He says / She says - Two-up on a Twin

He Says - Chill out time

2009-10-27T14:04:00.000Z

26 – 27 Oct 09
The 4x4 taxi that picked us up drove the complete opposite of the Mercedes taxi, he was slow and careful and avoided as many obstacles as possible. As a result we got back to the Auberge Kanasay at about 1700h. Irrelevant of the money savings we decided to continue to sleep on the roof. During our trek we found it to be the best way to keep cool, it being cheaper was only a bonus. The views alone should have made this the more expensive option. The first night the plan failed us. There was no wind and it was a hot night, however from that night on it was the best option by far.

The success of the trip put me in a festive mood, and on that first night back, I was craving a beer so I had one then another, two beers and I was drunkish ! Not really drunk but “happy” as they say. Tiemo came by to say hello, see if we were settling in okay and get the rest of his money. Although I felt like the latter was almost embarrassing for him. We gave him a 20k CFA tip (so 1 day for 1 person or 10%) and this he really did seem to be embarrassed by (but happy too). We chatted for a while and he asked us to go for dirt ride (motorbike) on Sunday to two cool villages. I was not sure if this was as friend or as guide.

The next day (Saturday) was chill out and chores day, Tam spent morning in river doing laundry Mali style and had a little helper. In true Mali style Tam’s little helper did not want payment or anything, just helping the crazy (and probably only) white woman to ever do the laundry in the rive was enough. However when we offered him a “sucery” (coke/fanta..) his eyes became the size of Anubis’s headlights and said yes. Once he got it he almost ran a way, got a couple of friends or maybe his brother and sister and shared the drink. It was like mana from heaven. We saw him a couple of times after that and each time he grins a huge grin and waves like we are Santa Clause or something. The rest of the day was hanging out just relaxing and recovering from our trek. That night Tiemo came to the Auberge to see if we still wanted to go for the ride. He made it very clear with out us asking that it was as three friends going out, this really made me very happy.

The next morning arrived and I had the issue of how to get Anubis down the 4 steps, to get him in we had the help of many men. But now there was but one. I knew also that this time I have gravity on my side. So I used it. I jumped Anubis out of hotel. 4 stairs no problem! The ride was a lot harder then I was expecting and I was struggling with Anubis’s and Tam’s weight on the soft sand and even on the harder rocks.

I though it was simply that it was hard, I was still tired from the trek and I had not done a lot of two up dirt riding in years. I am sure some of this is the case, but I was also coming down with something as we got to the first village I was dizzy and feeling very ill. 30k of off piste riding and I was sick this was not a good thing. I put on a brave face hopping it would pass as we walked around and relaxed a bit but I was constantly feeling like I was going to vomit. I was getting worst by the minute (this btw will be the first time Tam knows how bad I felt, I did not want to ruin it or worry her). It was a shame as the village was not on the tourist trail and as such the people were great. For the first time we were invited in to eat and the “to’” it was amazing (unlike the restaurant to’ we ate). We sampled a bit of food eaten in the traditional style (sitting on the ground eating with right hand). It was great tasting but unbelievably hot on the hands. Although ill it was so good that both of us could have eaten our fill, but as this was unplanned, we assumed that there was not really enough to feed us. So after a polite amount we excused ourselves.

Unfortunately I was feeling really bad by time we headed out and towards the next village. The to’ had some positive effects though and I was a bit stronger I was finding the riding a lot easier. The sand traps (in general were no longer stopping us and we only had one or two kick outs). I was feeling extremely shaky and was not sure if it was a good idea to push my luck with the 30k return trip and an other 10k to the next village. Then Tiemo’s bike broke down. It was the end for me. Although we got it running, I said no more. We were too far out to get help if we need it. It was too far to push the bike and I was getting worse by the minute. Fortunately, we got home with out issue, but I was dead for rest of day. I can only remember little bit of the day from that point on. I remember laying on palm wood chair in the Auberge’s bar, Tam making me eat some spaghetti, then some how we moved up to our terrace. I was not asleep during any of this time, but not really awake either.
The next day I felt marginally better, we headed out to the local market for some local breakfast of mutton curry with pancakes. It was great and something I could eat every day.

Just out side market guy came up to me and wanted a high-5 but grabbed my wrist instead. He then held on to me as hard as he could, I could tell he was trying to hurt me. I broke the lock easily, to which he responded by kicking me in the shin as hard as he could. It was not a good kick and did not hurt I could see the disappointment in his eyes. I think he wanted me to go down. Was he trying to mug me? The years of martial arts practice came back to me (despite the more years of not practising). I went into fight stance with out thinking. I scoped out his body position,
I planned my attack. I felt that I was sort of back in control of the situation, but I stopped myself from going on the attack. I just stared at him. I did not know what was going on… the guy looked like he wanted to fight a few people around started to shout (not sure what) and I kept starring at him. I was not going to attack nor would I risk turning my back on this person who attacked me for no reason. I was a good head taller then him but he looked fit. His grip and kick were not powerful, but I was not sure that I could take him. I may remember the stances and moves but after 15yr of not practising could I really defend myself like I once could? I did not know if I could take him with minimal force, so all my instincts were yelling “if this turns ugly, treat this as life and death, do not try to subdue but try to take down permanently” It was a scary bunch of thoughts that I have not had in years. From many a door way the local’s shouts were getting angry, but no one moved.

Then he left. With as little warning as the first attack, he just turned and left. I did not understand what happened was it some kind of cultural misunderstanding or was he mentally unbalanced or was he a nut job drug head. I did not know. I was glad it was over, but I was angry. I spent the next 3 hours feeling like a Gecko brother.

I, in retro, realised he had a mouth full of yellowish crumbs, that we have seen on a lot of the really older people. If it was only a cola nut or more I don’t know. We headed again to the market for lunch. We sampled some more of the local foods and enjoyed ourselves being the tourists that we are. I purchased a huge watermelon and headed home. We saw the attacker 2 more times, I don’t know if he saw us but he did nothing. I did observe him steal some food from one vendor, yelled aggressively to a few other people, and hit (or tried to) yet an other person. Although I cant be sure, sometimes the Dogon language sounds harsh to me but the reactions of people around me told me that at very least he was a bully. The rest of day was trying to get me over my fatigue that seemed to be getting worse not better. Tam did some more laundry, as she attempted to clean our very ripe bike gear.

That was our last day in Bandigara and for all in tense and purposes our last day in Mali. The next day we arose early and started to pack up our gear, although I was still extremely tired. At about 0730h I looked over the edge of our balcony to see Tiemo waving from the end of the street. I got Tam up and we went down to say our goodbyes and thank you. I was great that he came to see us off. That was his express reason for being up so early too. Thanks again Tiemoko you are a friend.

After a quick breakfast Bouba, asked us if we kept track of the food and drinks that we have had. He was very happy that Tam was keeping track as he could only remember about half of it. Ironically the 4 days there and all the food and drink we wanted was still cheaper then a couple of days in other hotels alone. We went out to the bike to be cheered on by what seemed like the entire staff of the hotel as well as much of the town. So if you ever find yourself in Bandigara, Mali I whole-heartedly suggest the Auberge Kansay!!!

On our way out of town we passed the attacker from the day before. Now we were in full bike gear with helmets on and visors down so there is no was he could have know who it was and yet he struck out at Anubis. I gunned the engine leaving him a cloud of smoke and flying rocks and sand. I am more convinced then ever that he was either on drugs or mentally unstable. Either way he is lucky that it was us that he was playing with, many people I know would not have walked away. I also think that he is not doing the town any favours and one day he will annoy enough people and they will do something. If he is on drugs I don’t care what they do to him (kill him for all I care), if mentally unstable I hope they can find him some help. Unfortunately I feel that it is most likely that he will come to an unpleasant end.

From Bandiagara we headed back to San, the turning point for Bamako or Burkina Faso. This included a 10km stretch of rough piste that was a detour. We had taken it once before on the way to Djenne but it had degraded a bit in the last week, probably due to the rains. About half way though the piste both Tam and I noticed a lot of banging and knocking coming from the rear. Once we were safely off the piste we examined the luggage rack and found that it had sheared off the main mount point for the panniers. Knowing the rest of the route was good bitumen I was not too concerned about it and would deal with it once we were at the hotel. The remainder of the ride was uneventful. We enjoyed a roadside lunch in a tin shack lean to in San. After which Tam would not agree to carry a watermelon the 1k (on the bike) to the hotel. Disappointed, we went back to the hotel, and although my illness was not over, I had to fix the bike. So I spent the next two hours MacGuyvering a new bracket. While Tam stayed in the room working on the computer, although this seemed extremely unfair at the time it turns out that she was coming down with the illness that is afflicting me. We had an early night as tomorrow we hit country number 9: Burkina Faso!

Mali has been a great place, it started out great, had a low in Bamako and finished on an awesome high in the Dogon valley. The people (as a general rule) are nice and helpful. They have the balance of working with tourist and not thinking of them as walking wallets about right. Unlike some places they still make friend with their clients and form relationships that are not only finical. It is a friendly place, it is place where I feel like I have made friends. I have noticed that of all the African countries so far Mali has had the most aid from foreign countries. I don’t know if this helps them or hinders them. I don’t know if all the pressure to be like Europe or the US is a good thing. I do know that there lives are based on hard physical work and labours, I do not think if this is a bad thing, I do not know if it is a sad thing that many want the easily life they think that we have. There is a beauty and simplicity of many of the rural Malian’s lives that I envy, there is many things that I don’t know. But I do know that Mali has become a place that will remain in my heart for many years to come and that I have left a bit of myself there.

He Says – Dogon territory

2009-10-24T13:57:00.002+01:00

20-24 October
The room was bloody hot and the fan did little to dispel the building heat. We had the door and window open. Tam slept near naked despite the risk of being seen. We woke earlier then we needed to. Truth is I did not sleep, there was still too much to do. Although we packed the gear that we were taking with us the night before, the rest of the bike gear and travel gear was unpacked and unstowed. We broke our fast on the typical African hotel breakfast of a baguette, jam and Nescafe (Tam did get tea). Although filling, it is not the most exciting of breakfasts day after day.

Shortly after Bouba the Rastafarian hotelier arrived and showed us where to stow the gear. All was working out and Tiemoko was not due for another 10 minutes, even the taxi, which was to take us to the trek starting point, was there. We sat down to wait. 10 minutes and no Tiemoko. Now I was worried. I was worried that we was not a real guide and had fled with our money. After all there was the “oh my licence is in Mopti being reissued, but I do have this “ as he shows us a dodgy pin thing. But last night both Tam and I decided we don’t care if he is real or not we liked him. 15 minutes and just as I was about to get angry, Tiemoko arrived. It turns out his mother was very sick and he had tried to call but no one answered the phone at the hotel. I did hear the phone going several times too, and this is Africa 15 minutes late is well with in being early. Hey a couple of hours late is considered on time here. With in a few minutes we were off.

Tam pointed out that 10 years ago almost to the day we were setting off on a trek in the Himalayas, and now were are doing something similar again. History does repeat itself.

The Taxi was a very old model Mercedes, I don’t think it had any breaks and the driver drove it like he was in the Dakar rally. There were no seat belts and you could feel the springs though the seat covers. I had lost count of the number of time the car bottomed out. The man was simply insane. Despite our impending deaths, Tiemoko was giving us bits of information as we went with out any prompting. So far it has been a good start to the trek. Forty-five minutes of teeth shattering bumps later we arrived at a little village of Djiguibombo. Tiemo (as he prefers to be called) took us directly to see the chief of the village and introduce us to him, and we had a cold drink and sat for a while. I had no idea what was going on, Tiemo disappeared a few times and was speaking the local dialect. A bit confused I grabbed my camera and started to walk around taking pictures. Tiemo then remembered that he had photos to disseminate. He pulled out a stack that was about 10cm thick. It was suddenly Christmas here people appeared from all over the village to see if they had any photos of themselves or of loved ones. This lasted about 45min.

We then started out tour of the village (only 2 hours late, so on time?). The people were so photo genic and were for the most part happy to be shot. Many of the old people where given gifts of cola nuts. (Yes the “drug” that was originally in coke a cola). Tiemo filled our heads with facts and dates, and explained many of the traditions; he also tried to teach of some of the local language.

I decided at that point that I was having a hard enough time with French I was not even going to attempt 15 different dialects of Dogon. During our walk Tam wanted to try pounding millet, so Tiemo asked an old lady if Tam could try. The woman thought Tam was nuts, as did I. “Why would she want to work hard in this heat” was the look on her face as Tam took the 2m long pounding stick. Tam was working had but was too slow so shortly after the old woman joined back in.

At about 1100h as the heat was building to its peak we headed out of the relative coolness of the village and in to the dry and desolate plateau of the Dogon escarpment. It was hot but there was a nice breeze and for the first 3k. We all found it relatively easy walking. I was worried about Tam, I did not want a repeat of the desert collapse, but she was fine, even bouncy. About a 2k into the walk Tiemo had flagged down a guy on a motorbike and asked him to warn the café and have some food ready for us. I though this was a brilliant plan, and although the guy said he would do it. He never arrived.

It also turned out that only parts of the plateau were dry, there was one amazing waterfall and a small valley that was almost tropical. It had plenty of water and trees and was simply amazing. From there we reached our second village. This was a small place and was predominately a place for lunch and hiding from the worst of the heat. We lazed about for a few hours, at which point Tiemo disappeared to take a nap. With in seconds people appeared from what ever mystical place they hide and Tam and I were asked to buy this, donate money to that, sponsor this, they even wheeled out the local handicap kid o display for us before asking for money. It was done with little pressure but annoyed me none-the-less. If it was legitimate why wait till our guide was not around?

At about 1600h we walked though the town and saw out first Tellum houses, tucked in the high cliffs of the escarpment. There was also a smaller version of the Djenne mosque. We continued to walk to the last village of the day. Teli. It was a hot 4k though sandy tracks and millet fields. We arrived at about1730h, which gave us only about 30 minutes before darkness, meaning that we really only had time to set camp and order food. The food was amazing, the “officially worst guide book ever” describes the food “as basic”. I supposed it could be called that we had couscous and with chicken and vegetables in a wonderful spicy sauce, sure the menu was limited but the tastes were not. Tiemo did not ever let us go hungry if our plates were every ¾ empty he would put more food on. We slept on the roof with only a mosquito net and watched the stars, until sleep took us. Early the next morning, we headed up to the old town. It was a hard 600m slog up a 45° hill. It was incredible; you could see the Dogon houses and granaries as they were 6000 (and only 60 yrs) ago. Above them sat the remains of the Tellum houses perched high in the cliffs. The Tellum people were ousted by the Dogons, their cliff side villages abandoned and now used as cemeteries by the Dogon.

It was a magical experience, we explored for an hour or so before heading back to the new part of town. We explored for a further hour or so seeing the traditional crafts and trades. We headed back to the encampment to collect our gear and prepare for the next leg. With in seconds of Tiemo leaving us to pay the bill and take care of other business maters, the touts and “please give us money” people arrived. I simply ignored them but Tam donated money to a woman’s group. As soon as she did this it was like opening a door and there was no longer a soft sell but now the hard sell. Just before I got really annoyed Tiemo returned and the people vanished like ninjas.

We had a hot 5km to do before the next and only village on our list today. The “officially worst guide book ever” describes all the walks as up and down the escarpment, but it was a long flat walk. It was hard going sometimes as the ground was uneven and could be very deep sand. Tam struggled a bit was but doing great and my fears for her were slowly evaporating.

We arrived in Ende just before noon and just before the heat got to be unbearable. We had some lunch and simply waited for the heat to die down. Four hours of sitting was not my idea of fun and as before any time Tiemo was gone the sellers or beggars would arrive. The encampments would be wise to stop this as it always made me feel uncomfortable and I would not recommend any of them. It was not until about 1600h hours did we venture out into the village. Ende was a big village. I did not like it at all. It had all the hassle and dirt of any big city but not much else. Tiemo took us to the “artisan” quarter, which is really just tour talk for “place where your are shown stuff to be pressured into buying” quarter. Every tour has one of these and I don’t like it much at all. Tam wanted to go and get some indigo dyed cloth as a present for someone. We walked in to one of the dyers and she was swamped with woman trying to seller stuff. She found one she like and bought it suddenly all the woman who were vying for her attention left with out so much a thanks or goodbye. The rest of the “artisans” quarter was no better, if you said you did not want anything they would either move to hard sell time or look at you like you were scum of the earth. Ende was closer to Morocco then anywhere else in Mali. I was not really happy with the buy this buy this, and told Tiemo it was time to head to the old village and see the stuff we liked. He agreed readily (although warned that the artisan quarter maybe closed by the time we get back—Thank god I thought). We walked up the 700m of steep cliff to find the least magical place ever. UNESCO decided that it would rebuild everything, remove anything that was ugly and install some fake altars. Tiemo was as unimpressed as I was, it was no longer a historical site but a movie set or museum replica. We only spent about 30 minutes in the old village, as there was nothing really to see or shoot. This meant that we could see more artisans!! Yippee! We headed for the sculptors quarter, I was expecting more of the same buy this attitude but I was wrong. The sculptor was happy to just sit there doing his thing. He thing was carving small statues with a hatchet and he could make the most intricate cuts with a few thawacks of his hatchet. I was majorly impressed. He asked once if we wanted anything and when we said no continued to chat and cut away. He was one person that was the saviour of Endie.

We slept on the roof again at about 0300h I was wide wake having gone to bed at about 2100h As I lay there star gazing I see a fast moving satellite shooting across the horizon. It suddenly hit the stratosphere and burst into flame as it headed towards us. I then realised that it was a meteor. It was huge and close enough as it flew over head to see the rock itself, as well as the wall of gas behind it that burned a bright yellow and the vapour trail in its wake, it then left our stratosphere and left for places unknown without any sign that it was there. I noticed Tam was awake too she had seen it. This was the second big meteor that I have seen in my life, and both have been shared with Tam. I really like that.

We headed directly out that morning. Headed for a small village where once again Tiemo handed out more photographs to more excited people. Tam was surrounded by children who grab her hand tightly and walk with her (until she could untangle them). We spent some minutes watching a blacksmith do some woodcarving with fire. We both also had a go at using the ancient bellows, these were basically a bowl that has a leather skin tied around them that when pulled up and down pushed the air, simply yet effective. Tiemoko found a couple of carvings that he liked and engaged the blacksmith in a heated bartering session. Unfortunately he never got a good price. All the guide book say never bargain with a guide present, as the shop owner will be expected to tip the guide. Well it should also note that the guides should never bargain with punters present as the shop owners assumes that the object is really for the punters and wants tourist prices. Tiemo left empty handed and we headed to an old village that was once again was real and really old.

The path up to it was barely there and the climb was the hardest and steepest yet. It really felt like we were true explorers bashing our way thought the undergrowth to find the ancient village and not tourists. Once we finally made it to the top, sweat was pouring from all of us like it was raining it was hot, but wonderful. There were pots and broken pottery everywhere, the doors hung off their hinges and rope still sat there from the last sacrifice. The feeling in the place was as if we were the first people to have seen this since its abandonment. Much of the village was considered sacred so we were unable too explore it in its entirety but what we could see will stay with me forever. We still had a long and steep walk to do before we arrived at our final place to sleep.

It was a 4-5k walk up to the top of the escarpment to Begnimato, it was hot and getting hotter. The first bit of the walk however was nice and flat so we were fooled into thinking that we could make good time. What we did not take into account was the talcum powder soft sand, it was slow going. Eventually, we made it to the foot of the hill and started our climb. It was not that bad. A cooling breeze had come up, we were walking in the shadow of both the escarpment and the trees. Tam had flash backs of Nepal with its 1300 steps. We were slow but steady. When we reached the top we were greeted with a stunning view along the valley. Almost with out having to discuss it, Tam and I both agreed that at least for the first time we would meet Sam’s challenge of “when we find a spot that we love raise a beer to him in the north and “Cheers” him”. So Sam there you go! (we will likely do it again but here is one). We spent the next hour or so watching the sunset and relaxing.

Tiemo, decided that he would really really like to extend the trip for one day and 4 more villages, and did his best to convince us. We were unsure, but eventually decided to do it.

We again slept on the roof under the stars. I did not sleep well but was once again getting used to it. The next morning we walked around Begnimato visiting people and the famous Dogon hunter. We had a M.Palin moment when one of the hunters fired off his gun with its accompanying cloud of smoke and debris. It was a great experience. We had 7k to go before lunch and an additional 5 to go after that. So we left the village and started to walk. It was the hottest day yet but worse of all it was also humid we were all walking slow. We had to take several brakes, something we have yet to be force in to. The walk was on top of the escarpment, it was over hard blackish rocks or hard packed ground, there was little to no shade. It was hard going. We made it to the ½ way point and stopped for drink and some shade. After about 15 min rest we took a 1.2k side trip to look down on a village. Life there had not changed in thousands of years.

The rest of the journey to our lunch stop was relatively easy going if not extremely humid and hot. We made it and settled in for a well-deserved rest and meal. All the while just knowing that the hard 5k was still to come. At about 1530h it started to rain. We would have to either cancel the last day or walk in the rain. We all agreed that it was the walk! Tiemo told us that it was a 5k walk down hill, it was more like 3k flat easy going, 1k at about 60° and then 1 k hard going though soft sand and river fording. The 3k flat was dotted with stunning rock formations, which kept your mind off the grey clouds and tired feet. It ended in a valley with walls looming up on both sides. That was breath taking and had an ethereal feel. I asked Tiemo if it was sacred and he originally said no but then went on to explain that many villagers though it was haunted and need to make a calls as they passed though t protect themselves. The valley floor then dropped away at 60° moving us further down the escarpment, it was a hard walk but not a hard climb. The views were such that you never even realised that you were working so hard.

We eventually exited the crevasse and upon looking back it was almost invisible. It was as if you did not know that this was the pass you would never find it. The rest of the walk brought us unto view of the last village Nomburi. It towered over valley with Tellum buildings reaching for the sky and the Dogon village perched half way up the rocks. It was late and we were very tired. So we headed for camp. We spent the next couple of hours watching at last three species of bat (two micro and one mega) emerge from the cliffs and houses above. Tam was giddy with joy. There was a pack of French tourists already there (having taken a different route) and had paid the local to dance and sing for them. It was nice too watch although one French tourist in particular was firing shot after shot of flash photography in the faces of the people and anyone else in range. After about the 300th I was sick of it. I could only imagine how the dancers felt. Tam and I were asked to join the dance and where both tempted but it was the others that paid for it so we felt that it was wrong of us to do so, however Tiemo joined in the dance. I wish we could have as well.

The next day was a hard slog. We all woke up tired and we all knew that today’s plan was to walk up the escarpment around for a couple of k’s then down again and back up the way we came 24 hours earlier. We were all walking slow, it was very humid and was threatening to rain again. There was no wind and the temperature was climbing faster then we were. It was a climb up a rough and rocky track that once again was invisible if you did not know it was there. The number of stops we took to “enjoy the view” was increasing with every metre that we climbed, (although the view was the same). Finally after what seemed to all to be a 10k walk we reached the top. We wandered though a little village that was stunning but there was little enthusiasm. Enthusiasm took more energy that anyone had left, the only thing increasing was the temperature and the humidity. For the second time in as many weeks I was dripping wet with sweat. We left the village and headed for a mango grove that wound its way down the hill. On route Tam found more evidence of bats living in the Telium houses and we spent a few minutes fantasising about research project that could include anthropology, ecology and archaeology.

Just then the grove got very thick a small stream pooled up and was filled with sacred fish. It was a cool and tranquil place and the water was refreshing. It was almost magical as we all seemed to perk up after a splash of water on our arms and heads. The truth was the heat and humidity broke as it started to rain. We made it to an encampment in the valley below before the rain got too bad. We waited out the short but soaking storm. As the rain died off we head back out to the valley and the climb back up the hidden path that we climbed the day before. It did not lose any of its magic as we traversed it sheer steeps. Amazingly though it was a long steep climb we all felt that it was easier then it should be. Psychosomatic, I am sure, but the beauty of the place and the cooling effect of the rain made the hard walk enjoyable. Back at the place we had lunch the day before we waited for a taxi to come and end our trip. I was very physically tired and happy to know that the hard work was done but I was very unhappy that our Dogon adventure had come to an end.

She Says – Dogon Country, I Want To Stay!

2009-10-24T13:56:00.000+01:00

23-24 October
We’ve been having a rest day today, not only getting over our trek but to get things sorted out like camera downloads (I think I’ve taken about 400 shots over 5 days…) and to get all our washing done. I spent about 2 hours this morning washing our clothes and bedding, but it could have taken longer if I hadn’t had a little helper! I decided the best thing to do was wash in the river with all the local people, especially seeing as it would take a lot of water and effort in the auberge, and anyway, everyone else was down there doing it! Feeling a little nervous, I carried our big bucket of laundry down towards where I thought a suitable spot was – near others to be social, flat enough to get good access to water and pounding space, not too close to anyone else. As I approached my spot, a boy smiled at me from the other side of the river and pointed to the spot I was heading to – excellent, I had chosen the right place! I set up my tub of soapy water and got started, when the boy crossed over and started helping! At first, I thought he was just showing me what to do, but he kept grabbing laundry from my bucket and washing it, even when I said thankyou and it was ok in my limited French, but he wouldn’t be deterred! In the end, we got through the whole load together, and while I scrubbed my tough-to-clean long sleeve shirt, he rinsed everything out. In the mean time, some girls came and sat with us, obviously waiting for the spot to do their washing, but I think they thought I was a bit funny. Most people seemed to accept I was washing and thought little of it – well, I think so, I said hello to a few women, but got rather focussed on my work till the girls arrived! It certainly works extremely well, pounding onto the rocks, scrubbing tough bits across the rocks and sand (that shirt has never looked better!), then rinsing in running water. Unsure whether the boy, Mahmadou, was expecting payment or just helping me, I had decided to make sure he got something for his help – it was very hot and it was 2 hours of hard work – and to ask Bouba at the auberge what was appropriate, a soft drink or money and how much? I managed to get Mahmadou to come up to the auberge with me, where he met Xander, then waved and left! We got him to come back, especially when we mentioned ‘sucrerie’ (soft drink) and his eyes lit up. Obviously that was quite a treat, and at 450CFA a bottle I’m sure it’s not a treat he gets often (less than a pound for us, probably half a meal for him). Duly paid for his excellent work, Mahmadou disappeared for a while, and I later saw him back where he started. I think he must have been doing laundry for other people to be able to leave and help me like that. I don’t know, but he sure made my life a lot easier!

So the last day of our hike was tough but good. Neither of us slept well, due to a warm night without wind. Tiemo had stayed up all night and Xander was tired, so at least I wasn’t the only one walking slow in the morning! A young man who sometimes helps Tiemo with equipment portering joined us. We had some light rain the night before, and clouds built up again in the morning and it was very muggy. We started with a quick visit to Nombori’s old village, still in use as a sacred site so we couldn’t visit much, then on up the escarpment through a tough valley to Idjeli ‘at the top’. We followed a stream down through a forest laden with mango trees, and visited the pools of fish that are sacred and can’t be fished, to the lower part of Idjeli (‘Idjeli over the river’). The village was really pretty, but unfortunately it started raining heavily when we arrived and it wasn’t really possible to take photos. It’s a shame as the buildings are mostly built up the hill and it was a very small town. We sheltered in a small restaurant and had drinks while it bucketed down. Eventually we had to hit the trail again. We headed back along the flat but sandy track to Nombori, admiring the cliff face from a different angle, reaching the village at 11am. There were Tellum houses all along the escarpment, amazing. By the time we reached Nombori, the rain had stopped and it was very muggy. The rain had made the sand slightly easier to walk across, but not much! We had a quick break, said goodbye to Tiemo’s friend, then it was on up the steep cleft we had come down the night before. It wasn’t as tough as expected, especially when the occasional breeze came through, unlike the morning’s hike, which was tough going. We made it up with only two stops, one for a snack break, another for rest. After that it was across the flat to Douro for lunch. It was market day, so we went to the goings-on and try some snacks – hot peanut mush with bissap/hibiscus leaves, and cooked water lily tubers (like potatoes mixed with sweet potatoes, tasty with a bit of salt). The market was amazing, so many colours from all the women’s clothing. We didn’t take cameras, though the shots would have been nice! Somehow it felt obtrusive to photograph the people going about their business. I have to note that we never wanted for anything on our trek. Tiemo not only crammed us with food at mealtimes, but always made sure we had snacks of peanuts, biscuits, watermelon. This is good, as I had noted I need to keep up my food content and he certainly made sure of it! While at the Douro market, he paid for all the food we tried, and he always made sure we had plenty of water to filter whenever we needed it.

At 4.30pm, our car arrived, and we spent a very bouncy hour travelling back to Bandiagara. We all went off for showers, and Xander and I set up our tent on the roof to keep cool. After dinner, Tiemo came back. We paid him and gave a tip, which he complained was too much but we thought was too little. He gave us a fantastic experience we’ll never forget. He mentioned doing another trip on Sunday on our bikes, so we’ll see if he’s back for drinks tonight and whether it will cost or if it is just as friends.

She Says – Dogon Trekking (part 2)

2009-10-22T13:55:00.000+01:00

21-22 October (written from notes taken while trekking)
We leave Endé the next morning for Yabatalou. On the way, we pass through a small village that I never caught the name of. Tiemo stops to pass out photos taken by visitors on a previous trip, and I take photos of a girl pounding millet. To break up the tedium, she throws her pounding stick into the air and claps, before pounding the millet again. As we leave town, we pass the village blacksmith, and this time the action is in full swing. His ‘forge’ was a clay oven built on top of the ground, and the bellows were pieces of leather wrapped over round holes in the top of the oven. You grab the leather and push and pull air through the forge. We both have a go at using the bellows, and beat out some tunes! It was fascinating to watch the blacksmith making wooden sculptures. He took the carved pieces and used red-hot tools to burn the wooden surfaces, leaving them smooth and solidly black. And I always thought that effect was from polished black wood!

We reach Yabatalou before lunch and head straight up to the old town. People have only recently left the old village partway up cliffs here, and some houses still looked like they were being visited or lived in. It was a nice town, with a good altar and paintings, plus a grotto spring hidden in the cliffside. A valley split the escarpment and created a beautiful forest of mango trees, which we followed down back into the main village. We visited a house that had just harvested all of their peanut plants – the entire house was full! The women were inside picking the peanuts off the small plants, which then becomes animal fodder, and grinding the nuts into paste and oil for cooking. We ate some fresh peanuts, and I was surprised they were pretty tasty and juicy. We visited the chief’s campement for lunch, Tiemo got us a yummy watermelon as well, and we enjoyed the chief’s excellent wooden sculptures displayed all over the camp while picking off all the billions of plant seeds that had attached themselves to us!

After lunch we headed for Begnimato, our stop for the night. After trudging through deep sand, then making a stiff ascent up a creek valley, surrounded by beautiful rocks, forests and scenery, I started thinking maybe it was finally time for a ‘Sam-moment’. Our bike-travelling friend Sam Manicom, author of several books, had asked us just before departure to raise a beer in his direction when we found the most beautiful place in Africa. It was a hard hot hike in the dying sun, but so worth it. Begnimato is a beautiful village built on top of the escarpment, and surrounded by stunning rock formations. Tiemo got us into the campement, where many tourists were already gathering, then we raced with beer in hand to catch sunset setting over the plains. We sent our cheers towards Sam for what we think will be the first of many times in Africa. We sat on the edge of the escarpment, gazing over the far distant sand dunes, watching the sunset and the nomadic Fulani camp gathering their cattle into camp for the night. There were burial chambers in the cliffs below us, we could see pots outside them from where people bring up the ashes or each burial. It was a magic place.

We joined the village men in the ‘bar area’ for homemade millet beer, a very relaxed social occasion. And tasty too! It is brewed very quickly, I think what we drank was only a day or two old at most, and it was like ginger beer and fizzy. We joined the main village hunter and a friend, and drank from a calabash that was passed around between our group of five. We had another great meal in the campement, but there were a lot more tourists here – seems to be growing as we move along the cliff. Rain had threatened throughout the day, there was thunder at lunch, and it was cloudy in the evening. We had doubts for our rooftop sleeping but got through! Tiemo was really keen for us to take an extra day and visit another village called Nombori. He’d been saying it increasingly over the last 2 days – “I don’t know why I want you to go, I just really think you would like it!” I had developed a sweat rash through the day’s tough hot hiking, and we ummed and ahhed a lot because of that and the extra cost. But it is almost a once in a lifetime opportunity, and we’re having a great time, so we decided to keep going.

After a tasty traditional hot chicken breakfast stew, we started the next day with a tour of Begnimato. We first went to see the main hunter, who we had drunk millet beer with last night. We took photos of him with his son and their various captures, including a variety of monkeys and wild cats. They also had a young pet monkey, I have no idea why considering monkeys form a huge part of the hunters’ quota. Anyway I put my backpack down to take photos and Dr Otterboro, sticking his head out of my bag, freaked the poor little thing out. Everyone found this pretty amusing. We next visited ‘the big hunter’, the current hunter’s father. We got awesome photos of him proudly smoking his pipe then loading his big gun, but had a scarily Michael Palin moment when his gun exploded with a massive bang and smoke went everywhere! I literally stopped with my mouth wide open, the sound was so incredibly loud. The hunter himself completely cracked up into laughter, he thought it was an absolute hoot. I know it wasn’t supposed to happen like that, because shortly afterwards, we walked above the huts and saw him fire for some other tourists and it was much less impressive! He proudly showed us postcards that had been made of him, and sat for more photos. We walked above the town for a daytime view, and Tiemo pointed out how the Christians, Muslims and animists lived in separate areas of the town but in harmony with each other. We got to visit the little mud-walled church after chasing down the key, and saw fascinating pictures inside of an Arab-black Jesus - much more accurate in my opinion!

From there, we had a 7km solid trek to Douro, originally our end point for the trek. This was mostly along the top of the rock escarpment we had been following from below. We were able to see the famous Dogon onions growing up here, as there is a lot more water for irrigation at the top of the escarpment. I’ve grown very partial to these tasty little shallot-like onions! There were streams, dams, deep wells and trees all over, and I finally saw yam crops growing. Water is easier to hold up here, and much of the crops for the surrounding areas are grown above the cliff. There were beautiful views and valleys as we headed well across the rock-sculptured land, which was so beautiful. Along the way, we stopped in a small village called Konsou-ley for a drink. The man running the drink stop we visited played guitar on basically a open container and some string and got his tiny daughter to dance for us and a couple of other tourists. She was awfully cute, but I have to say she was pretty unimpressed with the whole thing! We walked to the escarpment edge to see the proper town, still perched halfway up the cliff-face. However, like elsewhere, people are slowly moving either up or down the escarpment to an easier life. It’s incredible that they have managed to live perched on this cliff for so many hundreds of years as it is.

We had lunch in Douro, which had all the feel of a proper city and easy vehicle access. After lunch, we trekked on to Nombori and it was sooooooo worth it! The walk itself was not too difficult, across beautiful rocky ground to start with, then descending down a very steep ravine. There were spectacular valleys and rock formations, and a deep rock cleft led us down into the village. The cleft had a very weird feel to it, and apparently the local people sing as they pass through to keep themselves safe. I guess I’m not alone in that feeling! The cleft opened out to the plains and a river, shallow enough to cross now but would be tricky when the rains come. There were fantastic Tellum houses above the current town of Nombori, still perched on the lower slopes of the cliff as they could not go higher and are on fairly level ground anyway. I had the most amazing shower experience ever, with massive bats emerging from either within or over the top of the escarpment. They sounded like fruit bats but I definitely saw insect-feeding behaviour from some. I wonder if fruit bats could possibly live in caves here, or were they just coming from trees above the escarpment? We were camped right underneath the cliff-face, so I’m sure some of the bats must be living within the old Tellum houses. I had seen signs of microbats through all the nooks and crannies of the rock cleft as we came down, I saw loads of poo, and we even disturbing them by talking as walked through tight passes so that they started chattering. I have so seriously been wondering what kind of bat research could be done in this area. I mean, what a place to live?! It’s beautiful, so different, getting to know these people more in depth and how they live in their world would be incredible. And then bats on top of it, and maybe finding out how they fit into their mythology (Tiemo had no stories for me, damn!). Now, how to scale those cliffs…quick somebody make me some baobab rope! The night was wrapped up with some dancing. A large tour group was staying in our campement, and the villagers put on a show for them. We got to sneak in on the side. We pushed Tiemo to dance, he so wanted to dance, people invited him to dance. He originally said no as he felt it was for the tour group and not about him, but he drank enough and eventually went in! Likewise, people invited us to join, but it wasn’t for us to take over from the tour group, they had paid so participating was for them, so we stayed put. It was great fun, if a little staged. I heard the troupe move on to the other campement later on. I just appreciate people are holding onto the dancing traditions and find a value in doing so.

I haven’t got around to mentioning the greetings! These are very long and very detailed, still going at a distance when you can barely hear - in fact all conversations are like that! Everything is yelled around the cliffs. The basics are ‘hello, how are you’, but that extends to ‘how is your family, mother, brother, uncle, donkey, sheep’ etc. Always the answer is ‘serow’ (fine) so the conversations are one-sided – one person starts, the other just keeps answering ‘serow, serow, serow’! Often a group will be part of the conversatin, so if Tiemo walks past a group of women and starts the questioning, then they all answer in unison. It is hilarious and endearing at the same time – just goes to show that our culture of ‘hello, how are you going’ and walking on without REALLY caring what the answer is is not so unusual! Tiemo is chatting and laughing and making silly jokes with people all the time. People think he is crazy! I have to say we’ve been very happy with having Tiemo as our guide. He seems to be well respected in the villages we visit, and people listen to him. He has been looking after us very well, and is a very good guide. Looks like our risk and gut-feelings paid off! I should note he is from the Dogon country himself, so these are his people and his country – it really adds something extra.

She Says - Mali’s Magnificent Dogon Country (part 1)

2009-10-20T13:54:00.000+01:00

19-20 October (written from notes taken while trekking – no, I didn’t carry the computer!)
Last night as it got dark, Xander was able to put the bike within the walled area of the auberge. Everyone around (where did they all come from?!) was a big help, using people power, sand ramps from the auberge’s 4WD, and a plank of wood to get the bike up the stairs. Wish I’d got photos! It happened so quickly I wasn’t prepared. Our room last night was too hot, the fan didn’t circulate very well so we didn’t sleep well. I think we’ll take the camping-on-the-roof option when we get back! We got started a bit late, got on the road at 8am, and headed for Djiguibombo, about 25km away along a decent dirt road past small fields of onions and other crops. I was happy with our guide straight away as he started telling us what we were seeing, about the small villages on the way, and that it was OK to stop if we wanted photos.

Djiguibombo was great. We stopped first to see the chief of the village, who also runs a small campement, where we had cold drinks and met several men and boys. We then had a tour of the large village. People were very friendly and willing to have their photos taken, usually in return for a few kola nuts, a caffeine-rich seed that is a desired treat and used to be found in Coca-Cola. After seeing intricately braided hair on women all over, I was able to finally take photos of one young girl – I hadn’t felt comfortable asking any other time. I asked Tiemo if I could pound millet with some women we passed, as I’ve been seeing it taking place in villages all over the country and have been really tempted to ask Xander to stop while I go try! Pounding millet was no problem with the older woman Tiemo asked for me, but he had to negotiate for photos, as we had run out of kola nuts but had more back in our bags. Tiemo had to promise to send some back ‘plus a small gift’ (I think 1000CFA), and he got a young boy to come back with us and run the errand when we were ready to leave. Pounding millet was easier than it looked, especially once you got into a rhythm. The seed heads are placed in a deep, carved wooden bowl, and a long thick stick is used to pound the seeds off the heads. The sticks are worn smooth after generations (or maybe just months!) of pounding, so no splinters to worry about. Like many of the villages we would see during our trek, there were a mix of religions including Christian and Muslim and the traditional animists. Tiemo said the local saying is each town is “30% Muslim, 30% Christian and 100% animist”, as they still hold tightly to their animist traditions, even after the influence of other religions. Making offerings or animal sacrifices is still an important way of life here. We saw the animist ginna bana, an offering area or altar with small alcoves for placing offerings, and holes at the top for birds to nest (trying to remember, I think the birds took away the ‘essence’ of the offering). When women are menstruating, they live in a separate hut, called the maison des règles, in a special part of the village, as they are considered ‘unclean’ to deal with normal duties. Another important building is the togu-na, a low roofed structure built on stone or wooden legs that the men use to discuss any problems, the theory being that no-one gets angry when they are sitting down!

After a rest, we started our actual trek. We followed the road for a while, then turned off over the rocks. We passed a small garden set up on the rocks, containing aubergine/eggplant, hibiscus, small papaya and baobab trees, chillis and calabash (like a pumpkin but used only for the hard shell to make bowls and water containers, etc). The garden was fed by water that collected into a pool on the rocks. We walked down to the edge of the escarpment, the lifeline of the Dogon people – wow, I didn’t know it was going to be like this! It’s a shame it was hazy from sand storms, but the view over the edge of the escarpment, down to the tiny village below, and across the sandy plains was stunning. Our first stop was a small stream that ran into a pool with trees all around it, like a little oasis. Then we walked up to the escarpment edge, and looked over to a larger stream and small waterfall and a bigger oasis of large trees, sweetly singing with dozens of birds and sounding for all the world like a tropical rainforest – here, at the edge of the Sahara desert! We followed the edge of the escarpment down a tiny cliff-hugging path into the forest, stopping at the beautiful pools within, before exiting onto the flat plains below the escarpment to the little village, Kani-Kombole. All through the pool area were tiny, bright red dragonflies, and I disturbed a group of bright yellow butterflies drinking from moist mud. Down here among the millet fields, it was very hot, as we had lost the cool breeze we’d had up on top of the cliff. We also found out where sesame seeds come from! I can’t say I’ve truly pondered it, but did wonder. Turns out they come from small thick pods on a little green plant.

We stopped in a small campement for what Tiemo called ‘a small shower’ (quick bucket of water over the head and arms, very refreshing!) and lunch, which was a tasty mix of spaghetti with tomato sauce and vegetables. This included the local sweet potato, which is more like a cross between the sweet orange sweet potato we know and a normal potato. After lunch came a rest period, as the heat is too much in the middle of the day for comfortable hiking. As it was already after 12pm when we arrived in camp (about an hours’ walking across around 3km), neither of us was complaining! We looked around the camp, which had carvings all over the place, examples of the famous giant masks, beautiful doors, etc. We set off again close to 4pm for a tour around the very pretty village, with its decent sized mud mosque (somehow more beautiful than Djenné’s giant version) and murky pond full of tortoises. We learned that the baobab tree is used for many things, including bark rope, leaves in sauces, and the huge pendulous fruit called monkey bread can be eaten when young and made into a maraca when dried. We also got to climb our first tree-trunk staircase, a rather tricky Y-shaped construction used to reach the roofs of buildings and best attacked sideways! We visited the chief and his tiny poky ‘shop’ of carvings, falling I love with a few large pieces we had no hope of taking away with us!

Leaving Kani-Kombole, we walked for about an hour (around 2km) across a reasonable sandy track through the tall millet fields to Teli, a gorgeous village with the old Dogon houses partway up the escarpment, and the even older Tellum houses set high above them, accessible only by ropes. I can’t describe the feeling when I saw those tiny round houses wedged into the cliff for the first time, this is what I came here for! I only know about this area from Michael Palin’s Sahara, and I love old cultures and architecture. While many of these buildings aren’t that old (Tellum only 11-12th century, Dogon in this area only moved down to the plains in the last 40 years) and have been well maintained, this is a truly traditional group of people, going about their daily lives with minimal influence from the rest of the world (yes, there were occasional TVs and radios). Depending on which story you hear, the Dogon people either gradually or forcefully pushed the Tellum people, supposedly pygmies, out of the region, and then used their houses to store the dead. Many of the old houses are now full, so the Dogon are moving around the cliff face to use other houses for storage. No-one’s really sure how the Tellum got up to their houses, but the Dogon have been using rope made out of baobab tree bark.

We spent the night in a lovely little campement, and were treated to music played by one of the staff on a 2-stringed banjo-like instrument, before enjoying a tasty dinner of chicken in a red sauce and couscous flavoured with peanut oil. Before dinner we were able to watch life passing by below the building, including watching kids dancing to another boy laying the banjo-instrument. I really enjoyed the cold shower that night, it was very refreshing to wash off the day’s dirt and sweat and enjoy the warm evening afterwards. The only problem was the slightly disturbing sensation of sharing my shower with 2 frogs...The campement was much better than I expected, a nicely decorated mud construction with carved wooden doors for the rooms, and clean and well-kept. We chose to sleep on the roof as the rooms are just too warm right now (cool during the day for resting but stuffy at night), so they set up with mattresses and strung a mosquito net between various points on the roof. Don’t think this is strange, it’s common to sleep on the roof in these hot places! We overlooked the village, and could see many different types of crops being dried on roofs around us – corn, chillies, peanuts, beans, and millet. Our sleeping spot looked directly at the old cliff village. I can’t believe I’m here! The place is just so different to anywhere I’ve ever been before, and more than that, the scenery has been stunning. I went to bed very happy, after listening to music and staring at the incredible array of stars above us, far away from the city lights – we haven’t seen so many stars since our last nights in Portugal.

The next morning, we woke early due to our outside location, but that was great as we were able to take dawn photos of the old village from the roof. We set off early to explore the old village in the cliff, being able to walk around the old Dogon houses and stand right under the Tellum houses. There was not a lot of evidence of use, but the areas are still used for occasional sacrifices/offerings, and of course access to the burial houses, so we were able to explore fairly well. We saw old sacrificial altars of monkey and bird skulls, stuck with mud onto the cliff face, and the painted altar areas. They use black, white and red geometric designs on the altars, as well as snake shapes. Sadly, there are very few holy men (hogon) still in the Dogon country. We were able to explore the famous granaries of the area, small mud constructions with thatched roofs and stilted legs, accessed from a small portal near the top, which is usually nicely carved in the newer villages. The views over the village and plains below from halfway up the escarpment were fantastic. We spent about an hour up there, poking around the little buildings. On the way out of town, we saw the town’s blacksmith working in his small open hut, although he hadn’t yet started on his day’s work so we couldn’t see him in action. We also stopped to see the local hunter, a very important person in Dogon villages. He had a great coat decorated with skulls and porcupine quills, and one wall in the compound was covered with skulls of various beasts that had fallen to his gun. We then had a very hot, dry, but short 1.5 hour/4km walk along the sandy plain to Endé, our stop for the day. Another ‘small shower’ from Tiemo greeted us in another nice campement, then we had lunch. There were more tourists closer to Endé – we saw one on the track and several in camps – and it is a reasonably well-visited place as there is vehicle access.

After lunch, we visited the various artisanal stalls around town, particularly as I wanted to find a wedding gift for my best friend who gets married next month. Tiemo told me it’s traditional to give something like a wall hanging or tablecloth, which was perfect as I had been shown some tablecloths in the campement, stained with indigo, which is a local strong export. I was fascinated by the processes of creating dyed cloths here, as I had seen examples in the Bamako museum, and was able to see the elements of, if not the actual, process from crushed balls of indigo plant leaves, to a vat of dye, to cloth tied and ready to dye, to of course the finished products. The cloths I saw were made by a women’s cooperative, by the women standing right in front of me, so it was nice to know whatever I bought was going back into that exact community. While I liked the thick raw cotton of the more traditional, handmade local cloth, our limited pack-size, carrying weight, and luggage room on the bike led me to buy a more commercial, but very light, cloth that was tie-dyed in a lovely diamond pattern. Hope my mate likes it! We also saw bogolan mud cloth being dyed. We had first seen this dyeing technique in Djenné, where we saw only the finished products. Mud is used to stain the cloth black, and dyes made from bark of trees such as acacia and baobab are used to create yellow and orange colours to make the rest of the pattern. This was always done on thick cotton, and came in a whole range of sizes and designs, many showing animals, village life or geometric patterns. I really liked the stuff and it was terrible not to be able to buy anything. However, it was just too thick and heavy and I don’t know what I would do with it anyway! I really liked the designs, so I settled for photos instead. The togu-na meeting place in Endé was a work of art on its own. The wooden pillars holding up the low roof were carved with people, religious figures from the creation stories of the Dogon people.

We headed up to the old village, and I was able to see an actual indigo plant growing. These plants are not cultivated, which I found very strange for such an important resource. Instead, people take seeds and sprinkle them around paths and let them grow wild. To think that blue dye was such a special item once and here they just let it grow wild! The old village was not as good as the one in Teli, but still very impressive. The whole area is a UNESCO World Heritage site (yes, we continue our WH touring through Africa!), and Endé is a popular village to visit. A lot of money has been put into renovating and protecting the old houses, however, they have done a lot of new work, so what you see is rather sterile and newly constructed. Tiemo pointed out parts that have actually been removed to put new buildings up. Not a good way to be protecting heritage! Tiemo found it very disappointing that their heritage is being altered like this. Once again, there was a great view over the newer village, and we had another wonderful view of the old village from our roof camp. I saw my biggest insectivorous bats ever that night, they were closer in size to some of the fruit bats we’ve seen but were definitely catching insects. We were not alone in camp that night, but at least it’s not the busy season. I can’t imagine what it must be like at peak time! Sleeping on the roof is very comfortable, and although it can be cool in the early hours, we are only sleeping in light liners and are plenty warm enough.

I carry Dr Otterboro in my backpack with his head sticking out so he can ‘see what’s going on’. This has caused a few funny reactions, with a man in an English shop getting a shock, and a woman shopkeeper in Portugal threatening to attack him because he was a rat! (although with a great sense of humour). Here in Dogon country, he has become my bébé (baby) because I carry him on my back just like the local women! They strap a cloth around their bodies that tightly wraps the baby onto their backs. The women then go about their daily business, working in fields or carrying things on their heads. Kids have to really put up and shut up here! Every time we go past kids in the villages, there are lots of hellos and asking for bonbons (sweets) and pens (reminding me alot of trekking in Nepal all those years ago). Then they see Dr Otterboro and start asking about my bébé! We’ve heard plenty of warnings to be wary of kidnapping in West African areas like Mali and Mauritania, and I have to say it’s a real danger in Dogon country - in fact I get kidnapped several times a day!!! Little kids love to grab our hands as we walk through villages and just walk with us. I’ve had as many as three kids clutching my arm at times!

He Says – The third bed was just right!

2009-10-18T15:38:00.000+01:00

16 - 18 October
I was exhausted we road for about 60k and I was dead. We went to Sevare with the intention of finding a place to crash for a couple of days. As we entered town it every hotel sign advertised internet. Excellent, a hotel with wi-fi is perfect! We checked the first, it had wi-fi, but it was not free and they would not let me park the bike inside. The second would let me park the bike inside but internet was down “due to the birds”- what ever that means.

The third was not to hot not to cold it was just right. Oh sorry slipped in to a drug induced illusion about 3 bears. All kidding aside it was perfect. It was a B&B run by a German woman, the bike came in side the compound the wi-fi was free, and breakfast was included. We even decided to take the more expensive room with its own bath to make things even more chilled.

I played on the net in the cool of our A/C retreat leaving the hotel only long enough to get lunch and back. I spent the afternoon on the net looking for a fix for Mapsource. After unsuccessfully trying to download a new copy from Garmin themselves I finally found a 4x4 forum that gave the instructions .. it took 3 seconds all it was a bad registry. For those that have the Mapsource error program 3579 the site’s url is here http://forums.lr4x4.com/index.php?showtopic=34019 good luck!

Later that night we went to a restaurant owned by the same woman. She met up with us there, and bought me my first beer in two months. Our retreat was magic. We struck gold as there was to be a live band playing that night.

The band played an interesting mix of traditional Malian, blues, and jazz jamming. It was a strange at times but cool. We did not stay too late and headed back to the hotel to get a good nights sleep. However, neither of us slept well.

The next day we barely left the hotel. We spent the day writing blogs emails and generally being lazy. It was wonderful. I was feeling better it was not the Lariam after all, just plain old fatigue.

We pack up and moved on late. But we only had 30 minutes to driving to get to the trekking starting point. We found a place to stay that was run by a Rastafarian, called Auberge Kensaye. As we pulled up I found out that the bolt holding the swing arm of Anubis together had stripped and lost it’s nut and was about ½ out. This could have been deadly. It was a lucky find.

Bouba the rasta hotel owner introduced us to a guide (actually official one). He was much better, did not ooze slime and was also much cheaper then his Djenne counter part. We agreed to a 3 night 4 day trek. Our guide Tiemoko Togo even ran out and got me a new bolt! It took me about 3 minutes to fix. We did little else that day save having the best tasting lunch we had had in months at a little café called “La Petit” and prepared for our trek.

At about 1900h we headed down for dinner in the restaurant at the Auberge , Bouba, called me over and asked if I would be happy to put the bike in the main hotel for the duration of our trek. I was happy to do this but it required me getting the 300kg bike up an uneven flight of 4 stairs. It was a challenge. I said we can only try and I fired up Anubis.

The first pass told me that the brut force of Anubis’s engine would not work. As my front tyre hit the first step the loose gravel that was the street just started to fly and I was digging in. We needed a ramp. This turned out to be no issue the 4x4 parked next to me had a couple of steel sand boards. We grabbed them and tried again. We started to climb but quickly my feet were too far off the ground for me to ride up. Then out of nowhere a pack of guys showed up and we lifted the bike in. It was easy with that many hands. As soon as it was done the men disappeared as fast as they arrived. I thanked the ones that I could see/find but most disappeared into the ether. My only regret was that there were no cameras there to record the spectacle. Tomorrow we trek into Dogon territory.

She Says - Bandiagara

2009-10-18T15:25:00.001+01:00

18 October
A short drive after a slow start, we got to Bandiagara, the Dogon Country’s ‘capital’, by 10.30am and checked into Auberge Kansaye. It was the first place we looked at, but it sounded good from the guidebook, was cheap (8000CFA), and it had a good feel. Didn’t hurt it is run by a Rastafarian and the restaurant was playing Bob Marley! Speaking English, Bouba said we could find a guide through him, so we arranged a meeting to see what he was like. Our plan had been to follow the guidebook’s guidance and check out the local tourism office and make sure the guide was ‘approved’ by them. However, when Tiemoko Togo arrived, more mature than many guides and less flashy dressed, he also had a good feel, offered a better price than Alex in Djenné (20,000CFA per person per day) and we liked him! He understood our needs and abilities – I’m not good at hiking in heat or sand (we get both!) and our camera bags have little room for equipment. He assured us the hiking is not too difficult, we can stick to lower tracks and walking is fairly short each day, plus it is warm at night and there is plenty of accommodation so we need only our sleeping bag liners and pillows. We’re going with our guts here - hope it works out! We set off early tomorrow morning for 4 days – hope it’s not too hot!!! We have been able to pack well and small with our little camera bags, with a single change of underwear and socks, torch, basic toiletries and medkit. We have our Camelbak waterpacks, custom-fitted to our packs, and water is readily accessible along the way. Basically we’re loaded with cameras! I’m very pleased about this, as originally we thought we could not trek with these bags. Our gear and the bike are being stored for free so long as we come back and stay after the trek (no question there!). Our only worry now is how well I will be able to cope with the heat (Xander is very concerned after my little episode in Mauritania) and slow trudging through the sand!

As we drove to Bandiagara that morning, Xander had said the front wheel was feeling funny. When we arrived at the auberge, we found a crucial bolt in the back axle was about to slide out! This could have been major, dropping out the whole back end of the bike and probably sending us flying. After asking Tiemo, our guide, where we could by a new nut to replace the one that had gone missing, he very kindly ran out and got us one, as well as a new bolt as the original had stripped. Phew! In true Ozzie fashion, we gave him a beer when he came back for a drink that night. It turns out he’s best mates with the auberge owner, so we’re holding him responsible for our trek experience!

Have to note we had a fantastic lunch at La Petit Restaurant, the best meal we’ve had in long time, though not the cheapest – we’ll be back! Food is nice at the auberge – simple, tasty, and cheap and the drinks are large and cold!

She Says – Holy Singing Bats Batman!

2009-10-17T15:24:00.000+01:00

15-17 October
We headed for Mopti, having pretty much already decided to stay instead at Séveré, at the turnoff to Mopti, to have a bit more quiet and keep away from the expected hassle. This meant missing our first chace to see hippos but we know we’ll find them later! We both woke pretty tired yesterday morning, and by the time we travelled the couple of hours up to Séveré, Xander was getting exhausted. Little did I realise that I was exhausted too, until we eventually collapsed inside the luxury of Mankan Te B&B, run by a lovely German woman and wonderfully filled with local artwork (expensive but worthwhile - 26,000CFA per night, about 38 pounds). We had decided we needed a few days to disconnect from travel, to catch up on rest and things, before heading off on our trek. Xander hasn’t been sleeping well and it’s been showing each day; I’ve not been sleeping great either and the previous night’s poor fan cooling left me tired. We arrived in Séveré to find every second hotel advertising internet and/or wi-fi connections – brilliant! A few days’ resting with the net at our fingertips to help us sort out a few concerns – our GPS mapping programme had spontaneously decided to stop working a few days ago, and we are concerned about travelling through Nigeria, whether it is safe and if we need an armed escort as has been suggested by travel warnings and a fellow traveller we met in Nouakchott, or if we should ship from Ghana to Gabon. It turns out the mapping program problem was due to one of the map layers we used for Morocco, thank god for the net and fixes! We’ve got some advice from other travellers who have recently been through Nigeria and are considering our options, but several people have gone through without any hassles at all (damn those frightening government travel warnings!).

We finally got to see live African music - by chance we ate our dinner in the B&B’s associated restaurant and being a Friday night, they had a live band! We struggled to stay up and watch them, but they really hadn’t got going by the time we left. The meal was nice and the company was good. We had our meal early, then sat with the B&B owner and two girls working for the UN World Food Programme. It was interesting to get a chance to talk to people working here on aid programmes, after seeing so many signs about the many programmes of support that are going on in the country. We’re now feeling a lot more refreshed and ready to move on to the next big item on our to-see checklist – the Dogon country!

I have to note that the sweating bucket loads and eating street food diet is working very well :-) We’ve been eating in a delightful small Senegalese restaurant here, such tasty local food instead of Westernised restaurants. Everywhere we travel in Mali, we pass fields growing sorghum and millet, huge plants crowding right up to the roadside. Occasionally there are rice paddies, but these are mostly closer to the Niger River, e.g. around Djenné. And of course the ubiquitous flocks of sheep, goats and cattle. Horses are now very common, more so than donkeys, and seem to be fairly healthy – nice change.

And as for the title of this post, I am absolutely thrilled and amazed to have my best bat experience ever – singing bats!!! Small fruit bats are hanging in the trees in town at dusk and singing their hearts out! Going by the large white patches I could see on their shoulders and stomach, I think they may be epauletted bats. They hang in the trees, flutter their wings, and produce a sweet honking sound that is somewhere between the calls of a bird and a frog. At first I thought it was insects till I saw the flutters of wings, then put two and two together. We went out again tonight with the video camera to capture this amazing sound. I’m thrilled to bits, it’s the last thing I ever expected to see/hear!!!

He Says - Mud and grumps

2009-10-15T15:35:00.000+01:00

14-15 October
This was a travel day and not much else. We tried to leave Bamako at about 0800h. Our forays in to the city actually made it quite easy to find the road that we wanted. What our walking excursions failed to notice is that the road was one way. The wrong way. Luckily we also knew there was an other bridge. Unfortunately we had no idea how to go from this bridge to the that bridge or from there to road we wanted. 30 odd kilometres and one airport later we found the road as much by luck as anything else. Bamako stretched on for about 15 more miles before we hit countryside. The views improved immediately the land was a green but arid. But there were lots of trees and the bird and animal life improved. We still have not seen anything too cool but at least the birds are getting better. The most impressive being the weaver birds, and there very complex nests, we have also seen at least 3 types of birds of prey, unfortunately getting a good look is incredibly hard as you are roaring down a road on a motorbike. They take flight and are gone before you can stop. The lizard population has also increased dramatically. Both the 3D and 2D species.

We had no idea how far we would get and as we had no idea of the road condition. It turned out that we reached our minimum target by 1130h. We only stoped for lunch in a tin shanty restaurant. It was an incredible meal and cost us a whooping 0.70p. I know I know budget!! We ended up staying the night in a town called San, it was nothing more then a stopping point. There we met a German guy whom was visiting his sponsored child, and bringing lots of money (I saw a 50mm stack of US$50s) and gifts to the organization that arranged the sponsorship. He seemed happy to give away so much money….so I will refrain from any further comment.

We also met an American woman who lives in the British Virgin Islands and sells jewellery that she imports from India and Bali. I had no idea that these types business could be so profitable, she travels at least 5 times a year. I may need to rethink my career options.

From there we headed to Djenne, home of the largest mud mosque in the world. We had met a guy in the hotel the night before that called a head and we were met with. “Hey Welcome Australians”. We had an expensive tourist lunch that was gritty and mediocre at best. Tam wanted to book a guide to get us a little closer to the people, I was unsure but did it. We bargained the cost down from 10,000Cfa to 6000Cfa, with the main organiser (officially recognised or not) for the area. The tour was to start at 1600h. Amazingly our guide arrived at 1601h no Africa time here. The tour was okay but he was not really an enthralling orator, in fact you could tell that he did not want to be there. Taking this all in to consideration I actually really enjoyed myself. I was able to take some good photos, but mostly we were able to walk around the city unperturbed.

Djenne itself is an island that holds the largest mud mosque in the world, which also happens to be the largest mud building. It was interesting seeing the famous Djenne mosque, it has been in so many TV documentary that it was almost unreal. It was smaller then I imagined and unfortunately the market was not on that day. I was able to see spots that played pivotal rolls in M.Palin’s Sahara, and kept expecting to see either him or his guide just walking the streets, alas I saw neither. Later that night we met up with the same main organiser who was putting the hard sell on us to book a long trek with one of his guides. He was a slick dresser in his chino slacks and dress shirt with a little alligator on the front. He made my skin crawl and I really did not want to book anything more with him. It made me very unsure as to whether a trek later on was a good idea or not.

That night mapsource our GPS program went completely bonk. We were unable to open it to see what was wrong. All I knew was I had to get to the net to find out if I was able to fix it. I did not sleep a wink. This was unfortunate, but not surprising for over the last week I had been sleeping less and less every night. I was tired and grumpy and getting down about things that I should not have been. We both started to worry that it may be the Larium (our anti-malaria drugs).It is know to have these kind of side effects. If it was the drugs then I would have to make the decision to find an alternative drug (which there is none that meet our needs ..see above) or risk my health either physical by stopping or mental by continuing.

She Says - Djenné mud and maybes

2009-10-15T15:22:00.000+01:00

13-15 October
Our last day in Bamako was quite enjoyable. After the previous day’s hustle and bustle and bike repairs, we had a pleasant meal in a Korean restaurant near the hotel. It was really nice food, but in a very upmarket setting, and prices were a bit more than we were happy with. However, we hadn’t really worked out how street food worked and when the little restaurants were actually open, and I didn’t feel up to street food really. So we compromised on two reasonably priced dishes. Portions were a bit small after the Chinese we had the night before – yes, you get all varieties of food here for the ex-pats! – but it didn’t leave me with the same slightly dodgy tummy…

The next day was for us to explore. Our guidebook noted that the National Museum is worth seeing, plus up the hill behind it are old cliff dwellings and rock paintings. We catch a cab to the museum and make our way up the road past the zoo, not actually heading for the cliff, but winding ever further up the hill towards the hospital and our destination, Point G. Feeling OK in the early morning though it was muggy and warm (we had heavy rain one night, even hail!), we trudged onwards and eventually came to a rough track that was signposted for Point G. We follow it around, surrounded by dozens of butterflies of at least 6 different species, from medium-large very pale green ones to tiny blues, plus a good number of dragonflies and birds calling all around. We couldn’t really see the birds, they stayed quite hidden amongst the bushes, except for the large birds that I assume are hornbills from their beaks – we’ve been seeing a lot of these since we arrived in Mali. The track continues past a building and we start to get into more cliff country – so the paintings are around here somewhere? We don’t have a clue where we are going, what we are looking for, and if there will be any sign of it anyway!!! We keep walking round till we are opposite the zoo and what we believe to be the Botanical Gardens (which they were). There’s definitely a cliff here and it looks like a point, but we see nothing to indicate where to go. Looking down, we see carvings on the top of a rock, but they definitely look recent. We decide the best thing to do is get down a level so we can try looking up the cliffs for any evidence of the paintings and dwellings. A rough scramble over rocks and through the grass gets us there. I have to admit I was a bit anxious because after 4 years in snake-free UK, I didn’t have my ‘snake senses’ back on full sensitivity yet! The cliffs were really cool, but no rock art or cave dwellings to be seen. After hunting around a bit, we give up and head for a large sign at the Botanical Gardens, and hope we will just be able to slip out onto the road somewhere. A couple of kids overtake us, just as we see a small sign indicating the rock paintings off to the right! The kids point out the path to us, we walk down, and eventually Xander finds a well-paved track leading up to the small sign, which we couldn’t reach from where we were originally standing. Great, something to follow! The track peters out as we approach a big fence. We stop in the shade of a tree and see some black and white paintings on the rocks here, but they look far too recent, down to dribble marks on the white painting like it had come from a paintbrush, but not so bad on the black painting. We follow the fence and use it to guide us up to the cliff face above, eventually finding several more white and black paintings. I THINK the black ones were real, but they seemed awfully fresh – who knows?! I didn’t know what to expect or look for. The style was very strange, lots of straight lines with arrowheads on the ends. I grabbed a few photos, and starving we made our way out to the large sign on the edge of the gardens. Sure enough, it was about the paintings! It noted the paintings can be very faint, so we still have no idea if what we saw was the real paintings or not. Oh well. Surprisingly enough, this sign was one of the only things we’ve seen written in English lately.

Following the lead of the kids we saw earlier, we headed through the Botanical Gardens and out the gate - no problem! We grabbed a couple of bananas from a lady on a street stall and walk back to the National Museum. While pondering whether the museum had a café or not, a security guard from a nearby building came over to talk to us in English, telling us where the museum entrance was and there was a restaurant but it was expensive. We headed back up the road to grab a watermelon from another street stall (well, wheelbarrow anyway!), and went back to the guard and his friend to share it. It was nice to be able to spend time with someone who wasn’t hustling us or causing a problem and just happy to chat, and to return some of the niceness we have been shown. Off to the museum, which isn’t as large as the guide book made it sound, but it had a very good collection of archaeological artefacts (mainly pottery statues and vessels, plus some arrow and axe heads), wooden statues and masks from various peoples of Mali, including the famous hugely tall masks of the Dogon people, who we are planning to visit if we can afford the hiking fees. The final exhibit was all about textiles, showing the different sources (cotton, wool, etc) and how pieces are created and used, particularly using complicated tie-dyeing techniques I had no idea about (and I rather like this stuff!). This area is where indigo blue famously comes from. There was also a good sample of 11-12th century fabric fragments taken from funerary grottos in the Dogon country. Being keen on sewing and handicrafts, I found this pretty fascinating!

We spent the evening catching up on a backlog of emails and internet work, plus uploading the now two-month-old Spanish blogs. We were particularly hunting for information on how to go about crossing through Nigeria, as we’ve heard it can be a bit testy there, and a guy we met in Nouakchott, Spanish Dani, wrote to say he’d been told an armed escort would be required. We’re looking into whether it may be worth shipping the bike from Ghana/Benin/Togo, around Nigeria and Cameroon (between which is a very bad road crossing), and into Gabon. It will cost a fortune, but so will a hired guard and accommodation and fuel each day. We hope maybe we can hook up with other travellers in a convoy to cut costs and increase protection if we go that way. We had a simple meal of street food stew to top off the day (yes, we found a little restaurant that was open!) and packed up for an early night.

We spent last night in San, a bit over 300km from Bamako. We had an excellent street food lunch in Segou, which was where we had originally planned to spend the night. However, we had travelled well and were not too hot, so we pushed on to make an easy trip into Djenné today. In San, there was a choice of two hotels and a campement, where we had decided to go but it was a bit of a construction site. They directed us to their hotel (Hotel Teriya) further up the road and we decided the place was nice and a good price (12,500CFA – about 18 pounds). We had a nice little round hut with a strong fan, cutting our costs from the air-conditioning we’ve become a bit too accustomed to! Dinner in the restaurant was delicious – fried chicken, a beef and onion stirfry/stew-thing, and really good chips. We chatted with a German guy who sponsors a boy through World Vision and visits him each year here, and a woman from the British Virgin Isles who is travelling here for a month. She runs a store selling jewellery and other bits and pieces that she sources from around the world, mostly from Bali, but now she will work on a Mali section. I was jealous of all the cool cloth and jewellery she was able to take home! Her guide contacted a guide friend in Djenné for us to talk about hiking in the Dogon country, and to possibly stay with him or get a tour of Djenné. Feeling very cautious about guides and hassle, we agree to meet him today and see what he had to offer.

We set off this morning a bit later than usual, but with only 130km to travel we could relax a bit. Expecting some dirt piste after the turnoff to Djenné, we actually hit it beforehand when a diversion was indicated. Apart from dust from trucks and other vehicles, we made it through easily along the 10km of dirt, and reached the Djenné turnoff, where it became a tarred road! We had to pay a tourist tax to enter the city, all properly set up with a roadblock and official receipts, then followed the road through flooded fields to reach the Niger River and an exciting new method of transport for us – a small ferry across to the island of Djenné. I have to admit I was feeling a little nervous as well as excited! It wasn’t a big trip, but you hear bad things sometimes about water crossings in third world countries. Anyway, it was absolutely easy, the bike was wheeled on without question and fees were all standard, but it just added a level of mystique to have to take to the water to get to our destination. We had some very persistent jewellery stall attendants talking to us while waiting for the ferry, but manage to shake them off in the end.

So now we’ve made it to the next big item on our to-see list – the mud mosque of Djenné. As we entered the town, a guy sprints over – “Hey Australians, are you here to see Alex? He’s inside!” We had made arrangements to meet somewhere near the mosque – “everyone knows me, just ask for Alex” – and Xander had already placed bets on someone grabbing us as soon as the big motorbike was spotted. We chatted with Alex in the restaurant he was in, and arranged a guided tour around town – 3 hours for 6500 CFA (about 10 pounds), more than we really wanted to pay but less than the 10,000 CFA that was his starting price. I only tried haggling for less content in the tour, but he dropped the price instead. Yes, me haggling, because Xander didn’t really care to have a guide, but I felt it would give us better access to the city and photos. We set up to meet our guide at 4pm, had lunch in the restaurant (unfortunately it wasn’t that great), and our guide took us to the hotel we had decided would be best as they had secure parking according to the guide book. Xander got to try his hand at checking out rooms, and was surprised to find the annexe across the road had smaller rooms for larger prices! We relaxed for a few hours in the lovely garden of the compound, taking photos of birds and lizards, and enjoying a good view over the town and river from the roof terrace. Have I noted that pretty much everyone spoke English here?! Such is life in a tourist town.

So mud construction is big in this area, we saw a lot in Morocco too. From mud bricks to a complete coating of mud, these buildings are almost fully reconstructed each year after the rains sweep much of the mud away. The Djenné mosque is very impressive, quite a large building with spikes of wood sticking out of it. We always thought this was some sort of design feature, but turns out it is for people to climb over the mosque to add a new layer of mud each year! The main towers and corner-points are topped with ostrich eggs, which (I’m trying to remember…) were for good luck. Our guide took us around the town, and using him as a buffer, we were more free to take photos of people and buildings. We had a few of people say no, though a couple actually retracted when they saw we were with a guide, so I think it was money well spent. A few kids asked for their photos to be taken, but it was so they could get money. One guy actually did some kung fu fighting in order to get us to take his picture - for fun! Hopefully we got some good shots through the town; however, it still felt rather awkward and difficult even with a guide. The walk only lasted 2 hours in the end, but we didn’t mind as we saw the entire town and got to look over it from the rooftops that should have been excluded from the tour, and honestly we didn’t have a lot to ask the guide to stretch things out! We bought a watermelon that Xander wanted (he’s such an addict!), which ended up being our dinner, and shared it with several others at the hotel. We meet with Alex again and talked to one of his Dogon country guides to get an idea of costs, difficulty of trekking, where will we leave the bike and luggage etc. Alex presented a standard 3 night/4 day hike all inclusive for CFA 22,500 per person per day – basically 2 days’ budget each day, which is reasonable considering the guiding, accommodation and food costs. We won’t commit though, as we want to check other guides (especially in Dogon country itself) and see what other options there are, and Xander felt Alex ‘seems like a slick operator’– I agree, so we are being careful! I already had my guard up while making negotiations for today’s guide, but it all worked out fine - anyway it’s a small island to run from us! So now we will head towards Mopti for a day or two, before heading down to Dogon country itself.

The hotel grounds here have been absolutely FULL of lizards! A man confirmed the name while I was chasing one along a wall – “his name is mugeira”. There have been loads of birds. We have weaverbirds building a nest in the hotel grounds, and have been able to watch birds at a small ground-level birdbath, which was loaded with frogs tonight. There were more tiny red birds – first seen in Nioro – these are a dull crimson with wings ranging between dusky brown to blue-grey, and come quite close if you sit quietly. As we have travelled across Mali, we have been seeing so many birds, particularly bright red ones of two varieties – one incredibly red like it was fake, the other a deeper crimson with a dark green band running around its body. Weaverbird nests are frequent. We’ve seen several trees full of them, incuding one over a waterhole that was being used for washing and bathing by some women. We stopped for photos, and the women were not concerned by our cameras, although we did try to make it obvious we were there for the other birds! Near the Djenné ferry we found nests that were huge tangled messes in the trees, and seemed to house several types of bird, even with a few small weaverbird nests attached! Other birds we’ve seen are: large hornbills; big crow-like birds with white on them like Australian currawongs; and large crow-looking birds with long tails and iridescent green and blue plumage when in the light, otherwise they looked black. Similarly, we’ve seen small starling-like birds. Butterflies and grasshoppers are common and Anubis seems to delight in eating them. Ergh.

She Says - Big Bad Bamako

2009-10-12T21:39:00.001+01:00

10-12 October
Well, our initial happiness at being in Mali is being distinctly soured by staying in Bamako, the capital city. We arrived here from Nioro after a long hot ride, but nonetheless unexpectedly arriving, as we were all under the impression that the road would be mostly piste (dirt) and therefore take us some time to get here. We didn’t have a great start to the day, as Xander came out to start packing the bike, was told by the guardian that the bike alarm went off several times during the night and someone had been messing with the bike, then Xander found the rectifier warning light was on again. Thinking it was just because the battery was low from running the alarm all night, for some reason he checked the wring to the rectifier that he had previously repaired in Morocco, and found part of it had burned through again! He fixed it up, with some thanks to Ron for giving us a new roll of electrical tape after finding ours had crapped out, but now we’re just waiting to see what happens…Here in Bamako, Xander has cut open the plastic faring covering the rectifier some more (something he did a while ago to help cool the rectifier, a common problem on this particular bike), and now he is out adding some newly purchased flyscreen mesh bought in the Bamako street market to add protection and keep the airflow going. Please allow this to fix the problem!!?!?!

So getting to Bamako was easy enough, only a few patches where the road crapped out. We stopped for lunch in a small town, yummy fresh-cooked omelettes in baguettes. We ended up with a group of kids around us, all asking for presents rather insistently. Our trick of asking them for presents in return didn’t work as well as hoped! There was a guy sitting in the restaurant with us, who very amusingly kept telling us ‘Donnez-moi une cadeaux - Africa comme ca’ – Give me a present, Africa is like this – and would shake his head at the kids. Occasionally, an adult or the stall holder would shoo them off but they wouldn’t stay away for long! We started seeing a lot of signs for support projects from groups like World Vision and Christian organizations and couldn’t help but wonder if the kids are persistent about gifts due to the influence of aid organisations…The bike generates a lot of interaction for us from the locals, mainly big waves and smiles as we pass on the road, though some people are more sombre and stare but wave when we wave, others especially kids can go extremely manic when they see us! It’s certainly an advantage with the bike – no four-wheel-driver is going to get that kind of in-transit interaction with people. We’ve noticed that society is more ‘normal’ here, where men and women interact freely and are rarely separated, so we are now getting more interaction with women ourselves, from talking to them in the market in Nioro to getting smiles and waves on the road.

We had several choices of places to stay in Bamako, and two districts to choose from. Feeling fresh enough, we decided to try and find a hotel that sounded good but our book described as having an obscure location – ‘head west from the hippopotamus roundabout, turning off opposite the SNF petrol station’. Huh?! Well, obscure it certainly was! After suddenly finding ourselves in central Bamako, as seems to be the way with big African cities, we somehow managed to stumble across the hippopotamus roundabout – yes, it’s a roundabout with a giant hippo statue in the middle of it! We even found the SNF petrol station, but it all went wrong after that. We poked around, then got instructions from the station itself, then asked people on the street – there was no sign of this place. We gave up and decided to stay in the district well outside town, managed to find out what street we were on, and actually found the hotels we were after! After not being convinced by the security of the on-street parking at the first hotel we inspected, the manager told us about their sister hotel, Hotel Park, that has a locked parking compound. Better than that, it has a complete garden full of trees and little thatched huts with fans for sitting under. It’s an absolute haven inside a manic city! It’s costing a bit more than we wanted (20,000CFA – about 29 pounds), but the security helps and it’s not that expensive really (cheaper than the sister hotel!).

Managing to arrive once again on a weekend, we decided to look for the Burkina Faso embassy on Sunday, just so we knew what we would be doing this morning to sort out our next visa. Turns out the guidebook lied once again, and the embassy is no longer near-ish to our hotel but over the other side of the city centre – if it was ever over here! We worked this out in two ways – different address listed in the book to the map, and then searching on the internet and actually finding street locations worked well, and helped enormously this morning. So today we set off for the embassy, taking our first taxi, and getting waylaid on the way by a scam artist. Now it might sound pretty stupid, as we are wise to scams and have pushed away hundreds of wannabe guides and hustlers and people selling us things over the last few months. But this guy seemed genuine in his trouble and we thought we were protecting ourselves as it happened. Xander was also feeling that unless we take a chance to help people, how are we ever going to get these wonderful experiences we always hear from other people about how they got invited to stay with locals, etc. To sum up, he couldn’t get money out of a Western Union transfer because he was missing a code and needed to make a phone call to his girlfriend in Switzerland to get it. He said was from Ghana, and here only for a drumming festival. The guy should get an Emmy for his acting, as he honestly seemed desperate. Ghana is English-speaking, so we believed him when he said he couldn’t get help from the French-speaking locals. We figured it would be OK to help him as using a telephone boutique, which are everywhere, would be the only actual cost, then we just had to go with him when he got his money to get repaid. It started going wrong and we got suspicious – he seemed to speak with people, he buys cigarettes (no money?!), he asks someone to use their mobile, Xander gets distracted and I decided to allow the mobile call instead of finding a call boutique, the phone call works and he gets his code. Now suddenly he has to go find his friend to get his passport in order to get the money, and he changes from wanting to go back to the French embassy (near where he found us) to the Ghana embassy. He tries to make us catch a cab back, we refuse, but what I don’t understand is he stays with us and keeps walking. Eventually we part, us realising it’s a scam and the money has just gone to the guy with the cell phone, who our friend presumably gets a cut from – stupid us. The guy seemed genuine, nice and friendly with extremely good English. We make arrangements to meet him in two hours at the French embassy, but we already knew he was unlikely to show. At least we were only talking about 10 pounds lost, but I bet that was a lot for our friend and his mobile chum!

So we push on to the Burkina Faso embassy, as we felt we really needed to get there early and it was the only reason we left the guy behind. We get there and they tell us that the combined visa for Burkina/Benin/Togo/Niger/Cote d’Ivoire no longer exists. We read in our book that they try to tell you it doesn’t exist, but after repeated asking, an English-speaking woman tells us that visa option is no more. We had already read last night that we could get border visas for the main countries we want of the five, and gave up. It was only to save money, but also border hassle and to get long enough visas to stop and enjoy places without having to go and extend any visas. So be it! Frustrated but OK, we walk into town and visit the markets, including the artisans’ market where people have shops selling artwork but are also sitting there making it as you pass – leatherwork, wooden and metal sculptures, paintings, jewellery, etc. We move up to see the fetish market, basically supplies of dead animals for use in medicine and voodoo. We got to see a grisly mix of crocodile skins, animal feet, monkey heads, small cat pelts, teeth and bones. I have to wonder how many endangered animals are going down this path? Xander asks an old man if he can take his photo, he agrees, but then gets hassled by the nearby stallholder for including his products in the photo. They argue about money, Xander hands over a small coin, mistakenly handing him some Mauritanian ougiyas. The stallholder throws it to the ground in disgust – easy, Xander picks it up and walks off!

We decided to end the day and walk back to the hotel. Another English-speaking scammer tries his scam on us, this one a ‘jazz musician from Jamaica’ who has been robbed and is just trying to get to the airport. I’m not entirely sure what his scam was - maybe he was hoping we would offer to pay for the airport cab, maybe just internet time to get a money transfer as he hinted at that as well. He kept insisting he wasn’t a hustler, but we weren’t falling for anything. His story wasn’t event that good, nor his accent. We left him to go talk to the police again (Interpol he says – yeah, right!) after he refused to look for the Canada embassy with us, near our hotel we thought, as they seem to supply all the colonial-British embassy support. We had a long, hot, but OK walk back, even finding a pharmacy selling decent-grade mosquito repellent as we are getting low. There are several very Western supermarkets near our hotel, as it is the rich area where all the ex-pats live, but the DEET level of mozzie repellent is dismal. We found a Mali sticker for the panniers in the market, which made us very happy. It’s a shame we couldn’t find one for Mauritania, but Xander has left space for it so we can get one made later.

He Says – Bamako Shamako

2009-10-12T17:25:00.000+01:00

11 – 12 October 2009
The road from Nioro du Sahel to Bamako could have been part paved (199k) part piste (159k) or all piste or all paved depending on what map you were looking at. Despite the mornings melt down we headed off just after 0800h hopping to miss the some of the heat. Well the road turned out to be 458k of good (for Africa) paved road. It was actually kinda of disappointing I wanted some piste. It was hot (39° + C) and had some amazing things to see, my arm got tired from all the waving to the people we passed. We ate omelettes at a roadside hole-in-the wall, where we were hassled by kids asking for presents and bon-bons. But the adults, kept shooing them away (to no avail) but eventually the kids just stood there starring at us and listening to the chef asking us if we could fit 3 on the bike and if we would take him home to Aus with us.

Refreshed we headed out for the remaining 150k the temp was about 45°C now. We arrived in Bamako almost without warning. We luckily (still don’t know how) arrived on the road that we wanted to find. We looked for a hotel that was in the “officially dubbed worst guide book ever” but could not find it and at least 20 locals did not know it either. We then drove to the other side of town and with relative ease found one that was in the book. It turned out not to be what we wanted (no parking for example), but the manager told us about and took us to another hotel that had “inside the compound parking”. He like all the rest just smiled and left after doing us this favour. The new hotel had a park like feel (although it was a bar) with little islands of tables under straw huts. It was the 3rd cheapest one we knew existed too. We checked in with little discussion and I collapsed. I was hot, dripping with sweat and hungry. I was not a pretty sight or smell. But a shower and some clean and dry cloths later I was ready to hit the streets.

We ended up eating Chinese food for dinner as there is little in the way of Malian dinner restaurants, they tend to eat a big late lunch. We returned to the hotel and relaxed for the rest of the night.

Our first day in Bamako was kind of a bust, we were here mainly to see if we can get a Burkina Faso visa, but it was Sunday. Unlike Mauritania, which runs on a Sunday to Thursday week, everything was closed (okay not everything but lots). I slept very badly that night. I am not sure why but I tossed and turned all night. When I did get up. The first thing I did was attack Anubis with a knife. I have cut an even bigger air vent over the electronics in order to stop them over heating.

We decided, as everything is closed anyway, to just have a wander and find the embassy. According to the “officially worst guide book ever” it was only about 3k from our hotel. We figured that it was a destination to head for and we would see a bit of the city at the same time. Well the “officially worst guide book ever” was wrong (again) we walked around for several hours and it was not there. We even asked several people including the ambassador to France (okay well maybe not the ambassador but the couple were French and did say that they worked in the embassy). We were now hot and pissed off and started to get snappy at each other. Tam was wilting fast. So we stopped in a cyber café and googled it, the “officially worst guide book ever” was off by basically the entire city. It had moved (BTW) but not from where the book said it was and it had moved two (2) years before publication (fact checking people it is important for a GUIDE BOOK).

We got some lunch and headed back to the hotel. Tam spent much of the afternoon sleeping as I read a really bad Tom Clancy book. Venturing out only again for dinner we found that most places were still closed. We wandered the streets for a while, found a street vendor selling mini sweet pancakes. We ordered 5 got 10 and paid 0.20€ for the lot. They were amazing but so light that we needed more food, unfortunately we ended up in the same café as we did for lunch. This time however when we went to pay the waiter hung around as if expecting a tip. We were embarrassed and did not know what to do. I pulled out the “officially worst guide book ever” to see if in Mali you should tip and it said nothing. We left with out tipping but are not sure if we did the correct thing.

I slept very badly again, but we got up early to get to the visa office. We decided to catch a cab for the first half of the trip, and this is where Bamako started to go bad.

The French embassy workers told us that the cab should cost no more then 1000CFA, he charged us 2000CFA, but I was tired and did not care at that moment. He got us to the ½ point in short order and we started to walk to the Burkina Faso embassy. About 300 metres later a guy approached us, he spoke very good English and said he was from Ghana. He had a story about needing to make a phone call to get some a number from western union, and that his French is not good and is struggling. My alarm bells went off, but we decided to see how this was going to play out.

I have always heard about people helping people like him out and making a life long friend. He seemed very stress and as Tam said he should have gotten an oscar for his performance. We said that we would lend him the money for the call all 50p of it. We started to follow him to a telephone centre (there is usually one every 2 buildings) but we could not find one. Eventually he ask a guy to use his mobile phone. He even had me dial the number. The call ended up costing 6600CFA, we paid it. I was worried at this stage, as his French was too good. He also seemed to know his way around too well. He now wanted us to pay a cab for all three of us to go to the Ghana embassy to get his passport from a friend. ALARM!! No way we walk! He started to play the stressed card again. At this stage I knew we had been had and I was not going to walk into part two of the trap/scam. I said we are leaving. He begged us to meet him later and even gave us the code number that he made the phone call to get. He kept saying things like “you loose that number I’ll kill you” we agreed to meet 2 hours later at the French embassy.

We walked to the Burkina Faso embassy as the heat and humidity increased with every step. We found it with no problem but were both wet by the time we got there. The “officially worst guide book ever”, said that there is a central Africa visa that will cover several of the countries that we want to visit. It also said that the embassies will often try to say they don’t know what you are talking about. Well Burkina Faso did acknowledge it did existed but that it was no longer valid. So our options were now pay 30,000cfa for a visa now or 20,000cfa for one on the border… hmmmm you do the maths. We left empty handed.

Tam was also convinced that the guy was a con-man but she was willing to go to the embassy to see if he showed up. I said it was a waste of time. I knew that he would not be there. He wasn’t. If he was so desperate he would not be late. We waited 15 minutes. He did not show. We left feeling like idiots, I was hopping to make a friend I took a chance and it did not payoff. I have not felt like we connect with the people of the countries that we pass though. I was sick of always being on guard. I was wrong. Every time we travel, we never take chances like this and we never get stung, but we never make the amazing friends that some people do. First time we risk it we got stung. I know this will affect the way I try again, if I try again.

We spent the day avoiding touts, we went though the markets and was hassled every 3 feet, one would stop one would start. We entered the fetish market, which is not as you sickos are imagining it is the African medicine and magic market. It is stalls of dead animals in various stages of decomposition. I could not resist and asked an old man if I could take his photo full well expecting to pay him for it. He wanted nothing but a young man came up saying that it was his stall and I have to pay him. I gave him 25CFA, he spat on the ground and threw it on the ground I picked it up and walked away. He was not in the photo, the old man was the subject,,, how much did he think I would pay.. Asshole.. We left the market to find some food. The nearest restaurant that we knew about as it was listed in the “officially worst guide book ever” was closed and had been for 2 years according to the woman out front selling peanuts. (The book published in 2008). We wandered on and saw a street food seller. We went over, we ordered two plates of the brown stuff with meat stuff and other stuff. It was really very good, the brown stuff was a peanut sauce (simular to satay), the meat well we still don’t really know, but Tam’s guess was intestines, mine was tongue, the other stuff was a very nice fish meatball. The meal cost us about 1£ and was the nicest I have had in a while. That and some of the pancakes from the night before and I would be in heaven. A person started begging from us as we got up to leave but I ignored him and Tam said something that made him leave. As I turned around a man approached us, he asked if we spoke English, his English was perfect. He started off only asking us how far the airport was. He said he was from Jamaica. He did not have a Jamaican accent. The con was on again. He used many of the same lines: Oh no one speaks English here. I am stressed. I am a musician, blah blah, the new one was he was robbed last night and hates Mali. His non-Jamaican accent slipped a few times and he slipped in a couple of French words. I played with him for a while and tried to get him to walk across town with us to the Canadian embassy (As they will help out any other commonwealth member citizen and it is near our hotel). But he would not bite. I was hopping to use him to stop the other touts from bugging us, as they seem to leave you alone if you are with one of them. He left empty handed, we left with out a tout shield. We where only hassled a couple of times on the way back, and I was rude every time we where. I will no longer be polite to this type of scum. Bamako is not endearing itself to me, Mali as of now is not being painted with the same brush, but I am not so willing to forgive or forget. Out of the big smoke it will hopefully return to the nice people we met yesterday. If not we will leave early and they will lose even more money. I came here with no expectations and yet I am not happy with ½ of what I have seen. I write this in a very bad mood and I will see what I keep and don’t during the edits.

We arrived back at the hotel and I spent the afternoon gluing mesh over the new vents in Anubis’s side panel. It will slow the ventilation a bit but you must balance protection with cooling. There is no point in having a nice cool electronic component if it has just been smashed by a rock. It is funny you can actually see the components now.

About 1600h the skies opened up. This was a huge storm with hail, rain and thunder. The roads were no longer roads but quagmires of red sucking mud. Low levels were filled with water in minutes and people ran for shelter like it was the end of the world. Tam and I sat under a grass roofed hut in the garden of our hotel and watched it for as long as we could. We joked that the area around us was full of water confirming my original guess that these were meant to be little islands surrounded by water. Great concept except in a malaria country. What we suddenly noticed a few minutes later was that these little ponds were getting too full and our dry space under the grass roof started to flood. We made a dash for the room and dryness. The storm lasted about an hour and when the sun came back out, despite the late hour, it was like a steam bath.

Dinner was supposed to be a cheap affair the “officially worst guide book ever” suggest a Vietnamese place that was “no nonsense and fairly priced” It was close by and we were both tired. Tam was getting the shakes so we decided that it sounds like the best bet. For once the “officially worst guide book ever” was actually very accurate with directions, but it was a white tablecloth kind of establishment. We decided to eat there regardless but ordered the cheapest things off the menu. It was still one of the most expensive meals of the entire trip.

The plan for the next day was to get up early and go to the north of the city to find some rock painting. Tam has a thing for rock art. Well once again I did not sleep so I was as quick moving as a bogged Anubis in sand above the bash plate. Tam was willing to let me sleep in and go to the city in the afternoon, but I thought it best to get moving. We somehow got out of the hotel a little after 0800h and were able to get to the starting point for our rock hunt by 0900h. The “officially worst guide book ever” described these as “abandoned cave dwellings with impressive rock paintings” it described how you can walk from the national museum to a place called point G where the hospital is located.

We asked a local and he told us that you had to walk all the way to the top of the hill and then around. It was about a 3k walk. Amazingly at the top of the hill we found a sign for a tourist piste and took it. We were now walking along a cliff edge in the African forest. Although a bit daunting is was very cool at the same time. When I say very cool is was already about 35°C and 80% humidity. Both of which seemed to rise with each step. In due course we realised that we had just walked to the other side of the valley and had not even seen a single cave. We were now directly opposite from the place where we asked for directions. We just kept walking. We were closer to the city then the original starting point, with the exceptions of being 300m too high. We decided to cut cross-country to get down. It was actually easier then it looked except that is was now extremely hot (40°+C) and 100% humidity. I was dripping with sweat, nothing was evaporating, and we had found nothing.

At the bottom of the valley, and by some streak of luck or maybe our navigational skills. (Yeah right!!!) We found a sign that told us we were close. Completely wet but enthused we followed the path it led us down. The path simply ended with out warning or additional signs. We were so close! So cross country again it was. We found them!! Well we think we did. What we found was what the pictures said they should be, but these were done with a paint brush and latex paint. They were neither old nor impressive. It looks like to me the “officially worst guide book ever” fell for a scam and we fell for it as well.

By this stage though we were only 200m from the museum and so cut across the national park office to get there. On route we decided that we were hungry but there was little in the way off food. We ended up purchasing a huge watermelon and a couple of bananas. The watermelon we shared with a security guard and his mate as we talked about what it was like to live in Mali. Never before was 50p so well spent.

The rest of the day was sent walking though the museum, where the guards watched you like a hawk and up loaded long overdue blog entries. Dinner was a wonderful feast of beef curry and bread in a local tin shack restaurant. All in all it was a great day, if not a bit hard on the nose by the end of it.

We leave Bamako tomorrow. I will not be sorry to see it in the rear view mirror. I did not like it. It was a city, and every city is the same in the end. Cities are not why we came here. My only regret is that Bamako is supposed to have a great live music scene at the weekends and we missed it.

He Says – Mali

2009-10-10T17:22:00.000+01:00

09 – 10 October 09
We wanted to miss the heat. The thought of a hot sun and a border crossing was too much. We headed off from Ayoun el’Atrous at 0700H. We knew what road to take (cus we asked). We did not get lost. Stopping only at a roadside bread seller. We passed thought the first check point of the day and the land scape opened up before us and it was beautiful. Mauritania was the one place in my life that I have been that never ceased to stun me at every turn. We followed signs to Kobeni, a large town about 20k from the border, getting there was easy the road was in the best condition that we have seen. Save for a few potholes that could eat us whole without a problem. It was a fast 100k. We passed though several more check point on route and were not surprised when the douane (customs) checkpoint in Kobeni, did not even look up at us. There has been a history of these check point, which are in every large town only looking at lorries. We passed though Kobeni, with the expectation of the border to come it was only about 0900, it was still “cool” (only about 35° C). We though things were going great. We did notice that the police check points were getting more and more unfriendly though, we did not know why. The next police check point was manned by a surly gentleman that took our passports (first time in Mauritania) and walked into his office. 10 or so minutes later he comes back and hands us our passports and with out an other word waves us though. We set off thinking that the border must be all of 2k away and we would have to go though it again.

We pull up to the next check point which was, as predicted, 2k further down the road. The first thing we noticed was the uniform was the wrong colour. Then the flag was Red yellow green, not green with yellow crescent moon. Oh shit.. We drove right though the Mauritanian border with out knowing it. The Malian border cop just smiled when we said we had to go back for customs. It was a knowing and joyful smile. We must not have been the first!

We turned around. Arriving at the only place it could be the final police stop. We asked about custom. “No that is 20k back in Kobeni”.. Gee thanks.. So we shot off. Arriving in customs the guards did not know what to do with the carnet, but I point to the lines and it was filled out with no problems.

We jetted back though the 3 police checkpoints, until we reached the final one and they just waved us though like we were some kind of annoyance. Once again at the Mali border we were waved in with no hassle we handed over our passports and waited. No sooner was the police back in their office did a man approach offering to exchange money. It should be noted that it is against Mauritanian law to remove Oogs from the country. We currently had 80,000oog on us. But we were in Mali and it is not illegal to have them there. One of the police saw the guy offering us exchange and yelled for me to come over and him to bugger off. The border consisted of me filling out an entry form for us both and a welcome to Mali.

Next step or so I though was customs. I went over and a nice man who looked like Bill Cosby took my papers for about 2 seconds and told us “okay now go to the big office in Nioro du Sahel, its 65k away”. O’kay…Off we went no customs no insurance no proof that the bike or anything else is ours. We did get stopped and register with the army (an other 2 minutes and we were off).

It felt really odd to have waltzed though the border like that. But Mali was every bit as stunning as Mauritania. There are just as many birds of and many species as you can think of. There were also many people in colourful costumes (Mali being the more colourful) the land scape was stunning turn a bit more green then the bluegreen of the few days before. Fields and lakes stretching for as far as the eye could see. The only downside so far it that it was even hotter.

We arrive at Nioro du Sahel, felling good but hot. There were no signs, nor any indication but an other money changer ran up to us and told us that he will change our “euros, or oogs, over there at the customs booth”. Once again I would have never guessed, I arrived and the process was done with good grace and speed and not even the hint of a cadeux. The money changer showed up and offer again to change money. I needed some as we still need to buy local insurance. He offered 1250CFA for 1000oogs Tam had already estimated that the rough exchange was 1750per I knew that there was a lot of variation but I did not quite buy his offer. I said no. Buy this time the insurance guy was summoned, we were upto 1500CFA. My trap was set.

We went into the insurance office and western union office and they said they would exchange the money. They offered 1200 per.. I laughed and said I will go back to the first guy as he offered be 1600CFA, they knew I had them. They agreed to my rate reluctantly, to be honest I am not sure what the official rate was but I know it was close, and these guys had no fees. We purchased a Carte Brun which covers most of central Africa. Job done we headed in to the main section of Nioro du Sahel.

Nioro du Sahel, has five paved roads, four that are roughly in a rectangle bisected by the 5th, the now “officially dubbed worst guide book ever” told us that there was only 2 places to say, we could not find either. Eventually we found a bunk house but Tam was not allowed to say as it was full of men and they don’t do mixed rooms. The owner did however call the only other hotel and they sent someone to get us. He sat with us talking while we waited. He wanted nothing but a handshake. Mauritania and now Mali was making me love Africa, and they were undoing what Morocco had done.

Shortly after a young impeccably dressed man arrived on a 125cc bike. We were instructed to follow. Which we did, but he knew the roads and was fast. I had a hard time keeping up along some of the bumpier and sandier parts of the pistes. When we arrived at the hotel is was fine. No hidden bike parking but I was not too worried there was a guard. We relaxed in the room for about half and hour before joining the men at the front of the building to eat our lunch and watch the world go by.

World watching is a full time occupation in both Mauritania and Mali. The men where happy to have us and where as friendly as our broken communications could allow for. The shared their wonderful watermelon with us, with no stings attached. It was well just plane nice to be with people that do not just see you as a walking wallet. After the heat had broken a little Tam and I headed into town (about 2k walking). There we were treated like popstars the kids would flock around us and want to shake our hands. The men and woman all said hello. We were stared at and everyone wanted to say hello or shake my or Tam’s hand, but that was it. No other hassles at all. We saw Fulani woman walking around, this is finally the Africa I came to see. I was so excited.

While walking around I saw the British couple from the Auberge in Mauritania driving around with the look that I must have had on my face in Spain when the Columbian-British expat interrupted his afternoon coffee for us. It’s the of “I’m tired, hot, cant find a bloody thing.. and I unhappy”. I flagged them down. I was right, they where. I told them why I stopped them and they were all to happy too be shown the hotel where we where staying.

We wandered around looking for some dinner and quickly realised that there was not a restaurant to be found. Finally in a shop where we were buying our lunch for the next day I asked. It started a great debate, which resulted in one young man walking us around the entire city looking for an open place to eat. He failed. But he tried really hard. I actually saw one of the butchers had a BBQ and we told him that we would eat there. He was shock and surprised that the white people were eating like locals, but also happy. We ate our meal in relative peace the only beggar was a child that was begging from everyone. He was quickly shooed away by the butcher. Walking back to the hotel I ended up directing 3 other 4x4 travellers to the hotel as well (I should get a touts fee! Oh wait this is not Morocco). So far Mali has been great, and the people seem even happier then in Mauritania. The one thing I have noticed is that the woman are not required to be separate or covered. They walk around wearing anything they want from the covered look to a fitted traditional dress tank top thing to western styles with no hassles. I have seen men and woman holding hands, they co-mingle (not necessarily to the same extent as in the western world but as much as they want to). Tam commented on how she was surprised that I was smiling and letting the kids hi-5 me and shake my hand. This did not surprise me, it was something I was expecting to have happen and it was nice compared to the previous hassle we were getting. What did surprise me was how much of a feminist I am. I was happy to see woman being treated like equals something that really bothered me in Morocco.

We only spent one night in Nioro du Sahel, we woke early to make it to Bamako. When I got out to the bike the Alarm indicator told me that someone had messed with it. But the Guard told me this two seconds later. All was okay in that regard, when I turned on the bike the charger was gone again. I stripped off the panel to see that the same wires had cooked again. I stripped them back as far as I could this time and even sanded them down to make sure that there was not a poor connection and rewired it all up again. However instead of taping them in a bundle I have wired them out to increase airflow. I also decided to cut bigger vents into the side panel and see if this helps. For you XRVers out there the rally Reg/Rec for Electrex has survived two overloads (one with fire) and is still working fine in 50° Saharan heat. It you plan on travelling get one!!

She Says – Mali!

2009-10-09T21:37:00.001+01:00

7-9 October
We set off nice and early from Aleg, and made good time into the large city of Kiffa, where we stopped for lunch but did not seek out the Aleg hotel manager’s husband as we wanted to keep moving. Apparently we have good taste, as our friendly policeman from Boutilimit dropped in to the same restaurant for his lunch! (actually, both times we stopped at the only places we could find…) Mmmm, chip and mince sandwiches and a couple of cold drinks. There seems to be no national food for Mauritania except chip, onion and meat sandwiches! We decided we were feeling good enough and the road had been good, and so pushed on to Ayoun el’Atrous, completing roughly 500km for the day – a very long day for us, and I was feeling glad we had stopped in Aleg the previous night.

Not far outside Kiffa, we stopped to refill our water pack. I should note that the tent tube on the front of the bike makes a handy place to strap spare water bottles! While resting, some women looking after cattle in a nearby field come over to us - an old woman, younger woman and young girl stood with us in the shade. We couldn’t talk together, and we’re not even sure if they spoke French, but we tried to comment on the beauty of the spot that Xander accidentally chose (neat cliffs, lots of trees and birds), the birds singing, it’s very hot, etc. I wonder what goes on in people’s minds when they see us, why they come to see us when I assume they probably know we can’t speak with them? The women hardly said anything to us and barely spoke to each other, the little girl was shy and wouldn’t interact with me. We offered the old woman some water, thinking she had nothing out in the field, but she didn’t want it. Several times, she indicated to my bike jacket and pointed to her full-body wrap (think sarong/sari), but I can’t possibly imagine she wanted to swap, only that they were the same somehow? She was smiling and did it several times but was never pushy, so I don’t think they wanted anything, just to meet us. I wish I knew what they got out of the interaction!!!

We moved on and reached a town called Tintane, where the policeman at the checkpoint was friendly and told us to go around town. When we reached the rough piste going right, Xander thought it had to be wrong and headed through town, but loads of people pointing and car honking told us we were going the wrong way! We ended up crossing 10km of really bad track to get around town, also discovering that the bracket holding up the top box had shaken a nut loose, come apart and broken one of the brackets Xander installed back in Portugal. He later found a bracket holding one of the panniers had also broken, and we decide that a thorough welding job across the pannier system is needed! Anyway, back on the main road to Ayoun el’Atrous, we see that it has been blocked going back into town and can only assume a major washout had happened or there are major roadworks. The road itself went to pot – literally! There were potholes everywhere and Xander spent a lot of time dashing us around them – come to think of it, I think this started from Kiffa (i.e. where we decided the road was good and worth travelling on for the day!). We ended up behind a taxi driver, who Xander started using as a guide to road conditions, alerting us on things like unexpected speed bumps and deterioration in the road. The taxi driver seemed to realise this and started helping us out, putting on hazard lights and indicating obstacles for us. We reached a massive river fording - having already gone through one earlier that day, apparently this one was too big and there were a myriad of tracks leading around it. The taxi driver indicated which track was good and we followed him around, eventually finding him waiting at the road to make sure we got through. We followed him until nearly in Ayoun, when he indicated us forward and said the route is fine and to go on ahead of him (I think he thought we could travel a lot faster than we were!). And nothing requested in return! We were shocked and extremely pleased at his help and friendliness. We reached Ayoun and were stopped at the usual town-entry police checkpoint. I ran over to the taxi driver and dropped him one of our thankyou cards – the first time we got to use one for someone who wasn’t also a tourist! The policeman got very curious and seemed to grill the poor taxi driver, who tried to explain he just helped us. Thankfully it worked out OK, but I think the policeman was a bit narky because he was in the process of asking Xander for a gift of something from our tankpod, a torch I think it was, and was getting a very friendly ‘no’ in return!

The landscape coming into Ayoun el’Atrous was incredible, all rock sculptures and layered hills, very pretty. People seemed more friendly here and happy to see us, with many people saying ‘bonjour’ as we drove by. We made our way through town, which was pretty jammed up with afternoon market traffic, and got through to an auberge on the far aide of town, down a sandy track, nice! It was late by this time, I think it was 5pm so we’d had a long day, and made arrangements for the auberge to supply us a rather expensive, but very tasty, fried chicken, chips and fried onion dinner. Accompanied by overly insistent cat!

Next morning, we got instructions to a welder in town and got the repairs done - probably at a premium price, but seeing as it cost us about £10 and the guy did it straight away, it was worth it. Xander used our little camera photograph the welding work, then I took it and sat in the shade. A policeman started chatting to me, first asking where we were going and had come from, acting all important – from the number of badges all over his uniform, we weren’t convinced he was a real cop! He asked how much the camera was worth, at least I thought, then tried to buy it! He eventually left, but later returned and asked to look at the camera, so I started showing photos from the last few days and all the kids around us got interested. The cop tries again to buy the camera, or a memory card or something, I don’t know, it was very confusing! He eventually leaves me alone and I’ve got a big group of kids around watching the photos, so I run them through everything on the camera! I then realise I have a perfect opportunity, and start asking different kids if I can take their photos and get to show them instantly that it is done. Only one boy says no. It was a rare opportunity to take photos of people without being intrusive, which I don’t like. It was great fun, but camera goes away and apparently I’m not interesting any more! We tried to find internet access, but the only place advertising internet didn’t actually have computers….we then ran between several different shops and roadside stalls to buy food for dinner (goat meat, potatoes and onions for a stew) and stocked up on water as the auberge supply seemed a bit unreliable that day. It turned out they had pump problems, and it was all fixed by the evening. We were greeted very enthusiastically by several women sitting in one shop, which made a really nice change. They seemed pleased we were Australian, in fact they even knew where it was (or at least Sydney; most people think it’s in Europe!) and were very, very pleased that we were married. It was hilarious actually, especially when I ran back for water and I got greeted again so happily. By the time we got back to the auberge after all our running around, there were revolting sweaty salt marks on my trousers from riding/walking in hot weather with full bike gear on and clothes underneath!

After 2 nights’ rest in Ayoun el’Atrous, today we had a reasonably leisurely journey from Mauritania into Mali. We only had about 3 hours of driving to do, but wanted to give ourselves plenty of time to deal with border hassles. We set off early, as is becoming our pattern now (as close to 7am as possible, only just past sunrise), so we had less heat to deal with and could get ourselves comfortably over the border before the day got too hot. The ride was pleasant enough – the area around Ayoun was full of more neat sculptured rock formations, including in the town itself, and this gave us some cool scenery to start with. After that, it was back to grassland and trees (mostly acacia and the occasional baobab – yay, African baobabs!) with a number of waterholes, many many sheep, goats, donkeys, cattle and the odd camel. What changed down here was the increasing number of horses as opposed to donkeys. Anyway, so we merrily headed on in weather that switched between cool and hot winds, then I see yet another police post appearing - but something looks different about this one. I tell Xander I think it’s the border, but we soon see there is no corresponding border on the other side and no money exchange places. We go through the formalities, though this time instead of a photocopy, the policeman takes our passports away. We head on…and 2 km later we’re at the Mali border!!! OK, not a huge problem, except we were supposed to get our carnet (the bike’s ‘passport’) stamped to say we had exported it from Mauritania. Only not a big problem because if it is stamped into Mali then obviously we’ve taken it out of Mauri, but it is a formality and we want to do things right. We confirm with the border guard, who was friendly and looks amused like it has happened many times before, that we have to head back – not just to the police post, but 20km back to a town called Kobeni!!! There was nothing in our guide book or in Kobeni to indicate we were supposed to stop there, it was just another douane (customs) stop like any other that have always waved us on, and the police at the other end of Kobeni didn’t note anything to us. So we head back on a very easy ride, and Xander gets some very confused looks from the douane officer but gets the carnet stamped, and we head back again to the border.

The border crossing into Mali was extremely easy if somewhat confusing and disconcerting. First things first, Xander dealt with the police check and got our visas stamped, as I was feeling a bit dodgy. We had a stack of ougiyas from Mauritania to exchange, but there only seemed to be one guy offering to change our money. I was feeling distinctly edgy, knowing we didn’t know the exchange rate (as far as I can work out from rates in our guide book, the rate should be around 1700 CFA per 1000 ougiya) and was certain we would get a bad deal, but everything we’ve read says it is very much illegal to take ougiyas out of Mauritania. Well, it seems they don’t care at all! We moved on to the douane post, he was happy to just say hello and tell us in very good English that we have to go to Nioro du Sahel, 65km away, and deal with the carnet at the main office and get insurance there too. He also tells us the exchange rate at the border is bad so do our change in Nioro. So much for illegal money transport!!!! The next stop had a sign saying peage, French for toll. I had read you have to pay road taxes in Mali and figured this would be the first. Nope, it was some sort of other police post who recorded our details in a big book as they always do. A little further on is another tollgate set-up; ah, OK this time I think we have to pay, although the pricing sign shows only pictures of trucks and I’m hoping they take ougiyas! Nope, it’s for trucks only and they wave us through. Feeling rather disconcerted that border issues haven’t been dealt with at the border, we moved on and hoped that we don’t have to come back!

We reached Nioro easily around 12pm, although getting pretty warm by this stage. The main douane office was easy to find, although we were reassured by a moneychanger who followed us over and offered us a rate of 1200 CFA to 1000 ougiya. Carnet stamped, the officers call over a guy to take us to a nearby insurance broker, who turns out to also change money (which I think every man and his dog does around here, we had several offers in Ayoun el’Atrous and a bunch in Nouakchott!). The original moneychanger increase his price to 1500 CFA per thousand, but we move on. At the insurance office, they low ball us with an offer of 1250 per thousand, Xander tells them we got offered 1600 back at the douane office, and they go for it! I’m massively relieved at this stage, as we had quite a bit of Mauri money to change, having stocked up from ATMs in Nouakchott so we could avoid exchanging any of our limited cash until we desperately need to. Next we sort our insurance, another relief as we have now entered the ECOWAS economic zone, where many countries not only run on the same money (CFA), but almost all have the same insurance coverage (a carte brun or brown card). We sign ourselves up for 3 months to get us through Nigeria, then it was off to find accommodation, stopping for fuel on the way. We get our first ‘donnez-moi une cadeaux’ (give me a present) from a kid at the fuel station and I try Xander’s new trick of asking them ‘why?’ or ‘give me a present!’ back and it works brilliantly. They don’t hassle you again after that!

Our guidebook notes only two campements for the town, which are basically somewhere between a campground and an auberge as far as I can figure. The middle of town was extremely confusing and we find no signs anywhere for accommodation, except one slightly confusing sign indicating rooms and restaurant – we hunt for it and find nothing. We pass another sign for rooms and eventually drop in, but it seemed to be a male only dormitory (from what a tour and Xander’s limited French told him!). However, the guy calls up a hotel and someone comes and fetches us. It seemed a bit out of town, but we felt we had no choice at that point, having found nothing else indicating accommodation. As we found walking around tonight, it’s only about a kilometre outside the main centre. We settle into a comfortable AC room that is costing less than last night’s accommodation in the auberge in Ayoun, which I’m really pleased about, then have lunch around 2pm out the front of the hotel to be social with the men hanging around. We get given some watermelon when someone turns up with a huge one, and spend a lot of time saying hello to passing people and just doing some general people watching. It’s interesting to see that there is now more interaction between men and women, even physical contact – very different to the strictly Muslim countries we have just come through.

After a rest and wait for the heat to drop off a bit, we head into town. It was still hot but somehow bearable, and we manage to walk all around the markets before bumping into Ron and Sybil, who we met in Nouakchott, who were also completely lost trying to the find the hotel but at least they knew about it! We point them in the right direction, then try to track down some food supplies that aren’t fresh watermelons, cucumbers, onions, potatoes, or what I assumed to be yams or cassava! We also search fruitlessly for a restaurant. In a shop finally, getting some lunch and other supplies, we ask if there is a restaurant nearby. A guy offers to take us to one, walks all the way over town to find it’s closed, then tries another right near the original shop but it was also closed! Xander spies a butcher who also cooks meat and steers us there, and our friend helps us through the process. He seemed really pleased when we offered one of our ‘thankyou’ cards, though I’m a little concerned when he refers to it as a cadeaux (present) and I wonder if we’re doing the right thing offering any sort of ‘thankyou’ gift or if we are starting a precedent of people expecting gifts for their help, like happens in Morocco...We had already decided to be very strict on handing cards out, so just hope it’s the right thing. Xander runs off to grab bread to accompany our meal and for lunch tomorrow, plus some lovely cold drinks, which we really need by this stage! I have become addicted to Hawaii, a fizzy tropical fruit drink we first found in Morocco. The lamb is soft and well-cooked and very tasty, and the red meat is welcomed into our diet, which has been a bit scant of late between difficulty in obtaining food and difficulty in eating while we’ve been unwell. We see Ron and Sybil walk past, so figure they got their way to the hotel! On our way back, we get passed by three French vehicles obviously heading the same way, confirmed when one checked directions with us. Busy night at the hotel tonight then! It looks like it’s almost the only accommodation option around, although Xander thinks the second restaurant we were taken to for dinner was an auberge as well. We found a bank with ATM; however, it didn’t seem to like my card so no money-joy there, but we have plenty to get us through to the capital, Bamako.

So we are absolutely ecstatic to be in Mali, as it is already very different and very ‘African’. We are seeing women in amazing brightly coloured clothes, and some with the mouth-tattooing that we first learned about from Michael Palin’s Sahara, which I believe indicates women of the Fulani tribe. People are extremely friendly and happy to see us, waving from the roads, saying hello as we pass, and even the women are more interactive, which makes a nice change from the Muslim countries. Kids are extremely interactive, including lots of high-five/hand-slap/hand-shake actions that bring smiles all around. There’s been a fair bit of cadeaux-requesting as well though, but we seem to be deflecting that pretty well. There’s been no evidence of official corruption unlike in Mauritania, where we seemed to be getting more requests for presents as we moved along, though none between Ayoun el’Atrous and the border. Everywhere seems to be playing music, which is fantastic as we felt Mali would be our first opportunity to get out and enjoy the local music scene. Bring on Bamako!

Wildlife update - All through this morning, I kept seeing an amazing blue-coloured bird that looks something like a British jay or an Australian kingfisher, with brilliant blue wings that can only be seen while flying, as the bird seems duller when resting. So nice to see brightly coloured birds again! We got to watch a few small birds in the auberge grounds last night, particularly a finch-looking bird with splotchy red markings. As we approached Ayoun el’Trous through southern Mauritania, we saw many large dull-brown eagles scavenging off the roads, but not that frequently on the millions of donkey/cow/camel carcasses, as I think these dry out almost instantly! Donkeys seem to have suicidal tendencies, often standing in the road – not that I can blame them, they seem to be slightly better treated here than in Morocco but not by much. The other big wildlife highlight has been the lizards, they are everywhere now! We had a really big one perched outside our window in the Ayoun auberge, with a spiky orange-splotched neck and spikes running all down his tail. It was hilarious to see him dealing with the heat through the afternoon like we were - his method to completely flatten out on the shady windowsill, ours to flop on the bed in the AC. We called him Gojira (after Godzilla), as the local name we were given for the smaller lizards was something like ‘mugeira’. Around the rest of the auberge were much smaller lizards, extremely flighty and difficult to observe, but very common. We got a better chance to watch them today while having lunch at the front of our hotel, where there were lizards everywhere. This included one big lizard who had his clear territory marked out, returning to the same spot even after venturing elsewhere around the hotel. At one point, he leapt up into the bottom of the bike, presumably cleaning up some of the millions of large grasshoppers that we have been collecting on the bike (ew, but makes a change from butterflies! Anubis seems rather partial to them…). The lizard then walked up the bike’s front tyre, climbed across the dashboard and seat, before jumping off again, all in around 15 minutes. I guess the bike met with his approval?! The other highlight has been the butterflies – on the Mauri side was a lovely fluttery butterfly that was white with brown-tipped wings; in Mali, it has been a big, pale yellow and black-spotted butterfly that has one pair of wings that are much larger than the other. Groovy!

He Says- Nouakchott – Lives and let live

2009-10-08T15:36:00.000+01:00

04-08 October 09

The next morning we took a lazy stroll to the market with the hope of finding the bat colony. We found the market without an upward glance. It was a manic place, with people selling everything from cloth to radios to meat to well ahh cloth. It really did seem that there was only three things for sale. There must have been 300 stalls and they all had one of the above three things. The only brake from the chaotic mayhem of sameness was that everybody from the one-armed one-legged beggars to men in military uniforms offered change our euros. At first I could not understand how they could make money until I realised it is “the lonely planet effect” it was written once that the black market gives a better rate then the banks. So now, people that do not do their research go looking for the black market. We were offered 330 per 1€ in the market, and it was pledged at the time to be the best deal in town. The bank 5 metres away was offering 390/1. hmmm now I see. Tourists are idiots. In a foreign language maths become hard, I have done it, we all have. Half way though the market the mercury almost reached the halfway point (48°C), and although not as badly as the ride from hell, Tam started to melt. Her walking pace went from normal to a snail on valium’s as such it took us a long time to make it back to the hotel. Where we relaxed for a while before venturing out to find food.

We had seen a little whole in the wall café the night before and hoped it would be open. It was, we went it to slightly but not massively shocked looks on the faces of the staff. Behind the counter was a large black woman of undeterminable age, in the traditional costume that I always associate with black Africa. She gave me a small smile as we walked in. There was no obvious menu, so we went up to the counter, by the time we got there she produced a water bleached laminated menu. However I spotted the 50l pot bubbling away on the stove and asked about it. Convinced that we would not be interested anyway she just answered Senegal stew. Perfect! I’ll have that! Tam agreed the small smile exploded into a huge face full of teeth. I also spotted a fried triangular thing that looked a bit like an Indian semosa. So I order one of those as well. Her smile turned to a look of concern; I was now a bit concerned myself. What could have changed her mood so quickly? A few minuets later I found out. The triangular bread came out first, it was loaded with chips and meat and salad. It was a huge meal for a really fat glutton all on its own. We started to eat it and it was great. Then the plate of stew came out it was enough for an entire family. So there we where eating for a small village and loving it all. We managed to eat a fair bit of the food but the heat and the massive meal took its toll. We were almost 700m from the Auberge and Tam was dragging herself at a rate of nots (no, not at a rate of nautical miles .. but as in NOT at all). Eventually we got to the road and the door was only 50m away. I decided that I had to walk off that meal or else die. So Tam took a right I took the left. It being Saturday very little was open, but I covered a large section of the northern aspects of the city and even had a possible sighting of the Malian embassy. When I returned all was well Tam was rested and chatting with some of the other guests at the hotel.

That night we wondered down to the cheep eats section of town and had a small meal at one of the local joints. It was quite tasty and cheep and the staff seemed to have great fun at our expense handing us leaflets for college courses. It was harmless although I personally never got the joke. When we returned to the Auberge, we found out that the heat was not a normal thing and that the locals were dieing right along side of us. Well that is a relief.. well no, not really .. it was still very hot. That night the sleeping was no better for Tam and she tossed and turned all night long.

We knew it was going to be a hot day, so I went for a walk as early as I could to see if I could actually find the Embassy. It turned out to be an easy walk and found it with out any problems. They are open from Sunday to Thursday, Friday and Saturday are their weekend. This is true for most of Mauritania as well. We had the option of going back to the embassy that day. By the time I got back it was over 50°C well it felt it anyway (I later found out that I was not too far off 49°C). So we didn’t do much, lunch was the big assignment of the day and we only went back to the same café as the previous days lunch. This time a fish dish with lime. Stunning!

Tam surprised me by walking around and back to the Auberge at a normal pace. We reckon that a 2-day acclimation is not that bad. Once we made it back to the Auberge we found a British couple in a 4x4 had arrived as well as a Scotsman who over the last 8 years has adapted the Toureg life style and is now a camel herder. He was an interesting guy to talk to. He had a story for everything, and a lot of information, however he had also lost a lot of his normal people skills (if he ever had them) while wandering the desert. The result being that when you first met him you are not sure if he is wacko or genuine, it is only later that you come to believe that he is a genuine wacko, and his yarns are true.

The hotel was also home to 3 tortoises that when around destroying the landscaping and eating the veggie waste from the kitchen. They also had a great time picking on the two resident dogs. After an other hot night where Tam did not sleep well, we spent the next morning going to the embassy, and sorting out visas. The embassy went fine and we were told to come back at noon. The buzz around the Auberge was that the 50° C line was broken, no wonder it was so hot. That day we also completed our friend Pete’s challenge, which was to give leave his Morocco guide book for others to use and to pass on when they are done with it (lets see if he ever gets it back).

The only unfriendly people in the entire city was the hotel staff. Everywhere else you went you were hassled by people wanting to shake your hand and say hello, and ask how are you or anything else they can get across to us, but they wanted nothing else. It is the polar opposite form Morocco. It is so nice. This extended to an opening night at a little take-away restaurant. We were not very hungry due to the huge lunch that we had, we went in and ordered just a small sandwich each.

The owners then asked us “if it is alright with us they would like too give us at no cost the speciality of the house.” It turned out to be the same meat and chips in a fried dough triangle that we ate on the first lunch. Neither of us could finish it but they were so pleased that we ate as much as we could. Now feeling a bit sick from being overly full, we headed back to the hotel.

I stopped off at the bakery to buy some bread from lunch. It was mayhem. You walked up to any of 5 lines that went to one of 3 windows. You held out money (it seemed like any domination that you wanted and they somehow in a millisecond worked out how much bread that bought you and they threw the bread at you. They were doing this to at least 20 people at a shot. When the bread cart was empty there was a slight riot of shouts and screams regardless of the fact that there was another cart was already being wheeled in. Getting my two baguettes I headed home.

One thing I don’t like about Mauritania is that I did not take many photos as the people are still suspicious of cameras. It is not that they think you are stealing their soul but are worried that you are from the government or are going to make money off of their image. However, I really like one thing about Mauritania is that although the men and woman stay (kinda) separate they are equal. It is more like they choose to group by sex and not by an antiquated religious code. There were many cases of mixed groups or just couples.

The next day we left for Aleg, of course there was no signage at all. Somehow we did not get lost. Which was good because even tough we left early it was already hot as hell. The route took us though the real Sahara, but without the lifeless feel, that we have seen before. This is despite all the dead animals and cars on road. The number one cause of death and car accident is cars hitting livestock. At times there could be 10-15 dead animals in a row, along a 20m stretch of road. The road is called the Road of Hope, it was not so hopeful to the dead. It has also killed many villages; the young have used the road to get out as fast as they can, thus leaving many villages one old generation from ghost town.

The road took a few hours to transverse it was good but full of potholes. Then without waring we came to green fields. I was just thinking (again) how I missed trees and then bang a nice place with huge shallow lakes that where full of trees, for far as the eye can see. We arrived in Aleg, after going to three stations, found some fuel for Anubis. We were hot and tired, we decided to call it a day early. We saw some signs for a hotel so followed them. We could not find it, 30 or so minutes of driving around asking people; we were directed up a goat track over the hill. The hotel was a huge affair, but there was no one home. We decided to stop in the shade and eat lunch before looking elsewhere. In the mean time someone showed up, walked into the hotel and started yelling! It turned out that the staff just could not be ass getting off there asses and let us in. Not a good sign. We did end up staying, but we had to move rooms because the AC that we had paid for was not working. We then even had to pay for the privilege of using their dirty kitchen. I was not happy and I was getting sick. By dinner time I was once again stuck with some major gastro issues.

Although I slept poorly we moved on as early as we could in order to avoid the heat. We stopped in little town called Kiffa for cold drinks and a snack as the local chief of police stopped to chat. 200ks later in a different town, when we stopped for lunch we met up with the same chief of police this time on route home to see the family. I was still a bit sick but not bad so we continued to the 203k to

Road turn to a game of dodge the pot hole for 200ks including a couple of fordings, then in Tintane it became a off piste ride for about to 10k. However I though that it would be this bad for the remaining 70k to Ayoun el’Atrous My bad stomach, lack of sleep combined with not being prepared for an off piste ride; I was not having a good time. About half way down the road the Topbox’s bracked broke and I noticed the left side rack had snapped a bracket. NOT happy! Luckily I was wrong the bad stuff was only about 3-5k and the road was good piste for the next 5k then it was back to paved potholely road. With the broken bits I was actually much happier when back on bad roads.

With out knowing us a grand cab, helped us by leading the way and telling me where the bad stuff was. For most of it I did not really need him as it was the same for the previous 130k. However, there was one section where the fording was a broken 500m, he showed us a path (mud sand, rock) around the ford, and even waited for us at the other side to make sure we made it. Then unlike in Morocco he waved us to his side said go on the rest of the road is good and said bye. He passed us a little later as we stopped to take photos. We play leapfrog for the next 10 k or so as we got into town. As we stopped at the police check coming in to town, Tam ran up to the Taxi driver and handed him a card of thanks that we had made, he seem greatful until the cop started to hassle him about it and then us. He too wanted a gift, but he did not help us so we said no, The cabbie got an earful, maybe about us maybe not none-the-less I felt bad. He was the first person to receive on of our “thank you” cards that totally deserved it and got shit for it. No good deed goes unpunished.

The nicest part, was for the first time in the trip, there was birds everywhere we looked. I was going too fast too often to know what they were but from the soaring silhouettes above; I knew that at least some of them were birds of prey.

Ayoun, well there was not much to tell, we found a Auberge a few k out of town got a room with ac that only kinda works. It is well in to the high 40°. Ate a very exxy chicken and chips, well we both picked at and went to bed. Next day went in to town to have the racks welded up (I am not bothering with bolts any longer) went grocery shopping and that is it. Tam gave me hair cut (finally), I made a goat stew using the solar heat to stew it.. and relaxed tomorrow was to be Mali.

Mauritania has become one of my favourite places so far, not because there is much to do but because the people are so great. Most of the people have been helpful and not wanting anything. We are a spectacle doing anything from buying potatoes, to filling the tank; within seconds a small to large group of people surround us staring and asking us the same questions over and over in either bad English or perfect French. To which we answer it in either bad English or worse French.

Mauritania, I think, needs another visit but one where we are able to go a bit more off the beaten track. Does this mean not by bike? I am not sure but I know it means with support by either more bikes (at least two or three) or by 4x4 and it does mean not two up fully loaded. We have struggled off road where normal cars can go, we can not handle the Sahara. Mauritania has true desert here and you should not go anywhere off the beaten track with out lots of water (3 days), fuel and some sort of back up support. We are unable to do any of the above (without hiring a guide with their own vehicle--- way out of our budget.). The only thing that I have found that I don’t like is the dislike of cameras some of the people are stunning and I would have loved to capture that. Mauritania if you read this, you should start to expand your tourist appeal and tell the world how stunning you are. This place is great.

She Says – Mauritanian malaise

2009-10-06T15:41:00.000+01:00

4-6 October
We are in a town called Aleg, making our way towards Mali. We were aiming for here after leaving Nouakchott as it seemed a reasonable-sized place at a reasonable distance along the road, but in actuality I was hoping we would make it further today. We set off at 7.30am this morning to try to beat the heat and get as many miles on the road as possible before it got too hot. We made it through the millions of gendarmerie and police checkpoints (OK, it was probably 20, and customs never cares about us so they were extra!) but it really slowed us down before reaching Boutilimit around 10.30am (love it! What a name). The checkpoints are no problem, they just want our details for the books - passport copies suffice whereas Morocco wanted more info about our arrival date, entry stamp number and the bike’s details. They usually ask some questions about where we’ve come from and where we are going, and sometimes write down the bike registration, but it’s generally pretty quick and we don’t have to get off the bike or take off our helmets; sometimes a little chat happens but not today.

We stopped in Boutilimit to have a break from the heat, cold drinks and I was hungry so we got some biscuits. We’re being very careful to make sure I’m well fed and watered! A nice policeman had a chat to us while we rested and even got the restaurant we stopped at (open for supplies but not food) to put out chairs for us and took our rubbish away. We get stared at a lot but it was not unfriendly or intimidating, just curious, and many people said hello as they passed, which made it friendlier. From there, our trip to Aleg took a little over an hour, as there were fewer checkpoints, and while the road was poorer in condition with potholes and rough bitumen in places, we seemed to travel faster. However, it was getting really hot and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could comfortably travel by the time we reached Aleg. It’s not quite the large town I was expecting, is very local and busy and dirty, with the main road once we hit town turning into sand and gravel. Bizarre! Outside town, we crossed a massive wetland system, full of plants and birds. It would have been nice to stop and look around, but our main concern was finding somewhere to stay – easier said than done! We managed to find the one and only hotel (we think) but it was quite an effort, as there were signs but not very clear, and the hotel was down a long rough road then up another very rough track. We asked several people for directions and eventually found it, tucked behind a massive satellite dish! When we arrived, the hotel appeared to be closed, so we sat in the shade of their entrance gate to eat lunch and see if anyone turned up, or maybe we would just rest enough to get us on the road again. Before long a couple of guys arrived by car, rousted the staff, and we got in and settled. We made arrangements to use their kitchen to cook dinner so we didn’t have to make it back into the town. I was able to have some fractured conversations with the manageress and co-worker about their babies, and she invited us to contact her husband who works in the nearby city of Kiffa. I was feeling incredibly tired and slept for a while before we had to move rooms due to the air conditioner not working properly. By this time, Xander started feeling rough and had another diarrhoea bout, and is feeling really depressed by our illnesses, so we’ll just have to see how things go. We really would have liked to explore more of Mauritania, as we’ve liked it here. However, we are not feeling confident about getting too far onto rougher roads right now, and are very concerned about the heat. While in Nouakchott, we decided not to head into northern Mauri, as it would be another 500km or so of harsh desert driving and possibly unsealed roads – we saw that just being a big mistake for us! People we met in the auberge came through the Nouadhibou-Nouakchott road just after us and their temperature gauge was reading 58 degrees Celsius! No wonder I had my little ‘episode’. It is hard to know which roads have been upgraded or not, as our maps and guidebook are not very accurate. We wanted to head to a town called Tidjikja not far from where we are now, and although a guide in the auberge told us the road is now fully paved, I think it’s too far out of the way. So we will just keep moving towards Mali as fast as we can, but I think it will take a couple more days yet if the weather stays like this - it was absolutely roasting the hotel windows earlier today (very hot to touch) and has not cooled down much since.

As we left Nouakchott this morning, we stopped a couple of times to get photos of the fantastic sand dune scenery that greeted us outside the city. We got to see the hilarious sight of camel transport – they get the camel to lay down in the back of a ute, cover it with a large net, then as they drive the camel watches the scenery go by with a happy look on its face! I really got the feeling that Nouakchott is a city waiting to be swallowed up by the desert - all its paved streets are completely edged by sand (i.e. no footpaths, just sand), in fact I assume the whole city is just built on sand. It’s a pleasant enough city, nothing to see but very easy to move around once we got more used to the heat (and I got over my various illnesses!). People were friendly, we got very little hassle and felt perfectly safe. Four days was definitely enough there, but as we were waiting till yesterday to get our Mali visas we had no choice. The visas took only 3 hours to get and were very straightforward, costing 6500 ougiya each (about 16 pounds). At the auberge, we spent a lot of time talking with a British couple making their way by 4WD through a similar African route to ours over the next year. I really admire them, as they are just shy of 70, fighting fit and keen to get out there. I hope we’re still travelling independently at that age! They had a problem with broken air conditioning on the very long hot road to Nouakchott, which was fixed by a local mechanic after the Toyota dealer was basically no help. They were off for their Mali visas today, and I hope we see them again along the way. Last night, the auberge was invaded by a lot of travellers – 3 separate 4WD travellers, a car, and a cross-country bus (for lack of a better term!) from a travel company called Dragoman, full of British and Aussie travellers. Thankfully they were pretty well behaved! One group of 4WD travellers is experiencing the same doubts about travel that we have been having – are we crazy, it’s too hot and difficult, etc – so we don’t feel quite so bad that we are on a bike and not in a car! We also met a crazy Scottish guy who has been living here for 8 years, spending his time as a camel shepherd, English teacher and now documentary researcher. He provided us with a lot of entertainment, with his hilarious manner and stories of living in the desert, as well as insight into a very different life and that of the nomadic Toureg people. But we never did hunt down that fruit bat colony…

She Says - Hot, Africa Hot – Nouakchott!

2009-10-03T15:40:00.000+01:00

1-3 October
My illness continued while in Nouadhibou, though more fatigue and general unwell-feeling than anything. We ended up staying three nights in Auberge Sahara – kind of like a backpackers’ hostel, where the staff were nice, especially Kanti who helped us practice our French, and it was very secure, relaxed, comfortable and cheap (4800 ougiya, about 12 pounds). I was sick again on the second night but after that seemed a lot better, while the third day it was just an effort to get myself moving and I was having real problems dealing with the strong sunlight. Xander went shopping and made us a big stew of camel meat, potatoes and capsicum for lunch, which went down a treat. Yes, camel! There are camels everywhere here, we even saw groups of females with babies as we entered the city. After that and a bit of sleep, he forced me to get out walking across town, and while it was thoroughly exhausting and I walked at a shambling pace, I managed to walk for about an hour. Through the rest of the day, I felt a lot better and we decided we could now move on. It was also the day we reached 3 months on the road! During the night, we went from being the only guests to nearly a full house, with the arrival of two French guys travelling to Guinea by car, a businessman from Ghana, a solo male backpacker, and a group of women backpackers! Unfortunately that made our peaceful accommodation a bit noisy and we didn’t get the best night of sleep, but it was nice to chat to some other people. Xander’s French has been coming along really well while I’ve been ill, as he is trying hard to learn grammar and phrases, helped by a textbook in the auberge’s ‘library’, and has been having a lot more interaction with other people.

So NOW we finally hit the extreme African Saharan heat we’ve been expecting for the last month! We arrived in Nouakchott last night after a scorching 480km or so ride from Nouadhibou through true Saharan desert. Wow! Unlike what we saw in Western Sahara, this was real desert, of sand dunes ranging everywhere from small shifting horseshoe shapes to giant dunes in the distance glimmering like mirages, to mostly seas of sand and featureless rocky desert with only the occasional tree or big-leaved bush to add any interest. It was a long tough trip, thanks to the heat, the burning howling wind, and the monotonous landscape. The bike was at a lean for much of the trip, and there was frequently sand blowing across the road, even some areas with dunes right on each side of the road. While we knew the tarmac road was fairly new, which made the travel pretty fast, we didn’t know if there would be petrol available, so Xander found two oil containers to use as petrol jerry cans and strapped these to the panniers using the much-sought-after strap mounts he found in Fes. Turns out we didn’t need them as there was petrol, but there were very few stations available. At 11.30am and roughly halfway through the trip, after travelling in a light sand storm where we couldn’t see anything but haze in the distance, we stopped at a petrol station for a much-needed break. We hadn’t been willing to stop in such strong winds, but more so, the bike provided us with ‘air-conditioning’ that would rapidly vanish if we stopped out in the exposed desert! To our surprise, the French guys from the auberge were there and with them the guy from Ghana. They apparently had some trouble with the sand-covered road, saying their wheels had locked up at times and even hydroplaning (sandplaning?) off the road into deep sand at one point. Seeing as they left over 2 hours before us, I guess they must have had some big problems! I guess we were doing OK. We had a much-needed break and cold drinks and biscuits (at ridiculous cost in the middle of nowhere) and then got back on the road.

Without really thinking, we didn’t eat our lunch during our stop – I guess we both thought we could stop somewhere on the way (though god knows where!) or that we would be in Nouakchott soon enough. It turned out to be a bad move, as I had a massive attack of hypoglycaemia. On a normal day, I have to make sure I keep up my food consumption or else I get shaky or at the least, very hungry. Sometimes I will crash rather rapidly and bypass all the warning signs that I need to eat. So while I thought I was doing fine after our petrol station stop, about 60km outside Nouakchott I had my biggest crash ever. I had to get Xander to pull over and then basically collapsed next to the bike. I can’t really describe what I was going through – essentially my whole body felt full of pins and needles and everything seemed to be a huge effort, especially talking. So when Xander asked what was wrong all I could tell him was “need food, too hot, going insane”. The “going insane” part was a reference to a feeling I had when we travelled back from Romania last year, when it was so hot on the German highway that I felt I was going to go mad and start screaming inside my helmet if I didn’t get off the bike at that moment! But poor Xander wasn’t to know. I found myself pacing, sometimes laying down, sometimes trying to walk or draping myself onto the bike in an effort to get the pins and needles to stop. I picked slowly at the bread he gave me to eat and tried to answer his questions when he spoke to me, but I was trying to focus on myself and get things working properly again. I found breathing to be a huge effort, basically I was panting, and food didn’t seem to be making any difference. Normally at a time like this, I’ll eat sugar, and after asking for sugar Xander eventually realised he could make up a sweet mix of powdered cordial in one of our water bottles. This should have worked really quickly, but I felt no better. I kept trying to eat, move, lay down (better blood flow to my head to get rid of the light-headedness I was now feeling), anything to make myself able to move again. Xander stood over me to shield me from the harsh sun, and eventually poured a bottle of water over me to try and cool me down, as we had both started thinking maybe there was more to it and the heat was the real problem. I can’t say the water actually helped, as it had been strapped to the top of the tent pannier and was quite hot - in fact Xander refilled the water pack and when I drank from it, I almost burned my mouth (or so it felt, it was hot but I don’t think that hot!) - but the idea was sound. I was getting really frustrated by this stage, really forcing myself to move and get over it and almost started crying, when Xander made the decision to lift me up and put me on the bike and just get us moving; he would have strapped me on if he had to! I was worried I would fall off, that I would get too light-headed, but something worked. My wet clothing was dried by the burning wind, and Xander kept forcing me to talk to him, as I was very tired and kept trying to fall asleep. I forced myself every few minutes to croak out a weak ‘hello’ to let him know I was still awake. We reached a police check and I was still not well, I don’t know if the guy could tell but he didn’t keep us too long. By the time we reached the next police stop, I was feeling suddenly better – just like that, it was over. I’ve never had a crash take so long to get through, well over an hour, so maybe it really was the heat. At the next police check, I was able to answer questions from the police and then we were in Nouakchott! A very bizarre experience, and one I don’t want to go through again.

So like Nouadhibou, Nouakchott is a sprawling city that just suddenly has a city centre, not that you can tell. Unlike cities we are used to, there is little to demarcate the centre from anywhere else, as few buildings are more than two stories high and nothing is exactly ostentatious-looking, not the hotels or even the banks really. We had GPS coordinates for Auberger Menata where we planned to stay, and for once managed to follow the GPS and get ourselves here, only messing up by driving past the turnoff and having to do a ‘blocky’. We were welcomed by the manager – ‘I tried waving as you went past but you didn’t see me!’ – and three large tortoises hiding in the shade under a trailer. The complex is quite big, with a number of rooms, small shop, and a rooftop terrace area where you can also sleep under a tent called a khaima. We decided to take a room, so we could unload our luggage and spread out to relax, plus it was only a bit more than both of us sleeping in the khaima (5000 ougiya). Unfortunately the room is incredibly stuffy, and the fan going all last night didn’t do a lot to help me sleep until it finally cooled in the early hours. I’m also super-paranoid about mosquitoes, as we didn’t start our anti-malarial tablets quite early enough (only in Dakhla just before entering the malarial zone). I was still sick at the time, so every time I felt something on me last night I was swotting it, even if half the time I think it was just air being pushed over me by the fan!!! Our exploration of the city last night went as far as trying to find somewhere to eat, and basically everything seemed to only just open at 6pm as we wandered around, so we settled for some really tasty pizzas at Pizza Hot, and picked up a watermelon that became our breakfast today. While waiting for the pizzas to cook, we sat outside and got to see the best sight in ages – fruit bats!!! Dozens of them started passing over us on their way out for the evening’s feeding. As we walked back to the auberge, we tried to pinpoint where they were coming from to hopefully track down their day roost – there were so many in the distance, and we think there may be a park nearby. That really made my night.

So far, Mauritania seems quite good. There is very little hassle, people genuinely seem to want to say hello rather that trying to get something out of us, and there has been little hassle from kids asking for money. Today’s wanderings around the market were the most hassle we’ve got - a few people wanting us to go to shops, quite a few wanting to change money plus more kids that we’ve seen so far - but it’s low key and easily moved away from. Many people just say ‘bonjour’ and/or ‘sa va’ (how are you) as they pass us and smile, nothing more than that. I think they are just surprised and happy to see us here.

We haven’t done much today, after a lazy morning we walked to the market and around town, but it was so so hot that I just kept flagging behind Xander. We escaped to our room for a while, then went out for a late lunch to a nearby café for a chip sandwich thing and Senegalese eggplant & meat stew, yummy! I came back while Xander went exploring further, as we have to find the Mali embassy on Monday to get our visas – yes, by luck we’ve arrived on a weekend but it seems nice enough to stay here.

He Says – Sun Sand and sizzling Tams.

2009-10-03T09:48:00.001+01:00

2-3 October 09

We left Nouádhibou at about 0900h, unfortunately Kanti was not around and were where supposed to get some photos of him and I promised him a ride on the bike. (Sorry Kanti). I knew the road to Nouakchott was a good sealed road that could be anywhere from 439k to 599k long depending on the book or map that you looked at. I also knew that there were none to many petrol stations on the way. One fact I had was that fully loaded in that kinda heat Anubis safe range was only 430k. To dry more but this is not something I am even willing to consider. So not having enough info to make the correct decision, I MacGuyvered a couple jerry cans out of old oil jugs and strapped them to the panniers we are now carrying 46lt of fuel. That is a good safe number to be hitting the desert with.

We were stopped at the guard station that 3 days earlier told us as we are Australians we can go on with out a check, but this time we were checked and asked for a bribe. Some how when I went back, with some money and the intention of asking for a signed and badge numbered recept for our “gift”, I was told no gift just go. Not sure what happened if it was the fact that Tam and I were talking about a recept or what but we paid nothing.

By the time we left the peninsula, that Nouádhibou is situated on, the temperature was rising and it was already bloody hot. Hot enough that when I looked down at the jerry cans, they were expanding to twice their normal size. 50k later and you could not look directly at the road due to the waves of heat that was coming off of it. Visors had to stay down; (except for the few second when you brought the camelbak to your mouth) as the wind was like opening a kiln (not just an oven). We could not really talk as the moisture was sucked from your mouth. It was made worse by the cross wind that made the black road have a constant layer of sand being blown across it. It was so constant that when you did look at the road you could see it was polished shinny. Anubis was running hot and I was unable to get him off of a 45° lean. All in all it was a hellish ride. The road continued on, as there were no turns. The landscape however was the only saving grace. We road though every kind of desert that there is. It would change from a coastal rocky hamas desert to full blown Sahara dunes that covered the entire horizon, to rocky inland, to a Aussie red centre like, and then back to the Sahara dunes. It was awesome in both the literal and slang meanings.

The road continued, I don’t know the actual temperature as that is one gadget that I did not bring, but I can say that it was hot enough that you could not touch any part of Anubis with out feeling like you were being burnt. The road continued. The water in our camelbaks was hot. The road continued, but it was not as good as was reported but all in all it was okay. The road continued. About a quarter of the way though we saw a petrol station and I was slowing to stop, when I realised that not only was it 3 feet deep in sand but the bowsers were covered. It was closed. I was happy that I had the jerry cans even if they were now three times their normal size. The road continued for kilometre after kilometre.

The road continued, the scenery was still stunning but after 2 hours of it we were both hot, tired and tired of it. We wanted to stop. The road continued. We talked about where to stop, but all the cars on the side of the road were dead and sand was pelting them. The road continued, the heat was getting worse. The road continued. We decided that stoping here in the worsening wind and sand storm (which it was now) was a bad idea. The road continued but there was a sign “Total Essence 30km”. If that is true I am stopping. The road continued for 35k more and no “Total Essence”. The road continued. At 40k I see the “Total Essence” sign again but no distance to go this time, over the next dune and there it was! Shimmering like a mythical oasis, a building, a fuel station, shade, and maybe something cold to drink. Our camelbaks were now as hot as tea. I pulled in. Not two seconds later a man we met at the Auberge du’Sahara walks up, he had hitched a ride with a pair of French guys and they had had some issues. Their 4x4 kept hydroplaning (but on sand so Sandoplaning?) on the sand drifts and smooth surfaces. We shared a cold drink and waved them off. Tam and I talked and decided that it was only 2.5 hours left and neither of us were hungry so we would not have lunch till we got to Nouakchott.

We pulled out on to the road, sometime during the break the wind had died and the sandstorm was over. It was hotter then ever; we later learned it peaked at 58°C that day. The first 30minutes were a pleasure.

By the end of the first hour the road was mind numbingly dull again. Kilometre after kilometre, the road continued. The aches and pains were back. Quickly the rest was forgotten and the road continued straight, boring, hot, and tiresome. The scenery was turning from true deserts to an ugly scrubland. I realised, then, that I really miss trees, though southern Spain, Portugal and Morocco trees have been at a premium. I miss em. The road continued, I was getting sore but we had less then 150k to go. The road continued and we passed the first traffic in several hours.

The road continued it was featureless landscape. I was getting very achy, Tam said she was starting to fade. I tell her to sleep (yes she can sleep on the bike). The road continued, now we only have 50k to go but the temperature was climbing with every inch road. Tam tells me to pullover; I do so, thinking that she has had enough and just needed a stretch. We pull over and Tam oozes off the bike in to a heap. I asked her what is wrong and in a pained voice. “Hypoglycaemic….. too hot….. going crazy”. I cannot tell what is joke and what is not. She yells “give me food”, so I hand the puddle of Tam some bread as I dig out the rest of the lunch, she eats pathetically. I ask again what is wrong and I get only a whispered “need food”. I tell her to eat the donut thing if she needs sugar so badly. She ignores me and nibbles on the bread. She alternated between lying down and sitting up, she then walks into the road and sits in the shade of Anubis. I tell her to move as that is not safe. She ignores me. I yell at her and she listened. I make her a sugary drink and tell her to keep drinking it. I shad her with my body and pour (warm) water all over her to cool her down.

45minutes later under the scorching heat. She tells me that she is not getting any better. I decide we have two choices pitch the tent and hope that helps or get her on the bike and move to safety.

I opt for the more risky but guaranteed to work. I picked her up and put her on the bike. I wondered if I needed to strap her on too.

40km to go, the road continued but I did not notice, I only kept talking to Tam so that she would keep talking with me.

30km to go Tam tells me that she is feeling better and I can hear it in her voice.

20km to go Tam tells me that she now feels ok.

15km to go Military check point. I cant concentrate on what the guy is talking about, I am thinking too much about Tam. Tam deals with him fine. She reports to me that she feels better but tired.

10km to go Police check point. My barely French has barely returned but Tam is feeling fine and together we answer all his questions, most of which seemed like just idle chat. Not surprising really as there is nothing else to do 15k outside Nouakchott.

We arrive in Nouakchott, Tam is back to normal. We find an auberge and it is my turn to be too hungry and want food. We head into town to find that most places close between 15-1900h. I was starving. Tam was fine. Eventually we found a pizza place (called “Pizza Hot”….hut/hot...get it..ha! oh dear!!) that was open and ordered a couple of pizzas. As we sat there waiting for the food to be cooked , Tam saw a flying fox and was over the moon. It took us 35minutes to walk the 1k back, to hotel where we could eat, because we now we had to take the long way and Tam was walking looking only up.

The pizzas were actually very good. That night we entered our sauna, I mean room, to discover that the lights did not work but the fan did. We set the fan up to blow the night air in and tried to sleep. I eventually nodded off but Tam (one that has a hard time with heat) did not get much sleep at all.

He Says - Nouádhibou, nice change!

2009-10-02T09:46:00.002+01:00

1 - 2 October 09

From the border gates it was an easy 50k ride to Nouádhibou, the road was sealed and smooth and although had many a sand drift it took very little time. We had already had picked an auberge to stay in and even saw the legendary ore train (a 2+km long train that runs from Nouádhibou). We found the Auberge du’ Sahara without too much difficulty and Tam went in to sort things out while I guarded the bike from a bunch of kids. Who although were intent on climbing all over Anubis never once asked for money or anything else. I liked Nouádhibou already.

Once sorted we parked the bike in thier secure compound and went in to several glasses of tea and a chilled night. Our dinner turned out to be left over stale bread turned in to garlic bread and canned tuna. Not the greatest but I could not be assed cooking nor could Tam and neither of us wanted to look for a restaurant nor waste the bread.

The next morning Tam woke up sick again, it gave me the chance to write this blog entry and start to stress about the next leg of the trip. Her symptoms were a bit odd though. She still had a bit of a gastro problem but more worrying was a bone deep fatigue that she could not shake. At first I though it was just a lack off food, as she had eaten very little in the last few days. However during the course of the day it developed in to dizziness (pre-syncope) every time she would stand up. I was kinda worried about her, but let her sleep. The auberge had two English language books in the entire place (many French, a couple of German, a Japanese and a Russian.) One was a learn French the other a book about a fat guy who had a nervous brake down and without planning to or meaning to; one day he got on his childhood bike and road across the USA. I spent the day reading the latter, before I had enough and I went for a walk into Nouádhibou.

My mission was to try and find something that I thought Tam could eat (and keep in) and to find myself some lunch. Nouádhibou is the 2nd largest city in Mauritania. It feels like one of the smaller places in Morocco. I was not hassled once, I was said hello (Bon Jour) to many times, even had a guy walk with me and “chat” (in my very bad French) for 750m, before excusing himself and going about his business.

Nouádhibou is quickly becoming the antidote to Morocco that I needed. By random chance I ended up in a place that the Rough Guide suggested, it was a café/bakery type place and the food on the menu was cheap. Non-the-less I ordered the cheapest thing on the menu a minced-meat sandwich, and a Fanta. I was not hungry but I knew I too needed to eat. A few minutes later a baguette arrived, that was at least 40cm long and was stuffed with meat, veggies, and chips (fries to our yank readers). I stuffed as much as I could into myself before admitting defeat, I paid the equivalent of €2.50 and wobbled out of the café. I purchased some spaghetti makings for our dinner and made it home unaccosted. If Nouádhibou had more to do it would be a wonderful place.

Back at the Auberge, I spent the rest of the day reading the Fat-forest-gump-on-a- bike book and talking with one of the guys that runs the place. His name was (forgive me if I have spelt it wrong) Kanti, and he was a great guy. He is from Mali working here to make money with dreams of going to Europe (which I hope if he does he goes legally, he is too nice of a guy to be stuck in a camp somewhere, or worse). He taught me some French and I taught him some English. He was much better then I at learning. Kanti was also genuinely concerned for Tam, which always endears you to a person.

Many teas, pages, and broken French/English conversations later, I dragged Tam out of bed. She did tried to eat but in the middle of dinner ran to the toilet to be sick. Knowing she must eat something, she came back and tried again once everything was settling. I had no idea what was wrong with her, and when we when trough he symptoms to determine if we should go to the doctors we came up with tired, a little dizzy and a bit of gastro (one bout in 36 hours). I determined that if she was not significantly better by morning we would go to the doctors even though we did not have any definitive symptoms to describe. Funnily enough Tams 2nd attempt at dinner went fine, colour returned and she kept what she ate down. He energy levels were better and thing were looking up (all in a 30m period after threatening to take he to the Vet… I mean doctor).

The following day Tam was able to eat well enough although she was still very tired. This time I was sure it was just residual fatigue and a good meal and getting moving would do the trick. I went out to the market and found us some camel meat and veggies. The plan was to serve up a camel stew for lunch, nice and simple but hearty. This is what happened too, the meat was a bit chewy but I was only able to cook it for an hour and as everyone knows camel must be cooked slowly and for a long time. Tam ate her fill and had no issues, it did tire her out though. So we agreed that she should take a ½ nap and then we will go for a walk to get her blood moving again. Well I got distracted by Kanti and my fat-forestgump-book and the nap ended up being two hours. Finally I was able to get the cold molasses like Tam out of bed and on to the streets. She was a bit on the slow stepping side of things, but she made it all around town.

To be clear Nouádhibou’s town centre is not big or even exciting but it does kinda sprawl a bit. By the time we got back to the Auberge Tam was herself again, still weary but a clear-cut recovery. This was good as we had already stayed in Nouádhibou a day longer then planned. We are to head for the big smoke of Nouakchott the next day…

She Says – Major Border Crossing No.1!

2009-09-30T15:38:00.000+01:00

26-30 September
Well it’s been my turn to be laid out with the nasty diarrhoea bug, and I’ve been unwell for just on 4 days now. I wasn’t feeling quite right when we left Laayoune, but thought I was just tired. It was a long trip to Dakhla, about 500km travel of nothing too exciting, although just outside Laayoune there were gorgeous dunescapes as far as you could see, including several lagoons, and sporadic dunescapes along the way. Otherwise it was dull hamada, with occasional cool rock formations and glimpses of dramatic cliffs on the coastline and more dried riverbeds. We kept ourselves occupied with a new game of ‘guess the movie’ (‘eye-spy’ gets boring after you’ve gone through road-sky-desert a few times…). Dakhla itself is at the end of a 40km peninsula, with huge beaches and crusted dunes lining the thin road down. That’s about all I can say about it, as I didn’t see anything else! I was feeling rough just as we arrived, Xander did all the hotel checking for us, got recommended a place that was really good with a garage (Hotel Taroudant, only 150 dirham, about 15 euro) and I wasn’t inside for long before I was sick for the first time, and spent the rest of the night running back and forth from the toilet for one reason or another. I spent all the next day in bed and slowly felt better the day after, before having a relapse after an excursion outside for a cup of mint tea. Was it the tea? Well, it made my tummy upset, but I don’t know. It’s pretty strong stuff, brewed for hours it seems and then heavily sweetened. We both thought the sweetness would be good, but I guess the tannins weren’t! Xander forced me to drink rehydration fluid to start with, which just made me feel worse; once I stopped that I was fine until yesterday afternoon. I’ve lost of couple of unwanted kilos picked up during the trip, but I can’t say I recommend the bread, water and diarrhoea diet to anyone :-(

The day we left Dakhla, we were supposed to be going just to the border. We got an early start and I was feeling better, although I felt exhausted when we got up. We had a choice of stopping 80km from the border at a hotel, or camping at a border fort. We decided to push on for the border and got there just after 12pm for lunch. By this stage I was feeling rough again, my tummy had been unsettled all day, but now I was not feeling great. We persevered, expecting border issues to take only 2 hours at most – the whole thing took around 4 hours! Procedures on the Moroccan side were the most time consuming, with Xander running to various offices of police and customs for a variety of stamps and writing of passport details, plus completing an exit form for the bike. I hovered around the bike, feeling less than great. Then our luggage was checked, not thoroughly but we had to open all 3 big boxes for checking - a nuisance but easy enough. Then a confusing policeman asked if we had drugs and we thought he said medicine, but he actually asked if we had any munitions! We were in the process of saying yes to medicine till we all realised the mistake! He just moved on after we said no. We packed up and got ready to leave, after checking that we could change money on the Mauritanian side (there were no change bureaus here, I guess because it is illegal to take Mauritanian money out of the country), but we also knew we could do black exchange in No Man’s Land. We tried to leave but were pulled over to check that our passports had been stamped out – OK, fine, but then we were pulled over AGAIN to enter our passport details in a book all over again!

Finally, we headed for the border. We had read conflicting information on how to go about the crossing, of most concern being exactly how long was the rough track through No Man’s Land between the two borders! We had decided that the best information said it was 5km (not 50!), which was correct, but it was no simple track. There are actually many diverting tracks that all eventually meet up and/or reach the Mauri border, but it was somewhat disconcerting as this is minefield country! We had heard stories of people hitting mines when they had strayed too far from the tracks; however, the tracks are pretty obvious so you go where others have gone and don’t blow up!!! The track varied from once-paved to solid rough rock to sand pits, and we got severely bogged at one point in a very short section of deep sand. Luckily, dropping the luggage off and a bit of wiggling and kicking sand under the rear tyre got us out. We got on OK after that, taking around 45 minutes for the whole trip. We were approached by a couple of cars for money exchange, though most were just sitting inside the Moroccan border. No hassle, no threat, though the number of trashed car bodies around the area was disturbing! We’ve heard the cities of Mauritania are bad for car theft, and had to wonder if this is where all the stolen cars end up…We finally reached the Mauritanian border and it was closed! We had to wait some time before they finally opened everything up again; by this stage it was about 4pm. They very much wanted to deal with the man only, but while Xander had to go deal with formalities, I kept getting chatted to, including one official who seemed convinced that Xander wasn’t my husband even after my persistent statements that I was married! Maybe it had to do with my uncovered hair, although I had kept my jacket on to cover my t-shirt. We got through formalities fairly easily with the help of a money changer, who I’m not convinced wanted money for all his help, just to change our money at the end. It helped to have someone guide Xander this time, as the customs office was just a timber hut with no signs on it, at the end of the line of money changers – we would have had trouble working it out for ourselves! Xander had to pay a ‘present’ to the gendarmerie to enter our details into their book, there was no question that we had to pay and we had had warning from our guide book, so Xander paid it – it was only 10 dirham (about 1 euro) but I’m not convinced we couldn’t have got out of it. From there it was customs, where we got our carnet stamped for the first time (with many more to come!) and also had to pay a fee (not a present this time so seemed more legit but…), then to buy compulsory insurance, and finally our friendly money changer changed our money. We had stocked up big on dirham in Morocco as ATMs are not common in Mauritania, so we’re pretty set now I think!

We travelled on to Nouadhibou about an hour away, at the end of another long peninsula with lots of sand dunes. We had planned at least 2 nights’ stay here, but will stay at least one more night to make sure I’m better. I was feeling better after the Mauri border, but then Xander was feeling unwell again! He’s recovered, I’ve been ill for the last two days, but now I’m just tired and bored and depressed mostly. I’ve been trying to push through the nausea and dizziness for the last few hours to get moving and get over it!!!

He Says – Jumpin’ the gun one more time.

2009-09-30T14:49:00.002+01:00

30–09-09

I woke up at about 3 am. Nervous and itching to go. We had been sitting around for 3 days, the entire time me thinking about a 400km ride with bandits, no fuel and no water. On a bike that seems not to be living up to its reputation. In all fairness Anubis is fine, but after three days of sitting there worrying about Tam, the mind start coming up with things.. the speedo may not a be a broken cable (yet we know it is cus I have had the 2 pieces in my hand) the squeaky noise may not just be the faring (yet I know it is cus I can stop it by resting my hand on it). This is the problem with idleness you have nothing to do but come up with the worst possible scenario.

I let Tam sleep as long as I could then I packed the bike letting her just sit there nursing a dry and stale bit of baguette. By 8am I was packed and ready to go, it took Tam about 30 min more to get ready but we were on the road early. Dakla is big enough that I did no worry and jump in to the first petrol station I saw. But then I did not see any more so of course I jumped in the very next one I saw. This turned out to be the right decision because in the first 80k there was only one more. We hit the road prepared for being stopped every 50m like the day before, and had 10 pre-filled fiches ready. The first check- point we did come to seemed to recognise us and asked only if we had registered in that check point a couple of days a go. As we had we were sent on our way in seconds. We only hit one more all day and they only did a cursory glance at us. So much for all the work Tam did filling in the fiches.

The ride was actually quite easy, there was fuel and water available about every 100k (give or take 50k) and the road for the most part was in good condition. The landscape went from true Sahara, to rocky desert to sandy beach, to the oddest moonscape you have ever seen. There was a ½ metre of rocky crust that was under pinned by sand and when the sand was blown away it would collapse. This made for a series of “bad land tables” that were unnervingly close to the road. It was also a little disturbing that in many ways the road we were riding on was the same and you could see that in the not to distant future some of the road would fall to the same fate.

We made it to Barbara’s at about 1130h, both feeling quite good, in a spur of the moment decision we decided to go for it and get to Mauritania today. 80k later we pulled up to the border.

Now hungry we stopped for some lunch of stale bread and tuna, well the very idea of this turned me off of the food so I simply drank a coke. Refreshed we headed to the customs gate. Tam was feeling off. For some reason we did not even discuss leaving it day and headed in. The Moroccan border was slow. They take your passport, go hide in an office for 20 min call you and ask all the same questions that we have been asked a million times, and then point you to the next window, about 1 1/2 hours of little hassle but lost of standing around later, we though we were done. During this time we met a couple of British women, one in a 4x4 the other a large lorry delivering housing material to a charity in Mali. They knew the deal and were a bit faster then us. They offered to drive Tam across the no-man’s-land but I refused. Besides we had just found out that we now had to go through the military check point as well. Luckily this did not take long. While I was dealing with this Tam asked around to see where we could exchange our Durhams to Oogs, and we were told no-man’s-land is best or in Mauritania. We both thought it was illegal to bring out Durhams but as this was the official’s advice so I guess not.

Finally we were done. We drove out of the custom compound to ”no-man’s-land” and in to a sea of car carcases, landmines (no-joke), and black market money (and anything else) sellers. We passed by the black market and headed in to the rough track. It was bumpy and slow going, but we were doing okay, well that was until I chose the wrong side of the track and instead of getting though I bogged Anubis to the bash plate.

Tam was feeling very ill by this stage and was not happy about the delay, and we started to have one of the (more rare but) legendary “your not listening to me” fights. We got out by brute force and continued on. The track in ”no-man’s-land” is not really a track but a series of them, there is not one clear route so you kinda just have to pick your path at every turn. At one point the choice was up and over the hill or around it, up and over was obviously the shorter route, but something told me that if the other one exists then the up and over must be hard. We took the around the hill route. Except for one small back tracking at this point it all went smoothly. When we finally came around the other side of the hill I was proven to be correct, the British women were stuck on the hill. Well the lory was. As I pulled up to the side of the track on to see if they were in trouble I saw then drive off in their 4x4 (presumably to get help for the lorry). I had to decide then if I should try to help as well. Tam was increasingly feeling ill, and there was no clear (mine free) path to them, I would have to go all the way back. This would risk a bogging of our own. I am sorry to say that I decided on self-preservations and did not go back to help. I knew that they would get what they needed as there were too many able bodies around for them not to. For them it was a matter of time (and possibly money) for me it was a risk and a sick Tam. Only a few minutes later, as our speed and confidence grew on the track we reached the paved section of the Mauritanian border. The no-mans land was not 50k or even 5k but an easy 2.3k.

The border was closed. There where people milling around but nothing was happening. If we were the only ones I would have been worried but a few Mauritanians were there too and did not seem concerned. We waited there for almost an hour before they let us in one at a time. By this stage Tam was like a wilting flower and I was kind of worried. I kept asking her if I should just ask them to let her sit out of the sun but she refused. We got to the military checkpoint and they took the same details that the Moroccans did but they did not want the fiche I handed them. It was Moroccan! “phaaaaah”. Oh well more work for them, paper work completed I was told to give them a “present of 1€” (by them).. yeah some present. I explained that I had no euros and they told me the durhams, dollars anything is fine and had the prices for all of them.
As I was leaving I saw the two British vehicles arrive, my conscience was cleared of worry. I may not have made the nice choice but I think the right one (for us).

Once that was done we some how got in to the clutches of a tout. It happened so quickly that at first I did not even see it. However, in this case I think it was worth it. He cut me though the lines at the police check point. Where I went up with both passports and was told to “call over your woman” (Tam was guarding the bike and trying to be well). That check went smooth and no issues and no bribes.

I then had to go get the Carnet Du passage signed and sealed and if it where not for the tout I would never have guessed that the plank shanty shed was the official customs office. The tout, once again, brought me to the front of the line, and the paper work was take from me immediately and filled out immediately. I may have missed out of a cup of tea, but Tam was standing in the sun by the bike. However, she no longer looked green just a shade of grey. Here I was told the price for the carnet was 100 durhams I am not sure if this was another bribe or if it was legit but paid it anyway.

The tout then hustled me in to the insurance office, where I had to buy Mauritanian insurance this turned out to be cheaper then I thought it should be, but he only accepted Oogs. Well as luck would have it our tout friend just happened to be an official exchange officer,,, wow no kidding, what stroke of luck (yeah right!!).. None the less he actually gave me a good rate and I exchanged all the money we had. The insurance office was also a good place to do the exchange too, the border post was a very windy place and I ended up getting 91,400 Oogs, so a lot of paper and much easier to count in an office, then in the windy street.

We were done in less then an hour, and it was all done correctly. We were now free agents again. I did tip the tout 200 Oogs (about 0.75€), I think he did actually speed the process up believe it or not.

He Says - Dakla, 4 walls and a grey girl

2009-09-30T14:47:00.002+01:00

26 -30 Sept 09

We woke early and got read to go we knew it was going to be a long arduous ride and were ready for it. Well kinda, okay I was not at all but it had to be done and Tam can’t ride the bike. I had to be readyish.

We got on the road by 0900h and by 1000h we had cut off 100km. We had also been stopped 3 times by the cops. It was going to be a tedious day too. In truth the ride was much easier then I thought it would be. In total we only got stopped 6 times and 2 were just passing stops.

The scenery was stunning the beaches, the cliffs, the sand dunes; all amazing. So far Western Sahara is the best part of Morocco I cant believe that it is the untouristed part of the county. It is the only part that I would like to come back to. All was not roses though. We stopped for lunch at a place with no name sign or other markings, bought a couple of Fantas and ate our ham(ish) (cus pork is not eaten here) and cheese sandwiches, but no sooner did we finish did Tam say she was not well. Like trooper she got back on the bike and I heard no more about it until Dakla.

The view and the new road game we came up with was enough to make the final 300km only drag by. We arrived in Dakla to the most unfriendly cop pull over.. He took our passports took the data off them and then through them on the table and that was it. ALL the others were at least polite if not chatty (too chatty mostly). We stopped in the campground were we planned on staying and found out that the cost was going to be 100dh per night and it was 7k out of town. We decided to look in town at cheep hotels first then decide. On route in some kids started throwing rock at us. It was enough to make me fall back in to the anger that I was feeling in M’hamid and Zagora. The cheapest hotels were in town clean and 80dh but no parking (so cheaper then camping). We looked at one that was cheaper still and would try to get the bike in the front door. But there was no way it would fit besides it was a little dirty. But the owner suggested an other place and we decided to look. We did think though that it would be well out of our price range. Tam was feeling very unwell at this point so I was doing the entire running around. We easily found the suggested hotel. It looked nice, I left Tam out front to nurse her belly and I investigated.

The rooms were stunning and were the same price as camping. Private bath added 50dh, and they have a locked garage. I was sold only question was do we need a private bath. I went out to talk to Tam to see her dutifully defending Anubis from a retarded man who was harmlessly poking every button he could find (good thing he did not find the 268db horn button!!). Tam however brave, was grey.. private bath it was. We parked the bike, and moved into the room, thrilled at the price. Tam was now a nice shade of green, in the next few hours she started to have diarrhoea and vomiting.

She took the drugs she had purchased for me, but they seemed to help little. I went out to get her something light for dinner (which I ate for breakfast the next day). I ate my dinner alone in a little fish shop, I was never hassled, or begged from. We were both in bed by 1900h.

Tam ended up having a rough night, worse then I did a few nights earlier. She was alternating between bouts of diarrhoea and vomiting. I got up early and unsuccessfully ran some errands. It was Sunday, and the next day we were to head for the border.

I am worried. It is about 350k ok for fuel but leaves us with little to spare to get anywhere in Mauritania. We have read lots of conflicting reports about how safe it is, how easy it it, if it is a paved road or not, the one section we know is not paved we don’t know if it is 50km, 5km or as little as 1km. The track could be really bad to Tassie dirt road. We just don’t know. As Ted Simon once said it is harder to contemplate doing something then actually do it. So far this has been mostly true. With the exception of the N12 road just ending , it was scarier to contemplate then do it.

Well a day later and we have not moved at all. In fact Tam has not moved more then a few meters in the last 72 hours. She has gotten over her bouts of diarrhoea and vomiting but it has left her weak and tired. Every time she got out of bed, she felt sick and had to lie back down. I have walked around Dakla a couple of times and there is very little of interest here. Although there is some big kite-surfing championships going on I think that they are being held away from the city as I cannot find it. As a general rule Western Sahara is a nice, place although I know I have been charged tourist prices a few times. One guy added up the bill in French and then add a few dh like I would not notice the cheeky bastard then ran a round the corner and asked me for money to help his family.

It is sad but I did not regret leaving Morocco. I have found it hard work. The people can be extremely nice but their constant vying for money (with out working for it) had really ruined this place for me. It has tainted the beauty of the landscape and the culture. The constant buzzing in my face has changed my initial opinion, I can not say that they are not a friendly people only a people that will do anything for your money. They lie, cheat and likely steal (although this has not happened to us). The country itself is stunning and I wish I could see more of the landscape, and maybe I will one day but at this point I am looking forward to heading to a place that is less touristed and more real. The big cites like Marrakech have a Disneyland like ambiance to them, e.g not the real Morocco just a play to encourage the tourists. Rabat did not care if we where there or not only that we got out of their car’s way. The smaller towns were a mix of both nice and dirty, and it only seemed like the time of day depended on if you were to get hassled or not. It appears to me that like so many developing countries Moroccans want the what the Europeans have and they want it now, and not work for it. They are building new building all the time and yet neglect the nice ones that exist. The park across the street from where I typed this is full of benches (~20) all but 3 are broken. There seems to be an attitude of buy, build it, but never maintain it. This is evident in almost everything, many buildings are built then finished in a shabby manner (e.g. as much paint on the floor as the wall), cars are bough and at most maintained to keep on the road but basically wrecked, sticker are printed for cars (or bike panniers) that last a week and houses that were once stunning are falling to bits. Most houses are only painted on the front the sides and rear are exposed brick and often unfinished. A big TV, a big car and a tiny mobile phone are the most important things to the new Moroccan.

But the worst thing about morocco is that sometimes, people come up to you with the only intention of being nice and helpful, but the touts and beggars have rubbed you so raw that you physically flinch at their approach, your knee jerk reaction is “no go away, I’ll not pay you”. But the person is only trying to be nice and help. I have been rude to several people under these circumstances, for that I am sorry. I am sorry to that 0.00001% or your population, which are these good people. To the rest of you money-grubbing rude greedy bastards, you will have to answer to your god one day.

I know I keep quoting him but Ted Simon was once ask was he ever disappointed in anywhere he travelled, he replied “I never go anywhere with expectations so I am never disappointed”. Well I came here with expectations. Expectations of legendary hospitality, of clean Islamic living, of tea served at the drop of a hat, of the Sahara, and of a people that lived to a code of honour. We have seen many of these in Tunisia, so I know they exist, but the influx of the tourist euro has forever tainted Morocco. My expectations were not met and I was disappointed. Maybe next time I will be the smarter one and see the next country with open eyes and not with almost impossible expectations for it to live up to.

He Says – FREE Western Sahara!

2009-09-25T14:46:00.001+01:00

25 September 09

Tan-tan was a long ride but not too bad. The drugs had worked, I was not in any danger. On the route to Laayoune, it was the Police and National Guard that are the flys. We were stopped at checkpoints that seemed to be every 2k. At one point there was a National security check point and 50m (no exaggeration) further down the road a police one, they asked the same questions and wanted the same paper work. We were lucky that we had several copies of our passports. As such we never handed over the real thing and they never were able to ask for anything to give it back. I lost count how many times we were actually stopped during the 300km trip each check point taking about 5 or so minutes, it was more trying then the ride.

Once in Laayoune, it felt like I just entered Bagdad, there are solders, cops and UN patrols everywhere. The place has really odd feeling at first, but then you realise that it is a joke. The people of Western Sahara are nicer then Moroccans, and they do not expect to be paid for everything. They also hate being called Moroccans. One tout in approached us in two days, he say what he did, we said no thanks so he said cool. He than chatted with us for a little while never mentioning guiding again, then he went on his way. We did get some begging from children. But all in all it is a much nicer place.

We decided, on a whim, to try and get some little thank you cars (Card du Visitants) made up. Paul and Renata suggested it and we felt like it may be good idea.
So I quickly banged one together on the computer and we went in search of a printer. We popped in to a photolab and he told us where to go and did not even as for money!! We went to the place he sent us and found out that yes they could do it but not in the formate I made up. So we headed back to the hotel to get what we needed. On route, we stopped in a fish restaurant and had lunch. It was in the lonely planet but for once I think that improved the place it was amazing. It was the best meal that I have had (out side home cooked at Biker’shome) since leaving the EU. This was also the first meal that did not jump directly on the Marrakech express in 3-4 days (if you understand).

We relaxed a bit at the hotel and at about 3, although I was exhausted, we headed back to the shop. We got there about 1525h, and it was closed but there was a line of people in front so we waited. 5 min later it was open and the photographer was really excited to see us. With lots of laughing and miscommunications we got our cards ready, it was fun. In the end they had a lot of fun too and wanted a couple of cards to keep for themselves as well as a couple of actual photos of us. They printed 4 extra cards 2 for them and a bonus two for us. It was exhausting for me, but then my stamina has suffered from 4 days of eating but not digesting anything. Tam was so chuffed it was great. We did some chores and had small dinner. Tomorrow was the 530km ride to Dakhla.

She Says – Laid-back Laayoune

2009-09-25T14:33:00.000+01:00

23-25 September
In Tan Tan, poor Xander came down really badly with a diarrhoea bug, the worst I’ve ever seen. We spent two nights letting him get better before pushing on to Laayoune yesterday. The hotel was good, very relaxed, and with satellite TV we did lots of movie watching on the dedicated English movie channel! I took some of my first forays out on my own, which all went fine and I did not get hassled. My terrible French and useful phrasebook even managed to get me through purchasing anti-diarrhoea drugs and rehydration salts!

Traffic since leaving Tiznit has been easy, there are few vehicles on the road and it is easy to overtake if anything is going slow. The scenery has not been incredibly exciting, but not as bad as I was expecting – the guidebook describes it as many hours of endless hamada (stony desert). There were lots of dunes before Laayoune, some excellent looking coastline and massive beaches that went on forever, plus dried river valleys to cross. In some areas there were sand dunes that have sat so long their tops have become crusted, this only being obvious where the crusts have broken through. All the way from Tan Tan, there have been fishermen’s huts perched on top of the tall sea cliffs. It looks like there would be great exploring to be done around here, with hardly anyone else around to bother you – nice change from Morocco!

We’re now in Laayoune and there is a decidedly different air here. No hassle, only a few kids asked for money and one guy asked if we wanted guide, and people are very friendly. It’s full of soldiers and police, and several UN vehicles have congregated at one nearby hotel (guidebook notes many places are booked out by UN!). We found a decent hotel, same price as listed in our guidebook from about 6 years ago. We have a nice clean room, one of the best we’ve had in Morocco, even if we have separate beds. We were able to park the bike underneath in a room full of remnant plaster decorations! No extra charge for parking for once, which made a nice change. Xander is feeling a lot better, though he’s very tired, but at least he seems to be over the worst part of this bug.

Today, we got our ‘thank you/here’s our blog & email address’ cards made up, amazing! We spoke to a photolab who told us where we could get it done. We were happy when we walked in and found business cards on display! They couldn’t read the Word document Xander had drawn up, so we came back to the hotel, grabbed the computer and took it back to the photolab to show them! They got the idea and in the end Xander ended up using Photoshop on their computer to sort it out. We stocked up on passport photos while we were there because they were cheap and we are going to need some for every country we enter now. The photolab staff seemed to find us amusing for our attempts at French, with their bits of English mixed in, and in the end asked for 2 copies of our card to display in the shop, and the guys who helped us get everything sorted got a photo with us! Very amusing. We now have a stack of 100 lovely photo-quality business cards, using the picture taken of us at Tinfou Dunes, that cost only 100 dirham (less than 10 euros). Nice one!

In the meantime, I have completely unpacked all our gear and am trying to work on complete list of all the gear we have with us to eventually post on the blog. We also need to sort out packages to send home plus the thankyou gift to the lovely Alison and Andy in Spain to encourage them to come here! We didn’t have time to get to the big post office in the end (small one nearby doesn’t do overseas post), so have to hope we can do it in Dakhla, although it’s now the weekend and maybe they won’t deal with overseas posting either.

We got some internet work done, first time we’ve paid for internet since we started the trip! Our readings had us concerned about the Mauritania border crossing, saying there was 50km of difficult road ahead. We confirmed on the HUBB and the Sahara Overland website that it should only be about 5km of rough road, so we hope all goes OK! We’re getting into the territory of less available electronic money now, so while we have a stock of US dollars and euros to get us through, I’m worrying it’s enough. According to our guidebook, Mauri and certain other countries don’t have a lot of ATM access. We’ve been reading ahead to work out our route through western Africa, and have been having some doubts about doing the whole trip overland due to some problem areas, e.g. Nigeria. We are wondering whether to ship the bike to southern Africa and just skip the problem areas to save us hassle. We will have to see how things go! So far, Mauri sounds like a right pain in the backside, with constant police checks (going to have to get even more passport copies!), plus it doesn’t sound like there is a lot to see or do very easily, either because of difficult road access or police checks and having to hand over an itinerary for approval to go to outer areas! We are likely to spend less than 2 weeks in Mauri, just long enough to get our Mali visas in the capital and maybe look at one other smaller city.

He Says – The city that wasn’t and the end of days.

2009-09-24T14:46:00.000+01:00

22-24 September 09

Spending only one night in Tiznit, we decided that we maybe able to rescues a few days and by heading back inland we maybe able to see some rock carvings. We got about120km in to the ride when my speedo cable snapped. I pulled it off the bike and hoped that welding or soldering the two bits together would fix it. We went to the local mechanic and explained what we wanted.

He was unconvinced, but tried any way. He was a nice old guy that was impressed with his first attempt, as was I but upon trying it. It failed. He tried again with little more success, although this time rerouting the cable. At the end we gave up, I asked him how much and he said nothing because it did not work. Wow if only all mechanics were that way. I said no we will pay you, you tried hard. The first Moroccan that knows the value of good work. 50 durhams later, and we decided to set off as he asked us to stay for food. We politely refused, as I needed to think about what to do. Besides my stomach was not a happy thing.

We went to café drank a coke for medicinal purposes (Tam ha a fanta cus she likes it) and decided at lest for now just to use the GPS as the speedo and tacho. We road hard and made it to Tan-tan.

Tan-tan was the city that was not, we road in. We went directly to a hotel that was suggested to us by the HUBB and GPS and was nice and had parking. We parked the bike went to the room, relaxed for an hour or so. I dragged my sorry ass off the bed and went to get a pizza. Inside the pizza place the flies buzzing all around were actual flies, and it was a pleasant change. After all you are allowed, even encouraged to kill them!

The pizza was okay, my belly was not happy. I barely got back to the hotel. Only then did we realise that we left the medical bag (with the anti-diarrhoea meds) on the bike in the locked garage and the key was way at the moment (moment being all night). By morning I was very sick, I was unable to sleep. Luckily we were finally able to get the drugs but they did not seem to be working. Tam went out and bought me different drugs. I spent the day watching TV and polluting the local water supply. The hotel got satellite TV that had one channel that played English movies all day long. I saw nothing of that town. Tan –Tan was also our last stop in Morocco the rest is Western Sahara.

Two days later on the way our out of Tan-Tan we road to a round-a-bout with a stop sign, and as I sat there stopped, trying to figure out which way to go we were almost rear ended by a Mercedes. 5 metres later as I pulled out of the round-a-bout I was pulled over for failure to stop at a stop sign. Before I could argue he point out the sign in question and sure enough I did not stop. Hey I did not even see it. I said as much to him apologised but got a 100dh ticket. Bugger but it was a fair bust and they where friendly enough about it.

She Says – Thwarted once again!

2009-09-22T14:32:00.000+01:00

22 September
I should have just given up. Apparently destiny just wasn’t on our side and we were not to salvage this part of the trip! We headed off reasonably early towards Ait Herbil, location of some cave paintings I wanted to see. We were not far out of a small town by around 11am, when Xander suddenly realised that the trip computer was no longer giving us readings for speed and distance travelled - unlike the usual multiple 8s when it breaks down, which it has done continually since England, this time we were getting nothing at all. By the time we reached the town, Xander had realised that the odometer wasn’t working either, so it meant a major problem. Without the odometer, we have no way of knowing how far we have travelled on a tank of fuel and therefore when we would need to fill up. Crucial problem! Xander was still not feeling well as he didn’t sleep all night, had a low fever and felt awful all night, but he was better after getting going this morning. So we stopped and he poked around to see if the cable for the speedometer had become disconnected – no, worse than that, the damn thing had snapped!

Somehow, Xander remembered seeing a sign for a mechanic as we entered town, so we drove back to see if the cable could be welded together to provide a fix, even if it was temporary. Over the next hour or so, the mechanic tried twice to join the cable, with it working both times but breaking after only 100m or so test drive. After the second time we gave up, but when Xander asked the mechanic how much we should pay him, he shrugged and implied that we didn’t have to pay because he didn’t fix the problem! We insisted and he basically said to pay whatever we wanted (we think! It was all fractured French). Not knowing what was a fair price, we decided on 50 dirham (the cost of a meal of tajine or couscous, less than 5 euros) and he seemed happy but embarrassed by this. We decided we should go back into the town to a restaurant for lunch. I think the mechanic may have asked us to join his family for food, but we didn’t quite catch what he was saying before we geared up, plus Xander felt it would be taking advantage of him if we did. The restaurant we had seen was only serving drinks, so we sat there for a while trying to work out our options for the rest of the day and what to do about the broken speedo cable. Basically, we could stay somewhere and get a new cable shipped, or buy a new trip computer. We both preferred getting a new computer, seeing as the old one obviously has issues and will probably just die anyway, and if paying for expensive shipping it seems better to get something larger! A new computer would be very expensive though. It turns out our GPS has a trip odometer - I can proudly note over 13,000km travelled so far! Combined with the speedometer it has, which we’ve already been using as the bike is in miles per hour and we need to know km/h, this should get us through for the short-term and, most importantly, will enable us to work out when to fill up for fuel.

With these options on our minds, we decided to turn back and head straight to Tan Tan. We realised later we didn’t need to, we could have kept trying to see the rock paintings, but I think we both just got focussed on getting somewhere where deliveries could be made, internet checked out, and where we could base ourselves if that’s what we decided to do. After a disappointing lunch of bread and spreadable cheese (hooray for Laughing Cow!), we banged on to Tan Tan and got here around 5pm. We got stopped at our very first police check – we’ve passed heaps of these while in Morocco, but have always been waved through. Apparently we can expect more of this from now on, as we are about to enter Western Sahara, Morocco’s occupied territory. However, we weren’t prepared this time and had to dig out copies of our passports for the police, as they prefer to take copies and let you move on quickly. We’ve stopped in a hotel that is costing a bit more than we would have hoped, but it is really clean and looked after (a bit unusual so far in Morocco), and the bike is locked in a garage. By this stage, poor Xander was really tired and worn out, so it was the best option for us. While I took care of formalities, Xander got chatting to a few Western-Saharan men, who not only could speak English, but wanted to buy him a drink! They made it very clear they were Western-Saharan, not Moroccan, and their attitude was quite different to other people we’ve met so far. After a rest, we went out for pizza (it was cheap and neither of us felt like a big meal, especially Xander) and got some food for tomorrow - everything was still closed today and we don’t want to risk not finding food tomorrow as we have a 300km ride ahead to Laayoune (if Xander is well enough). The lady at the hotel has been great, very helpful, speaks good English, and helped me get photocopies of our passports. We’ve now got lots of copies, as we’ve been told to expect many more stops in Western Sahara, and if not there, we’ll need them in Mauritania! So much for the few copies we got in Rabat…

We decided over dinner that we would just use the GPS and not buy any parts for now, and have worked out how to calculate distances for individual trips so we can monitor our fuel consumption. If we are able to base ourselves somewhere to get deliveries or if the GPS becomes a problem, then we will get the new trip computer. Please, no more problems?!?! We’re both on the edge of giving up. We don’t want to give up, but it’s getting really frustrating. I have had to remind us a few times lately that the only timelines and deadlines we have are those we give ourselves, so if we need to spend longer anywhere, we just have to do it. Of course, visa durations and living costs restrict us, but it’s fairly straightforward to get visas extensions (I hope!). However, more and more I am thinking we will only be able to get through Africa and not make it to South & Central America. If that happens because of limited money, then we should be able to explore some more of Africa than we have planned, which would not so be bad.

She Says – Party time!

2009-09-21T20:14:00.000+01:00

21 September
Yay, Ramadan is over! Not that it has changed much mind you, today everything was closed and it would have been just as hard to get lunch as any other day! We had a really good run from Ouarzazate towards Agadir, turning south before we reached the big city to stop in a smaller town called Tiznit. The route over was brilliant, not too curvy through three mountain passes (a few hairpins on one), and some amazing mountain scenery once again - more contour-patterned mountains, plus a few ksar ruins and small villages, lots of goat and sheep herds, lots of smiles and waves today and not so many kids with hands out for money. Lots of happy people in shiny new clothes, as Eid-el-fitr is like Christmas day for Muslims – everyone gets new clothes and money. It was quite cold through the passes and we spent most of our time above 1500m - that’s higher than Tasmania’s highest mountain and it was all desert! I’ve realised that the main scenery/landscape things I like to see involve good geology, whether an impressive jagged snow peak or a desert badland hill or plain, a rugged coastline or impressive valley, it’s all to do with geology (apart from my love of cold wet rainforests and waterfalls, it all fits!). We even got to see the famous goats-up-trees, just a handful and impossible to photograph (especially as they left when we arrived), but there they were, climbing the argan trees to eat the nuts! It’s a strange thing that occurs only in this region because this is where the trees are grown.

We had lunch not far from Agadir, bought a cold drink and sat out front of a shop to eat to eat the breads we bought yesterday. Once again, a begging man hassled us; I was not facing him, but Xander said he had new clothes on and was asking for everything from money to cigarettes to food and back round again. Maybe the new clothes were for Ramadan, but who knows. Suddenly the shop closed up, the guy disappeared, and the shopkeeper gave us a large bottle of water as he left! Now we’re really confused – was it a random act of generosity? Was it something to do with Ramadan? I had read that they give things away at this time, but Xander thinks maybe it was his way for apologising for the man begging. Who knows, but it leaves us confused, as sometimes we have to be so rude to people hassling us, and other times people just do these nice things out of the blue and don’t want anything in return.

We are camping again tonight, but due to tiredness and being camped right in middle of town we had a restaurant meal for dinner. I can hear loud music nearby, maybe there is an end-of-Ramadan festival going on? Xander is not feeling well and is in bed quite early; it’s his turn for a dose of the Marrakech express, although he has it for real (I wasn’t too bad). We were in bed early last night too, and both had a great night of sleep, although I seem to have been attacked by bed bugs! I don’t understand why last night, it makes more much more sense from place we stayed in Zagora - in fact it was my one big concern there! Maybe they got into our sleeping bag liners.

Now we have reached the west coast and have properly worked out how far we have to travel each day to get to Mauritania, we realised we can spare a few days to try and salvage some part of our trip, and will go to see some of the towns and rock carvings that I wanted to reach yesterday. I’m feeling very disappointed about our trip to Morocco, that 1 month has not been enough to really see anything, that we couldn’t spend time in small villages or go exploring anywhere, that it has mostly been about cities and driving, and it has really frustrated me. I’m very concerned that the few weeks we will be able to spend in each country from now on are just not going to do anything justice, especially when we have to waste time waiting for visas in each country. I’m feeling that it’s just all going to be work, that it really isn’t enjoyable and right now I can’t recommend long-term independent travel to anyone!!!

He says- The piste du Resistance

2009-09-21T14:45:00.002+01:00

20-21 September 09

The next day we decided to take our first real piste the N12, it was a major road so we though that although it may be pothole riddened it would be a good safe start. The map showed it as a yellow road (main) and complete. We asked some locals about its condition and all said it was really good. Okay so maybe it would be too easy, but it would save a lot of time. We set out early to avoid the Sahara sun’s heat. The road was easy to find and even sign posted for the town we wanted. We hit the dirt. It was smooth and easy, sure there were some corrugations and some potholes but no worries. In no time flat we were just cruising along.

37.9ks out; it just stoped. Ended without warning. Finished. No more. Thanks for coming. Kaput! There was a ~1km bit of sandy track that we took then nothing. It was just gone! Just a bit of channel where water had once flown. We could have looked for it off piste for a while but that would be just stupid. Alone, with no clue, no support, only a days water and food, and with no one knowing we were out there. We had to turn back, in the end we wasted 3 hours going out there and back to town.

We now have 1800km in go in 10 days before our visas expire, basically the Morocco trip has gone bust, it has become an exercise in frustration.

From Zagora we headed to back to Ouarzazate. This was our “Hotel California” we could check out but we could never leave, we just kept ending up there. It was a tiring day. Tried to get supplies for dinner in Ouarzazate but everything was closed except for the westerns overpriced supermarket. We ended up buying some rice and were over charged for it. My tolerance for Moroccans was now at an end. Although I argued with the man, I got nowhere and stormed out. As I left I told the westerns that were walking in not to go in due to the corruption, he did not listen. We then went back to bakery that we got lunch in a few days earlier, and got some Berber pizzas (these are basically stuffed parathas). That night we camped outside Ait Benhaddou I was exhausted. But started the dalh and rice, but dhal paratha sounded really nice. So we decided on that instead. We knew the dhal we got was the non-fall-apart type, which you have to cook for ~3 hours. So that is what we did. Just as we sat down to eat the manager of the campground camp up with mint tea and flat bread. He shared his final Ramadan break-fast with us. We, in return, share our dalh and bread. I don’t think he liked the dalh at all, couscous and tagine is really all there is for Moroccans. It was really nice of him and reminded me that all Moroccans are not greedy bastards; his one act did more for the country then most of the sights we have seen.

It occurred to me how often and disconcerting it was that Tam and I’s conversations turns to bowel movements and gut health. It is at least once a day if not more. The level of detail that we have started to go into to determine each others health is disturbing. However until it is a crucial plot element, I will save you the reader the same fate.

From there we road to Tisnit. To do this we had to go back the way we came then ride ½ way across the middle of the country, before we could head down to where the N12 should have gone. 1300k.

One wrong choice, e.g not getting the visa in Rabat when we were close, and the last couple of weeks of the trip are bust. We did have the choice either we could take it easy and do a couple of hundred kilometres each day, or push hard and do it in only a few days. Anyway you cut it all we are really doing is heading to Mauritania.

We got to Tisnit in much better time then we thought possible, and found a campground that was central and cheapish. Although once again the bill was fiddled, our tent was charged as a “family” tent as opposed to a tent “individual”. When I complained it was pointed out that individual was for one person.. yeah right.. so that larger 14 person tent over there that could fit 14 of our tents comfortable inside is what then?

We walked around the medina a bit, but my heart is no longer in it. I just cant seem to care about it. The touts are no longer cute and friendly but annoying. I was ready to leave Morocco I was tired of constantly being on guard. We were followed and hassled had stuff shoved in our faces. Shooma! At this stage I had really started to hate Morocco and its people.

We went to a café where I thought I ordered something different then couscous, it turned out to be an overcooked dry hamburger with chips and greenbeen/olive side. We returned to camp by 8 and I went directly to bed, exhausted and my belly was non too happy. I had the Moroccan mush for the rest of the night, I slept for maybe an hour all night.

Morocco is full of flies. Everywhere you go, everywhere you stop someone or something is buzzing in your face or ears. Most of the time it is touts or small children asking for money, or bonbons or it is men trying to tell you that you really want to buy something that you don’t, or the same man lying to you to get you to do something, and when that fails he will just ask for money with his hand out (hat still on head) and eyes wide and sad, it is sometimes just a cat acting like the children but sometimes, just sometimes, it is actually a fly.

She Says - Thwarted adventures

2009-09-20T17:31:00.000+01:00

17-20 September
I just cannot seem to be bothered to write my blog in the last week! It’s not been an easy week, and everything seems an effort, so I guess writing is just one more effort I don’t want to deal with. We’re currently in a campground just outside Ouarzazate (here once again! Xander says it’s like Hotel California for us – ‘you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave’), cooking up a very simple meal of dhal (spicy lentil stew) accompanied by yummy Berber pizzas (basically a stuffed bread with minced meat, spring onions, coriander, herbs and spices - very yummy). We realised we weren’t going to get any further than Ouarzazate today and knew there was camping here (Camping Tissa) from Ronald and Nicoline, and when we couldn’t get any vegies or other things to eat, this was it! We can’t even be bothered to make rice, especially seeing as we already had plenty of breads for dinner and tomorrow’s breakfast. I’ve just refreshed after a nice cold shower, which, so long as temperatures stay like this, I think I can get used to! The temperature in town at 4pm was reading 30 degrees still, though it feels cooler at camp in the shade with a very stiff breeze.

OK, had to pause for a while there because we decided to get some much needed laundry done and hung up before sunset, and because dinner didn’t need too much watching over - partly because it is dhal and partly because the £$%&&$% stove has blocked up again. We are having constant problems with the stove getting blocked and either burning too hot or too cold, but either way it is creating a lot of soot that makes it very difficult to wash up, particularly as the soot becomes really greasy. While we were washing and hanging clothes, sunset and the final call to end Ramadan for this year took place, and we watched a nice sunset before eating dinner. While we were eating, the campground manager came over and shared some mint tea and pancake-like bread with us. We weren’t able to talk much, enough to say it was good that Ramadan is over and now they can celebrate and be happy, and to note how the wind was not so bad as when we arrived (you can talk about the weather in any language to get through small talk!). This was a delightfully unexpected moment, and next to one other moment today, has restored a little of my faith in Moroccan people, some of which has been taken away in the last few days.

To backtrack, we took an easy last morning in Rabat, nicked more bread/cheese/ham-substance for our lunch, did some more internet work to get better GPS maps for Morocco (should have done it ages ago!), then headed off just after 11am to the Mauritanian embassy. The main reason we moved was that Xander wanted to check what he could on bike, but not in front of the hotel as they might get annoyed. When everything was pulled apart on the footpath, we were a bit concerned someone might think were trying to blow up an embassy though! Xander thought the problem might be anything from a headlight issue (headlight power draw was making the red light appear on the rectifier voltmeter) to the heated handlebar grips (he thought he got electric shocks while driving to Rabat, turns out it was just cramps from driving too long, as the wires were disconnected and he had them again later!). He first swapped the rectifiers, but the voltmeter still indicated we had a problem. By chance, though I know he would have found it eventually, he looked a little further along the wiring to the rectifier, and found that a connecting piece had completely fried! This was the cause of the burning smell, and after removing it and joining the wires directly together instead, the red light was gone. What a relief!!! So that left us waiting for 2 hours outside the embassy, which then opened half an hour late with quite a few people waiting. We chatted with 3 Polish students travelling in two 4x4s that are heading straight to Mali after only a week in Morocco. They had the problem we avoided – no passport, no hotel! They were stuck in their cars last night, after they too couldn’t find the Sale campground. They were very frustrated and have had enough of Morocco already, and have about a month left to go in Mauritania and Mali then back home. Thankfully, all went fine with our visas and we even got the timing we wanted – visa started that day but expiry is 31 October. Not that we want that long in Mauritania, but at least we can choose when to arrive, plus take our time if we have problems or want to stay in Morocco longer. While sorting out this visa has been a complete faff and frustration, we are very glad we did it now; if we had applied any earlier, we wouldn’t have had Ronald’s advice and would have to cut short our stay in Morocco to make the most of the Mauritanian visa.

So we banged back down to Marrakech and it was a fine trip; tiring and not too warm, no more rain, and we felt good about everything. The campground we chose was really good, nice condition, clean, and full of campervans. We got chatting with a lovely French couple travelling in a crazy little Citroen truck-thing that is fully kitted out with bed, shelves, portaloo, and an esky full of liquor! They invited us over for a drink, and between her French, his bad English and our terrible French, we had a great chat! We had a lovely meal of tuna pasta, with the vegies and supplies we bought several days before in Marrakech, but they were still fine. All was good, and we paid only 50 dirham (less than 5 euros) after the last two nights at nearly 100 euros per night!

The next morning, we drove straight down to Zagora, going through the magnificent mountain passes once again to Ouarzazate, which were freezing cold last time but cool and very bright this time. We stopped for lunch in Ouarzazate, then on to Zagora through some spectacular mountain and desert scenery, then into the palmeries and broken kasbahs (walled cities/forts) and ksars (smaller forts) of the Draa Valley. Wow! The mountains looked like someone took a contour map and plonked it down on the ground – the hills literally had contour lines! The geology is such that the ground is made up of horizontal layers, and the hills have weathered into points, leaving rings looking like contours or fingerprints going up all the way up. I know I can’t describe it properly, I only hope my snapshots capture it! Imagine a big, layered pastry and the layers are separated by cream. Cut the pastry into slices and let them sit in the sun so the cream melts away. This leaves the pastry jutting out between each layer. That’s the best I can describe it! The palmeries, full of ripening dates, were interspersed with towns and buildings, and the ruins were fantastic, although it is hard to tell what is old or new, what are really the historic parts and not just buildings washed away in the rain! We reached Zagora late enough to be very tired, so didn’t stop to see much along the way, and started looking for a camp. Only camps here are really rooms! Berber-tent style rooms, with a material roof but solid walls and a simple bed. We only checked out two places, but after first place was very welcoming and second was not (he was really rude when we wanted to check out other places!) and more expensive, we went back to Prend Ton Temps (‘Take Your Time’ in French). 80 dirham for a room and 60 dirham each for a lovely three course meal. On top of that, when they broke fast for Ramadan, they invited all guests to join the staff and family for food and tea. They also us as much water as we wanted! It was a very social, brilliant place. Dinner, while served very late, was very good, but too much after ‘breakfast’ so we couldn’t finish all the couscous! We spent time chatting with a Spanish guy heading off on a 6 day camel trek to big sand dunes of Erg Chigaga, organised by the camp. We can’t afford to take a trip like that, either by time or money, but would have loved to. We asked about shorter tours, but decided to head off the next day to see the nearby small dunes and go to the small town M’hamid at the head of the big dunes to see if we could organise a better short trip there.

The day was a hassle from start. There were a lot of annoying kids in the area, begging and hassling us. We reached Tinfou Dunes, which were really good but small and finite. There were a couple of nice guys there, offering camel rides and tents to stay in. They chatted with us and gave very little hassle, even sat by while we ate our breakfast, and took a picture of us in front of the dunes and didn’t ask for money! “It’s OK here, this is not Marrakech!” We take the opportunity to fill with sand the bottle we bought for Alison and Andy, our hosts in Spain. As we reached M’Hamid, the real trouble began. We got flagged down by a tour guide on the road – we should never have stopped for him but didn’t realise he was a tour guide at the start. We decided to go see what he had on offer, but still couldn’t (wouldn’t) afford the trips, even a two-day one. This might sound odd, but we’ve already done a Sahara desert trip in Tunisia and we have a lot of other trips to do in later stages of our travels! So we headed to the edge of town to see if we could actually see any dunes. A guy comes up on a scooter, and tells about his family’s pace to stay, but very low hassle. The original tour guide turns up twice! He was very insistent about trying to find a trip for us to do, kept asking how much we wanted to pay. Eventually we gave our price, and he offered a room and meals in his semi-hotel for our price, with the opportunity to walk in the nearby dunes. We decided to go for it; well, it was probably more due to me than Xander to be honest – I felt we should do something to see the desert dunes! We stopped to get some lunch supplies, then we tried to follow the guy, but he took off down a rocky and sandy track along the dry riverbed that we just could not handle. We said to forget the hotel, but the guy told us he had already bought supplies for dinner so we would need to pay him back. We pushed on. He led us on a longer track, but it wasn’t much better! I ended up jumping in the car to make life easier for Xander. He kept falling behind as he struggled with the sand and rough road, and I had to keep making the tour guide stop and wait for the bike to catch up. Things were obviously going wrong but I couldn’t tell what had happened – turned out Xander had dropped the bike! I found him struggling to hold it up after he had lifted it from horizontal. We pushed on, but then came big bumps. Xander fell behind again and when he caught up, he stopped at a distance. I ran back to find out what was going on and he said he’d had enough, even though we were close it was time to end it. I was really angry by this stage, as I had to keep forcing the guy to wait for Xander to catch up. I start yelling at the tour guide, asking what he thought he was doing taking us on a track we couldn’t handle, after having already told us we would not be able to handle the track out to the big dunes! He tried to bribe us again by saying he had already paid for food and had spent money on us, also trying to blame us for damage to his car!! We left him our lunch supplies and got the hell out of there. We should never have dealt with such an insistent guide! Just to note, this guy is actually mentioned in the Lonely Planet guidebook – Zbar Travel. I’m sure his tours are good, but the level of insistence and the danger he put us and our bike in is enough to bad mouth him!!! We’re quite sure he didn’t even know what track he was taking us on, as we seemed to double back on ourselves on the return trip! We took the track very slow and two-up and we made it through somehow. Xander burned through one last part of sand and rock on own (the original dry river bed area). We had more kids hassle us, though they mostly wanted to help, trying to say the piste was no good. Didn’t stop them from trying to get something from us though!

We decided to head straight back to Zagora and stay at Prends Ton Temps again, as it was such a good place. Along the way, we stopped to admire the small dunes beside the road, getting as many photos we can to say ‘hey, we’ve been in desert!’ We were feeling very confident about Xander’s ability to ride through these conditions now, but it’s going to get worse, I just know it! We had very late lunch in Zagora as couldn’t find food along the way. We picked up bread for breakfast and lunch for the final day of Ramadan, but not without both of us individually having people try to scam us into going to a shop instead of the market! Xander even had women in the market telling him to buy stuff for them! He was getting really pissed off with people and kids now. We went back tot the camp, were welcomed in, ordered dinner, and had ‘breakfast’ again with the staff and family. We spent a lot of time chatting to the French-speaking owner about his hopes for the place and a bit of politics, also maybe how we could come back someday and bring others and get a free 6-day camel trip! With his French and the occasional drop of English, we somehow managed to understand…we think! I can actually understand some words now, I’m getting there with numbers to start with and hope the rest will come later! We had another lovely but late meal, ordering brochettes to keep it small this time, and it was almost 10pm when we ate! We had the most delicious salad, and fed pieces of tomato to the cute kitten who kept playing with us. Don’t ask us why, he seemed to like it! We spent both nights in camp watching small bats (s’halit in Arabic) fly over us while lying on the comfy couches outside, and the toilets and showers often have cute, spotty, little toads in them. Other Moroccan wildlife we’ve seen has included a small number of geckos, some very green-tailed lizards in Volubilis, the monkeys we saw further north, a few birds but not a lot, more pigeons than we’ve seen in a while, and lots of cats! Wildlife spotting has been pretty poor.

Today we tried to take the dirt track to Tata. I wanted to go this way to see more kasbahs, but also there’s a lot of ancient rock paintings in the western area. We had been told it was good piste by several people, but it had severely degraded and eventually just ended - they had ripped up the road and made a dirt wall! We got 1.5 hours in and had to turn back. There were some 4WD tracks leading over the wall, but there was no way we could risk getting stuck or damaged out there – there was hardly any traffic to help and we were in the desert after all! We got back in Zagora for lunch at nearly 12pm, very tired and sore from the bad road, and had to head back to Ouarzazate for hopefully the last time! We have no choice now but to skip what I wanted to see and head on highways to Agadir over on the coast then head south. We have little time left to get through Western Sahara - over 1700 km to get to the Mauritanian border in 10 days. As we headed back through the Draa Valley, we stopped to take photos of the kasbahs and palmeries. Every time we stopped, kids hassled us, always wanting money or sweets, and we’re very tired of it all. They suddenly appear out of nowhere whenever you think a place is safe to stop! Then there was a glimmer of hope – we stopped for lunch on the edge of a palmerie, it was peaceful, there were birds and an irrigation stream, it was nice and quiet and there were no kids around. Suddenly a boy appears on a bicycle and unloads his bag of pomegranates. He comes down bank, we say no thank you as nicely as possible, and he just drops 3 fruit next to me and leaves! Unbelievable. No asking for money or anything, just plain, pure generosity. We were stunned. People hassled us at another photo stop after that, one guy was just selling dates but the kid was a pain in the neck and the other adult either wanted to change money or was asking for loose change, I don’t know. Then tonight here in camp we have been shown such kindness and generosity again. I don’t know what to make of the Moroccan people but as I noted at the start of this post, my faith has been a little restored today.

He says –The beginning of the end of the love affair

2009-09-19T14:44:00.000+01:00

17 - 19 sept 09

We got our passports back, by me pushing and shoving our way though the crowed of annoyed Moroccan that had been denied for one reason or an other. We were happy; we only paid for the 1-month visa but got the six weeks we wanted. We left Rabat just before 1500h, and bee-lined it to back to Marrakech. It was a long and boring ride and we stoped in campground just north of the city, as night fell.

Here we met couple in coolest camper. It looked like it was an old citron milk truck that he had converted. It was simply awesome; they where an elderly French couple that invited us over for some drinks. We did go over to chat but not drink. Tomorrow we still had a long way to go to be even sort of back on track. We chatted for a while, until the long day and lack of food called to us. We returned to our camp made some dinner and crashed.

Early the next day bee-lined it to Zagora. This is my third time on the windy road to Ouarzazate. I now know it so well I was able to cut off an hour of our1st time. The road from Ouarzazate to Zagora was painful but I don know why, it was only a 150 or so kilometres. Once there we looked at a couple of camp sites, the first was okay but we decided to look around a bit before deciding, the owner was happy with this and said he hope to see us soon. The guy at the 2nd site got shitty with us, and mouthed off so we went back to 1st campground. Moroccans really only want your money and if they think you are not going to give it to them they would not piss on you if you are on fire. They should learn to shut up until they actually have your money. “Oh your being rude, and angery.. okay we will stay with you and give you money…” Idiot!

Zagora was another of the places in Morocco where you are unable to take a piss without some tout or kid popping up wanting something from you. Even in the campsite that we chose as the “nice place” every other conversation was them trying sell us a camel-trek or 4x4-trek. This continued the entire two days we were there. On the second day, we had actually packed up and checked out, to go a bit further into the desert to M’hamid. We stupidly stopped outside town when a guy was flagging us down. My first reaction was that he was in need of help, he turned out to be a extremely pushy tout from Zbar Travel (M’Hamid Morocco, BEWARE!!!). He ended up following us back into town. Tam really wanted a night in the desert sleeping on dunes, so our second mistake was we talked to the guy. It turned out that he wanted almost 250€ for one night. We left saying that we would “think about it” but he followed us around town in his car. We eventually told him no. He countered with” I have camp ground.. bhlah, blah..” Tam and I like the idea, and it was only a few k’s drive, it was cheap and Tam got her desert night. We started to follow him in his car, he turned on to a dry-deep-sand- river bed.. no way! Anubis two up fully loaded is way to heavy to navigate 30-60cm of soft sand for 6k.

The tout was also too far ahead for me to see the path that he took. I stopped, well actually Anubis stopped, we were bogged. Begrudgingly he came back and agreed to take us by road. Road my ass, it was a farm track, that was a jumble of soft sand and hard rock with kids running up to the bike begging every 10 metres. After one of the first stretches of sand he took Tam in his car.

This is when the track got bad. How he was able to keep his car moving I don’t know. I did see it bottom out and fish tail a few times. Now, 6ks out of town, one real fall and one half off: I said “no further”. Only problem was the tout was way a head of me, I waved and honked but they kept getting a way from me. I was worring about Tam’s safety. Was he just taking her and me in to the desert to rob us.? Now that he had Tam what could happen, I cant just stop. I gave chase. These fears were unfounded, finally Tam made him stop as I was too far back, for her comfort. I was worried about her she was worried about me. I caught up and when she came to me I said it was over. The tout was pissed off he tried to charge us any way, I was not having a bar of it. He yelled, I was too pissed off to yell. He tried to blame me for his car bottoming out “breaking it”…Ah you where leading, it was you who picked the road. He roared off in his car, our only loss was some laughing cow cheese and a can of sardines.

We still had to ride out. Funnily enough the ride out was not a bad as the ride in, the tout did not know where he was going our GPS told us the he did not take the road. He circled the road 3 time.. Idiot was so greedy he was willing to ruin his car to make 30€.! It only took us a few minutes and about a 1.5k to get back to the main road. So we learned two things, never stop for a Moroccan flagging you down, and Zbar Travel M’Hamid Morocco, are a bunch of idiots willing to do anything for your money, BEWARE!!!

Pissed off and toughly fed up with Moroccans and their greedy to the extreme ideals we left M’hamid with out seeing anything. We headed back to Zagora, and to the café where we had such a nice lunch the day before. We need some supplies for the next day, so first Tam then I headed in to the souq where we were both pounced on by the false guides, touts and sellers. I was already pissed off, and when one started to lie (as they all do) I yelled Shooma! (Allah have shame on you and your family) the tout was swarmed by the crowed and I made my escape. Unfortunately it made no difference, no sooner was I away from that one some woman in expensive cloths were begging me to buy this or that FOR them, kids were begging and men where grabbing at me to drag me in to their all-the-same-mass-produced-shit-they-call-art shops.

I don’t like kids at their best but when one kid with ice-cream in mouth started begging, leaving was all I could not to hit him. Later a group of kids actually started to throw rocks, a plastic bucket, and sticks at us for not giving them money. Kids and adults alike would wave us down on highways with give us money sign. Morocco now has lost my heart, it had it for a while but then the glamour faded and I saw the sick-greedy-twisted true nature of the people.

That night we stayed in the same hotel as the night before, only this time the owner, was getting progressively more stoned smoking hash. He would talk for a while (in French) about how I could become his Australian contact and send people to him for tours. “We could be rich” (although as far as I could tell I only got free tours). He would then talk politics for a while before repeating his offer of me being his contact. This continued until we left him to his drugs and friends for the relative peace of our bed.

He Says - RABAT HELL!!

2009-09-17T14:43:00.002+01:00

16 - 17 September 09

Tam and I decided to try and minimise the time loss and try and do Ouarzazate to Rabat in one hit. It turned out to be not to bad, we had to return over the same mountain pass, this time it was cold but there was no mudslides, only dirt, stones and a lot of diesel on the road!!

We rode hard, head down ass up, stopping only briefly for some snacks on the side of the road. We took the toll roads and you could not tell that you were in Africa. The only exception to this was the ubiquitous trucks that are running at a 45° degree angle due to the constant overloading.

We made it Rabat by early evening (1645h) both feeling okay but not ready for too much more. Considering the weather had broken and rained heavily for several sections of the trip we had made good time and had done well to make it. Parts of Rabat were flooded, and we had to do two water crossings to get to the campground that we wanted to stay in. Unbenounced to us it is now a construction site for a shopping mall.

The drivers in Rabat, are the worst I have ever seen they will pass on either side of you, push you out of the way for the fun of it. The use their bumper bars instead of turn signals. They’ll go the wrong way down the street if it suits them. The only law they seem to obey is a red light, however they creep forward the entire time and honk if you have not made it though the intersection. 0.00000001 of a millisecond after the light turns green. It was the most stressful driving of my life and several times is was only Tam's yelling “Watch out!” that warned me of a car trying to hit us (well not caring that we were in the way and was going to go though us to get where he wanted to go.).

We ended up riding out of town towards an other campgound that was in the guide book and a tout that caught us off guard made 1 durham for telling us it does exist. Night had started to fall. Just before true dark we had pulled over to decided where we where, and what we were going to do. There may or may not be a campground close by, but we could not find it. It was at this point that I noticed that my charge indication was indicating that Anubis’s battery was not getting charged.

This was the final straw, the drive made me very tired, the traffic conditions had fried my nerves and now the bike has gone wrong again! I felt like crying, I did scream. I shouted at Tam for no reason. She was great and calmed me down. She did what was necessary and decided for us. We will try and find the campground. As it turns put we were almost there, but it was the ugliest dirtiest shit hole I have ever seen. There was broken glass, bits of rusty metal, concrete chips, and old wire everywhere. At first we decided to suck it up and stay. I am not a squeamish or prissy person, but when I saw the state of the toilettes and showers I decided we leave now! There was faeces everywhere and it looked like it had not been cleaned well ..ever.

Back on the bike I could smell burning. We were nowhere near anyplace I could even look to see what was wrong. Fuck it!!! Knowing full well what it could mean we got on the bike and drove on. We headed back for Rabat and decided to stay at the Ibis, we had GPS point for it .. no worries.. Well an hour later we still could not find it. The GPS was always telling me that I was going the wrong direction. The charge monitor was telling me that I was killing my bike. The bikes temperature was skyrocketing. My temper was shorter then ever and I was starting to drive badly. We drove for hours all over the city and could not find one hotel. Not one with space or that was nice.. but a actually hotel.. we were driving in circles, via the GPS and not getting anywhere. Ultimately we found one, it was a western expensive one, a Mercur. It had no parking and was three times our daily budget. But it was now 2100h and were both at ropes end. We booked in. We calmed down, Tam got hungry I did not, but we both ate at the hotel (misspelled by them) “Kangourou restaurant”, it was the most expensive and least satisfying meal of the trip.

I had not slept a wink, but we had to get to the Mauritanian embassy by 1030h to lodge our visa applications or else we would stuck here till Monday. We would be stuck because it was already Wednesday it takes 24 hours for the visa application, and the embassy is closed Friday though Sunday. We also realised that we would need to stay an other night the expensive hotel a second night, as we will not have passports and you need one to rent a room. There goes the budget again!

We got up had breakfast (I had to force myself to eat). Got to the bike, quickly tried to see what could be wrong with it, but had no luck. For some reason everything was taking an age and we were not ready to go until 0845. We went to 4 bank ATMs that would not take our cards the 5th would not take mine but luckily it did take Tam’s. We were ready. We had the visa pictures. We had the photocopies. We had a map (and thought we knew where we were going). We were off at 0859h. 0910 realise that the map was not as we thought it was.. -0945 driving around in circles. Tempers flaring. Only 45min to go and we were no closer to the embassy. We decided to go back to the hotel and get a cab.

0955 we jump in a cab, show him the address, he shakes his head. “no polivo france” he says. We tried to explain what we need, he shakes his head again. We try again. Something Clicks. He says okay. The meter goes on.. HOOO no arguments there then that is good! He starts heading towards Sale’, I may not know where the embassy is but I know this is wrong. I show him on the map. Head shaking again. Finally I said the name of a major road near by, a light bulb goes on over his head (it may have been my blood pressure or the stress but I swear I could see it). He swings the car around. I hear squealing of brakes as other cars stop to let us by. We start heading in the direction that Tam suggested just as we gave up. I was trying to follow our movements on the map. It did not work.

1012h He tells us we are on the major road. Tam re-reads him the address and it clicks, he corrects her pronunciation, and asks if it is the Mauritanian, Portuguese or Mali embassy we need.
1015h we pull up in front of the Mali embassy, I run back to find the Mauritanian one
1025 I walk though the door. They don’t close at 1030h anymore it is now 1230.

We struggle to fill out the forms but get it done hand over 680durham, ask if all is okay. They said “yes pick it up tomorrow at 1400h”.

1049h the trip’s progression is out of our hand. We then realised that our taxi driver did not say he could not speak French but that he could not read western script. This is something that never occurred to me. We walked back to the hotel so that I could find it again the next day stopping for a cold drink and a mars bar, for once we ate in mostly plain sight. We stopped in the Chellah (the ruins of the old city). It was a nice respite from the hustle and hassle of the city and as we did not have cameras it was kinda nice just to walk around. The rest of the day was spent in the hotel recovering from the night before. Eventually, we ventured out at about at 1800h to look for some dinner but Rabat has two types of restaurants bloody expensive and those that are no where near the hotel that we were staying in. We ended up eating Pringles and pudding from the one of the very few mini-markets that was open. Our gourmet feast was accompanied by a 1€ pirate DVD purchased in Marrakech, all in all I was in heaven. We still have not figured out what is wrong with the Anubis.

Next day stayed in hotel till 1100h, and then went to Mauritanian embassy. Anubis was running perfectly fine. No warning lights, once at the embassy in the shade of the a huge tree I switched rec/regs for the spare. Still everything was running well no warning lights. Bugger now what could it be??? I let the engin get hot, and the problem reared its ugly head. It was only then I smelt and saw the fire! The high voltage cables coming from the stator had caught fire taking the connection block with it. During this procedure with my bike smouldering, a fancily dress woman, came up to me showed a picture of a handicapped boy and asked me for money. I could not believe it so I ignored her, Her she is in a fancy dress, I’m covered in grease, bike is burning she is begging off me. She touched me with hand out and I yell at her to fuck off! She left in a hurry rage burring in my eyes. Once she was gone I calmed down and cut out the burnt wires and bypassed block splicing the wires in directly. Suddenly everything was good the RPM were stable and the power was all good. Some how the leads had short circuited and caused the fire. The electrex regulator/rectifier has lived up to their claims (so far) it had survived the fire/short. That afternoon we started to head back to Ouarzazate then to Zagora and the Sahara.

She Says – Fear and loathing in Rabat

2009-09-16T20:13:00.000+01:00

14-16 September
Peter had to take off on our second day in Ouarzazate to help some bikers who had had an accident and needed a support vehicle for the rest of their trip. They were already planning to stay with Peter anyway, and he runs a breakdown service across the country. Zineb looked after us wonderfully, we had wonderful food including the best couscous ever – melt in the mouth chicken just falling off bones, topped with a yummy, sweet, caramelised onion/sultana/cinnamon topping. Using the extra day, we had time to make sure the bike was running fine, the fuel tank repair had worked, check all was working OK with the computer and new external hard-drive, and create backup DVDs of all our photos. We even got the dodgy hard-drive to behave and got a backup onto it! With a lot of stress off our minds, we had some time to relax, plus got some of our clothes really clean in the washing machine! We had a great location in the upper levels of the house, sleeping with our door open to the terrace, and with an awesome view to mountains in the mornings. The rain held off, although we did get a few splashes in the afternoon.

Since we left Ouarzazate, things seem to be getting worse. Our trip up to Rabat was good and uneventful, taking around 8.5 hours to complete, including lunch and bum-rest breaks, plus a trip to the supermarket to get groceries for dinner as we planned to stay in a campground. We got hit with some good rain but nothing too bad. It got quite cold travelling back through the high passes towards Marrakech; I actually had to put on my polar fleece jacket! Who would have thought we’d get so cold in Morocco!?! After reaching Rabat, everything just went wrong! Traffic here is crazy, the worst we’ve had (though we’ve heard Casablanca is the worst in Morocco); however, it didn’t help that technically we were in rush hour. Actually, I’m not entirely sure if that applies here, the real rush occurs before sunset for end of Ramadan! The GPS wasn’t particularly helping us, although we eventually managed to make our way to Sale, the town across the river from Rabat where camping was supposed to be near the beach. With no signs to help us, we managed to navigate our way to the supposed campsite using the guidebook map and GPS. Yes, supposed, as we saw no sign of it anywhere! We had to complete our first water fordings, as some of the beach streets had completely flooded. By this stage, we were pretty sure the campground was no longer open, but spoke to a guy who confirmed it. He told us the next campground was almost 20km back in Temara, towards Casablanca. We had to pay him for his help, the first time we’ve actually done this, as we usually ignore anyone who tries to help so we aren’t expected to fork out money all the time. There’s only one bad thing with this, and that is sometimes people are just trying to be helpful to us and don’t seem to be after money. I feel really uncomfortable to always be turning people away, especially if they are just trying to be friendly. I hope it doesn’t taint the view that those particular people have of Westerners, as I feel so rude sometimes. But when I don’t know their intentions, turning aside all help and expectations of payment is the safer bet. It really ties my stomach in a knot having to deal with this and worry that I am offending perfectly helpful people.

We managed to pick up the quiet coastal road and headed back to Temara, by which time the sun was setting. After a while of not knowing where we were or how much further we should go, Xander pulled over and then found the voltmeter he had made to test the rectifier (voltage regulator) was reading red. Just great, all we needed was more problems! By this time, we were both getting pretty grumpy, so this didn’t help things at all. We worked out that we had a few more kilometres to go till Temara and headed off desperately trying to see a campground. We eventually found one, the staff of which were rather unhelpful but understandably Ramadan had just ended for the day. It was a pretty crappy looking site, and we had to scout around for a space that wasn’t covered in glass, bits of metal or power cable! As I started to pull out the tent, Xander came back from the bathroom and said we weren’t staying as it was absolutely disgusting in there! We hadn’t seen any real sign of hotels anywhere in Rabat or on our way back out of town. We hunted around Temara for a while, finding one place but not being happy with it because parking was out the front with no possibility of getting behind the hotel, when we noticed a burning smell. Xander located the smell to where the rectifier sits. Great, just what we needed. At this point, he remembered he had seen an Ibis Hotel on the GPS and decided we should just head back into the city, where we could get secure parking plus photocopies of our passports for the visa application. The only problem was, we couldn’t follow the GPS map, we got continually lost through Rabat, roads appeared where there shouldn’t have been any and turnoffs didn’t exist where they should be. I think we covered all of Rabat that night! We still didn’t see any hotels anywhere, plus driving at night gave us a few scares with cars coming out of nowhere and trying to pass us on the wrong side. Tiredness wasn’t helping either. Somehow Xander managed to get us close to the Ibis, and while we didn’t find it, we did find a Mercure hotel and managed to get a room with parking out the front, security provided by a guardian. It is costing us a fortune to stay here (over 90 euros), and the parking situation is not ideal, but at that point we really had no choice.

Worse still, the next morning we realised that we had to leave our passports with the Mauritanian embassy, and you have to fill in a registration form every time you check into a hotel and most of the time you have to actually show your passport. I think sometimes they are happy to see you are using a passport to get info and don’t bother checking themselves, but if you didn’t have your passport it might be a problem. So we booked in for another night, rather than pack everything up and cause ourselves a huge hassle trying to find a new hotel then going to embassy, especially as we were concerned the embassy closed at 10.30am from something we had read. Ouch, but oh well. We were able to get passport photocopies done in the hotel, and after a breakfast buffet (where we nicked some bread, cheeses and ham-like substance for lunch!), we dashed out the door and off in what we thought was the direction of the Mauritanian embassy. WRONG! Confused by the GPS, driving around in circles and quickly getting crabby, we dashed back to the hotel, dumped our bike gear and took a taxi instead. We got to the embassy at 10am and squeezed into the tiny visa application room along with a few others, getting our applications in just before 10.30am. Phew! Finally one thing went right. The visas cost 340 dirham each (roughly 30 euros), and it starts from the day of application, meaning we have limited time to spend in Morocco after getting the visa. However, Ronald told us they managed to get the timing they wanted by requesting a different end date – we have tried that too and will see what happens! We had no idea about filling in the form, consisting mostly of long-winded, unintelligible-to-us questions and all in French. Xander checked with attendant at counter several times, who wasn’t part that helpful, and eventually we got some help from a German family also applying. Hope all goes well!

After getting through the stress of our first on-the-road visa application, we decided to walk back to hotel via a shop for cold drinks and a bank. We have been having terrible problems with banks not accepting our cards, so it pays to try every bank you can find. Xander’s card seems to have a near fatal flaw, and has only worked a couple of times. We’ve no idea what’s going on! The walk did us good and calmed our tensions a lot. We walked up to the chellah, the old Roman city and later Islamic necropolis, which was extremely peaceful beside the franticness of Rabat’s traffic. We took a very easy day after that, taking advantage of free wi-fi, got our French blogs uploaded finally, and sorted out a few other bits and pieces. We even ate Pringles chips for dinner while watching a DVD, as we couldn’t find any cheap restaurants (in fact, few restaurants of any sort!) near the hotel. A cheap night after expensive day! So while we have not given Rabat any time or justice, it has left us with a bad impression from what we have seen – just another big business-oriented city.

Naturally Xander is very concerned about what is causing the new electrical problem. We are carrying a spare rectifier, as it’s a common problem on this bike, and will try to test it tomorrow to see if that is the problem or if it’s something else. Otherwise, we are going to head to Marrakech tomorrow after picking up our passports at 2pm, and Xander will test the wiring in a campground. We know we can make it to Marrakech easily in that time, as the toll roads have been very good and almost empty. They are definitely worth using and total cost to get to Rabat was only a bit more than some of the individual French toll roads we took!

He Says — Real Movies are made here; pirate DVD elsewhere

2009-09-14T14:42:00.001+01:00

13 – 15 September

We headed to Ait Benhaddou a town whose Kasbah has been the backdrop for 20+ Hollywood movies. These include titles like “The Mummy”, “Romancing the Stone”, “Gladiator” and a host of others. On the trip down I started to smell petrol, it was odd as it was an actually chilly day so there should be little tank evaporative loss, but did not think much of it. We spent the afternoon walking around the Kasbah but being so close to Marrakech and so touristy it was full of touts and scams like not telling you how to get in to the city with out going though a persons house for a price of course, and then trying to get you going out as well.

Completing a challenge set by my ex-work mates we stayed in a fancy hotel and had a fancy meal. The owner of the hotel was in at least 10 of blockbusters himself (as an extra) including the three mentioned above. We slept well and were packed and ready to leave early the next morning. The petrol smell was strong, I had noticed one of the hotels kids (they are like the cats, strays that are everywhere) playing with the bikes throttle so I again thought nothing of it.

It was to be only a 30km trip this morning to a place called Bikershome in, Ouarzazate so that we can have a day out of the way and a place to do some work on the bike. Once there I found the source of the petrol smell. I discovered that my fuel tank has a leak. This turned a one-day visit in to two. Most of which I spent high on petrol fumes as I tried to fix it. We were also told that we would not be able to get our Mauritania visa at the Border and so we have to head 900km back south to Rabat. This was a nice place to stop it was run by (yet an other) Dutch guy and his Moroccan wife. She was an amazing cook and fed us very well during our stay.

That night a mad-man attacked a car outside the house, I stumbled out of bead at the ruckus it caused but by the time I looked over the terrace all was calm. I assumed that it was just one of those things and went back to bed. It was not till the next day did I hear the harrowing tail of a knife wielding nutter smashing car windows and threatening people.

She Says – Ancient citadels and leaking fuel

2009-09-13T20:12:00.000+01:00

11-13 September
Yesterday we left Marrakech, having spent a pleasant sunset the night before watching the city come to life. There was a lot of sun over the square, which stood out incredibly against the thick black storm clouds at the edge of the sky. We sat in an expensive café, taking sneaky photos of people passing through the square (we weren’t alone!). We headed for Ait Benhaddou, northwest of Ouarzazate, in the early morning, travelling along 200km of twisting, winding roads up and down through the High Atlas Mountains. We went through a pass at 2260m high, and saw some spectacular views. The landscape is stark, and while I agree with Xander that you can’t really call it beautiful, it really does have an appeal to it. Like some kind of Martian landscape, hardly any vegetation, the rocks changing colours all the time, little villages tucked into the folds of the hills, and on top of it all, big clouds hanging over the highest mountains because the weather is still hit and miss right now. It actually got cool at this height. All along the road were people selling local fossils, rocks and minerals, either in little roadside stalls, proper shops, or just on some scary bend with a truck coming the other way on your side of the road as they leap out to wave an amazing huge (but usually dyed) geode in your face!!! At the end of the passes, it was onto the plains and the stony desert they call the hamada – this was the real thing, we were in desert Africa!!!

Ait Benhaddou contains an old kasbah (think walled city/citadel Morocco-style!) that I have wanted to visit for some time. It’s an iconic place, featuring in movies (e.g. Jewel of the Nile, Gladiator) and Michael Palin’s Sahara, and is the classic mud-coated construction that you see from the Sahara region. We got there in the early afternoon, which was nice for a change, and meant we were feeling fresh enough to check out a few hotels instead of taking the first one that seemed good. We had been wondering whether to take this opportunity to treat ourselves to something nice courtesy of the challenge Xander’s work colleagues had set us. I looked at two places that were OK but not quite right – they had views of the kasbah on the other side of the river, but not great ones. Then I found a third place, La Fibule D’Or. Looking absolutely nothing from the outside, in fact I wasn’t even sure it was open!, I fell in love with this place when I got inside. With stunning complete views of the kasbah from our bedroom (and therefore I knew from the roof terrace) and a rustic homestay feel to the place, I knew it was time to complete our challenge. The whole building was covered in the mud and straw coating typical of the area. The rooms were decorated in a very simple Berber style, so they had personality and were not just a standard room – that goes along way with us. The more we learnt, the more we loved it – the owner take roles as an extra in the movies made locally (e.g. The Mummy, Kundun, Lawrence of Arabia), he offered us a lower room price so we would have dinner there (we had already taken the breakfast package), the dining salon was gorgeous, and the roof terrace was amazing! Xander brought the bike around and we were able to park inside a side room, entering via the front doors – a strange experience! We let the manager’s son, a very serious little boy of about 3, sit on the bike and he checked out all the controls like an old pro. After we settled, we were treated to a free mint tea on the terrace and got to lay back and take in the stunning views all around us. We were pretty close to fulfilling our third challenge for the trip, the one our friend Sam set about finding the most amazing place in Africa, but I think there is something better to come yet. As it was getting late, we crossed the river to the kasbah for a look around. This involved shoes off and wading over, as they had had enough rain to get some water in the generally dry river. We had to fight off the kids with donkeys, horses and camels to get over the river. OK I exaggerate, but they were smart at taking advantage of easy money! Over the river, you either go around the edges of the kasbah and make your way in for free, or you pay 10 dirham to go through a house. I thought it would be cool to see the houses, to get a feel for how people live. We had several kids trying to make us pay them, but we eventually got an adult to come out and let us in. Unfortunately, the houses are no longer occupied or guided (maybe if you took a kid!), but were set up as a museum of life in the kasbah with tools, cooking equipment, and other pieces of everyday life. We also got to play with some Berber wooden locks, a neat system using little pegs that raise and lower to the pattern of the wooden key (looks like a hairbrush missing some teeth!) to open and close the lock. Really cool! Much of the kasbah has been reconstructed, either through use in movies or by grants from UNESCO World Heritage, so it was hard to tell what was traditional or not, but the buildings were beautifully decorated. The kasbah doesn’t seem to have many people living in it now, but has many shops selling jewellery and clothing, all the usual bits and pieces, but also some selling really nice watercolour paintings. I watched a guy demonstrate how they make the colours – the yellow paint is a mix of tea and saffron (maybe something else), which he paints onto thick paper, then heats the painting over a gas flame, thus darkening the colour. The pictures were very simple, mostly landscapes and men riding camels, in various shades of yellow and the blue of the Tuareg people. I got myself stung because I watched the demonstration without buying anything, and the local custom is you pay for an artisan showing you how they work. I don’t like this, though I understand it I guess. However, it means you rush past things, as we did in Marrakech, instead of taking the time to watch art and creation and handiwork in progress because you don’t want to pay for every person you watch. In turn, you don’t get to learn about the techniques. Not that they request very much, but the principle should be to watch and learn and that should encourage you to buy, not to get money out of you in every possible way! I also don’t like it because I don’t know what is a reasonable amount to pay for a demonstration, so it makes me feel very uncomfortable. Funny thing is, it’s the first souvenir I’ve actually wanted to buy for myself because the paintings were really good! I loved their simplicity and use of natural colours, but there is nowhere on the bike I can keep a painting safe enough until ready to post.

We stayed at the kasbah till it was ‘golden hour’, then went back to hotel as we hoped to take photos of the city in the dying light. Luck was not on our side, and it clouded over! We decided to get up for sunrise to catch the morning light on the kasbah, as it was supposed to occur at a reasonable time. We watched sunset and looked over our map to work out what to do and how to do it, as there is a lot to see around this area, including camel trekking in the desert, and we can really only spend about a week here. Xander had also noticed that the clutch is sticking and that maybe we needed an oil change. We decided our best bet was to go to Ouarzazate to visit a Dutch guy who has set up a place called Bikers Home, complete with garage and space for doing oil changes. We also thought it would be good to get some local knowledge about touring the area, how long various roads would take, road conditions, etc. We then went downstairs and enjoyed a wonderful home-cooked meal in the salon of harira soup, chicken couscous, oranges dusted with cinnamon, and pieces of melon. I assume the melon came from the large yellow fruit/vegetables that we’ve been seeing for sale all everywhere on roadsides – a mystery solved!

This morning we got up before 6am to find it was nearly sunrise already - our GPS was giving us the wrong time! Time has changed for Ramadan, but this is obviously not transmitted to the satellites. As luck would have it, the sun rose directly into the only bank of clouds around, but as it rose above the clouds, we had magnificent light across the kasbah. The whole stay had been totally worth it – challenge complete, thanks everyone at University of Birmingham who contributed! Before we left, we had the manager’s whole tribe on the bike, and took photos that we were able to download straight onto their computer. As we prepared to leave, we noticed the room where the bike was parked was full of fuel fumes; Xander found that the boy who sat on the bike last night had caused a leak with his serious testing of the bike’s controls!

We got to Bikers Home bright and early, and Peter welcomed us in. While the price is a bit expensive, especially after last night’s indulgence, we have decided to stay. It is all-inclusive, we have the use of the garage for the bike work Xander needs to do, secure parking, and even a washing machine! After chatting a while with Peter and his lovely Moroccan wife Zineb, we went into town to run errands and get oil. While there, we bumped into Ronald and Nicoline from Camping Zebra in their 4x4! What a bizarre coincidence, but I just knew we would see them again, although I expected it to be later in Morocco or maybe even in Mauritania or Mali. They followed us back to Peter’s for a drink, and filled us in on getting our Mauritanian visas in Rabat. People that Peter knows of were recently turned back from the Mauritania border without visas and had to go back. This is a major blow to our current travel plans, but in the end, it will be fine. The visa is very straightforward but takes 2 days, we can travel fairly quickly after Marrakech up to Rabat via toll road highways, and then we can come back and do our tour of the area. It’s a shame that we will lose time, but I guess we should have stuck with our original plan to go to Rabat after Fes.

In the mean time, while doing the oil change, Xander discovered that the fuel smell is coming from a leak in the tank! Part of the fibreglass around one of the fuel taps (which had already caused us problems before we started the trip) had delaminated. He has just finished sealing the leak – cross fingers it holds. We will now be staying an extra night to make sure the repair is secure. Xander has also been able to fix a few other problems, including the pannier locks that were not secured properly anymore, and to attach the strap mounts he bought in Fes to the top of the main panniers. Hopefully all will be good!

She Says – Mad Marrakech

2009-09-11T20:10:00.000+01:00

9-11 September
Well, I enjoyed my first cold bucket shower in Ouzoud, tying in my first bucket hair wash! OK, I lie a little – we had cold bucket showers, but I cheated a bit with the hair wash because the campground makes solar hot water from black plastic drums, so I got to add a little warm to my wash! In the evening, the growing storm broke into an incredible thunderstorm, with continuous rolling thunder like some sort of vision of hell from a movie, and amazing lightning coming at us from all directions and very low in the sky. The rain that followed was not so heavy as the previous night but lasted longer, and before long there was a call saying that the town had flooded! We all drove down the road to see what had happened and talk with locals. The river running through the middle of town, that which creates the waterfall, had risen at least 6 meters, and had wiped out the markets stalls we had just visited that morning. Even worse, it had flooded through the campgrounds – boy were we glad we hadn’t camped there! People said no-one was staying at the camps, but we have our doubts. No-one in camp would have known it was coming, although apparently the storms start in a town about an hour away and they usually call through if anything is happening stormwise. There had been a similar flood the previous year that caused a huge amount of damage to the market and nearby buildings. We thought about the rafts below the waterfall, how they must have been destroyed with the force of water going over the falls, and wondered how other businesses down there had fared, though most were set back from the water’s edge. On the trip out the next morning, we saw evidence of flooding across the roads, but amazingly it was already being cleared up.

Now, we are getting ready for our third night in Marrakech. We had a reasonably easy trip into the city, only getting lost once we stopped finding direction signs for the main Djemaa el-Fna square! We managed to get ourselves where we wanted to be, made easier by being on a bike, as cars are not allowed into the square. It’s absolutely full of tourists here, as expected (it’s a cheap and easy jump from Europe and often comes as a cheap package holiday), but it’s no more expensive than elsewhere, which was one of my concerns. Our hotel is costing 300 dirham per night, which is pricey but similar to other places (and less than 30 euros at that), plus it’s a really good place with wi-fi and breakfast included, excellent view over the square, and very clean. We’re paying for parking at another hotel on the square, and we have plenty of cheap food available, which is a big change from other places we’ve visited so far. Everywhere else, a tajine or couscous costs from 40 to 60 dirham. Here, you can get a meal for only 20 to 30 dirham at one of the snack bars or in the square at night. The Djemaa el-Fna square was the big drawcard here, and unfortunately I feel a bit let down. Basically, the square is surrounded by masses of souks, selling all the usual stuff, just heaps more of it and particularly geared towards tourists (with prices to match!). In the square during the day, there are a few orange juice carts and other stalls, but little else. At night, the orange juice sellers move over and the square is filled with small stalls selling hot food, everything from the usual food (tajine, couscous, meat brochettes) to fish and snails and sheep heads! There is high pressure to eat at each stall and the touts/waiters work hard to relate to your nationality (“kangaroo, dingo ate my baby, look at me”) and convince you their stall is the best (“air conditioned!”). We’ve eaten some great food – fried fish and eggplant, snails in peppery soup, plates of mystery meat! (sheep’s head stew) – and value has been excellent. Outside the stall area is the performer’s area, with dancing monkeys, snake charmers, storytellers, acrobats and water sellers. This is the disappointing part – there’s hardly anyone out there! I don’t know if it’s to do with Ramadan or if things aren’t what they used to be, but this whole square is supposed to be crammed with tents and performers, a relic from medieval times. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still really cool, but not what I was expecting from all the photos, TV shows and guide books I’ve seen over the years. Each night we’ve watched sunset from the roof deck of our hotel, watching the square come to life and everyone prepare to break their day’s fasting, and it’s interesting to watch the square come to life each evening. Xander described Marrakech as Disneyland, and it certainly has a set-up-for-tourists feel to it. However, if someone was looking for their first trip to somewhere really outside their usual holiday destinations, I would recommend it for its ease. However, I definitely preferred Fes for its more authentic feel.

Our wanderings in the city have taken us up, down and around the souks, and paid for a photo of one of the water sellers holding Dr Otterboro. These guys once had a job selling cups of water, but now they are just a tourist attraction. I don’t really like to pay for photos, but decided this was their job so why not. After much hunting, hard bargaining, and a lot of walking away from ridiculously high tourist prices, we finally found a second gift for our kind hosts in Spain – a decorated glass bottle, which we will fill with Saharan sand as we once did in Tunisia for ourselves. The men and donkeys carrying enormous weights are less evident than in Fes; however, they are replaced by insane scooter drivers who would run you down in the blink of an eye if you didn’t jump out of their way! In some ways it was better, as the treatment of the donkeys in Morocco has been really getting to me. Most of the poor animals are so heavily laden they can barely move their legs. The massive weights and carts they carry rub huge sores into their skin, and few look like they are fed or watered well. I find it so difficult to understand this mistreatment. I understand carrying as much as possible in each load, as then you get more money. What I cannot understand is that by treating the animals poorly, they are unable to work as well and will eventually die, depriving the people of their livelihood and transport, but also costing a lot of money to buy a replacement animal. Looking at it in completely pragmatic terms (though of course the animal welfare issue is what burns me up), these people have no business sense and are costing themselves money by not looking after their tools. I just don’t get it.

The city has several old palaces around it, and we visited one of the medersas. This theological college attached to the Ali ben Youssef Mosque was really impressive, with fantastic typical architecture (tilework, carved alabaster/plasterwork, carved wood) and all the tiny student’s rooms crammed around the central square with pool and fountain. It’s difficult to be able to really appreciate Islamic architecture as non-Muslims aren’t allowed in the mosques and only a few medersas are open to public, so this was a great opportunity, especially after missing our chance in Fes. I’m still very glad we went to the Alcazar in Seville though, as the sheer grandeur and size of the palace was astounding, and gave so much more to someone like me who is crazy about Moorish architecture!

Yesterday, I was a bit under the weather with a minor stomach bug, so I took the morning off while wonderful Xander ran all over the new city to try and find a new external hard-drive to replace our dodgy one (difficult to find here, should have got it in Fes but he found one eventually) and a memory stick (not difficult). He wasn’t able to find good memory cards for the cameras though; they only seem to sell a few brands of unknown quality. The city is full of pirate DVD sellers, including proper shops! In the afternoon, we picked up a disc to test the DVD drive, and found the drive was fine so it must be the burning program that is having issues. Xander set about downloading a new copy, and in the meantime it was good to just lay back and watch a movie! In the evening I felt much better. Seeing as the pirate disc worked fine, we picked up a couple more movies to keep ourselves entertained over the long months ahead. A massive storm hit in the afternoon, flooding the streets outside our hotel and drenching the men praying in the open-top first floor mosque directly opposite our room! In the evening, we ate in the square again before having a wander around the city, but we’ve pretty much had our fill of the place and want to get to the desert!

One of the things I wanted to put in place for our travels were stickers with our blog address and email on them. As we never got a logo, it never happened. However, Paul and Renate at Camping Zebra showed us the small cards they carried when they travelled across Africa. They recommended it as a way of saying thankyou, as Africans often want money for help, but they also want Westerner friends and this does the job nicely. On return trips, Paul and Renate have even had people run up and show them the card that person had received several years before! Marrakech would have been a good place to sort out something for ourselves, there are plenty of digital photo shops around, but we first need to get a decent picture to use. This would also mean that I can stop using my notepad to give people our email and blog address – I’m fast running out of paper, and keep tabs of all our expenses in this book, so need it to last as long as possible!

He Says – Disney land, Mystery meat and pirate DVDs this is Marrakech!

2009-09-11T14:41:00.001+01:00

09 –13 sept

It rained on and off for the rest of the night and so when we awoke it was necessary to dry the gear before packing. Despite the delay, we were ready to go by 0900h, we said our good buys and by 0930h we were on our way to Marrakech. The road out of the valley showed more evidence of the previous nights flooding and the road was often covered in 30-40mm of mud. The flooding (evidence) lasted the majority of the way ending only about 15k before Marrakech.

We of course took the scenic route (intentionally for once) and made it in just under 2.5h. We found our way in no problem. But missed one turn and got our selves all turned around. We found our way to the hotel with parking that was suggest to us. Tam went in to see about the room and I stayed with Anubis.

Shortly after a Canadian guy came up to me and started tell me about his bike travels though the USA to Mexico, and how he also had to Mexico or bust written on his bike. Tam came back reporting that the hotelier was not very polite and I should go have a look. He showed me a stunning room and quoted a price of double what he told Tam. The room that he quoted the price to Tam was disgusting. We moved on and found a different hotel. The rest of the day was spent wandering the souqs and the Djemaa el-Fna market place of Marrakech (the big famous one). That night we ate dinner in the square from a little fish market and escaped to the hotel just before the rain started here.

It may have been the fish it may have been my goat tajine, but shortly after breakfast Tam became ill. I ended up running out to buy us a new memory stick and external hard drive as she laid in the hotel dieing. I walked about 10k only to find what I was looking for about 500m from our hotel. Murphy seems to travel too.

Tam was well enough to go for a light lunch when returned, but was exhausted shortly after. I wanted to test our DVD drive on the computer and so we stopped by a pirate DVD seller to buy one (1€ each = cheep test, we bought two more to be sure of course!!!).

As Tam was ill and I was weary from my epic walk we spent the afternoon watching a pirate copy of “I am Legend”. Both refreshed, we were preparing to head out when the skies turned black and opened up. People were running for cover in all directions, the streets were flooded and the power went out. We stayed in. When the rain ultimately stopped we ventured out. The market however was only in 1/3 swing but we did get to eat goat stew and boiled mystery meat .. what we do know that it was a head, yup the entire head, brains and all it was not bad, what we could not tell is whose head it was.

The next day was spent wandering the souqs looking for a Medersa (holy school) that you can actually go in, most (like mosques) are off limits to not believers. We were using a lonely plane t map that says the scale was 1=300m. It was more like 1=30m so we got a bit lost (but what else is new).

The Medersa itself was an extravagant building decorated like the Alcazar back in Spain, it housed many small dark cells where the students lived and studied. With no other plans we just relaxed and enjoyed the wandering around, the constat callings of “HOLA! You look in my shop. Just looking” and “you need hotel?” or my personal favourite ”Square this that way (all ways opposite to the direction you are going)..I am guide” (this is irrelevant of which direction you where headed or even if 2 minutes ago he told you the opposite). Once we where tired of the touts we headed to a terrace café to snipe photos that we would be otherwise charged for. While there we witnessed a mob scene during which a bloody guy was dragged by 50 others to the police station.

Eventually we headed back to the hotel room to work on the computer. Unfortunately the net was unreliable and so 2 of 3 downloads did not work. We ate our final dinner in Marrakech at market, it once again consisted of goat stew, but this time we added calamari and meat shish kebabs. We ended up sitting next to a Thai couple; he was also a biker and wants to ride the world. So after dinner I took him to see Anubis and gave him all the details that for the HUBB and our blog. On route to the bike he comment (about Moroccans) “I thought my people were determined sellers till I met these guys”. I loved it, and could not stop laughing!

Early the following morning went to collect the bike from the CTM parking lot where the attendant tried to tell me that I had to pay. One again their cons backfired as I was thinking about tipping him too. Oh well your loss, I told him I have already paid and he knows where to go (I had enough of the cons by this stage) ad rode off. I really liked Morocco when we got here, but their constant hassling and vying for your money is a tragic. You very quickly flinch anytime a Moroccan approaches you. Even though about 10% of the time they are just being friendly. The other 90% they are so pushy that it is taints everything. Once you are polite (to a tout) they think they have you and wont stop till you are rude. Tam had an opportunity to get one back as the Hotel undercharged us by two nights, but she was too honest and told them of their mistake.

It is a shame but my initial liking of Morocco is starting to be tainted by the constant hassling. I can never relax when talking to anyone. It is ruining the experience for me. Marrakech also is a sham it is no longer a souq for the people but a tourist trap. There is little real here which would be okay if it was all fun but the touts hassles and seeing westerns only as walking wallets that need to be emptied is grating the polish off of their Disneyland.

He Says – But deserts are dry places!

2009-09-09T14:40:00.000+01:00

07 – 09 September

Having finally read the guidebook we realised that we did not have to get the Mauritanian visa in advance, we could save 4-5 days avoid Rabat and enjoy ourselves by getting the visa at the border. Knowing that this is a risk but we both decided that it was worth it, we changed our plans and decided to head for Marrakech the next day instead of after Rabat.

The map says that the road is only roughly 480km. Do-able in a day. We started out early, we both agreed that it is a bad idea to get in to a city of that size late in the evening so we would stop some where along the way. Well we road all day long with only a few 5-minute brakes and lunch and were still 200km away when we decided to stop.

We were in red soil country so it felt a bit like home. The largest waterfall in the country was only a 24k detour. The Cascades d’ Ouzoud should be a nice place to stop. Well the 24 km was actually as the crow flies, the actually route was closer to 70km as the road was a series of switch back turns climbing sharply in and out of the gorge. The gorge was an amazing sight that would have been a tragedy to miss. Unfortunately the road was no better then a one-lane road and so it was not easy to safely stop and take pictures. We arrived at the waterfall to again be swamped with touts for their campsites, hotels, and restaurants none of which looked all that appealing. The GPS, however, suggest that there was at least one more campsite out of town called Zebra.

As we had nothing to loose, so we headed that way. As soon as we pulled up I knew it was going to be good. There was an old Yamaha tenere parked out front, it was going to be good. We were then greated by the owners, Paul and Renate a Dutch couple who sold everything, travelled for 4 years around Africa before settling here to run a small campsite. (Are there any people actually in the Netherlands these days?) The site was situated above the valley near the waterfall and looks down thought the valley on the other end. It was stunning to say the least.

It was also extremely nice to talk with people that have done what we are doing. To again talk to people that understand and ask questions like “why did you decide on this XX and not YY?” and not the same old questions that we get from people that don’t understand. We were not strange to them not since Malaga did I feel like I was with people that understood me. For the first time I can understand why celebrities hang out with celebrities, it is simple you can skip the explanations.

That night was spent watching a film with Paul and Renate, and watching one of the heaviest rainstorms we have had on this trip to date. Although, in true monsoon style, it only lasted about 5 minutes. It was the first rain of the summer and it did wonders for the temperatures. The plan was to get up early and head to Marrakech but the site was so nice and we could both use a relaxed break that we decided to take a day off and do nothing but wander around Ouzoud.

After a slow morning, we did exactly that, we left the campsite at about 1100h and heading into town to buy our food supplies for that night. The people of the village are used you westerners walking around the souq but when we actually asked for a rack of goat ribs the butchers eyes went wide for half a second. Then he graciously took down the skinless but headed goat that was hanging by one foot, confirmed the size of ribs we wanted. With our any other hesitation removed the head and dumped it on the table for sale to another punter. Two heavy blows with what could only really be described as a hatchet, and a perfectly cut rack of ribs was shown to us. As a final curtesy our butcher asked if we wanted then sectioned, with a nod of my head and a blur of his hands our rack of ribs was now a pile of riblets perfect for my one burner tajine. I handed over our 12 durham (1€) we took a way our 2kg of ribs.

Less dramatic but just as easy was the purchase of the rest of our veggies for a total cost of for that meal being less then 2€. From there we walked along the major though fare to find the falls. Once again we had to avoid the persistent touts offering guiding or meal or anything else you ask for. We walked to the top of the 100m falls and looked down as the spray cooled us. Then with a little of two-up navigation savvy we went the wrong way (e.g. we were confused as where to go next despite the huge sign and hundred or more tourist tack shops). At long last headed down the well paved and easily followed stairs down to the base of the falls.

At about the 10th step I was worried that maybe we should have gotten a guide as the one trail with no branches or turning option may be hard to follow, we may get lost!!. Alas we made it to the bottom without incident, except for our breath being taken away by the beauty of what we were looking at.

There were little boats at the bottom that took tourist close to the falls, we were both temped but decided against it. After a little bit of an explore on the other side of the river we had a lovely lunch at a café about 1/3 of the way up, past the tout who offered us a guide back up the one and only set of steps on the one and only path where getting lost is so very possible. We ate our lunch gazing at the falls. Then in true intrepid explorer fashion we walked up the paved steps alone without a guide and survived, narrowly avoiding the grave perils. We bravely passed the heaving fatness of a tour-group of yanks and their smirking guide, as he warned them about the dangers of the steps.

It was time to head back to camp and take care of some chores and relax. It was hot by this time and it was nice to get out of the sun. Dinner was started early as goat can be a bit chewy if it is not cooked well. No sooner then I had the meat nicely browned, did the wind picked up and clouds rolled in. With in 30 minutes it was raining hard enough to make the pervious days rain look like a sprinkle and it lasted for 30-45 minutes. When it was over the light show was spectacular there was lighting in all directions, with thunder rolling on top of thunder. Tam described it as what films try to make hell or Mordor look like.

The storm amassed right on top of us, although it did not rain (hard) there was lighting forking directly above our heads for a good hour. I was transfixed by the sight and sounds. No one had ever seen anything like this, and all of us were standing around with silly expressions on our faces. It was the kind of light show that pyrotechnicians strive for. I doubt (but hope) any storm will ever top this one.

Shortly after the light show slowed down (a couple of hours) Renate got a phone call, telling her that the town was flooded. We jumped in to their Land Cruiser and headed into town to see. On route we collected several other curious people. When we got there all the other campgrounds were gone. I can only hope there was no one there, or else they would have been washed over the falls. I hold little enough hope for the little ferries at the bottom of the falls. The souq was gone, and most of the town centre was under a metre of water. The river peaked at 6m above normal, where it was when we had walked around just a few hours earlier.

The official word was that there were no causalities, but the Moroccan way of dealing with the old or homeless is to ignore them. If there was any one there they would be gone and it may never even be noticed. A bit shell-shocked we headed back to the site and said our goodnights.

She Says - Waterfalls and travellers

2009-09-08T16:16:00.000+01:00

4-8 September
We’re currently chilling out in a really nice campsite in the most scenic place we’ve found yet – not that hard, we haven’t gone far in the last week! We’re in Ouzoud, home of Morocco’s largest set of waterfalls, absolutely beautiful, and set near a magnificent gorge between the High and Middle Atlas mountain ranges, northwest of Marrakech (our next destination). We had to travel through 70km of really winding, climbing, small mountain road, but the views through the gorge were spectacular, and we got to see our first real traditional buildings of mud construction on the sides of the valley – extremely picturesque. We had a long drive from Meknes, reaching the campsite at 5pm. The town itself was not so great, small and tatty, and the campsites we passed in the middle were very basic and did not have a good feel about them. Our GPS showed two campsites outside town, and hence we found lovely Camping Zebra. The nicest thing about the campsite is it is run by fellow travellers! The Dutch couple that owns the site spent 4 years travelling around Africa by 4WD ute, before settling in Morocco around 3 years ago. There is one other person staying here, who is setting off with his girlfriend by Land Cruiser to see part of West Africa before heading to the Americas. I have a funny feeling we’ll bump into them again somewhere along the way. So it’s been really nice to swap some stories with others who know what it’s all about, who don’t think we are crazy for wanting to travel long-term overland, and don’t ask all the usual questions but have some new ones for us! They have been very welcoming; we even got to watch a DVD on laptop computer in their Berber tent lounge area. They also have a lovely dog, Rasa, and a crazy kitten, Spooky, who is absolutely mad and has been providing a lot of entertainment and company for us.

Today, after a nice slow morning in camp, we walked down to the town, where the weekly souk was taking place. We bought our very first chunk of market-stall meat, a nice set of goat ribs, alongside a bunch of vegies and some pepper for our dinner – total cost of 21 dirham (about 2 euros), our cheapest meal yet!!! Even cooking in the Volubilis campsite two nights ago had cost almost as much as a restaurant meal, but we had shopped in a supermarket for supplies. After the market, we wandered down to the falls, starting at the top looking down, then following the well-sealed path past little shops and café restaurants, stopping at several viewpoints before reaching the bottom. It was a very impressive sight, somewhere between 100 and 150m tall according to various sources. Little rafts, made from 40-gallon drums strapped together and decorated with fabric flowers, float around the bottom, taking tourists right up to the fall itself. You can walk around the valley from the falls, but we decided not to go further – too hot, too far, and we had no food! We stopped for lunch at a restaurant about halfway up the path with a direct view of the falls, and ate a good value tagine for two at only 60 dirham (normally 50 for one) - one of the better ones we’ve had and very surprising for a tourist place. We’re currently debating whether to jump into the little campground swimming pool or just keep sitting in the shaded table area or going for refreshingly cold bucket showers (yep, just the basics here!). The only problem is there is a storm brewing; I can hear thunder, and it is windy and cooling down. Last night, we had a fantastic thunderstorm and lightning show, even had a solid downpour for about 10 minutes! We had some light rain on the journey here, and several light showers over the two previous days. It seems the rains are coming a bit early this year…

The last few days have been good but tiring – we haven’t done a lot, but it seems to be taking a lot of effort! I think we just need some time out. We left Fes for Azrou, in an area surrounded by cedar forest full of Barbary apes. We got to see a few sitting beside the road (I swear they were selling stuff :-) ), and saw a few more today at the waterfall. We were heading to Azrou to meet Chris and Tina, the New Zealanders that we met on the ferry coming into Morocco, who live nearby. We got a nice cheap hotel with parking in the garage underneath, but it took us a while to work out where the hotels were located (confusing town!) and to get some lunch before that, as everything was closed. I battled through my first foreign-country phonecall, asking Chris for any advice on a hotel and to check it was OK to pop over the next day. Naturally, I had no idea how much calls would cost and got cut off quite quickly on my first attempt, but we managed to get things sorted out in the end! Even though we reached Azrou around 12pm, it was closer to 2.30pm before we got a room. There wasn’t much to see in Azrou, just a small market area in the town centre and another nearby in tents. We had a really lovely evening meal and, expecting our first cold African showers (hot water is a rare and pricey luxury), managed to get warm water somehow!

The next day we went to Ain Leuh, a little mountain town where Chris and Tina are working as volunteers in an orphaned and abandoned children’s home. It was interesting to talk about how they got themselves here, as they are completely self-funded, are not paid for their work or provided with any support from the project, yet they are renting a home and have two little boys under 2. I admire their desire and willingness to help. They are one year into a two year commitment to the project, and it was helpful to gain an insight into what they’ve done to get here and how, as we may look at doing something like this ourselves in future. They treated us to a lovely lunch of ham, cheese and salad, and then we hit the road.

We had planned to head up to Meknes, but decided to cut down our time in cities, especially as we hadn’t yet worked out if we needed to go to Rabat to get our Mauritanian visas or not. We’ve now read our guidebook and apparently we can get visas at the border, so that now means we can head straight to Marrakech and the desert. Also north of Meknes was one of the big highlights for us to visit in Morocco – Volubilis, a large, ruined Roman city. We camped near the site, which was nice and had good food, but the bathrooms were not well maintained. Over the next two days, we made friends with the camp dogs – strange that dogs were semi-welcome here when they are pariahs everywhere else. We also met a Dutch couple that had already been through the country, but he had travelled here a few years ago by bike, so it was good to get some advice and swap stories. They also told us about Morocco’s main supermarket chain, so the next morning we took a trip into Meknes, stocked up on food for home-cooking, then got out to Volubilis for lunch. We spent about 5 hours on the site, making sure we covered it thoroughly, because when we visited Tunisia’s massive Roman city Dougga, we made the mistake of not allowing enough time and going the wrong way around it. Volubilis is brilliant, there are many intact and impressive mosaics still in place on the ground of the houses, and some really cool indoor pools are also decorated with mosaics – I want one these for my home! The two main roads across the site are still intact, and you could really get a feel for how the city was laid out in its glory days, and see how people had lived by passing in and out of the various-sized houses, some quite massive. The site still has impressive large ruins, although these have been reconstructed to some extent – forum, basilica, arc de triumph-like gate (there’s one in every big city, I tell you!). There were also a lot of olive oil press plates (for want of a better term) all across the site, as Volubilis was a key olive oil production site for the Romans. Each press was typically a large stone square with grooves cut into it to drain all the oil from the olives being pressed in the centre of the square. A large stone bath was attached to one side of the square, and on the other side were postholes in the stone for the wooden press mechanism. They had a reconstructed press on show, so it was cool to see how the whole thing worked, especially as we were having trouble working it out from just seeing the relics left behind! It was a fascinating visit, where you really could really feel the living, active city as it once was. However, I found myself wondering why I was not completely ‘wow’ about the site. All I can think is that it didn’t come first - I had already seen Dougga, which was incredibly impressive, plus I’ve seen Rome, and both places had very impressive large buildings and what you think of as typical stunning Roman architecture. I think it may have been a matter of knowing what to expect, but Volubilis was also subtler in its architecture. The site was very different to Rome and Dougga, and absolutely worth visiting – for me, the mosaics alone made it worthwhile, but then I am a bit of a mosaic nut!

Things learned
- hard conditioner made of oils does not stay hard in hot weather! In Portugal, my hard conditioner supply for the next 2 years had been slowly leaking into the jerrycan pannier where it was stored and making an awful mess. I took it out for repacking into better zip-lock bags, while trying to decide whether to give up on it, then stupidly left it out in camp in the scorching sun and it all melted! My recommendation is the stuff is good, but not in heat – stick to bottled conditioner.
- zip-lock bags are great but don’t put your trust in them – they’ll break when you least expect, drain out anything fluid, get caught and ripped on everything. Hard plastic is better if you can manage it, and use zip-locks to protect contain anything inside, rather than as the first line of protection.
- get your sunscreen in Europe, don’t expect good supplies in Morocco!
- Ramadan is a fine time to travel in Morocco, but make sure you take advantage of all the food supplies that appear at night (i.e. breads, sweets) to stock up for the next day’s breakfast and lunch
- if you hear someone call out in the tight streets of a market in Fes or you hear a scooter coming in Morocco, get out the way! The oncoming bike or donkey or overloaded man won’t get out of your way or stop for you!!!
- evening showers work the best. You clean off the day’s muck, which your skin thanks you for, and it makes sleeping a lot more comfortable. In the morning, you get to get out of the campsite or hotel quickly, as showers can really slow you down, plus your towel is fairly dry for packing!
- cold showers in hot climates are actually very refreshing! It might be awfully brisk, but the cold really helps you feel clean, so long as you time it before it gets too late and is cold when you get out…

He Says- A Spaniard, a couple of Kiwis, a Roman and Dutchman were in a bar…….

2009-09-07T14:39:00.001+01:00

04 – 07 September 09

We left Fez for the small Berber town of Azrou, and to meet up with some Kiwis that we met on the ferry. In true Two-up style we got lost and road around Fez for at least an hour before finding the correct road. Then in true Moroccan style the road just ended. The map showed it was one road and straight on but we were at a T-junction with no signs. We were lost again but this time only about 10km from our destination.

We had a 50/50 chance…we “chose poorly”, however the “alternative” route we took was though the hills and was stunning in a bleak-moonscape-wasteland way. When we first got to town neither Tam nor I was impressed and we where not sure we wanted to stay. But after driving around for a good while looking for somewhere that would give us food in this time of Ramadan we started to see things we liked. Eventually we found a nice hotel and Anubis’s 2nd night in a hotel (this time in the closed pool hall!). We enjoyed one of the better and cheapest meal to date and have found that we both really like it here.

The following days we went to Ain Leuh for lunch with the NZ couple that we met on the ferry from Spain. We spent the day just talking about what it is like to live and work in Morocco. They are self-funded volunteers at a children’s home and have been living here for 1 year and are contracted for 1 more. We had a nice lunch and chat.
The charity they worked for was trying to raise children of unwed mothers in a home instead of the streets. It seem that this brings shame to the family and is a officially ignored problem by the Islamic state because it is against the Koran, and so nothing is done for these kids that CAN’T exist.

After our nice meal and talk we shot up to Volubilis. We spent the night at our first Moroccan campsite. It was a bit like returning home, I had no idea how much I had decided that the tent was our home. I slept better then I have in weeks, and really just liked being back in the tent. It probably helped that there was no one else at the site except a Dutch couple, hence no nocturnal Ramadan parties goings on. The site itself could have been amazing there was lots of trees and shade and the building housed a pool, a couple of terraces, a garden and what could have been a Mosque. But they had let the place fall to ruin and did not clean anything so there was a dirty air to everything.

Volubilis is one of the largest remaining ancient Roman cities in the world, covering about 40 hectares with about ½ of it excavated. We arrived there about 1300h the next day after driving to Meknes to go shopping in a supermarket. The supermarket was just like being back in Europe, including the cost! It was actually cheaper to eat out. As normal as soon as our tyres turned in to the parking area at Volubilis someone was directing us and touting something. The same scene was repeated as we passed thought the gates. A chorus of “Bon Jour, You need guide?..Big city very important guide?” followed us into the city. As Murphy dictates, as soon as we got there it started to cloud up and we could just see that we would once again be shooting grey rock on grey skies, just like we were back in England.

Despite the clouds we spent 5 hours wandering the city. There was enough excavated that we could really get a feel for what the city must have looked like. It boasts some of the largest and most intact mosaics in the world. As you can imagine Tam was firing away. Like a madness had over come her. You really could get an idea of how the city would have looked and operated. Unfortunately there was something that caused a lack of WOW! Two years ago we had gone to Tunisia to a site called Dougga, another of the largest Roman cities, and perhaps this had an effect or maybe we have fallen for our old pattern of moving too much too fast and really need to take a break. What ever it was Volubilis is an amazing site. On our way out there was two bus and 3 4x4 loads of Spanish teenagers in the café. The wait staff where running around and we sat back and watch the mayhem for a while before heading back to the campground.

She Says - Fascinating Fes

2009-09-03T09:41:00.001+01:00

2-3 September
I’m really liking it here in Fes. We had a great tour yesterday with our guide Ali; he was funny, had excellent knowledge, and gave us a brilliant insight into the city and the Muslim way of life. It was a tiring day though – our half-day of guiding actually ran from 10am to 3.30pm without stopping! That’s great value for only 200 dirhams, equivalent to about 17 euros. We got whizzed around a good portion of the medina, which is huge and twisty. We got taken to the usual shops (clothes, rugs) but with low hassle. To see the famous tanneries, you have to go with a guide from one of the surrounding leather shops, who gives you a talk about the process – it’s free but they try to get you to buy something at the end. Xander desperately wanted a sheepskin for the bike seat as it seems to have collapsed AGAIN and he’s been very uncomfortable. In the second shop we visited (complete with second tour), he managed to get a great bargain for about 35 euros – ouch, but comfort is important! We later got an amazing tour of the tannery pits themselves, where the skins are defleeced and washed, then dyed for up to 10 days. We were whisked around the whole series of pits, skipping along the thin walls, which was absolutely exhilarating – not in the least because by that time I was tired from the heat and walking and it certainly woke me up to think I might suddenly dive into an alkaline pit of dye!!! We almost got defleeced ourselves, when the tannery guide said we needed to pay at the end ‘whatever you like’. We had no idea what the tour was worth, so we asked the guide and he suggested an enormous price, 3 times what our day guide was charging! We got it down to the same as our day guide, but felt a little stiffed by this, being trapped in the middle of the pits and not being forewarned about charges. On the flip side, the money (supposedly, always the sceptic) goes to all the people working in the pits as it’s a cooperative, so I felt it was worthwhile and man, what amazing shots we got so close up! I felt really thankful that I was wearing my big boots and not my hiking shoes – it was pretty messy in there and they gave me extra grip and balance. We got to see everything in Fes in a nutshell, and to work out what we wanted to come back to see on our own, which really only left the medersas (which you can enter as non-muslim), the theological colleges attached to the mosques (which you can’t enter but can look inside and even take photos in certain ones).

So the plan today was to head into the old Jewish quarter (mellah), which wasn’t as interesting as I had hoped but I got to visit my first synagogue. In the lower level was a bathing pool, for cleaning for prayer I think, and on the wall was a large black scorpion holding a huge cockroach! I’ve no idea if it was dead or alive, but it never moved. We somehow managed to end up in the new town, giving us an opportunity to price out a new portable hard drive, as ours is misbehaving more and more. We also looked at memory sticks, as ours got an irremovable virus in a library in Portugal, plus camera memory cards as we are running lower than expected but good quality ones are in very short supply. Everything seemed priced much like Europe, so no cheap options here! We bought some sunscreen, which cost a lot for a small tube of nasty thick zinc-cream-like stuff, and Xander finally found the strap mounts he wanted to attach to the outside of the panniers so we can strap on extra bottles of water or fuel. He could not find what he wanted for an acceptable price in the UK, and always laughed he would get them made in Morocco – funny that we found them in a shop!

The new town had a more western feel than the medina, with proper shops and restaurants. We had a big lunch, which was easy in such a westernised place and we didn’t feel so bad for eating in front of those observing Ramadan. Tired and needing a rest, back in our room Xander decided to test the DVD burner as we haven’t used it yet on the trip. We really need to back up our computer files and photos at the moment, and create some room on the camera memory cards! Something is wrong though, either the burner is not working or the burning program isn’t, which is massively frustrating and leaving us wondering how best to take care of photo and file storage. Anyway, it was late once we left the room and the medersas were closing, so we pottered around the twisty little streets of the various souks (markets). We had surprisingly little hassle, and bought an embroidered prayer hat as a thankyou gift for Andy in Spain It’s a shame we couldn’t buy a proper red fez hat, but they are solid structures made from cardboard and we have nowhere safe to carry one around! We’re still looking for the perfect gift for Alison, so it will be a while before we can post anything too. It’s not going to be easy to find Morocco sticker for the panniers either, but we have found something that would do the job if needed.

We decided to have a lighter dinner tonight for two reasons – big meals at night are not great, and we’ve been seeing a lot of interesting snack food coming out for the end of the each day’s fast and want to try some. It was delicious! Little fried fish with spicy sauce, fried chillis, fried breads stuffed with onion and herbs (paratha style if you know your Indian food), thick fried breads like a layered pancake (similar to what we’ve been getting for breakfast at the hotel but without honey, and I understand it is a traditional breakfast pancake) and pastilla, a stuffed fried bread full of vegetables and chicken or pigeon and dusted with cinnamon and icing sugar. Delicious! (or hadid as Ali taught us yesterday :-) ) It was much cheaper than our other meals so far, which is good as we are finding costs are running higher than expected - we’re running on about 450 dirhams for our basic daily costs (room plus garage parking for the bike, meals, a lot of water, but no fuel), which is almost 40 euro, not good!!! We need to look more into more basic rooms (currently we have our own bathroom and hot shower, free wi-fi internet and breakfast) and camping as we move around, but I have to say it is worth being right inside the old city to really experience it and not worry about the safety of the bike and our gear.

A quick wildlife note - there have been amazing flocks of swallows each night over this area of city. Several hundred birds swoop and swarm just before sunset, and it seems they are nesting in holes in the old city wall!

He says -FEZ FEZ FEZ FEZ

2009-09-02T14:38:00.000+01:00

1-3 sept 09

We decided to take the less major roads and see some of the country (as well as avoid the toll). It took us a good 4 hours but this included a stop for lunch, that started out as me simply pulling on to a side road and turned out to be a heart stopping mud rut avoiding, pond skimming adventure that left us both with our heart in our throats and Tam walking as I risked a swim. Alas all was fine and we enjoyed our cake and bread still dry.

Once again reaching a city in the late afternoon. We could not find our way into the Fes el-bali (old city) and ended up driving around the outside of the wall a couple of times. Each pass being chased by more and more 17yr old touts on scooters. Eventually we lost them and found our way in only to get lost in the maze of the medina. At one point I was negotiating streets that were at most only a metre and a half wide with 90° turns on a motorcycle that is at least that wide! Eventually we found a hotel but there was no parking. It was new and clean and more then our budget would allow for. I am not really sure what happened next but an older gentleman approached me and somehow cut the hotel from 300 durham to 250 durham, and arrange parking for us.

He too turned out to be a guide but an official one.

Tam had been talking about getting a guide once and a while to get in deeper with the culture and as I was dealing with the parking, she decided that like this guy. I like him as well and we decided to meet later for tea to discuss guiding. It was not cheep, another 200 durham, but we decided to go for it more so to get an introduction to Morocco, then be shown around. He ingratiated himself even more to me when he paid for the teas and coffee at our meeting. The deal was done. Ten the next morning we were to meet.

We wandered the streets following him like sheep, watching him talk with almost everybody he passed; it was like following a celebrity. He told us all sorts of information, and as expected brought us to shops where we never had any intention of buying anything. The only exception to this; is my bum has been getting sore on some of the longer rides and I had decided to get the bikers oldest seat modification. The sheep skin. Once in the tanneries found one that I liked. The prices started at 1350.00 durhams but I stoped negotiating at 350.00dh. We got it too easily. Which made me think that even at 1000dh less then opening, I actually lost that game.

The only part of the tour that we may not have been able to do; was a few minutes later our guide got us access to the tanneries working floor. It was amazing experience hopping from dye vat to lime vat. It was great and we knew that we would have to tip the pit boss. But what we did not expect was that in the middle of the pit he stopped and said “now you give us 600 durham”… What!!!! We were basically trapped. We did not know what to do I was expecting 50, or less not 600! There was no way to make a run for it, so I negotiated our way down to 200.00 durham. It was the only time so far that I have felt threatened and I was not happy in many ways it was enough to ruin the entire experience. It was really our fault, we should have (like at any other time) agreed on a price first. We did not and got stung. It left a slightly bad taste in my mouth for both the pit boss and our guide that had nothing to do with the smell of the tanneries. It has come to be known as “the mugging”, it is hard but I refuse to let it taint the trip.

To be honest the tour was not worth it, it was nothing we could not do ourselves, except for one part (maybe – the mugging). The medina was plastered with signs and posters telling us what he was telling us. What was worth it, however, was the information about Morocco and its people and the intro to Arabic language lessons.

The rest of the day was uneventful we wound our way back to the hotel, had a siesta and a mediocre dinner. Later we met up again with our guide. We talked over tea and he gave us some more Arabic lesions.

The next day we started out slow and we wandered around the rest of Fez looking for the Jewish quarter on route we took a wrong turn and was told my many people that the area was closed. Not having any idea what they meant we regularly replied that we know but are just looking around. They all seemed happy by our answer.

Eventually we came across two army guards that waived us over and we started chatting. Well chatting is an exaggeration. We would say some thing in broken French and they would look at us like we were mad. We would try again with the phrase book, with only marginally more success. In the end we did make ourselves understood and he ultimately explained that we had to go back around to find the Jewish quarter. We tried some of our newly learned (and written down) Arabic and made instant friends as the main proponent thought that this was hilarious and loved the mess we made of his mother tongue. Every word we said was greeted by bursts of laugher, huge grins and my arm being gripped or my back being slapped (Tam got the laughs and smiles but never touched). We continued to tell them our names, how we like Morocco and other first conversation thing that can be exchanged in pigeon vocabularies.

Then with out warning the main solder turned very serious and said some thing about hashish. I don’t know if he was offering or warning us but we both looked suitably horrified by even the word and he seemed happy. With more back slapping and grins we said our goodbyes in Arabic crossed with French and Spanish and went on our merry way.

We did find the Jewish quarter but found it to be rather disappointing and did not stay long. It may have had an interesting history but now it was a shopping centre. The architecture was supposed to be interesting, but to my untrained eye it looked like everything else. Finding our way in to the “new city” we spent a few hours looking for some bit and bobs that we wanted. The most amazing of all was that after 6 countries I found my strap mounts. I have no idea how I will mount these but at least I have them and for under a Tenner for 20 of them too.. Eat that touratech!

So far, I really like Morocco (mugging aside), the people all have been nice and friendly, even the touts seem more polite and less pressuring then some places we have been too. The cities seem manic but unthreatening (not to Zurich standards but not a touch on some developing countries) comfortable and even a bit of feeling at home.

The one thing however that I have seen and really do not like is the treatment of their working animals. More times then I care to remember I have seen pack animas (donkeys, mules) overloaded and so tired and thirsty that there tongues are hanging out of their mouths as they labour under the ever pushing eye (and often 2x4 wooden club) of their master. Many had huge sores from over and poorly loaded packs that are strapped to them. Living animals should be treated well, just as the tools of your trade should be well maintained. I cannot understand this even if you only look at them as a tool not a living creature. You would not run your car with out oil? No! Would the butcher let his knives get rusty and dull? No! So why kill your mule for the sake of some water or a slightly lesser load or a short break. A tradesman without his tools is unemployed, so even if they are not alive just tools this makes no sense at all. I am sorry if I am preaching here but it is something I cannot understand at any level.

He Says – F*&**& Me! AFRICA!!!!

2009-09-01T14:37:00.000+01:00

31 Aug . – 01 sept 09

We left Alison and Andy’s early, having suffered no lingering effects of my previous day’s malady. After staying with such great people, it felt like leaving home, (Thank you AGAIN so much for al you did for us guys!!). We shot down to Tariffa, skipping La Lineia and Gibraltar as it was cloudy and there would not have been any views anyway.

We stopped at 3 ticket booths on route, to get tickets for the ferry, but nobody was selling them. At last we had luck on 4th try where we also found out we only had 25 min of road time to go and 1.5 hours before departure. No worries!

Tarifa is a little slice of southern California in Spain. Everywhere you looked it was surfer this or wind-surfer that or kite surfer such and not a lot else. We got some lunch and cash before heading to the docks. We made it with about 15 min to spare. It was off to Africa!!

The ferry over was a ship made in Tasmania (a Devilcat) and is infamous for its maiden voyage ending up on the rocks, being driven by its owner/designer who was drunk behind the wheel. So many a joke was bantered back and forth. Shortly after setting off we went through passport control on ship. I was waiting behind a kiwi couple, eventually we started talking and it turned out that they live in Morocco and gave us their contact details.

What we did not do was read all the stuff Tim Culis had posted about getting the bike though customs. We did every thing wrong, but we did not pay anyone anything. It took us about 1.5 hours but it was kinda fun. After that we head into the depths of Tangier.

That was scary! Drivers and road rules have never met. The only rule is a giant game of Chicken. There were only 2 lanes but up to 6 rows of cars. As a bike we had no rights and cars and trucks would drive directly at you. We had to move or be driven over. It was just the way it was. It was just bloody scary!

Somehow we found our way out, and more amazingly we did it without a wrong turn. We found the road to Asilah. It was almost proof that fate favours the fools as we were unharmed by the insanity that is driving in Tangiers.

Now that we were “safe” and I could think about things other then getting run down, all I could think was wow (well actually f*&k me) Africa!! I don’t know how I felt. It was some where between, excitement and what the? and huh? and..wow camels..and where are we and f*&k me were on a bike in Africa and huh,, a bike… and look a donkey..ahhh!!! truck!! on my side of road coming right for me…and where are we.. Taxi is gunna hit us.. where are we.. huh Africa.. and wow we made it to AFRICA!! f*&k me Africa.!!! Huh??……. Well you get the idea.

We stopped on the beach outside of town to eat out Spanish tortilla and pan (bread) away from the eyes of the Ramadan celebrating locals. It is acceptable for us as non- Muslims to eat, but in my humble opinion it is just mean. During lunch we watch a cow being taken for a walk on the beach and in the surf. I ceremoniously ripped off the GB sticker from the Anubis.. NOW We are running completely AUSSIE.. VIVA DE REPUBLIC!

Not long after our lunch and on really good roads we found the town of Asilah. I hit the wall.. I was tired and grumpy and was almost willing to take any hotel irrelevant of price. Tam had her head on and found us a nice(ish) reasonably priced hotel. To quote M. Palin “ a shower, a shave and a clean shirt later I was new man” and ready to hit the streets, but that took time as the chores like GPS programming and laundry need to get done first.

Eventually, we spent the evening wandering the immaculately clean streets of the medina, which was painted completely white with accents of colours. This medina is famous for its “colourful murals” painted on the some of the houses, however this was predominantly blue on white. These are not as common as was suggested but the splashes of occasional colours added an additional air of beauty. Asilah was supposed to be a resort town, but except for the odd out of town big hotel there was little resorty about it.

We had our first Moroccan meal under the shadow of the medina wall. Being Ramadan, we waited until the cancellation call before eating. Every night at 1850h a horn sounds followed by a prayer over a megaphone signifying the end of the daylight and the break of the fast. Most of the Moroccans in the restaurant had already placed their order and were tranquilly waiting for the call. What surprised me most was that most people (at least in our restaurant) only ordered a small soup, a hardboiled egg, a few dates, and a few sweet-deep-fried-biscuit followed by a glass of orange juice, and nothing else. Only a couple people had plate upon plate of food.

We both loved this small city and could have happily stayed for a few more days, but we knew that we would have to move on to the real cities if we were to get a sense of the people and Morocco. So early the next morning we packed up Anubis and pulled him out of his first stay in a hotel (which was technically a unused restaurant).

Our first destination was Lixus a port town that was built on the site of a Roman temple city, home to a sun-worshiping cult. The ruins of the central Roman city were still there. It was a wild place over grown with trees and bushes. It did not however hold any of the mystery and magic that one would expect. It did, however, house swarms of mosquitos and (for lack of better word) midges that where so large, numerous and dense they you could hear them from 2-3 metres away. Three young goat herders watched us with a bored intensity as we scrambled over the site. We did our best to ignore the constant buzzing and bites and enjoy the site, but the combination of insects, the watchful eyes and the lack of magic resulted the visit only lasting a hour or so. Once back on the road we headed for Fez.

She Says - %$^&! Africa man!! (2 months on the road)

2009-09-01T09:40:00.001+01:00

30 August-1 September
We were all set to go from Alison and Andy’s, but the day got late, and after Xander packed the bike he wasn’t feeling well. We had a late lunch, after which he felt better, but we decided heading down to the coastal port of Tarifa was not a good idea, as it take around 3 hours’ driving in a very hot part of day. If Xander was already feeling unwell, that might make it worse!

I have to admit part of me wanted to delay a little -I’ve no idea why, as I’ve been very excited about going to Morocco, but I kept having moments like in Michael Palin’s Sahara – “I always feel like this at the start of a journey, I know I have to go but can’t seem to do so” or something along those lines. Very strange, but I guess it has been very nice and comfortable at Alison and Andy’s, we felt very at home, and it’s hard to leave that bit of comfort and go back into the world of travel. They had previously offered an extra night’s stay, but had a friend arriving that day to stay for a week, so we had not wanted to stretch their hospitality. However, we changed our minds at the last minute and took them up on a final night. Once we made the decision, we were able to relax, knowing everything was already packed and we could get off to an early start and get ourselves down to Tarifa. Unknown to us, they were meeting friends for dinner, so we were able to go out for a pleasant evening of lovely Spanish nibbles in good company, and saw off Europe with a little style.

We got on the road the next day at 9am, and somewhere along the line decided not to stay the night in Tarifa, thinking if we could get to the ferry early enough, we would hit Morocco that day. Alison and Andy had already talked us out of going to Gibraltar for several reasons – it’s expensive to go to the top of the rock by cable car or a long hot walk, we didn’t want to lose too much time, and we could have got caught in bottleneck traffic in either direction. We were really only going for iconic status anyway, it’s a shame we missed it as we were really keen to add a Gibraltar sticker to panniers, but in the end we just wanted to get ourselves on that ferry! There were several ticket shops along the highway into Algeciras and Tarifa, so that made life quick and easy, and we soon found ourselves booked onto the 1pm ferry to Tanger!! Knowing that time was either 1 or 2 hours behind in Morocco, this left us comfortable in knowing we would get through customs and comfortably outside Tanger for the night. We had chosen the Tarifa-Tanger crossing as we had to buy Moroccan insurance for the bike, not only because our insurance was running out that day, but because our policy didn’t cover Morocco anyway. We had learned this is easily done at Tanger. I know Xander is writing all details of the border process, so I won’t repeat but I wasn’t really involved anyway! Suffice to say while he was running around, I was in charge of changing money and heard my first Moroccan Muslim call to prayer. While it was not as beautiful and haunting as those we heard in Tunisia nearly 3 years ago, it brought a huge grin to my face. We had crossed a continent and reached another on motorbike, all on our own!! We were in £%*&%^% Africa!!!!

Having already bought lunch, but not having time to eat before or during the 35 minute ferry crossing (on a Devil Cat for those Tassies who know them – at least the crossing was very gentle or it would have lived up to its other name for me!!), we travelled to the first nice looking spot outside Tanger. The reason for this is that it’s Ramadan, the month of fasting for Muslims, and while Westerners are not expected to fast, it is considered rude to eat or drink in front of those who are fasting. Our stopping spot turned out to be a beach, where we got to see a cow being taken for a bath in the ocean Right from the start, the strangeness of Africa! Xander got to ceremoniously remove the compulsory-in-Europe sticker indicating the bike is from the UK – it has caused a bit of confusion for us so far, and while most people soon realise we’re Aussies from the two stickers on the bike, we want to make it clear we’re not British! Even though we were feeling fairly fresh, we pushed on only 50km from Tanger to Asilah, having read in our guide book that this was a tourist place on the beach, but had a nice medina (old walled city centre) and sounded better than the next city. We found today we certainly made the right choice, as Asilah was beautiful, small and quiet, while nearby Larache looked huge and unpleasant when we passed by. We found a hotel for more than we were hoping to pay, but they let us park inside the front of the building (heard that happens a lot, this was inside an old lounge area!), and some later price comparisons found we had a reasonable deal. The room was OK, if rather dirty around the edges with some dodgy plumbing, but it was clean where it mattered and the manager was very friendly. In fact, that is one thing that has stood out so far - just how friendly the people have been, asking if we need help, welcoming us to their country randomly, saying hello or waving or honking when they see us. We went for a walk to catch the city before sunset, to enjoy its prettiness and look for nice golden photos, and found a lovely view from the waterfront. We then joined everyone else in breaking the fast after the sun had set and the prayer call had been made, enjoying a simple but nice meal of chicken couscous and fish tagine, surrounded by dozens of cats including two we named Mr Mao and One-Eyed Jack. They are nice to cats in Arabic countries, very tolerant of their arrogant behaviour, but not to dogs -I’ve read it’s because the Prophet Mohammed said cats were OK but dogs were dirty.

We decided this morning to get ourselves down to Fes and start seeing the cities - as nice as it was in Asilah, there was not much more to it than what we saw last night. Fes was a good starting point, as there is a lot to see there and in neighbouring Meknes, and nearby is the ruined Roman city of Volubilis, which is high on our to-see list. We had also met a New Zealand couple on the ferry, who gave us their details if we would like to visit them, and they live between both cities. This helps us avoid backtracking when we head up to the capital Rabat, where we need to get our Mauritania and Mali visas. After that, we plan to mostly hit small towns and get down to the real exploring! On our way to Fes, we stopped at the Roman ruins of Lixus, just outside Larache. This free entry site is quite extensive, although it was difficult to see exactly how the city worked and what the different buildings were, even with our guide book. The amphitheatre was cool but small (we’ve seen a few now!) and the mosaic that was the only remaining one on the site had now been removed. I only hope it went to the museum with the others and was not stolen, as it had apparently been vandalised for some time. While it was cool to visit a site that was crumbling and not manicured, it felt sad that the site was not cared for and upheld as part of the country’s history. Also the site was covered in killer mozzies and midgies! We had swarms following us around, and the bug repellent only did so much – I left part of my arms untouched and have huge bites now!

We got our first taste of African off-roading when we decided to leave the highway for a cart track to eat lunch where people would not see us well. Big mistake! Two large pools of water led Xander to some solo crossings that he didn’t feel ready for, as he had to make his way around the pools on tiny tracks. He got through without falling, even on one really tight bit, and I was very proud of him. All the time while we were eating, people (mostly in trucks) were honking and waving at us - very strange! The big bike has certainly been attracting some attention towards us, and people seem to appreciate it. Both not feeling great with headaches, we decided to push on to Fes. After a relatively easy trip except for some slow trucks, bad drivers and badly repaired road edges, we reached the city around 3.30pm - good timing for finding ourselves somewhere to stay, but a bit late really for hitting a city. Fes is confusing, and we had many trips around, including squeezing down tiny alleys! Touts were everywhere, trying to get us to go with them, so you couldn’t slow down - they even chased us on scooters! We eventually decided to stay at one of the first hotels we saw and the only one we looked into. It was very newly refurbished, had a great central location and roof terrace overlooking the medina, the room was good and included breakfast. There was an official guide waiting at the hotel, he was very friendly, got some money knocked off the room rate, and showed us where we could park the bike securely for a fee. We’re finding it doesn’t hurt to talk to people and get a sense of what is on offer, even if you’re not interested in paying for anything, and people have mostly been friendly to help us on our way or OK if we say no. The hassle is not TOO bad, except when walking in medina and kids try to do anything like guide you or find a restaurant or hotel for you. We liked the official guide Ali, and met with him tonight to arrange a guided tour tomorrow. While not normally something that what we do, we felt having a guide was a good way to get an introduction to Moroccan culture, as well as the city. This is mainly because our Nepal trip 10 years ago and our Romanian wildlife/culture guide last year showed us more insight into how people live than you can find on your own. Already we have had sweet peppermint tea with Ali and he has told us so much, including teaching us some Arabic! He’s been really great and even insisted on buying our teas, which was most unexpected. While the half-day tour will cost more than we really want, I think it will be worth it and our month here will benefit from it. We enjoyed a very good meal of meat tagine and brochettes (meat kebab) plus salad and soup. For dessert, we’ve bought a selection of sweets that people gorge themselves on each evening to break the fast – so far it’s basically fried dough drowned in honey and so sweet we couldn’t eat them all!

He Says- Malagra – Coming home??

2009-08-29T14:36:00.000+01:00

28-30 August 2009

Before we left the UK; I knew that the my back tyre would not make it from the UK to Gibraltar, so I asked around on the HUBB if anyone knew a place I could buy one or ship one to and pick it up on route. Well Allison and Andy, (AKA Dakota) not only offer us a place to drop the tyre but to host us as well for a night. The offer itself amazed me. I have not seen someone open their home to a complete strangers in what seems like ever. Over the next several weeks of emails this offer was then extended to a couple of nights.

When we arrived the welcome and hospitality we received was more like meeting with old friends or coming home then like meeting people we have never physically met. We spent the first day with them dealing with the rear tyre and just talking, as well as making plans for an off road ride the following day. The conversation flowed, again, as if we have been friends for many years.
I had to have the rear tyre changed by some one with a machine, as the unplanned replacement in France was made from a hard compound rubber and I think was glued in to place. The work involved in changing something like that was not worth the result (e.g. damage to the rim) or the cost. So we took it to a local tyre place along with Andy’s bike (it needed a new tube). It cost us a lot less then expected.

I was quite excited about the off road ride, as I have not been off-roading for a while. This was the perfect time /place to warm up for Africa (which will start in only a few days).

After a nice evening of talking over some drinks and some wonderful food, Tam and I slept on the terrace gazing at the stars. The warm night air and stars, being the only roof we had, was wonderful, I have never done this in a real bed and can really suggest it.

I, as usual, woke with the sun, and could not wait for everyone else to awake. I needed to change the front tyre before the ride, but this was my usual brand of tyre and knew I could do it without too much trouble. We started the day out slowly and the tyre went on easily. A quick check of Anubis told me that we were ready to go! The ride was stunning as we passed though the National park. The track was very similar to forestry roads back home in Australia. I found the riding enjoyable and pretty easy even two-up. All was going great until we hit a particularly deep rut and my front mudguard got jammed up under my bash plate. We did not go down but the plastic mudguard cracked in several places. I had to force it back into place so that we could move forward and continued on, but still Anubis was not handling quite right. I kept feeling like I had a flat.

It was not until we got off at the next little village at the end of the ride did I realise that there was something more. Tam jumped off the bike and reported that “yup we were stuck again”. She had to give it a swift kick to get us going. So we headed to a little café that was once a jail with the plan of having a coffee and a rest before heading back. At this stop I looked at the mudguard and saw that it was completely ruined; it had been grinding itself way along my brand new tyre. Fortunately it was only the plastic guard that was damaged. The café turned out to be closed, and so we headed home for a bit of MacGuyvering.

It took about an hour but Anubis now has a high guard. I had attacked the guard with a knife and cut and reshaped it to about 1/3 its original size. I was hacking and sawing away at the plastics with what must have looked like no sense or idea of what I was doing. Which was the case actually. Tam, Allison and Andy watched with a look of both horror and fascination on their faces, much a kin to when some one sees a road accident. This “fix” will hopefully be enough for the next two years.

Tired from a great day of riding and MacGuyvering, we sat down for another great night and meal. During which our wonderful hosts invited us to stay another day with them. At first we declined both being excited about getting in to Morocco. However, the following morning, when I went down to the garage to pack Anubis something went wrong with me. I felt nauseous and had an ever-increasing exhaustion come over me. We stayed for lunch hoping that my aliment would pass and we could get on the road. But alas as time when on my symptoms increased in severity and number, now adding headache to the list. With hats in our hands I asked if the offer for another night’s sanctuary was still open and (of course) it was.

We talked the rest of the day away and I started to slowly recover. Luckily I did recover by dinner and we went out with several of Allison and Andy’s friends. It was a very nice evening and I was very glad that we stayed. Once again I have to say thank you to Alison and Andy, we came to you as strangers but left feeling like real friends. We owe you a ride in Aus!

Spain seems to capture me every time I go there. 10 years ago it left an impression, 2 years ago on our Picos de Europa trip, it left such an impression on me, that I still consider it in the top 2 trips I have ever been on. The Spanish people are always friendly, they always appreciate you destroying their language and the food can be amazing. The country has everything that you could want; stunning mountains, beautiful beaches, amazing deserts and everything in between. It has old history and very very old history as well as contemporary interests; it has the old cities and new cities, and small villages that are out of a storybook. I have travelled a lot in Europe not necessarily only in the last few years, I have seen a lot of the now EU, the one place that grabs me every time is Spain. We once talked about how this is likely to be our last trip in Europe but between the glimpse of Portugal and the reoccurring love affair with Spain means that we will be back one day.

She Says - To new friends and new adventures…

2009-08-29T09:39:00.001+01:00

28-29 August
We’re just wrapping up a fantastic two days in the care of Alison and Andy in Riogordo, Spain. These guys have looked after us well, and today took us out on an awesome ride through the beautiful Andalucian hills not far from their house. This is a beautiful area, and I only wish that we had more time here – or that one day we will be back again! I do have rather a soft spot for Spain…..

Yesterday morning, we got out of camp early enough to take a back route into Riogordo, going past the El Torcal natural park. We thought we didn’t have enough time to really look at the site or even go into the visitor centre, where you could apparently see some of the weird rock formations that make up the site. So we headed on down the twisty roads in gorgeous golden morning light, only to find ourselves arriving at our destination an hour early!! What a bummer, especially as Alison and Andy said it’s really worth seeing the rocks around the park visitor centre. After a chat, and our new front tyre surprisingly arriving when we thought it was a lost cause, we went off for lunch and to get our tyre and Andy’s changed (just a note to save face for Xander – the current tyre is a road tyre and more difficult to remove than a dirt tyre; he had taken the old rear off several times in France). A few hours and 15 euros later at a car garage, we had a proper off-road tyre again. Great service!

This morning after a lazy start, Xander changed the front tyre, and then we headed into the hills. We passed a cheesy photo opportunity that could not be avoided – a metal statue of a mountain goat that just screams for you to sit on it! We reached a picnic area just below the cloud line, and enjoyed a lovely lunch of deli goodies. We then headed off along some dirt tracks through the hills, enjoying the gorgeous scenery and good company. It was good to start trying to dirt tracks, as it’s something we need to get used to, and Xander handled the bike well along the bumpy tracks.

Alison and Andy have shown us a fascinating insight into ex-pat life, as they are British with two teenagers, and they have done well to integrate themselves into the village, which I really appreciate. They are also doing great things for motorbike travellers coming through this area and run local biker meets, and we think they are an amazing and wonderfully kind couple. Thanks heaps for looking after us, letting us use your washing machine, and understanding what we’re dealing with (including the stinky bike gear!). It’s been awesome sleeping on terrace under the stars (except for a few mozzies!), and spending time with their lovely dogs that accepted us into the household. Alison and Andy have shown an incredible kindness to two people they’ve never met before – we hope one day to return the favour when they set off on their own big trip!

She Says - Getting closer to Africa…

2009-08-27T09:38:00.002+01:00

26-27 August
Last night, we enjoyed free wi-fi access in a café and worked out where we were heading next, thanks to online mapping! During the day, we had received an SMS from Alison, who we are due to meet tomorrow, with the GPS location of their house plus a note that she’d sent an email. We already had her address from posting our tyres, and took time to map our route, which was a good idea because they are much further from Malaga than we realised! After a trip to the supermarket for canned yummies and sangria, we chatted to Alison, and headed back to our rooftop balcony. We spent our evening relaxing and enjoying our rooftop view, watching the cathedral light up and bats emerging from parts of the Alcazar then flying around us, listening to swing and big band music on the computer as we unlimited power, having a dance, and drinking sangria. Bliss! It was wonderful to treat ourselves and relax. Seeing as the best view of the cathedral at night was from our balcony, and nothing else had really grabbed us for night photos, I played with the tripod on the balcony. Easiest night shooting so far on the trip! We also had a conveniently brilliant view of the bike, which was parked in a nearby square due to traffic restrictions in this part of town. Very comforting. We’ve been able to sit on our balcony and hardly hear any traffic, except the occasional scooter through the area or horse carts carrying loads of tourists around town. We’re very surprised at how low the tourist numbers have been in Seville, even the Alacazar was not that busy including all the tour groups. Again, like Portugal, are people avoiding the summer heat or holidaying elsewhere?

We took a slow morning, and had breakfast in another free wi-fi café. We decided it was best to travel as far as possible today, to give ourselves an easy trip to Alison’s tomorrow. We wanted to find a campground reasonably early as we have no idea what is around and don’t feel we can trust our GPS list of campgrounds. We picked a likely town and pair of GPS points to head for near Aldequera. After reaching Aldequera and stocking up on groceries and a bottle of wine for our hosts tomorrow (in an enormous supermarket populated mostly by Brits!), we set off to track down the campgrounds. After getting stuffed around by the waypoints – once again going nowhere and getting lost in yet another tiny town! - we came back to Aldequera as I had seen camping sign before town, though it was very old and rough looking. We decided the best option was to talk to the tourist office, which I had seen signs for on our first entry into town, then if that failed, head to Malaga as there would definitely be campgrounds near there. After stopping in the middle of town, trying to locate the tourist office (conveniently hidden behind a truck!), we chatted with a lovely Columbian-English man who lives half the year in Spain. He recognised the lost and confused look on our faces and pointed out the tourist office across the road and also told us where the campground was! We found out that we had stumbled into a lovely town full of history, Europe’s best ancient burial chambers, and a gorgeous natural park in the surrounding hills! It’s such a shame that we have to get moving tomorrow and can’t explore anything!!!! After watching sunset over the lovely rock formations this side of the El Torcal park, I’m now sitting in the dark listening to what I think are sheep bells as they move across the hill behind us, lovely tune. The campground is full of static caravans and various load people, but it’s not too bad, apart from the water shortage that we hit when we arrived!

Tomorrow we are off to make new friends. Alison and family have very kindly let us post a new rear tyre from the UK, as well as a new front tyre ordered just a week ago in Portugal. So far, they have been amazing in letting us post the tyres, offering a place to stay and to take us to get the tyres changed, and all we know abut each other is we like to travel by motorbike! I have to say a big thank you to the Horizons Unlimited forum for putting likeminded people in touch with each other.

I’m starting to feel anxious about getting to Morocco. It will be the first time we have to take the bike through a proper border, and the first time we’ve ever applied for border visas. I know it will all be fine, and I am glad it’s Morocco that we start our African adventure in, as they are very used to European bikes coming through overland. But I’m still worried we’ll get things wrong or it will all get confused or something. Our insurance cover runs out the day we go to Morocco, nicely timed but means we have to get insurance there, which used to be at border but apparently is now in a nearby town. I can just see things going wrong or maybe getting scammed. Unfortunately, there is no point trying to carry our insurance forward as they are unlikely to cover Morocco anyway. We’re thinking now about where to go in Morocco and what to do, and it’s great to think of the time that will be up our sleeves. We will have a definite month in Morocco, maybe longer if we think we can, or if other countries will need to be rushed through due to certain areas not being accessible or recommended right now (e.g. Mauritania). It’s exciting to know there are no timelines now, as our final have-to-be-somewhere and meet people takes place tomorrow. After that, if we want to stay somewhere for many days, we can!

She Says - Roman wonders and superb Seville

2009-08-26T17:31:00.000+01:00

24-26 August
On our way out of Portugal, we passed through a small town called Campo Maior, purely to see their Capela dos Ossos, a tiny bone chapel created in the 1700s to commemorate 2/3 of the town (some 1500 people) who were killed when a gunpowder explosion occurred in the castle. This time, the chapel was decorated with skeletons (though not necessarily anatomically correct!), as well as many bones and skulls. It’s rather strange how people decide that this is an appropriate way to deal with large numbers of bodies. I’m guessing they feel it is more respectful than putting everyone into a mass grave. It was quite moving actually, to think of all those people killed in a disaster that left them unable to be identified and given individual burials. The town itself was absolutely dead (no pun intended) and I’m not sure they’ve seen too many tourists from some of their reactions to us - although the chapel’s guest book was full and include many recent foreign visitors, we saw no-one else.

We crossed the border through increasingly desert-like terrain to reach Merida in Spain. While the city itself wasn’t much, the entire place was full of Roman ruins. It was really cool to see how much of the Roman city remained in pieces all across the new city - everything from two different types of giant aqueducts (complete with storks’ nests!), to a temple (that a guy later built his house inside!), to pieces of old Roman road and city preserved neatly beneath buildings. No, not glass-covered so you can look in from above, but buildings have actually been built over the top of the ruins with them completely preserved underneath! You can enter the site and walk around the old roads with a modern building right above your head. There was also a large complex housing a theatre and amphitheatre, right next to each other, and several large villas. Unfortunately, we didn’t get to visit any of the big attractions, only gazing in from the outside, as the entrance fees (even though they gave a good package deal) were too much for our budget. The old Roman bridge leading over the river was supposedly the longest remaining in the world, but I think that’s a bit of a cheat as several sections were rebuilt in the 17th century. Walking under the bridge, I was ecstatic to find evidence of bats roosting in one of the Roman sections (happy me). The campground on the outskirts of town was very quiet with a bit of shade, and we chatted with a British couple now living in Spain, who seemed very envious of our trip. We also saw some other bike travellers, two of the handful we’ve seen camping, but didn’t get a chance to talk to them. I think they were younger than us, which makes a change, as most people we’ve seen have been older.

We’re now in beautiful Seville, living it up! To get a full experience of one of our few big European cities, we’ve treated ourselves to two nights in a nice pension room, complete with rooftop balcony, right in the middle of the old city and its attractions. We decided to stay here for two reasons – 1) the campground is well out of town, we would have to either drive or take a bus into town each day, but we also want to take night photos so it’s not very convenient, and 2) we are almost about to leave Europe and are unlikely to be back for quite some time, and we’ve been working hard with all the camping and cost-saving, so it’s a celebration of the trip we’ve had so far and the trip that is yet to come! It’s costing us a bit, but it’s worth it – last night’s view of the cathedral from our balcony was awesome. The city itself is fantastic, and everything I’d heard it would be. It’s very laid back and pleasant, considering what a large city it is. Again, it’s very quiet tourist-wise and I wonder if it’s just that no-one is travelling for recession reasons? It’s hot here, but not so much more than Portugal, which is good because everything we’ve read or heard about Seville says it’s scorching hot in summer.

Managing to get settled in a room before lunchtime yesterday gave us the rest of the day to start exploring. We wandered through the small streets of the Jewish Quarter, then through the larger streets and squares of the old town, admiring the beautiful and varying architecture and the cathedral, now heavily influenced by Moorish styles and including tilework similar to Portugal. We headed to the Plaza de Espana – to us just a point on the map supposed to be worth seeing and having no idea what it was. We stumbled in through a side entrance, to find the plaza spreading far ahead of us. The massive semi-circle plaza is full of decorated niches, each depicting a major Spanish city. Each niche is decorated in tiles, and includes a location map and panel depicting a major event from that city’s history. We enjoyed an early dinner sitting in one of these, waiting for the evening’s golden light to begin. In the centre of the semi-circle is a massive building, with two smaller buildings to each side, and through these you can access balconies for views over the whole plaza. The second half of the semi-circle was closed, as they are restoring the city niches – the first section had already had its restoration completed. In front of the semi-circular buildings is a moat with several highly decorated bridges, leading into the centre of the entire plaza to a large fountain. It’s an incredible monument to the country, and an interesting blend of architectural styles, from Islamic influences to almost garish tilework to medieval-style scenes in the niches. We moved on to visit the Plaza de America, which houses the Archaeological Museum and two other buildings. We caught the museum in perfect light for photos. In the middle of the three buildings lies a pond, providing an excellent foreground for photos and a very picturesque scene to the eye. The museum has fantastic decorations across it, but the direction of light made it difficult to see the other buildings. As we headed back to our room last night, we passed a park full of pigeons that people feed – in fact, several stalls sell almost nothing but bird food. The birds land on people who have food, providing a lot of entertainment in watching people’s reactions to birds unexpectedly landing on them!

Right now, we’re taking a siesta after spending around 4 hours in the Alcazar, the mostly Moorish-decorated palace of the royals for many years. After Xander’s treat to the Giger museum in Switzerland, this was my treat – I have a real thing for Islamic decoration, and palaces like these are the bees’ knees when you don’t get to see mosques. I have no idea what I will and won’t be able to see once we hit Morocco, but a building on such a grand scale as this was worth the money! We visited the king of palaces 10 years ago, La Alhambra in Granada, something I had wanted to see for years before, and all it has done since I feed my fascination with Islamic art and culture. One day, the Middle East and Petra……The palace lower level contains a series of highly decorated rooms, the walls of which are decorated with carved plaster, either white or with touches of colour, and around the edges and floors are mosaic-patterned tiles. The king’s main room has a high ceiling lined with wood and painted with stars of red and gold. The rooms enclose an open courtyard with a pool, and surrounded by ornately decorated arches. The upper level is more European in style, including tilework forming pictures as we’ve seen elsewhere in Portugal and Spain, and massive tapestries including ancient maps of the world. The palace is surrounded by a beautiful set of amazingly well-groomed gardens and, with its fleet of gardeners, you can almost imagine what it was like back in the palatial days, with the constant activity of sweeping the pathways to keep them clean of leaves, manicuring the hedges, etc.

The other highlights for today were the cathedral at dawn and the extensive parks of Seville. We caught the cathedral just after sunrise, as we wanted to get to the Alcazar as soon as it opened and spend as long as possible there, as well as hoping to beat the tourist crowd a bit (didn’t help much!). The beautiful light at this time of day was great for photos. After the Alcazar, we wandered back to the Plaza de America for more photos now the light was shining on the other buildings. We also walked through easily the best city park I’ve ever seen. The Seville parks are an amazing community resource, lush and green in this dry and dusty heat, holding a maze of trails and little plazas, fountains and pools. In particular areas, there are even information plaques for the different trees, providing names and uses for the plants, and a very extensive exercise trail, with information plaques showing you different exercises to complete at each point!

We’ve only seen a fraction of what the city has to offer, as it’s very different to other places we’ve been, where all the attractions are generally crammed into one central area. Seville spreads far and wide, and around every corner is another beautiful building or pleasant park. However, we don’t have the time or money to delay for more exploration and will have to move on tomorrow.

He Says - Music, muses, views and bats

2009-08-26T17:23:00.001+01:00

24- 26 August 09

We road from Campo Major to Merida in Spain, a city famous for having huge tracks of ancient roman ruins. From the second we arrived in the campground I had a bad feeling and it never went a way. I just did not like it. We headed in to the city, and my bad feeling did not change, it could only be described as bhlah. At the first ruin we approached I noted 7 bloody hypodermic needles littering the ground. As much as I tried I could not like the city. Yes, the ruins were cool, until you looked at them closely. Then, you could tell that most of them were reconstructions so there was little magic at all. It only made me dislike the city even more. It was dirty and basically a lie.

We left early the next morning not really wanting to go back in to the city that neither of liked, and headed in to deeper in to southern Spain, towards Seville. I was expecting an ever-increasing temperature as we went south but alas it was getting colder. It was a boring two-hour ride mostly on motorways. There was a gusting crosswind most of the way, so I had to concentrate on the road and the bike and therefore could not concentrate on what we were or weren’t talking about. About 50k out of Seville, we stopped for a leg stretch and we found a red cross outpost building that looked like one day they just did not turn up for work and it had been looted ever since. It was creepier then any chapel of bones I have ever seen.

Upon entering Seville, we got lost, (I seem to sense a pattern here but can not quite find it.). At length we got our bearings and found the section of the old town that we were looking for. We promised that we could treat ourselves to a hotel room and enjoy the city with out the hassle of driving in from the campground all the time. We had plenty of choices but the one we found was a pension that was next door the Alcazar had a private roof terrace and was only 50€ (5€ more then a basic pension room). The view was fantastic and Seville was an amazing place.

The view alone was worth the €€€. We both agreed that we really liked it here. After getting the hotel set up we spent the rest of the afternoon walking the streets looking at the wonderful building and narrow lane ways. Seville is such a nice place (if not a little on the expensive side). Most of the little lane ways were clean and the houses were well kept. It was like the perfect version of what you want to see out of a city like this.

We got up early so that we could get fed and ready and be inside the Alcazar at the opening. The plan was conceived so that we could miss the crowds, and have lots of time to take photos and wander without the hustle and bustle of the tour groups. Well we missed the lines to get in but before we finished looking thought the first room (which we could see our hotel terrace by the way) the tour groups had already caught up. So much for the plan to have some time alone in there.

Tam spent most of the time it seemed to me trying to capture every square inch of the place on film or video. I could not shake the feeling that I was in a Tombraider like video game and some “bady” would come out and try and kill me. Despite that “danger” we spent most of the day wandering in the buildings or gardens. The Alcazar is a mish-mash of about 6-7 different building styles conglomerating in to a big palace of sorts (hence the Tombraider flash backs). Some of it is medieval some later but the nicest part was by far were the oldest Moorish sections. This section was covered in intricate plaster carvings and designs that can often be overwhelming while at the same time peaceful. Hopeful this will just be a taster for what is to come in the next few months as we head for the home of the Moors.. but alas we shall see.

Although we decided that we should go out and do some night photography. We took advantage of our balcony room and brought in a light dinner. It consisted of some salmon wrapped in pimentos, garlic breads, cheese and sangria. So as the sun set we sat there drinking sangria, listening to some 40’s bigband music, and watching the bats fly over head. Well as you can imagine a few glasses of sangeria under our belts and we did not move, the night shots did not happen (again). Although this time I do not regret it Seville is one of the very few cities in the world that is more photogenic during the day then at night. The night was warm we shared a danced on the balcony, and eavesdropping on the quietest city ever. We are right in the centre of the old quarter and all we can hear is the clip-clop of tourists being shown around by horse cart and the occasional pigeon. One such pigeon sat a few metres away and joined us in the music and views not moving for at least an hour. We laughed at the number of people that would walk by Anubis (unloaded) and stop and stare or comeback with a camera and take a picture. Yet there was hardly a sole that was looking the cathedral towering above.

We slept in for the first time since I can remember, before packing the bike and heading out for breakfast. We decided to do some much-needed internet work and so looked for a wi-fi café. There were a few choices including McDonalds, which we just could not bring ourselves to go to. We picked a café and spent a good couple of hour doing the net work although this did not include blog updates. When we had enough of the café and the computer. We decided that it was also time to move on and head to our next destination.

This however was the problem, we new we had to head towards Malaga, because in two days we were meeting up with friends, but did not have any idea where to go for that night. But we headed out anyway hopping that the GPS would let us know when we were near a campground. Well it did not work. We found a place called Aldequera which was said to have one, but it turned out to be the bus station, we then went to the next waypoint and it was simply a dead end. So now both a little short of temper and a little short in patients we had one of our little “you are not listening” spats that seem to only occur when we have been on the bike for too long and while looking for a place to get off the bike. Eventually it was decided that as we saw a tourist information office (sign) in Aldequera that we should head back that way and see if they can help. If not our only other option was to go an additional hour on the bike to where both the GPS and the maps say there is a campground (and hopefully it is open). As we road in to town, we lost the signs to the tourist info office, and ended up just following the sign to the historical centre. We reached the coble stone sections of streets Excellent! Here all the signs simply stopped, we had no idea where to go or where we were. I pulled over at a little round about type thing and we were talking about what to do next. When out of nowhere a man appeared next to us and in accented but perfect English. “What are you looking for”. This was the start of a 20 minute conversation with a Colombian /British expat, who told us where the campground was (10km out of town) and that he was a biker knew the look on our faces as he too has pulled into town looking for X Yor Z and could not find it. It was that required him interrupt his afternoon coffee to help us. He told us that we had stop (by luck) just out side the tourist office although the sign was obscured by restoration work (helpful!).

Aldequera was a sunning little town and would have been worth a day or two, but we simply did not have the time. We got to the campground and it had a sunning view of El Torcal, a series of rock formations deserving of a day or two in its own right. The campground looked okay, but as we found a place to pitch we noted that the rubbish bin had not been emptied in several days, and then we found out that there was no water to drink, shower or to use the toilet and yet it still cost us €20. We both were still a bit grumpy from the ride and this was not helping. We set up and had dinner and just as I was thinking about going back to town to buy some drinking waer, as well as complaining a lot to the camp manager and trying to get our money back, the water came back on. Things started to look up. Tam went for a shower, which was ice cold because of the lack of water all day, however by the time I got there I got 3 minutes of hot water.

He says – Rocks, Skulls, and ahhhhh!!!

2009-08-24T17:16:00.001+01:00

22 - 24 August 09

We got up and Tam was feeling sick. We however made the decision to get moving and went on what turned out to be a 40km disappointing megalith hunt. Hot frustrate and ill we headed decided to just move on. Once we arrived at Portalargra we discovered that the campground there was closed too. This was despite the many bloody city signs that just kept point you up the 30km of switch back mountain pass never once did they tell you that is was closed. However an enterprising campground owner did put a poster up for his place on the locked gate. We now had an other 80k to go to get to Castilo de Vide and the nearest campground. With a bit of two up navigational savvy we got lost and road around for about an hour before Tam’s illness made her grumpy and in no uncertain terms told me to go back and find the dammed place. We did just that this time with hardly a wrong turn (motivated navigation, I guess). When we did find the site, it was run by a Dutch guy (there must be no people left there).

We spent the next few days exploring the area, the two big towns in the area, Marvao and Castilo de Vide, are both old walled medieval citadels. Marvao was one of the most beautiful places I have ever been to. I though Evora was nice, but Marvao with its white washed walls and cobbled narrow streets over took Evora in seconds. The entire city was said to only have 350 people left living in it. We spent lunch watching bee eaters flying by the walls in a great display of acrobatics. The thing that I could not believe was that there were so many empty houses again. These could so easily be made into B&B all to easily. All the region needs is to advertise. The Algarve did and look at it, it is crawling with…ahh…okay so maybe lets not advertise.

Castilo de Vide, was simular to Marvao, just more of a real city and with out the amazing views. We spent the afternoon there exploring the tiny streets and labyrinth of the old Jewish quarter. On the way out we stopped at a small Roman city, it was expensive to get in to and not well preserved as such we only looked at it form the outside, but had seen enough of these in the UK to know what we were looking at. We thought we would try our luck again and go megalith hunting. The hunt started off very badly, with us not being able to find anything. Eventually we found one. It was 30k or so from where we initially wanted to be but at least we found one. It was obviously a fertility symbol. Now having our fix on that one were able to track down several others. Including a small one that was only about 800m from or tent (as the crow flies) you could see the tent from it but not vis versa. So in one day we did prehistory, roman history and medieval history.. not bad for a 50k ride..

I have really fallen in love with central Portugal.. It goes to show that my theory of try everything 3 times is right.. when we first got here is was not great.. Porta was bad, the camp site was hell… Lisbon good, Evora great, Marvao is excellent and now I don’t really want to leave. Everywhere has good and bad places.

I have fount that the people here in Portugal are not an openly happy people, which can make or break a trip. The number of times Portuguese have just come stared at us or the bike, during which we say “hello” (Bon Dia) and they just look at us like we have 10 heads is uncountable, the number of time this has happened and they then turn around and chat is 2. The first was a guy who spoke to us spoke perfect English and he was fun (see above for brits and sports)! The second guy was on our way down to Castilo de Vide, we stopped in a small town for lunch, and this old man who just came off his bike (a week before) was interested in how I ride the behemoth that is Anubis and how much safety gear cost. He is really banged up after his fall (but he is still riding in a horse riding helmet and a t-shirt). It was fun trying to figure out what he was saying and trying to answer his questions. Then conversation then went beyond our comprehension and he started to talk about things we had no idea about. None the less it was nice to have some contact with the locals. I don’t not feel that this is tourist thing and there does not seem to be any difference between strangers that are Portuguese. They are a polite people but not overtly friendly and jolly. I have been watching the interaction between people in shops. It almost always goes the same they walk in “Can I please have….” The serving person repeats the request, serves it. Person one “thank you”.. Later on “bill please” .. “your bill is X€” they pay and leave. Never unfriendly just not friendly.

We headed back to Spain, via a little town called Campomaior. We went this way for one reason only they also have a chapel of bones. This one was not on such a grand scale, and was built when a gunpowder factory blew up killing 1500 people. They had no way of identifying the bones so lumped them together in the chapel. I decided that I really liked the idea. It is so much better then a mass grave and a plaque somewhere. This is immortalising the victims in a way that could not be done other wise. The one thing that did make it a bit creepy, to me, was that the chapel was contained with in a person’s house. 1500 odd skulls (or bits of) and 2 entire bodies right next to their living room and you could just look though the window to see it. The concept was still good to me but the idea of it being in a house was a little odd. Don’t get me wrong the house was attached to the cathedral and was most likely a member of the clergy who lived here, but I would not want to eat my corn flakes every morning with 1500 skulls looking at me. Beside the occasional one fell down and would make the most awful sound. Crack Crunch.

She Says - A place to return to…

2009-08-23T17:30:00.000+01:00

22-23 August
We’ve had a wonderful day exploring today, and on its last day Portugal has shown us its best sights. Following the raving review in our tiny fraction of guidebook, we had saved visiting the walled towns of Castelo de Vide and Marvao until the end, as they are near the border of Spain. We planned to take an easy day travelling the 100km from Evora to Portalegre (not far from the towns and the only place camping was noted), visiting some prehistoric burial tombs and cave art on the way. Unfortunately, this was a major bust! The cave was closed for apparent improvement works (though no signs of these actually starting) and the burial chambers were either non-existent, or possibly were next to the road with no further signage or obvious access! We made one more attempt to find a tomb in the middle of a lake, but couldn’t even find the lake!!! As I was still feeling a bit off, we decided to get ourselves to Portalegre, stopping in Estramoz for lunch as it seemed like a reasonable distance away and large enough for lunch supplies. Turns out it was a great place to stop! It was a walled city, fairly large and, as seems to be the way here, completely uninhabited. We drove in through a really cool gate and right into the middle of the Saturday market. We had a brief wander around, enough to see part of the city and get to the castle and wall. It was a really nice town, quiet but very hot, and while I felt ok, we thought we should move on to camp.

We reached Portalegre and picked up groceries from one of the many large supermarkets conveniently located near the highway turnoff. We then got completely lost trying to find the campground. Campgrounds are usually very well marked in Portugal, but we found only one sign. When we finally did work out where to go (thankyou GPS and gut instinct), we found the campground had closed! Thankfully, two industrious campgrounds right near the towns we were planning to visit had posted up their details, including GPS waypoints. We were immediately attracted by one that called itself a rural camping site, because even though our recent camping experiences have been good, we will always go for somewhere out of the way! Trying to follow the GPS once we reached Castelo de Vide and find the right road to take out of town, we ended up going right through town and its twisty, windy, very very steep, cobbled streets! At one point, Xander had to make a 90-degree turn down a steep slope – I thought we were going over! We made our way out the other side of town and tried to find a road that would take us where we needed. We ended up following small brown wooden signs for some megaliths, Xander even getting carried away and running us down a farm track, but it was getting late and we really needed to find this campground!!!

Making our way back into town, we tried again, found the right road, and followed the GPS right to the campground. It looked like there was probably a well sign-posted route if we had taken a different road from Portalegre, but who cares - we made it! And it has been so worth it. Run by a Dutch guy (who can speak every language as they always can!) and his partner, the campsite is located on their organic farm. It’s quiet, they run on solar power, drinking water comes in 5 litre jugs from the nearby spring, food and drinks run on an honour system, and they have TOURIST INFO!! I’ve found it very difficult to get information on areas outside cities, whereas this campground has booklets and leaflets for the whole area, including walking paths between towns and even megalithic sites (another reason for visiting this area). While the tourist office in Marvao today also supplied good (similar) information, Castelo de Vide did not. There seems to be a strange thing here to not really give information and yet somehow this campground has it? Maybe you have to ask the exact right question in the tourist offices and they’ll dig it out for you, but nothing was ever obvious except stuff to buy. We also happily met some old friends in the campground - the stars and Milky Way!! Even though we were able to see stars in big cities like Birmingham over the past 4 years, you don’t realise how many millions of them are out there. Being away from Australia’s low population and light pollution for so long, I had forgotten all about the Milky Way till I saw it glowing right above me. There are no cities around here, only small towns and very little traffic – wow. We finally found a campground just like home!

All along the Portugal-Spain border are settlements like the two we visited today, made from stone and in strategic locations to fight against the Moors, before being overtaken by them. Marvao was my favourite town, ‘the nest of eagles’, perched high on a hilltop with views all around, a castle to explore (for free!), small lanes, and cool architecture (solid stone doorways and carved arch windows) that I haven’t seen since the day we arrived in Portugal and had lunch in a tiny hilltop town. This tiny town houses only a few hundred people, and a good number of tourists. It was still incredibly quiet, in fact the busiest it got was inside the castle tower, and at a restaurant for lunch (we’re getting a little more relaxed about food now, wanted to celebrate our last day here, but also there were no shops for basic snack food!). Castelo de Vide was very nice and very different. Located lower but still on a hill, it had several different quarters, including the twisty windy Jewish quarter and the medieval city inside the old castle. Originally built in the 13-14th centuries, the castle and city walls were refortified and enlarged in the 17-18th centuries, enclosing the full city as it was at the time – it’s not much bigger now. Slightly run down, but surprisingly cleaner in the medieval town (helped by enhancement works although these seem to have stalled – a common occurrence in Portugal), Castelo was really charming and made for good photos. Well, attempts anyway, light is not always on our side! Light, now there’s a thing – always sunny, always blue, it’s been heaven! We’re learning to deal with biking in the accompanying hot weather, and we’ve had excellent training for our upcoming African adventure. We had gorgeous golden light tonight as we explored the nearby prehistoric burial tombs (really good examples) and a giant 7m tall standing stone. It took a bit to find each site - even though signs were provided, they were very small and not always obvious from every direction - but we got there in end!

We could easily spend more time in this area, there’s so much to see and walks to do. However, we will move on tomorrow so we can visit Merida, a Spanish town covered in Roman ruins and relicts, before heading to Seville and our scheduled meet-up with some people near Malaga to collect our new tyres. Portugal has been hard to love, with few attractive small towns, people that are not quick to smile or even interact (the number of times we’ve said hello to people staring at the bike only to get blank looks in return!!), and very aggressive drivers (comparable to Britain), but certain areas are really stunning and we both feel it’s a place we’d like to visit again with the benefit of hindsight!

Wildlife of Portugal – there’s not much to tell! Bird life has been very poor, in fact the best stuff has been in the last two days with small birds here in camp, and the gorgeous bee-eaters that we’ve seen on powerlines and flying around the walls of Marvao. We’ve only seen these beautiful multicoloured birds once before, in a sand-bank nesting colony we stumbled across in Romania last year. We spent ages watching birds soar back and forth below the Marvao castle, desperately trying for a half-decent photo. We’re back in vulture country now and have seen a few, plus a number of other birds of prey across country, but so few small birds. I finally saw a European snake, inside Castelo’s medieval city; unfortunately, it was rather dead and broken into two pieces. We’ve seen a few lizards, including a bright green one today, and lots of bugs. There’s always ants, they get everywhere and are a variety of shapes and sizes, but last night I had a freaky spider crawl on me in the tent – weird 4-way jaws and a long, thin, brown body, ergh.

I’ve been meaning to make some note of the agriculture in Europe, as it’s been quite interesting. In northern France, we saw very small farms, even strip farming like we had previously only seen in Romania. Over there, these were the farms of individual families, and I have to wonder if it’s the same in France? As we moved south, the farms grew larger. Plenty of grain crops were being grown, and there were very few livestock. Not surprisingly, there were plenty of vineyards in certain areas. In Spain, agriculture took place on a larger scale, with the produce more mixed (fewer grains, more corn and fruit trees). There were a lot more cattle, including the black fighting cattle. They were also very big on wind farming and solar panel farming!!! In Portugal, there was little evidence of agriculture for foodstuffs. On the eastern border when we first arrived, it was again like Romania, but because every family home had a large garden of mixed plants for their own supply, including fruit trees. Closer to Lisbon, we saw more plantations of olives and fruit, and of course the wine growing region of Douro Valley was full of vineyards. Cork oak plantations were scattered all over the country. There were LOTS of eucalyptus plantations, more so in the central region and around Lisbon, to the point where we swore we were back in Tasmania at times! It’s been some years since I left Tassie’s forestry industry, and was very strange seeing land clearance and felling operations on this scale again.

She Says - Portugal’s beautiful cities

2009-08-21T17:29:00.000+01:00

18-21 August
We left Lisbon for Sintra, yet another World Heritage site but this time for the landscape of beautiful houses and palaces set into the forested hillside. Sintra was home to the royals and visited by other famous rich people including Lord Byron, and it’s well worth the visit for the winding alleys (full of tourist shops) and gorgeous buildings. A surprising number of houses seem to have been completely abandoned - it’s so sad, I hate seeing beautiful buildings left to decay and I can’t understand why they haven’t been bought and converted to hotels or pousadas (B&Bs) or even just lived in! We’ve seen a lot of this now, even in Lisbon, buildings where there are loads of tourists and visitors and so amazingly empty. I’m surprised they haven’t been bought by some national organisation for preservation of historic buildings and turned into museums or something, but I’ve no idea if such an organisation exists here considering the state of decay we’ve been seeing. We fell in love with one house, all covered in tile work with a balcony and balustrades and arches and just beautiful – it broke our hearts to see this massive beautiful building slowly decaying.

We had reached Sintra reasonably early (only 20 minutes by highway from Lisbon) and decided to leave early after lunch as there were no campgrounds nearby. Our trip south along the coastline led us past Cabo da Roca, the most westerly point of mainland Europe, so that was worth a quick stop. We chatted with another motorbike-travelling couple from Italy, who spend their holidays each year travelling to a different part of Europe – I think that’s a great way to slowly see the world! They seemed really impressed about our trip, and even took photos of the bike. The attention we get from people is a little embarrassing sometimes, as we don’t feel like we are really doing anything so out of the ordinary. The problem is, we know of many other people who have done trips like this, but that’s from our exposure through internet forums etc., and not everyone has had that same exposure. I have to remind myself that taking 2 years out of your life just to travel is a pretty weird thing to most people - it seems quite normal to us to do it, but I guess really it isn’t! We found a nice coastal campground – big, busy, not too loud but more expensive than we’ve been paying lately – and enjoyed sunset over the horribly littered sand dunes. We came back into Sintra the next morning to visit the palaces and Moorish castle, not to go inside as entrance fees were high, but hoping instead for some nice views. However, the access road was thin and full of buses and people, and you can’t see anything of the view or buildings! We caught a glimpse of one palace and decided to move on to town to take advantage of their free library internet access. Happily, we found there is a network of library internet across the country - at least two cities we plan to visit in the next week have access so that may be useful, as we are looking at having some slow days soon. Unhappily, the library computer corrupted our memory stick with a virus and we were unable to update our Swiss blog, which we’ve been trying to do for 3 weeks now!

After lunch, we took the toll roads to Evora, which were quick and almost empty, and we only got a little bit lost in Lisbon. Approaching Evora, we took a detour along a well sign posted route to some prehistoric rock monuments that our map indicated were in the area – wow! (and not just because it was sign-posted!!) We found the giant circle of Almendres, made from around 50 large granite blocks formed into 2 circles (one basically inside the other). The rocks have been rounded, and several of them had engravings, either circles or hollowed out ‘cup’ marks – not an easy task using granite! It’s the biggest stone circle on the Iberian peninsula, and I was thrilled we got to see something so cool. Visiting prehistoric (or megalithic) sites is a bit of a hobby of ours (mostly mine I think!) and we’ve visited loads in the UK, so it’s been great to see some stuff over here too. However, we decided not to hike to the single standing stone nearby – we’ve seen enough of these by now, and it’s very hot out here! We also got to see cork oak plantations! It was very bizarre to see these trees stripped of bark almost all the way up the trunk. Stranger still to see them marked with numbers that appear to correspond to the year the bark was cut, presumably so they know when to cut again. Almost every tree we’ve seen seems to be cut though – including on roadsides and in picnic areas – presumably because we’ve heard there is a world cork shortage and any tree is fair game!

We found the campground outside Evora, run by the same group with the same prices as over near Cabo da Roca. We decided to ride into town to see if there were any other camps, only to get ourselves hopelessly lost and ended up riding through the pedestrian-only zone in the middle of town! We found the tourist office, but there were no other campgrounds. We were able to read about the area’s other prehistoric monuments, and picked up a map of the city and surrounds for later exploring. Arriving late in the campground, good and quiet but around 2km from town, we decided to have an easy night and visit the city the next day when we could walk during the cooler morning. It’s very very VERY hot here, now that we’re out on the plains again, and someone told us it’s around 40 degrees today. The campsite is stifling, dry and dusty, with few places on the site having shade all day. Our tarp provides some protection, but it’s still very warm under it and inside tent, and the airflow is not great. I have to say though, while hot, I’m glad we haven’t seen rain for 2 weeks - I was getting pretty sick of it! We’ve had little worry if each day will be sunny and nice, or if we’ll get rained on!

We got to Evora nice and early yesterday morning. It’s a lovely little city, and again so quiet! There were plenty of tourists around, just not busy like we expected from a major tourist destination in the middle of summer. It was really nice and easy to walk around. The city is all white and yellow, and the buildings are in better condition than we’ve seen elsewhere. It’s a walled city and almost entirely paved in rough cobblestones (not neat square ones like we’ve seen elsewhere in Portugal and other parts of Europe). The Romans settled here, and left behind a temple in the city centre along with parts of an aqueduct. In the 1500s, a giant aqueduct was built from the edge of the city outwards, and now there are houses built under some of the archways! The big highlight of Evora, and our main reason for visiting it, was the Chapel of Bones (Capela dos Ossos). Adding to our list of the world’s most morose monuments (among others, we’ve made it to Czech Republic’s Kutna Hora bone church, Paris’ bone-lined catacombs, and Rome’s mummified monks chapel), this small chapel behind one of the main churches was completely lined with human bones in 1810. The bones have been arranged around the walls into patterns, and include the mummified body of one of the chapel’s designers. I loved the motto written across the entry to the chapel, something along the lines of ‘These bones that lie here, wait for yours’. I was really pleased that, unlike a number of similar places we’ve visited, photos and videos were welcome and we could take as much footage as we wanted! The main entry into the chapel was covered in tiles, and contained a beautiful series of azulejos depicting Jesus carrying his cross. We went back to camp mid-afternoon, originally planning to return tonight to take ‘golden hour’ photos before sunset and some night shots; however, we’ve realised that nothing was particularly worth returning for due to the low angle of the sun, the high building walls and tight streets – no light really gets in anywhere in the afternoon!

I’ve been getting frustrated at not having time to write blog entries that are more than rough notes, or being able to get enough free internet time. Not paying where we can manage it helps a lot, as it’s money we need to help us stay on budget (already running over since we left France). Often the computer doesn’t have enough battery life to do much work, so that doesn’t help either, though we are getting better at organising ourselves to charge it off the bike while in camp (one hour is no problem to the bike battery and gets the computer charged well). The most frustrating thing is that everything takes time!!! Writing blogs, downloading photos then going through and picking the ones to keep, plus trying to keep track of other elements of the trip (like costs and fuel consumption), on top of daily work like cooking, cleaning and clothes washing, all takes a lot of time. Thankfully, the campsite has FREE WIRELESS INTERNET and we’ve spent a lot of time since last night using the computer in the TV room, getting all our batteries charged and photos downloaded, uploading the Swiss blog entries, going through emails, and gathering info on bike travel in Morocco. OK, it’s mostly been me! Xander has been reading and relaxing a lot. But like our electronic gear, our batteries need recharging too sometimes. I was feeling a bit off this morning and didn’t feel like dealing with heat, so being inside all day has been really good, and having a day of not being tourists is a good thing. And I’m slowly catching up!

He says - Evora – I could Die here.

2009-08-21T10:23:00.000+01:00

19-21 August 2009

Getting to Evora was an easy ride. We took the toll road from Lisbon it ended up costing us about 6€ but the ease was worth it. As we pulled off I saw a sign for some monoliths and took it with out telling Tam. At first she was unhappy that I was doing something with out talking to her or at least telling her my plan , but she was thrilled when I did tell her. Luckily, the first one we went to was the largest and oldest in all of this region maybe even Portugal. I always associate megaliths and burial cairns with the UK, but there is 100s more here. I still am not thrilled with northern Portugal but central is turning out to be stunning. The only thing that is a bit sad is that there seems to be a complete lack of wildlife except for really large carrion birds. We are unsure if we were looking at buzzards or eagles but one thing is for sure they are very large.

Evora, is pretty much in the centre of Portugal, it is a walled town with world heritage listing. The main part of town is completely surrounded by a wall. Inside the wall the heat was almost worse then out in the blazing sun. The wall and tall buildings completely blocked any kind of breeze. Despite the heat the city had a friendly feel the people were all nice. It was a generally comfortable place. Evora also was the cleanest city I have ever seen, there was not a scrap of litter anywhere.

The little alleys and streets snaked their way around the city and it was easy to get lost. Somehow we never did. The streets ranged from ~2m wide to 2 lane roads, luckily we camped a few ks outside so we did not have to drive in that maze.

The major centrepiece of the old section of town was a temple of Diana held in the centre of a large square flanked on the sides by the cathedral, university and police station. The forth sections was a raised section of the wall that had been enveloped by the city and was now a stunning vantage point. From here you could look over the vast expanse of the city. This wall also had a huge mural allegedly depicting the revolution, however the paint was so chipped and faded that you could hardly make out shapes let alone a theme.

The day was spent walking around and seeing the sights. One of the best was the roman aqueduct, not because of the ducts itself. This was little different to any 100s of others. What made this one special was the houses that were build in to the archways. They were well designed and were made to look like it was part of the plan. There were also streets that would end in a part of the duct, where the top of the archway were only about 1m high, meaning only people could come and go.

One of the big attractions in Evora was a chapel of bones like the others it was created to lay to rest the bones of displaced graves. We of course went in! While there I was amazed at some of the comments that I over heard. Mostly from Americans exclaiming that it is against god, and that it made them “sick to see such horrific blasphemy” but they stayed longer and took more photos then anyone else. I can understand how some people would find it morose, or creepy (especially the way it was under lit and hence was designed to be creepy), but this is a crypt and holy ground so how can it be against their god and blasphemy? More importantly if it was so bad why stay so long and photograph everything?

We decided against having lunch and opted for just fruit as we both thought that we have been eating too much. There was a little fruit seller that was operated by a woman who looked to be several hundred years old. She noticed Dr. Otterboro in Tam’s bag and at first, I think, was frightened until she realised it was a toy. She and Tam then had a great time laughing about it. Tam tried explaining that it is not a rat but an otter. I don’t think the message was ever communicated. After lunch on the steps of the third cathedral in town we walked home to relax. The next day was a day off only the 3rd since we started and Tam basically spent the entire day on the net in the family room at the campsite. I spent it reading in either in the room with her or the tent.

We were once again supposed to get up and go to town for some night shots but it was a very hot day and in the end we could not be bothered walking 8km for a few shots. In retrospect this was a shame and a huge mistake as Evora has been one of my favourite places to date. We are to move on the next day as well.

He Says –Lisbon –or is that San Francisco

2009-08-19T09:50:00.000+01:00

17-19 Aug 2009

With an easy hours drive we were in Lisbon (toll road). I was looking forward to it again, the campground was 22€ per day and looked like it would be hell as we pulled up. But it turned out to be great. We found a quiteish spot near the very top and set up. Wasting no time we were in Lisbon by noon.

Lisbon is a big city no doubt, but the old charm and nice views make it worth the visit. Like any big city, all is not perfect. In one market I came up behind a couple of guys talking about Tam and her “grand photo”. They looked like they came from the hellish campground a few nights previous. One then point to the right side of Tam and motioned for his friend to go left. He then mimed that he would grab the camera. I was at least a head teller then both of them... a simple but loud “humhum” directly above their heads and they took off at a run.

We wandered all over the city and the hills around it. The architecture really grabbed Tam and she was taking photos like a lunatic. Lisbon is built between 5 hills and had elevators in several sections of town. You either had to pay to ride them or get fit and walk up steep hills or a myriad of stairs to get around. Lisbon also had adopted a San Francisco motif it had an exact replica of the SF bridge, as well as street cars that would ferry people around the city and up the steep hills.

The city of Lisbon was once a port kingdom and just our luck the sea defences were closed and the castle was way to expensive to go into. So we took all those stairs for nothing!!! In truth the views over the city from some of the viewpoints was worth it anyway. On our way down from the hill top that held the castle we came across an archaeological dig site that was in the process of uncovering a roman colosseum that was estimate to be massive in its day, but now is little more then a few bricks.

We spent the rest of the day and evening in Lisbon wandering around little streets and alleys and enjoyed it all. We had read that one of the National dishes or Portugal was fried sardines with sea salt and found a little café that sold it. So we ordered a platter for two (which just so happen to come with a carafe of sangria). Shortly after an American couple walked in. Our meal arrived, it was literally a pile of whole fried sardines (not gutted, deheaded, or anything) covered in corse sea salt. The American man shot us a dirty look said to the waiter (in English) that our “meal is making his wife sick.” The waiter simply scoffed at him and walked away. They left shortly after that, why do some people even travel?

We retuned to the city the following night to do some night photography. Most cities are at there most photogenic at night and Lisbon is no exception.

Lisbon is a modern city that has maintained its old world charm; it has all the hustle and bustle of any large city but also has a unique prettiness that is lost so often in the race for money and growth. Funnily enough I really enjoyed Lisbon but am finding it hard to say why or explain more.

On our way out of town we stopped in a huge camping store that oddly one sold one brand, but next to where we parked was the ultimate rat travel bike. A modified Honda Deville, would you just look at those tank panniers!

From Lisbon we headed to Sintra.. a massive 20min ride. When we got there we found a picture perfect little village that was dotted with abandon mansions. We could not believe that some of these places were left to rot. One in particular caught both our attention. It looks like it was an old nunnery or something. It was huge and beautiful and empty. It would be a tragedy if it were to fall to bits. It was just calling out to become a B&B.

We wandered around town for a bit, but decide not to pay entry fees in to any of the castles or forts (the cheapest being about 5€, the most was 11€ each). We have been too spoiled by our national heritage and trust cards to start paying at least of 1/3 our daily budget on an entry fee.

After awhile we decided to head to the coast to find a campground. Our GPS and maps both let us down and several listed on the GPS were caravan or wild camps or were closed for whatever reason. Finally we did find a camp and it was nice enough although we pitched to close too the services block and I was unable to sleep for most of the night.

At the time of writing this we are back in Sintra at the library that will not accept our memory stick and says it has a virus but the eee pc and avast claims that the virus come from them. Later to day we head for Evora,

He Says – Redemption

2009-08-17T18:02:00.001+01:00

15 - 17 Aug 09

we headed towards Alcobaca, a little town we planned on spending the night in before plunging to Lisbon,

Just before the turn to, I saw the Baltalha Cathedral. I immediately pulled off. The Cathedral was awesome, literally and figuratively. The city was clean and pretty and the people were much more polite. My spirits raised bit. The Cathedral was a massive structure and I was tempted to spend the night there walking around, but we decided that we should keep going as

Alcobaca was supposed to be nice as well and it would mean a short ride to Lisbon. We did, however, spend a good couple of hours looking in and around the square and cathedral and both really liked it. We then headed to Alcobaca, but not before being surounded by a few guys who were facinated by the Anubis then our trip.

Shortly after we arrived at Alcobaca, we checked into the 7€ (total) a night municipal campground, it was great!!! Small cheep quiet clean, and friendly unlike in Porto or the campground the night before. I was not worried and no one was scowling at us. After settling in and eating fresh spaghetti, with homemade tomato sauce and canned meatballs (the meatballs were not the best idea,, the rest was great though). We went for a walk and saw some very pretty little townhouses and an amazing monastery all by night. Strangely enough we also came across a Moroccan Berber tent in the middle of the city….. A young man went to Morocco, fell in love with it and is now promoting (on his own euro) Morocco and a lot of northern Africa. He was a bit mad and I think had religious undertones to his promotion.

The city was dominated by a huge monastery that filled the central square, it was surrounded by alleyways full of shops and restaurants. There were a surprising number of empty houses that once again could be easily used as hotels and B&B. None the less the town had a small and peaceful feel to it. The first four days in this country I did not find anything we really liked then in the space of 4 hours we found two Portugal was redeeming itself.