February 28 :: Kafountine, Senegal

February 28 :: Kafountine, Senegal :: 0km / 3411km total

I got some spokes replaced on my rear wheel this morning, a procedure that took way too long and has left me worried about the condition of the wheel. However, a lazy day here in tropical Kafountine took the edge off... but tomorrow I ride back into Gambia to prepare for Friday's flight to Sierra Leone.

February 27 :: Kafountine, Senegal

February 27 :: Kafountine, Senegal :: 92km / 3411km total

I rode up to the airport this morning to lock in my Sierra Leone flight for Friday, then turned South, bound for the border. The road was very bad, for the most part, but this Canadian slipped easily through the border and in the midday heat sweltered my way to Kafountine.

Kafountine is in the troubled Casamance region of Senegal, but I've received reliable information that the road into Kafountine has never seen problems, so there we go. Kafountine is one paved road and numerous tire-sucking sandy tracks, and it took me a while to get a decent hotel for the night. Expensive internet, a short blog entry, have a good day!

February 26 :: Kartong, Gambia

February 26 :: Kartong, Gambia :: 12km / 3319km total

I didn't go anywhere today, why bother when the waves are up and the treehouse is comfy. I rode a little around the area, went swimming, got knocked around by the waves, too much fun. The Germans left early this morning, but I'll catch them tomorrow in Kafountine.

February 25 :: Kartong, Gambia

February 25 :: Kartong, Gambia :: 40km / 3307km total

The German cycling group left early this morning, bound for the same place as me... Kartong, the end of Gambia, reportedly a beautiful place. I waited til 10 a.m. then left, hammering along with a Harmattan tailwind. Halfway to Kartong a small group of local racing cyclists joined me, and the six of us rocketed South. Soon enough we caught the Germans, and now 11 cyclists travelled along together. Lots of fun, but it had to end as we came to Kartong.

The lodge we stayed at was packed due to a neighbouring lodge having burnt down yesterday. Yesterday also happened to be national Cleaning Day, where people were burning all sorts of garbage. I think someone got a little carried away, and byebye Footsteps Eco-Lodge. Anyways, I slept in a thatch-roof treehouse, virtually beachfront, man, doesnt get much better than this. Its not quite Thailand, but its damn close.

February 24 :: Sukuta, Gambia

February 24 :: Sukuta, Gambia :: 0km / 3267km total

A small group of very friendly German cyclists flew in late last night from Frankfurt and are off tomorrow for a few weeks of cycle touring, led by a German guide who has a small house/hotel in Kafoutine, Senegal, just across the border in the Casamance region. She has lived there for years and gave me volumes of information on the political and safety situation of troubled Casamance. Basically, the route from here, Sukuta, to Kafoutine is safe (only 80km), but the rest of Casamance may or may not be dicey. Particularly with tomorrow's election, which is proving to be a very emotional event for the Senegalese. The Germans are headed down to the Southwest tip of Gambia, tomorrow, and they may just have one more person in their group trailing along...

I spent much the day walking into the tourist hub of Kololi for internet, along the beach, etc. Either with or without the Germans I will leave tomorrow, headed for the beach strip Southwest of here, and see how the elections go over.

A Spanish overlander guide who knows Sierra Leone (and the rest of West Africa) very well has told me that Sierra Leone is, in his opinion, the safest country in the region. For now, that is - I've learned that politics and security situations in Africa change dramatically, and quickly. There IS a flight down there on March 2 that I can take, which would give me enough time to pedal upcountry towards a remote national park that has true African wild character - hippos, cheetahs, etc etc. Hmmmmm. We'll see how riding with the Germans goes over.

February 23 :: Sukuta, Gambia

February 23 :: Sukuta, Gambia :: 42km / 3267km total

I rode over to the airport in the morning to check on the situation regarding boxing my bike and ticket options to Freetown, expecting problems and hardships. Shockingly I was doubly happy to find that a) the airport has bike boxes, FREE, and b) my ticket is open, giving me the option of modifying my March 6 flight date, if I want, for FREE. Yay! I pedalled back to the campground compound in a very good mood, and went for a long walk to a nearby National Park that has original jungle vegetation and monkeys.

The campground served up a fantastic dinner and I spent the night chatting with other overlanders... most of the residents of the campground have driven overland from Europe to here, along the same route as me. Their stories and stories of other people they've met are fantastic, and make me very happy I'm NOT going to Guinea - tourists caught unawares in politically-troubled Guinea have been worked over by the military in the last few weeks, in some cases robbed of thousands of dollars. One of the overlanders spent 5 days in a Senegalese jail... long story, but basically the police saw how rich he was, dreamt up some charges, and waited for him to break. Somehow he got word through to his embassy (Austrian) and managed to get out, and fled the country here into Gambia. Even relatively-stable Senegal is SO messed up and corrupt, its hard to believe. Ya, if I think about coming back to Africa, I'm going to be REALLY CHOOSY when picking countries to visit. There is a safe, stable belt of countries down the Southeast part of Africa... but they're not 'in season' for cycling during the Canadian Winter, so it will probably be quite a while until I return here.

February 22 :: Sukuta, Gambia

February 22 :: Sukuta, Gambia :: 40km / 3225km total

Up early, at the Sierra Leone High Commision at 8:30 a.m. with all paperwork ready to go, cash in hand. But this is Africa, and the man responsible for issuing visas decided not to come to work in the morning. So I waited. For 3 hours. At 11:30 he strolled casually in, completely unconcerned, took one look at myself and the Africans waiting, mumbled something about 'lunchtime', turned around, and walked back out the door. Out he went to get some food. 30 minutes later I was in his office, trying hard to suppress my disdain for this man - after all, I have $1000 in paid flights that hinge on his issuing me a visa to Sierra Leone. It took him all of 5 minutes to copy the information I had written on the application form onto the visa, relieve me of $100US, and paste the visa into my passport. Something a well-trained 10 year old could do, much less any of the other 5 embassy staff. But he was the power man, hierarchy firmly in place, and only he could do this delicate task. Forget whining about Western agricultural policies undermining African countries, moaning about trade debts, etc... with idiotic bureacracy like this African countries shoot themselves in the foot, no matter what foreign countries do or don't do.

I ran back to my hotel, sneaking out after the noon deadline for paying for a new day, and headed to the coast. I was dismayed to find that the holiday strip was completely overdeveloped with hotels seamlessly blocking off the beach and grossly overinflated prices for everything. Not to mention the usual tout hassle that comes with such areas. Well, only one place to go, a place that had been advertizing itself all through the Sahara - Sukuta Camping, an overlanders mecca. A nice room, $10CDN, all good, and I re-met an English couple that I had initially met in Zebrabar, Senegal.

Tomorrow I'll resolve the logistics of boxing the bike for flight and getting both of us to the airport, only about 10km from here. Between now and my March 6 flight I'll probably dip down into the Casamance region of Senegal, I've heard some positive things about some seaside towns just across the border.

February 21 :: Banjul, Gambia

February 21 :: Banjul, Gambia :: 113km / 3185km total

The poor roads continued today, but I'm not complaining... I wish I had more roads to ride on this trip, but Guinea's civil strife says otherwise. My good friend the Harmattan ushered me South to the border today... Senegal, you've been great, but its time to move on. Leaving Senegal and entering Gambia was just too easy with my magical passport, you know, the one with 3 A's, one C, one N, and one D. I know other passport holders can have big problems at this border, not to mention many other borders I've crossed on this and previous bike trips. In so many ways we are so, so lucky to live where we do.

The pothole games continued through Gambia, and the kids at the side of the road are the same as their Senegalese bretheren... except instead of the incessant 'donnez-moi un cadeau!' its now 'give me money!'. I'm still known as a toubab, apparently my toubabness doesn't change when you leave French West Africa. Gambia, or 'The Gambia' as it is officially known is a former British colony, so they speak English here and I can't say I'm unhappy with that. It'll be a few days until I stop greeting the occasional person in French, though, you just get used to it.

After about an hour of riding I reached the River Gambia, and bought my ferry ticket to cross. Normally I enjoy ferry crossings but this one was madness, with little organization, brutally long lineups for cars, and no one directing anything. I snuck through it all behind a group of travellers and their baggage man and got on the boat, no one checking tickets or telling me where to put the bike. This ferry is known for pickpockets and I could see them, brushing past people, trailing an arm, searching. Lots of eyes on me, of course, and my eyes were locked on my bike and bags, my arm cradling my wallet. Under searing midday heat, it was not a fun couple of hours.

Banjul [Gambia's capital] itself is almost just as mad, the main street outside of my hotel clogged with the long vehicle lineup for the ferry. Apparently it sometimes takes days to get a vehicle across, either way. Fixers roam the street, yelling at drivers, taking bribes, but keeping some sense of order, presumably. I raced over to the Sierra Leone embassy to get my visa, ah, too late, in the morning. $100US! Ouch.

le 20 Fevrier :: Foundiougne, Senegal

le 20 Fevrier :: Foundiougne, Senegal :: 8km / 3080km total

Je m'excuse mon grammaire. Apres mon petit-dejeuner a mon hotel je cherche les fruits et l'eau a la marche. Sur the route je voir les coureurs, vas-y! vas-y! Mais il y a un jour de repos pour moi, et je viens a mon chambre a dormir.

Apres midi je viens a la piscine a Hotel Foundiougne pour le soleil, et pour voir mon livre a planifier mon temps a Gambie. Ce soir, je manger avec mes amis de France, mais a demain je partir.

February 19 :: Foundiougne, Senegal

February 19 :: Foundiougne, Senegal :: 91km / 3072km total

A flat ride inland from Mbour under a strong crosswind had me being blown all over [and just about off] the road whenever a big truck went by. Imagine, you're leaning left into the wind to keep properly upright, then suddenly there's a 'wall' beside you cutting off that wind, sucking you towards the centre of the road... and the 'wall' itself. So I gripped the handlebars tightly, gritted my teeth, and dealt with it. With my overall trip pace relaxing now due to the problems in Guinea, I felt strong and was able to push hard towards Fatick, 64km away.

At Fatick I picked up some oranges and turned the corner, flying South under the same wind, now at my back. Munching away as I pedalled, life was pleasant as the road took me into a mangrove river estuary kind of place. The road surface deteriorated so badly that I passed a truck that was faring far worse from the potholes than I was. For me it was almost like a game... with no traffic in either direction I could zoom all over the road, avoiding potholes, almost like playing a video game at 30km/h, although the 'Game Over' would not have been pleasant and occasionally there was a CRUNCH as a pothole got me.

A short ferry ride brought me to Foundiougne. As the ferry came into port there was a HUGE crowd, rallying for the incumbent president in the upcoming election [Feb 25]. The crowd was surging forwards towards the ferry as I disembarked, and the energy and hustle made me nervous. Spat out the other side of the crowd in one piece I made my way over to a pleasant little hotel.

My usual modus operandi when I get to the day's destination town is to take a quick shower, then set out on foot to check the place out, particularly with respect to eating options. I usually include the upscale hotel, if there is one, because sometimes I can cash in on buffets, etc. Well, at Hotel Foundiougne I noticed a nice pool and lots of other tourists. This was completely unexpected since, if you look at the map, Foundiougne is an out-of-the-way place... I hadn't expected to meet ANY tourists here. What was more, they were all in remarkably good shape, and yes, a very high percentage of females... whats going on here? Turns out it was a French running group vacation, a 1 week womens-only running-oriented excursion to Senegal. Mmmm hmmm. Runners, people of the same ilk as yours truly. Lots of them. Well, it didn't take long to meet them, and have dinner, all good. Unfortunately my broken French was better than their English, which kept the conversations light and simple. Definitely completely unexpected, but thats one of the things I love most about 3rd world travel... the unknown, the twists and turns.

February 18 :: Mbour, Senegal

February 18 :: Mbour, Senegal :: 10km / 2981km total

The night scene in Saly was a bit of a bust although I did get acquainted with French disco music... have you ever heard French disco music? Don't worry, there's no rush to go out and buy a cd of it... you are missing nothing. Either way, a late 9:30am wakeup left me with little cycling time before the furnace set in, but I decided to move a bit down the coast to a more relaxed, Senegalese atmosphere. Mbour is a fishing village on the edge of the tourist mecca of Saly, and I found a pleasant little hotel. There are tourists here as well, mostly daytripping out from Saly to get a glimpse of Africa. I walked the beach back towards Saly, to the outer fringe of the tourist strip, for a fantastic shrimp curry lunch.

All through this trip when local people ask me where I'm from, and I answer 'Canada', they immediately reply 'oh, yes! Quebec? Montreal?' When I say 'Toronto', you know, the biggest and most important city in Canada, every single time a glazed look crosses their face, and they've never heard of it (well, one or two savvy touts in Marrakech had heard of Toronto). Their unfamiliarity with English Canada is not really that surprising, considering that i) friends/relatives that have emigrated (escaped?) to Canada would head towards Quebec, being Francophone like themselves, and ii) my hunch is that a disproportionate number of Canadian tourists, businessmen, and NGO workers in West Africa are from Quebec, given the language advantage that they would have compared to, say, me. I also don't wonder if there's some sort of bias in their education as relates to geography, with a legacy of French rule.

The past few days in Dakar and Saly are starting to wear upon my nerves regarding touts and countless insincere conversations that invariably lead towards a shop, restaurant, or flat-out asking of cash. Up until now such incidents were far and few between... even Marrakech and Fes were not bad for this, under Morocco's new and strict tourist-friendly policies. I can handle, say, up to four conversations per day, every day where people just want my money, but 50 to 100 is too much. So now I just walk around with a dumb look on my face (easy to do?) when random people speak French at me, I'm only speaking English... except when I need food or a hotel! If English-speaking Gambia is bad for this I may have to switch, speaking only French...

February 17 :: Saly-Portugal, Senegal

February 17 :: Saly-Portugal, Senegal :: 87km / 2971km total

I apologize for the recent lack of pics... internet in Senegal has either been slow or expensive... or both.

Dakar last night was pretty much a bust... I walked around to the 'hotspots' which were really nothing more than bars acting as pimps. All the patrons were Senegalese, which is not a bad thing, unless all of the women in the bar are working. Enter a toubab, peeking in the door... you get the picture. The streets also had my Spidey senses tingling, and I walked with a slowly swiveling head, keeping an eye on all action around me, staying in lit areas. The only other non-American city I've been to that I felt danger like this (out of SE Asia, South Asia, the Middle East, and West Africa) was Athens, Greece. The only plus of the night was I hit upon a bank machine that accepted my bank card - a rarity in Africa. The bank machine had not one, not two, not three, but four security guards.

So early, up and out, pedalling hard to escape Dakar and get back to rural Senegal. The traffic out of the city was a bit lighter this Saturday morning than yesterday's ride in, so I only smoked about 15 packs of cigarettes rather than 30. Still enough to sting the eyes and have me coughing and spitting. 45km along I turned off the Dakar-Thies road and ahhhh, how pleasant, green and birds and quiet roads. My map of Senegal has proved to be poor and it led me onto a sandy track where it showed a paved major road. All good, I had plenty of time, so I walked a few kilometres, pushing the bike along, past tiny villages that very rarely see foreigners. Eventually I came to a river and had to hail a boatman to paddle me across... to where the paved road resumed.

Saly-Portugal is basically Hawaii or Thailand or any of those places, and you're going to hate me when I get the pics uploaded. I found a cheap room and wandered among the tourist resorts. The problem with these kind of places is that the beer is always ice-cold, cheap, and a welcome change from the limited drink choices on this trip. So 'wandered' in the above sentence should probably be replaced with 'staggered'. The beach itself is not great, though, but I found a great chicken curry, ya, could be a few days here. Again we'll see what the nightlife has to offer. The lure of Gambia down the road is that the locals speak English there, which probably will influence the nationalities visiting. Its not that I don't like non-English speakers, its just easier. Being in French West Africa has made me appreciate how easy it was to get around India last year, where English is broadly spoken.

February 16 :: Dakar, Senegal

February 16 :: Dakar, Senegal :: 73km / 2884km total

The most unpleasant ride of my trip. A traffic-choked, dieselly, cramped and, at times, dangerous road into Dakar. Madness. Navigation was tricky, too: I had to use dead reckoning for parts of the route since road signs and names were scarce. The only nice part of the trip was that a local cyclist (riding an Italian-made carbon fibre road bike) rode with me for about 20km, chatting away.

Off the bike Dakar was little better, and takes its place among the bottom of my list of "capital cities that I've been to". Its pretty much opposite to the rest of Senegal - cramped, dirty, aggressive, with a seedy undertone. I did what had to be done here, quickly - air ticket from Gambia to Sierra Leone (hopping over Guinea, a country now under martial law)... changed some money, and I checked out the market for shea butter (nothing to get excited about). Sure, some good food and drinks, but unless the nightlife proves to be exceptional I'm outta here tomorrow.

February 15 :: Thies, Senegal

February 15 :: Thies, Senegal :: 123km / 2811km total

A very early start for a mad dash down to Thies, racing against the Sun. For the first time this trip I really pushed the pace, willing to suffer a bit from the effort in lieu of getting brutalized later by the heat. I could barely see the road as I started out from Louga at 7 a.m. Eating tangerines as I rode I pushed very hard, eyeing the rising Sun nervously to my left as I headed South.

Before noon I rolled into Thies with sore legs but happily having beaten out the worst of the brutal heat. Time to look for a room... I've been very disappointed with my Lonely Planet West Africa guidebook, and now rarely use it when searching out accomodation. Sure enough I quickly found a great place - here in Senegal the prices are a bit higher but the value is fantastic - a clean room with 2 beds, Western toilet and shower... $22CDN. The shower is always cold but when its 35 degrees C out and your body is still pumping out the heat and calories from a 5 hour ride, who cares. Just down the street is a well-stocked supermarket and I found a restaurant serving chicken curry! Sure, its not Lahore Tikka House, but man it was nice to have something different.

There's really only one thing to do during the crush of the midday heat, and so it was quickly back to my room for a nappy. I had blown a second spoke on my rear wheel during the mad dash here this morning, and since Thies had lots of people zipping around on Western bicycles I sought out a mechanic late in the afternoon. I carry extra spokes but not the tools or skill to build a wheel. I was directed to The Wizard who, in about 20 minutes, respoked and trued (straightened) my rear wheel. I paid him double his asking price, and walked away very happy and $2 poorer.

Its election time here in Senegal, I believe the election is on Saturday. I've been seeing rallies, speeches, and placards all over since coming into the country. I've talked to a few people about it, they are quite nonchalant, everyone is happy and smiling, and it seems as if the election will be relatively smooth and hassle-free. That being said I'm glad I'll be in Dakar during the election... because this IS Africa, and you never know.

February 14 :: Louga, Senegal

February 14 :: Louga, Senegal :: 51km / 2688km total

Well, I had a choice today. Riding out of Zebrabar I could either backtrack 18km towards St Louis and pick up Highway 2 towards Dakar, or I could take a dirt road 17km South and pick up a secondary road to meet Highway 2 at Louga, a distance savings of about 35km but on a road of questionable ridability. When making decisions like this I usually opt for "adventure", so South I went, into the unknown.

The first 5km flew by and I was confidently predicting a big day, but then all went to hell. The road degenerated into sand, literally, that not even a mountain bike could've ridden. Oh well, I had plenty of time. Off the bike, on went the sandals, and I began to push. The sandy track divided and on the advice of the locals I soon found myself walking along the beach, the easiest way to progress through the sand. It went on like this for quite a while, and I started wondering how long my arms could handle the strain of urging the bike forwards. Just in time I spied the end of a gravel road, all good. Back on the bike the road soon turned paved, then East into the Harmattan. 32km of that, and just after 11am, I was in Louga, and I had to call it a day (heat).

Weather and landscape dictate the pace and nature of cycling trips, and you just have to "roll" with it. In Senegal I can't do long, steady days anymore, like I could through the desert, since it gets too hot from about 11:30am to 4pm. So, now its on the road by 7am for an allout hammerfest till 11:30, then calling it a day.

February 13 :: Zebrabar, Senegal

February 13 :: Zebrabar, Senegal :: 0km / 2637km total

Another relaxing day... walked into town, went to the market, saw some birds, chatted with other overlanders, avoided the midday heat, and went for a swim. Streeeeeeetch, ya. Life is good. But back on the road tomorrow.

February 12 :: Zebrabar, Senegal

February 12 :: Zebrabar, Senegal :: 25km / 2637km total

A quick early morning ride had me at Zebrabar for breakfast. Zebrabar is a unique place... marketed towards Sahara overlanders, it has both campground facilities for vehicles and huts for people like me. At the central bar/eating area, you grab whatever drinks you want, whenever you want, and add it to your tally. Its located inside a national park (on an estuary - perfect place for migrating birds to pause enroute), and the food is great.

I spent most of the day chatting with other overlanders, British, Dutch, Belgian, Spanish, and French. I was surprised to hear that all of them had problems with the police and were handing out bribes quite frequently. A big difference between cycling and driving.

February 11 :: St. Louis, Senegal

February 11 :: St. Louis, Senegal :: 102km / 2612km total

A very easy ride to the coast today down a flat flat road. What a pleasure it is to be cycling here... good road, friendly people, little shops every 20km or so, very light and respectful traffic. The only thing preventing a perfect score being issued is the heat... by 8:30 a.m. I'm already down to my lightest of riding clothing, by 11:30 a.m. I'm beginning to suffer. But hey, I'll take it, its great to be here. Its nice to see wildlife: today, lots of birds and a stocky warthog. And water! Rivers! I feel tempted to jump in, but the microbes in the water would be hazardous to my tenderass North American upbringing. Every few km or so I hear "toubab!" chirped out from children roadside... "white person" said in a "hey look there goes a..." kind of way. Very cute.

St. Louis is the old capital of Senegal, built by the French. Its a heritage site now, and very much a tourist centre. Other than French-kind-of buildings laid out in a grid pattern I don't really see what the fuss is about. It feels odd to be in the presence of other tourists again... I've seen only a smattering of tourists since leaving Marrakech. Sure, there were the RV's (which have been absent since Morocco), but its different seeing tourists in person than on the road. I treated myself to a fantastic Vietnamese meal... $11CDN! Outrageous! But SO GOOD.

I'm probably going to have to change my route plan due to recent problems in Guinea. The short story is that a month ago Guinea's unions enforced a nationwide strike to protest the dictatorship of Conte, an ailing senile diabetic who apparently has "lost it" and has little grasp on much but, of course, power. After a week or so of rioting, killing, etc. Conte announced that he would appoint a new Prime Minister, something that the unions demanded. OK, all good, partying in the streets of Guinea, etc. Yesterday Conte announced that one of his right-hand men would be the new PM, one of the corrupt old guard, promising no change, and the unions balked, announcing strikes to resume on Monday (tomorrow). Sigh. Rioting resumed, people killed everyday, etc. Not a good time to visit a country. The strikes really hurt the people, people living from day to day who suddenly have their meagre paychecks withheld, and it forces them to desparate measures... enter a toubab, an ATM with a little arm-twisting... ummm, no. Logistically things are ok, since flights from Gambia to Sierra Leone (hopping over Guinea, basically) are cheap, around $160US one way... and I save about $60US on visas by missing Guinea and little Guinea-Bissau! The question is... what do I do with the extra few weeks? I hear the beach calling...

February 10 :: Richard Toll, Senegal

February 10 :: Richard Toll, Senegal :: 118km / 2510km total

Crossing the Senegal River

Ice cream all around for everyone!!

Camels on their way to market

Hello from Senegal!!!

Up and on the road properly early today, riding through the cool morning air, not going to make the same mistake twice! Out of Tiguent the land quickly began to roll, much like the drumlins and river valleys of farmland Southern Ontario in profile, but of course different in almost every other way. Still desert, the Harmattan really picked up today giving the sky an orange hue all around. This was not a good thing for me as the final 35km to the border turned Eastwards into the teeth of the storm. A very difficult sandy, gritty, slow finale of Mauritania.

But eventually the border town of Rosso, Mauritania appeared through the haze and I pulled in for a big plate of spaghetti and numerous drinks. Still spitting out sand I changed my money and braced for the border police. This border is notorious for hassles ('exit taxes') and yes, the policeman made his attempt with me. The trick is to get hold of your passport after he's stamped it, while still in 'discussion'. After that he's pretty much got nothing to go on, since there is no such thing as an exit tax at any border that I've ever crossed.

Onto the pirogue (see pics) for the journey across the first river I've seen in about 1500km... to Senegal! How beautiful to see green again. Rosso, Senegal had no accomodation so I set out to cycle the 18km to the nearest town of Richard Toll. I was in an extremely good mood and didn't even bother putting my cleated cycling shoes back on, just lazing along in my sandals.

Imediately I loved Senegal... the cultivated fields, the friendly easygoing people, the beautiful road. It reminded me of all the good things about India without the one main bad thing of the Subcontinent... the road here was extremely lightly trafficked. Also a dramatic contrast to Mauritania is the women here... they are not sequestered away, they are very out and about, brightly dressed and smiling, seemingly more on equal footing here. Although Senegal is still a predominantly Muslim country it already seems to be a very watered down, more easy-going take on the religion. At stops when groups form around me asking the usual nationality, age etc. questions women are right in there with the men, asking away, a huge change. All in all a great start to sub-Saharan Africa.

February 9 :: Tiguent, Mauritania

February 9 :: Tiguent, Mauritania :: 108km / 2392km total

Downtown Tiguent

Downtown Tiguent. Not out of the desert yet, but trees starting to appear.

A late 8:30 a.m. start that I would soon pay for in full, I navigated the roundabouts and rushhour traffic of Nouakchott on my way South out of the city. I felt... great! Three days of rest has completely rejuvenated me and the pedaling was flat and easy, to boot. South of Nouakchott is far more populated than the North, complete with basic accomodation every 30km or so, which really helped to take the stress off of riding.

The temperature rocketed skywards and by 11:30 I began to suffer from it. The forecast had been for 37C and it seems the weatherman got it right. First comes the mild headache, followed by mild nausea and the inability to eat. I bought water for the sole purpose of dousing my head every 20 minutes, but thats just a bandaid and at 100km I started looking for a place to stay. Luckily a large town appeared coupled with the largest auberge (hotel) in this stretch, so that was it. As per usual in the desert I was the only tourist in town for the night.

After the usual bucket water shower I wandered out into the heat for search of food. I gambled on a plate of meat (of undetermined source) and onions, tasty but scary... I loaded up on toilet paper before going to sleep, fully expecting the worst. But the only battle I had to fight at night was with ants, which infested my room. Fortunately they detest insect repellent as much as mosquitos do, so it was in a DEET-smelling haze I fell asleep.

February 8:: Nouakchott, Mauritania

February 8:: Nouakchott, Mauritania :: 0km / 2284km total

Final rest day here in Nouakchott. My lower lip and sunburned nose are almost healed, or at least healed enough to be ready to ride. I spent much time yesterday and today shoring up my route down through Senegal, Gambia, Guinea-Bissau, and Guinea, and I've decided to skip Senegal's capital, Dakar. There's not a lot to really see or do in Dakar and its not reported to be the most amiable of cities, and quite pricey to boot. I will spend a bit more time in Gambia, beaching it and picking up the onward visas there that I was going to get in Dakar. Lots of sleep today, good food, my legs are humming and anxious to go.

February 7:: Nouakchott, Mauritania

February 7:: Nouakchott, Mauritania :: 0km / 2284km total

Another rest day here in Nouakchott. My legs are back to normal and ready to go, but my lower lip is still healing from sunburn/windburn from the past 10 days. Also my butt is sore, from the big mileage of crossing most of the Sahara with no rest days. I'd like to get back on the road tomorrow, but I may need 1 more day here. Nouackchott itself is uninspring but there are great food and drinks, and I'm well settled into my hotel and comfy room.

Its about 550km (4 days) to Dakar, Senegal. The border with Senegal is about 200km away, and the border pretty much signals the end of the Sahara. During my ride out of here I'll be witnessing the transition from Sahara to Sahel, the dry savannah grasslands that are typical of much of West Africa, or Africa as a whole. I'm looking forward to this aspect of the ride, and getting the desert over and done with!

I went to the market today and it was pretty shocking. I had heard from other travellers that Africa can be even dirtier and poorer than India, and pre-trip I had a hard time believing that. Well, I'm a believer now. I didn't take pics - you have to be careful, sometimes, taking pics in crowds, and pulling out a camera that's worth what some locals make in 2 or 3 years is not always a good idea. Anyways, the filth, the smell, the dead animal parts strewn around, the despair... yep. I stopped speaking French and Arabic so as to not get hassled as much, but I can't blame the vendors for trying to get a sale from me, and I try to be polite, which isn't always easy. The people here are great, really, and its very very safe... but not a city or country that I would recommend to most people for a vacation.

Sahara pics page

Flooding from the unseasonal rains causing problems on the road

A great room and night in Boujdour, Morocco

Endless Sahara

My first gas station night... sleeping in the coomon prayer room

Gambia this way

My second gas station night, not so lucky.

Last day in Morocco








Road intersection, first one in 500km

Shower time. Inside the bathroom, with a bucket, stooping under a roof thats under 6 feet high (auberge Haiballah)

Auberge Haiballah. Pretty desolate.

Endless Sahara. In Mauritania, during the 300km day.









Nouakchott. A dusty, sandy city of about a million people. Not particularly pretty... this pic is of one of the nicest streets.

February 6:: Nouakchott, Mauritania

February 6:: Nouakchott, Mauritania :: 0km / 2284km total

Lots of eating (food here is great and varied... even better than Marrakech). Lots of drinking (all types of juice available). Lots of sleeping. Lots of internet... catching up. OK time to sleep again. Gnight.

February 5:: Nouakchott, Mauritania

February 5:: Nouakchott, Mauritania :: 300km / 2284km total

I woke late, tired, leery of the wind howling outside my hut. I didn't look forward to another day fighting it. Wandering groggily out onto the open plains, I was surprised to feel it strong... and in the right direction. Already being 8 a.m. I threw everything together and got onto the road.

The road here in Mauritania is new, paved, flat and dead smooth... and the wind pushed me along it easily at above 30km per hour. About one hour into the ride, I realized that with some discipline and a bit of suffering (ok a lot of suffering) I might be able to make Nouakchott by dark. A cozy bed, a shower, all types of food and drink... the allure was too much to stand, so I spent some time laying out a game plan and setting myself mentally to the task.

Long distance touring cycling (particularly solo) is as much mental as physical, sometimes moreso. Sure, you have to be in good cycling shape, but to put in the big days takes more than leg muscles. You have to want it and believe in it, and every day in the Sahara for me has been previewed in my mind the night before, with whatif options worked out, food and drink timings set, etc. For the shot at Nouakchott I broke it down into 10 min intervals... cover 5km every 10min, and I would make it. Just keep knocking off those distance markers, dont get too excited or burnt out. Stops for drinks, clothing changes, or pee breaks had to be extremely short and rushed.

The wind was strong, and stayed that way. Many 5km intervals I knocked off in 8 minutes or less, around 37km per hour. About half of the ride was in a sandstorm... the wind whipped up the sand from both sides of the road and blew it down the road, with me. Roadside huts were closed, no one wanting to venture into the storm, but theres no storm relative to you if you are riding with it... sand lazily swirled around my feet and ankles. Only when I stopped did I get pelted and pricked with sand particles, as well as the few kilometres that the road would swing sideways to the storm, dead East or dead West.

100km from Nouakchott I knew I had it, even though I was beginning to suffer. Arms, shoulders, hands, neck (not to mention legs) and most of all, my butt, was taking a beating. Not only from today but from the accumulated wear and tear of nonstop 6 to 10 hour days of cycling from Laayoune. I kept the pace strong to the 40km mark but then fell apart (5pm). With sunset at 7pm I was fine, just ekeing my way forward, still with a following wind. Multiple police stops near town were annoying, and I think one guy was one the verge of trying for a bribe as he hmmed and hawwed over my passport, but Im well equipped for, and experienced with, such nonsense. Right at sunset I entered downtown Nouakchott.

I have to write to Lonely Planet because their Nouakchott map is completely inaccurate and I was lost as I searched for my target hotel. OK, maybe its because I was semidelirious from the efforts of an extraordinary ride, or maybe some of both. Either way, distance was added, bringing me to the 300km mark for the day. This ties my longest day ever, equal to the ride from Tobermory to Toronto that I did a few years back.

When I was shown the room my eyes glazed over at the sight of a flush toilet and a kingsized bed. I forced some food down and collapsed into bed, utterly, utterly exhausted.

February 4:: Haiballah auberge, Mauritania

February 4:: Haiballah auberge, Mauritania :: 95km / 1984km total

After a great dinner and breakfast I felt refreshed and ready to roll. Indeed, the first 2km were great. Then the road turned SE into the Easterly Harmattan wind, and a long slow day unfurled before me. I blew a spoke, but it doesn't seem to be a problem. Just a long, flat, slog in my lowest gear all day.

I knew of Haiballah auberge from previous cyclists, in that I knew it existed. It sort of fell short of expectations, conditions EXTREMELY basic, pushing the limits of hygeine. I ate tomatoes and tangerines for dinner, afraid of the meat dishes that the locals were eating. Nothing I can do. 297km to Nouakchott, the capital of Mauritania. Please please Allah, turn the wind tomorrow.

February 3:: Bou Lanouar, Mauritania

February 3:: Bou Lanouar, Mauritania :: 131km / 1889km total

Up pre-dawn to check the wind, ya, still strong, still tail. So I packed and left, time for a new country! I took it easy throught the final 85km of Morocco, savouring it, Morocco has been great. Past sand dunes, sand-weathered rock formations, rolling hills... to the border at 11 a.m. I whisked through, but those with vehicles were being worked over by the Moroccan police.

Then into the minefield... literally. Although Morocco and Mauritania are not at war, and haven't had grievances for about 20 years, there's a 3km no-mans land minefield between the 2 countries. There is a sandy track to follow, and thats about it. The rule... DON'T GO OFF THE TRACK. Not rocket science, you would think; but apparently 2 weeks ago four people blew themselves up by being stupid. I rode-pushed my bike along, and eventually came across the little hut that meant I was in Mauritania. Some travellers have reported bribe problems with the police-customs here, but they were more amused with me, than anything, and the visa was easy and painless.

Back in the saddle, I knew tough times were ahead. After reaching the main road I turned East, into the full blast of the NE Harmattan, for 38km. Immediately noticable is how much poorer Mauritania is compared to Morocco... dramatic. It really feels like "Africa" now, whereas Morocco felt like the more afluent Middle Eastern countries that I've been to. Slowly, slowly in my lowest gear I burrowed into the wind, for hour after hour, now the heat playing a factor for the first time this trip. Eventually I reached Bou Lanoaur and a great little auberge for the night.

February 2:: Barbas, Morocco

February 2:: Barbas, Morocco :: 160km / 1758km total

Strong tailwind again, but still very tired, and now getting saddlesore. My goal today was Barbas, somewhat of an oasis 90km from the border with Mauritania - hotel and restaurant here. Another long long day, but well rewarded with a bed and shower! I traded some Moroccan $$ for Mauritanian $$ with some tourists going the other direction... always the best rate for all concerned. If the wind is not a strong tailwind, I will take a day off here tomorrow.

February 1:: Chicas, Morocco

February 1:: Chicas, Morocco :: 220km / 1598km total

Strong tailwind, so I rode it out. Endless desert. No hotels anywhere along this section, so I pulled into another gas station for the night. Very, very tired. Accomodation tonight much more sparse, and the staff are far less friendly than last night. Had my first real mechanical problem today... the rubber on my rear tire is separating. I changed it out for my spare tire, but now am against the wall if I have another tire problem. I'll have to resolve this in Nouakchott or Dakar.

January 31 :: Echtoucan, Morocco

January 31 :: Echtoucan, Morocco :: 172km / 1378km total

A late night working on the bike gave me a dubiously short sleep, but off I rolled early early. The road is just endless, and if it wasn't for the kilometre markers I might go crazy. A few of the passing motorists drive along at my speed, beside me, chatting - traffic is very very light. The Belgians, Dutch, Swiss, and Germans are the most friendly, overall. The French... well...

The first 135km of the day was completely devoid of any habitation or stores, so I stopped at 75km for chocolate chip cookies, from a package with the Cookie Monster on it. C is for Cookie, and thats good enough for me! Overall a slight tailwind, but I went through a small sandstorm for about 10km. The billowing sand stung and bit into my exposed skin, but the road eventually turned with the wind, and all was peaceful afterwards. A late lunch at 135km, and by the 160km mark things were getting raggedy. I pulled into a gas station at Echtoucan and the friendly staff set me up in a private prayer room for the night. Only a towel-and-a-sink shower tonight.