Week 21, Crossing Guinea Bissau by bicycle, TOTAL 8521 KM ( COUNTRY# 11 )

After the intensity of crossing Mauritania and the Casamance region of Senegal it was nice to roll through a little slice of Africa that’s biggest challenges were the physical demands of fully loaded cycling and another language barrier. Finding myself somewhat tongue twisted going from French Senegal to English speaking Gambia, followed by the crossing into Portuguese Guinea Bissau in a matter of weeks.

The tranquil border of Mpack where southern Senegal meets Guinea Bissau was one of the nicest I’ve had to date. I arrived at the crossing to be met with a handshake and rickety old plastic chair propped up against a large tree. My passport was taken from me by a man in civilian clothing and all the necessaries were sorted in a matter of minutes, no jostling and hassling at this border post as I was back on the bike and heading in the direction of the capital Bissau before I could finish my coldrink.

Bissau home to just less than half a million people feels more like a large town than a city and the  population of the country at around 1.5 million has the beautiful spin off of almost zero traffic on the roads. A cyclists paradise as road surfaces in Guinea Bissau are better than some of its neighbouring West African countries and the north and central regions are reasonably flat making it a great spot for budding cyclo tourists keen to try their hand at a slightly more exotic location.

Forced to spend a few days in Bissau whilst waiting for visa’s for Guinea Conakry (30 000 CFA) & Ivory Coast (15 000 CFA) (both single entry, 1 month tourist visas). I was eager to get the Ivory Coast visa in Bissau which would give me the luxury of not having to cycle into Conakry, the capital of Guinea and afford me the option of taking a different route bypassing the congested city center and heading for the Fouta Djalon mountain range in the interior of the country.

Initially planning on taking a small boat from Bissau to Enxude (9 hours) in order to cross the river, I pulled the plug on the idea when they started loading livestock on the tiny wooden boat that was not much bigger than a canoe and wanted to sandwich my bike between a live pig and sack of rice, trying to explain that this just wasn’t going to work for me I opted for another way out of Bissau and cycled in the direction of Bafata and onwards to Gabu.

Listening to the calls of “Branco Belele, Branco Belele’’ as you make your way through the small villages of the countryside, Guinea Bissau serves up a healthy dose of hospitality as locals seem to go out there way to point you in the right direction and the youngsters jostle over the opportunity to fill your water bottles from the wells that make up the center piece of most villages.

Currently in Gabu just over a day’s ride away from Koundara which is the crossing into Guinea country number 12, waiting for the internet facility to open in order to publish the blog, unfortunately there are only two internet facilities in Gabu, one of which is permanently closed and the other closed on weekends and powered by generators between Monday and Friday.

Week 20, Robbed in Senegal, the river crossing into Banjul, The Gambia & crashing in Bakau. TOTAL 8162 KM, country # 10

The availability of food and water south of the desert is no longer a problem, but travelling through sub-Saharan Africa alone on a bicycle poses its own set of challenges as week 20 served up a myriad of twists and turns in the Global Wheeling saga.

Rolling out of Dakar jostling for space to make it off the heavily congested peninsular and onto the calmer southern route towards Mbour is a challenge in itself as you are forced to battle through bumper to bumper traffic churning out more smog than a coal station. Heading for the town of Fatick in search of the tiny ferry crossing to Fjoundjoun which would carry me over the river and deliver me to the gravel road 33 km north of the RN4 and approach to the Gambian border post of Karang and country number 10.

The town of Fatick would offer the weeks first obstacle as I pulled over on the side of the road to check my map, in the process having my toiletry bag stolen off the ground which contained my Malaria medication, sunblock, rehydration sachets and all the other practical and really handy bits and pieces that seek refuge at the bottom of a traveling west African toiletry bag. After a few loud and frustrating words that seemed to bridge most language barriers, I accepted the loss, took a deep breath and made tracks to the little ferry crossing that had drawn me to the region.

Having embarked on my first Ferry crossing since arriving in Northern Morocco from Malaga in the South of Spain on December 22, the soothing flow of gentle African waters and blue skies helped to defuse my earlier frustrations, arriving at the town of Fjoundjoun ready to embark on a new journey of trying to replenish the stocks of my recently stolen toiletry bag. The first on the list would be the Malaria kit followed by toothbrush and soap, the sunblock however would pose a bigger challenge.

Karang, the border crossing into The Gambia was at the top of the agenda with my stocks now semi replenished. Making the grave mistake of telling the now English speaking border officials that I would be writing a little piece on my weeks travels, this was perceived to be journalism and did not go down well as the Gambian border officials escorted me through to the back of the building and proceeded to rifle through my luggage, as I was subjected to a barrage of questioning, letting me know that no photos were to be taken in Gambia without their consent and breaching this would result in my incarceration. My visit happened to coincide with the Gambian Independence day on February the 18th which may have added to the intensity of the situation as this was the only official headache I had in what is a beautifully warm and friendly nation.

From the border crossing of Karang to the town of Barra and home to the major ferry crossing to the capital city of Banjul is a fairly easily navigated stretch of tarmac, getting onto the ferry in Barra however is another story completely. Arriving in Banjul later than I had hoped for as the sun was setting, keen to stay within budget and avoid paying for accommodation at all costs I ventured few km’s south of the CBD to find a stretch of bush to pitch my tent.

Coming across a sandy football pitch before anything else suitable I set up shop for the night somewhere close to the halfway line. Woken up at three in the morning by flashlights and the police on their regular patrol, after explaining my situation I was launched into a two hour conversation about travelling through Europe and the Sahara as the police official showed sincere interest in the project and seemed fascinated at the idea of covering so many miles on a bike which in comparison to the tiny country of Gambia must have been quite impressive.

Onwards to the embassy of Guinea Bissau in the town of Bakau to obtain my visa for the following country on my list which went without hassle, leaving the embassy was not as smooth, as I had an accident resulting in some serious damage to the bike, snapping my front cargo rack, tearing a pannier, severing the odometer cable and breaking spokes which forced me to track down some local help to rectify the situation. Backyard bush mechanics, superglue and bubble gum the order of the day as we are back on the road in slightly worse shape than before but definitely up and running.

Crossing back into the southern half of Senegal and entering the Casamance region is a very different feeling to the North of the country as I left the border post of Selety in the south of The Gambia in the direction of Bignona and Ziguinchor the presence of military officials along the RN4 was very apparent along with numerous barricades and documentation checkpoints. The region home to the Jola tribe and a rebel group that would like to see the Casamance region independent of Senegal has the region heavily militarised which made it impossible to camp on the RN4 as the military officials advised me to ask for assistance in the next village before sunset, the failure to do so might result in a case of mistaken identity if my tent was stumbled upon late in the night.

Making it to Ziguinchor in the south of Senegal just north of the Guinea Bissau border in time to publish the blog and have a few last minute tweaks to the bike before attempting to cross into country number 11, week 20 sees country number 10 and the 8000 km mark being reached which is bang on schedule at 400 km’s a week, next blog due somewhere south of here.

Tags: crossing Gambia by bicycle, Guinea Bisau visa in Banjul, robbed in Senegal

Week 19, Global Wheeling cycles into The World Social Forum in Dakar, Senegal 2011.

Managing to roll into Dakar in the nick of time after a rather demanding crossing of the Sahara desert by bicycle, Global Wheeling flies its flag for South Africa at the 2011 World Social Forum.

“Another World Is Possible”, the mantra of the gathering echoed through the Cheikh Anta Diop University campus as activists from all four corners of the globe converged in this West African nations capital to discuss a world that harbours just a little more compassion for the planet & our fellow brothers and sisters. This mantra and these ideologies coinciding with the beliefs and values of the Global Wheeling Foundation and our ethos of community enrichment and environmental awareness, our organisation benefiting hugely from the opportunity to learn from its bigger brothers and sisters.

Rubbing shoulders with fellow activists and exchanging ideas on how to implement this mantra was the major driving force behind the gathering. Not without its logistical speed bumps the forum continued over the course of the week, the second official African Forum since its inception in 2000, proves that the movement is alive and kicking and our efforts to fight for positive change are not going un-noticed.

Connections made and relationships forged as Dakar played host to this gathering of the minds that continue to sacrifice and struggle for the greater good. The World Social Forum adds invaluable knowledge and continues to embrace and enhance the network of activists to help foster this positive change.

A huge thanks to Jennifer Moller from Flight Centre in Nelspruit, South Africa that went above and beyond the call of duty to get one of our sponsors out to Dakar for the forum at the 11^th hour, a tricky affair to say the least.

The bike ride continues down through Senegal towards Gambia and onward to Guinea Bissau, week 19 goes out to Mike and Rod in P.E, thanks for the continued support, much appreciated.

Week 18, Embraced by the warm heart of Africa, but not before being kicked in the face by its right boot. TOTAL 7681 KM

The last stretch of the solo unsupported Sahara crossing by bicycle from Nouakchott to the Senegalese border was an intensely emotional affair after nearly a month in the Sahara rationing food and water supplies, I was hanging in there by a thread in more ways than one. Physically and mentally drained I mulled over the last few weeks in my head as I tackled the remaining few hundred kilometers on Mauritanian soil.

Unfortunately the final stretch of the desert would not be the spiritual experience and magical closure on the crossing I had envisaged, as I was spat at and stoned by villagers north of Rosso as I refused to give in to demands of “Cadeaux Cadeaux” (gift gift). Struggling to find a safe place to hide my tent for the night, getting spotted, harassed and having to move on as these jaded Mauritanians made their presence felt with a certain degree of anger.

There was the option of the quieter but more remote and demanding border crossing of Diama which would help to avoid the friction I was encountering on the main route south but would add kilometers to the journey and do so on an unsealed gravel road, an extremely difficult decision to make as I weighed up the odds and taking into account my near dehydrated and fatigued body, could I push it  even further over unsealed surfaces after such an intense month or should I brave the stone throwing on the shorter sealed route.

After the toss of a coin, decision made. I embarked on the unsealed road towards Diama which would offer no mercy as the corrugated surface and steep inclines on thick sandy surfaces forced me to get off the bike and push it for kilometers at a time, cursing that coin as I crawled slowly towards the Senegalese border.

 Just before leaving Mauritania I thought things were turning in my favour as the road surface improved ever so slightly and I entered the small national park of Du Diawling which offered a moment’s reprieve. I reached the other side only to be surrounded by men in military uniform trying to swindle me out of my last few Mauritanian Ouguiya, well aware I was intending to cross into Senegal they took advantage of our desolate location and their position of authority trying to harass the money out of me, saved by the bell as a vehicle came through the park I used the opportunity to make tracks hastily in the direction of the border trying to stay as close as possible to the vehicle for the remaining 11 km.

I reached the Senegalese border, stamped out of Mauritania, sitting on the bridge between the two booms head in my hands, my nose bleeding from dehydration in a surreal state somewhere between malnutrition, dehydration and completely in awe of the fact that I’d made it. I handed my passport over to the Senegalese border official almost desensitised to the procedure after the numerous military check points I’d been through in previous weeks, to be completely taken aback as he returned it to me with a broad African smile, looked me straight in the eyes and said “welcome to Senegal”, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders exhaling as I walked out his office passport in hand.

I arrived in St Louis which is a bustling West African fishing town just across the border; I couldn’t stop smiling as I cycled past fruit stands and little shops with bread and all the imaginable odds and ends my heart could desire. I cycled directly into the center of town sat myself down in a dirty little shack near the beach and got stuck into a fresh fish with salad.

 I had caught wind of a Frenchman that was cycling in the area and also attempting the crossing, I met him in St Louis which felt like meeting the only other person on the planet, an experienced cyclist with 27 countries and 32 000 km across the likes of Mongolia, India and Eastern Europe. He had pulled the plug mid-way on the Sahara crossing coming out of Boujdour in Western Sahara and hitch-hiked to the sanctuary of Dakhla, unable to move forward through the headwinds that caused so many problems. After crossing Mauritania his words to me were “I’m leaving the continent from Dakar, it’s too hectic here.”

I managed to squeeze in the final 260 km from St Louis to Dakar to arrive in the nick of time for the World Social Forum which is being held in Senegal this year.

Unfortunately I missed the opening march but will be in town resting my legs for a few days after covering 2731km in 27 days, averaging 101 km’s a day for almost a month with 35 kg’s of luggage across the most desolate part of the planet, a well-earned rest.