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.

Greetings From Balmy Bamako

They don't call it a dirt road for nothing.

I'm currently laying up for a few days in Bamako, Mali's bustling and very humid capital. I need to change the oil and clean the air filter, do some washing and rest my sore ass ( from the riding that is). Beer is also widely available here.

Tonight i am heading out to shake the afore mentioned sore ass to some Bamako beats with Umar the Hoteliers brother . I've got a feeling there won't be any other white faces there so should be interesting if nothing else.

Ive done a lot of miles since my last post so i'll break it down.

South through Mauritania

Haakon and i had a couple of long but easy days ride down to the Mauri border and crossed relatively painlessly. Actually I had a small problem (though the army chap thought it was a major problem) in that my visa was not due to start until 1st April and it was still March. I thought he was leading towards a sly bribe but after an hours wait when he eventually spoke to his boss in town he stamped my passport and sent me through. When i say through i mean from one ramshackled wooden hut to the next which housed the customs guys- again in military uniforms.

In Nouadibou Haakon and i decided to go our separate ways he to the east and i to the south to the capital Nouachott. Another long stretch though the desert. I set off early with a full tank hoping to top up after 100km in a small settlement but soon learned at a police check point that there was no petrol at this town- only diesel. So i back tracked 40km to pick up a 5l gery can. In the end i managed the 450km without it. Ce la vie.

It was a beautiful ride. The landscape here was much more sandy than further north. Rolling dunes and flat planes spoiled but the many wrecked cars that litter this 2 year old road.

On the road I bumped into a nutty french chap id met in town who is cycling across Africa on a recumbent bike with a trailer. I didn't think too much of it town but when i saw him on the road crawling along, the differing nature of his journey realty struck me. It would take him 5 days to cover what i did in 1. Thats a lot of water to carry!

The further south the more sandy and less rocky it got. It was reasuring to me that when ever i pulled over for a break, a truck or a pick-up with a camel in the back would pull over to see if i needed assistance.

And then a few hours later came across these italians on Harley's. Making use of the newley sealed road now running all the way to Dakar.

East through Mauritania to the Mali Border

This proved to be a bit of a slog. There is now a sealed road that go's all the way and passes through some of the poorest villages and towns of this very poor country. The first morning i ran into some french travellers who i had met in my hotel Nouakchott. One of there cars had hit a pot whole at full speed and broke one front wheel. We lunched together on rice and camel intestine, served local style on a tray. Every one sits on the floor around the try and gets stuck in with their hands.

Hitting livestock has now become a 'real and present danger'. The road here was littered with animal carcases- goat, donkey, cow and camel. Hit by cars- mainly at night i was told. I reminded myself of one of my basic rules- never travel at night. So what happens later that day? i find myself crawling through the darkness at 30mph scanning the periphery of my headlight for animal movement. I was 100k from Kiffa, the the only town in the area, so it was push on or free camp in the bush with water but little food.

The next day i planned to changed my rear tyre (hooray no more carrying tyres), fill up with fuel, water and some food, then head for the Mali border. I eventually found the only fuel station in town selling petrol as (opposed to diesel) only to learn they had an electrical problem. The guys were confident they could fix it, so i waited........and waited......for 5 hours i waited and then realised i was stuck in this dusty, end of the earth town for another night and so went back and re pitched my tent. There was no other petrol between there and Mali.

You can' fit quicker than a quick fit fitter! Actually I had do half the job. There are no motercycles in this round here so it was all new to them and we had to use my tools. I dont think i got my 1200 Ougius worth (4 euro)

The following day i returned to find the guys smiling. No they hadn't fixed the fault but the 'Grand Technician' of the petrol company was coming to town to fix it. At ten thirty he rolled in and within an hour I was fuelled up and on my way.

The the terrain is flatter and drier, the villages and towns further apart and the police checkpoints more frequent. Welcome to the desolate Provence of Western Sahara.

From here it is a 2 day, 1,000km ride to the Mautanian border. A potentially tedious ride as the road is good and straight and the scenery consistent- flat stony desert with the occasional glimpse of of the Atlantic crashing into the the rocky shore to the right. But rather than than view it tedious i will adopt my uncles philosophy (who is currently sailing from asia to europe). He prefers to think of it as "timeless".

Haakon, the Norwegian finally arrived in Merzouga 4 days ago, and so together we set off for Tagounite. A 240km off road route. For us an introduction to test our riding and navigation skills. Within the hour we had taken a wrong turn, got a little lost and i had dropped my bike down a dry river bank. Fortunately only cosmetic damage. This is me struggling through a deep sandy section. In fact its a river bed.

And this our camp.

I need to go and eat now, but ill try and write more later

Fez to Merzouga

I had planned to take 2 days to do this journey, but the scenery was so damn good and i was enjoying the riding so much after 4 days in Fez i couldnt bring myself to stop. the route took me through the Atlas Mountains, across semi desert plains and then over the arid Anti Atlas onto the Northern Fringes of the Sahara. I arived in what i thought was the village of Merzouga in the dark and fortunately stumbled across a nice little auberge

Id like to upload more pics from that day but i dont think broad band has reached thius town yet so the uploading is very very slow. Painfully slow.

Hi from Fez

I've spent much of the last 4 days on the roof terrace of my hotel in central Fez, soaking up the sunshine, chatting, reading, route planning, watching the comings and goings in the market below and generally being a lazy bum. Nice. I have managed to procure some wine though from the out of town hypermarket. All the alcohol is in a separate section with its own till and side exit, so i felt like a dirty alcoholic as i exited with my 2 cold beers and bottle of Moroccan Cab Sav.

I rushed back to the hotel (well you wouldn't want a warm beer) and cracked open the beers on the sunny terrace- the first for a week. The wine got savoured that evening with the other english residents. 'Alright after the fist glass' was the verdict.

Fez is great. Miles of little alley ways full of shops, butchers, cafes, donkeys and a few hustlers to boot. Time to move on though. I leave first thing in the morning for the desert and the dunes of merzouga. The bike is spotless, thanks to the car park attendant who gave it good scrub this morning. Actually he scammed me a bit but i didn't argue with the man as he is looks after the bike every night. And we're only talking a couple of quid after all.

Now i can't turn this pic around but i wanted to put it on anyway. It shows the tanneries where all the leather and other animal hides are treated then dyed. It was stinking as they use pigeon poo, cow piss and fish oils amongst other things in the dyes.