Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso,

Pronounced Waggadoogoo, or simply Wagga, is the capital of Burkina Faso. Whilst not somewhere that I'd want to spend too much time, i am glad of the slightly more prosperous environment. In Mali it was sometimes difficult to find cold drinks meals etc. Primarily because outside the tourist areas there was no demand for such things- the villagers could not afford bottled water and to pay for meals. Here there cold Fanta everywhere- i love it.

From Bamako and my last posting i basically headed north east roughly following the towns and sights along the Niger River finishing up in Timbuktu before heading south to where i am now.

Ive been getting more adventurous too, venturing off the main routes and onto what my map calls minor roads/tracks. In reality these vary between a good graded dirt road to a jumble of bicycle and cart tracks connecting various villages. The route i took on my first day out of Bamako fell into this latter category to such an extent that by 5pm i realised that i was never going to reach Segou, my destination before dark. And so as i pitched my tent by the river lit a fire and cooked up my emergency camping food (bought in England) to the sound of the crickets. I had a real 'cowboy moment' and felt very pleased with myself. Then at 3am i was awoken by what i thought was some kind of very dangerous creature trying to get into the tent. Lighting my lighter and generally making a noise didn't seem to put the thing off so i let it be, by this time realising that it was probably just some harmless river vole or something equally tame.

A couple of nights later i was having dinner with Fritz and Andrew. German and US Embassy guys up from Bamako for the weekend. Fritz keeps a bike in Mali so he was all ears about my plans and wanted to know all about the bike and good routes in the country. Andrew on the other hand was super cautious about travelling anywhere, something partly drilled into him by his embassy who, for example, would not let him drive to Timbuktu for fear of bandits in the desert. There are no Foreign Office warnings to this effect and tourists trickle up there often enough in the winter.

This time of year however the temperatures in Mali hover around the low 40s making doing anything after 10am very hard work. It was with this in mind that I kept changing my mind about going up to Timbuktu.

Reasons against were:

It would mean heading directly north which is against my general flow.

Its too hot, i need to get south where its is cooler.

The route is reputed to be very hard work.

Not much exists of the old Timbuktu and the current town is generally uninteresting.

Reasons for were:

I'm within 400km- this is the best opportunity I'll ever get to go

I'll only regret not going if i don't.

So i went.

The pic at the top is from the first, nice part of the route. After that the road deteriorated into heavy corrugations across flat Sahel landscapes. Corrugations, for those that haven't experienced them, are when the road surface forms a washboard like surface causing the bike/car/ lorry and passengers a very bumpy and noisy journey and feels like the vehicle is being shaken apart. The effect can be minimised by driving at 50mph which tends to let the vehicle skim across the top of each ridge. However, at this speed on a a bad road it gives little time to react to the random pot holes and patches of sand that keep cropping up. At least the track was easy to follow so i made good time.

Of the 5 vehicles i passed on that road that day, one was Andy Bell, Another British biker on his way to Cape Town. We arranged to meet here in Ouagadougou.

The final part of the journey is to cross the river Niger by ferry. The day before i was there this truck had a break failure.

Well i made it to Timbuktu, and as expected it was a bit of a hole. But hey.....Ive ridden my bike there and I'm kind of proud of that.

Douenza- Koro (my last day in Mali)

This was a great day of riding. I had hired Mousa, a local guide with a bike, for the morning to take me round some 'Dogon vilages'. One of the villages was perched up on the cliffs of an escarpment. Historically they are there to escape the fighting on the plains, now it means that they live a very remote life which remains largely unchanged. The most disturbing thing for me was the sight of a man with his hands and feet chained together. Apparently the chief of this village knows his stuff about mental illness and the chained up chap was being 'treated'.

Mousa and i parted i headed south to the border town of Koro along a sandy track that linked many beautiful and untouched villages. The tracks generally ran right through the center of the villages along narrow corridors impassable for a car almost into peoples yard's. I always felt like i was intruding - loud bike and trail of dust- but the villagers were without exception pleased to see me. When i showed these children below the picture they went ballistic with excitement, juping up and down in a frenzy.

Tomorrow Andy and i set off for Ghana where they speak English- horay. I am a little unsure how it will go though as i havent got a visa. I got to the Ghana Embassy as it was closing on friday. They said they could proccess my visa, but due to the weekend and a holiday on Monday, it would not be ready untill Tue 2pm. Not wanting to hang here till tuesday I thought i'd try and get one on the border. This is not the norm but im sure its possible for the right price. Watch this space.