to smelling a rat. It all got a bit heated. So, I started to pull away Ping gently relieved the man of a wad of cash that he was holding  and we made a run for it.

One of them came after us on a motor bike then joined by a couple more and a furious argument ensued. I stated loud and clear many times that I was going and I would report to the Gendarmerie in the next town. Interestingly there was one man who appeared to be part of all this, but he kept repeating in half French  and half English ‘don’t give them money just go’ he was very keen that we took his advice. In the end, I felt that the threat was high enough that I took off again followed for a while by two motor bikes but they gave up. We went 20 km down the road, and reported to the Gendarme there. He wrote down a few details and sent us on our way. He was really sympathetic but it was pretty clear that would be the end of the matter.

After we totted it all up the fuel that I had been given and the ‘voluntary’ refund that Ping secured, we were still about £40 down but we didn’t have a fist fight and we escaped with our dignity so I can live with that.

We had a rotten drive for the rest of the day and eventually stopped at a recommended hotel which was rubbish. No electricity, water from the well in buckets.  We agreed a price, he asked for the money up front so he could buy petrol for the generator.  I paid, and he asked for more. I could not understand the French but he kept talking about his Grandfather and his little brother. In the end I got cross, normally I would want to make sure that I was not misunderstanding first but on this occasion I pointed out that we are tired travellers who have stopped for the night,  we have paid the agreed price for the room, there can be no more complications  and I gave it to him big time! I wasn’t going to be had twice in the same day.

The next morning we left.  We went to the bank; we were able to get enough cash for our journey and to fill up again. We drove to a hotel where we had been invited.  We have been allowed to clean the van which is horribly dusty and dirty, do a few repairs and I have now adjusted the clutch. I was getting concerned that we may need a new one. The hotel people have been superb; they cater for the road building contractors so have incredibly not charged us. We have gone from quite worried, to quite happy and in the morning we drive to the Ivory Coast border.

random picture of Ping with Simona, whose hotel we stayed in Conakry

I should by now have posted this but due to internet access problems it has not been possible. Found ourselves listening to the World Service last nite. The semi final between Burkino Faso and Ghana.

We are parked in the grounds of a hotel on the hill above the city of Man.  Man is home to a significant portion of the Burkino Faso Diaspora.

As we listened to the game it became a fantastic experience. Every time someone scored or did something clever for Burkino a huge roar came up to us from all over the town below it was just incredible. Although I have no allegiance I could not help but get really excited as the game went into extra time with a draw and then to penalties. In the end, Burkino triumphed and the racket from the town was deafening and went on for  hours. Just incredible.