Wallis On Wheels Big Bicycle Adventure

After crossing into Mauritania with relative ease the first port-of-call was Nouadhibou. This was another peninsula town that would mean back-tracking afterwards but unfortunately necessary. With only a few Moroccan Dirham’s now remaining I had little to change into the Mauritanian Ouiguiya currency, and this town was the only place for the next 200 miles or so with an ATM.
The following night’s accommodation at Bou Lanouar. A round stone built auberge with large rugs on the ground with mattress’s and pillows made for a good night’s kip. Having only done 56 miles this day it only seemed like a wise place to stop as was the last real town… although the word ‘town’ conjures up images of more than what there really was, the shop was a caravan with a wooden shack screwed to one end where the assistant laid on his mattress until someone appeared. Looking back the desert sections in Mauritania made Western Sahara look easy, water bottles and containers were maxed out. When the mid-day heat strikes you feel it, I called the 2-4pm slot the ‘death-zone’, and this is the cooler time of year! One thing I notice is how the evenings day-light extends quicker than in UK (and Europe), due to the fact being closer to the equator.



The evening before at the round auberge Maarten had lite-heartedly said about how testing African tap water would be interesting, always drinking it unfiltered, where I always use my Katadyn ‘pocket’ filter. This proved essential, even in France and Spain, for drinking river water when free-camping. The thought of buying copious amounts of bottled water over the year’s tour never appealed to me, adding to the ever growing problem of pollution from initial bottle production, packaging and shipping and then the wasted bottle once empty, recycling still being a word few African people would see any advantage to. Sitting under the shade of the tree the next thing I know Maarten’s as sick-as-a-dog. The past few days we’d eaten the same, the only difference being the water. One filtered, one not. Considering he’d recently qualified as a medical doctor not bringing a water filter or any purification tablets to the African continent seemed a strange choice.
A few miles down the road was a police check-point, along with [fortunately for him] an auberge. Certainly in no fit state to carry on we ended the day there. The next day showed little signs of recovery so another day off, talking about the situation we decided the only choice was for him to get a lift to the capital city of Nouakchott whilst I’d bash out the remaining 200 miles solo.



Luckily I brought a replacement sprocket in Barcelona. As I only have the special tool to hold the sprocket for removal but not a chain-whip tool I asked at the auberge about a bike shop, one of the chaps took me in a taxi to one but they had no such chain-tool, second shop, a moped mechanic wanted to use a big adjustable pipe wrench to reverse spin the sprocket!! I said no because if he couldn't remove it then I would have more damaged teeth by 'Mr. Wrench' and the wheel would then go nowhere, unlike in it's present condition where I could 'limp' out of town. The third mechanic shop tried similar and again I had to politely (smiling) say no, trying not to offend the mechanics skills yet at the same time ensuring control over the situation. Next he pulls his trump card, placing a moped chain around the sprocket then used our friend 'Mr. Wrench'...Viola! Off it came and on went the new one. Taxi there 200UM, mechanic 1500UM, taxi back 200UM...and 500UM for my auberge 'friend'. Total 2400 UM (tad under £6.00).If the new sprocket last’s as far as the original one (just over 8000 miles) then I’ll be fine getting to South Africa.





St Louis tested my patience. A large section of this town is an island, connected by two bridges. I’d heard a story that one of the bridges was meant to go to St Luis in Missouri, USA but was sent here by mistake. Although not believing this as having cycled over this on Route 66 the ‘Chain or rocks’ bridge by St Luis Missouri, that crosses the Mississippi river, is about twice as wide as the Senegal river so the bridge would have been too long to use here
As a westerner, walking down the streets your seen as European €ash machine:

“Hello my friend, how are you? My best friend lives in England” (normally Birmingham but sometimes York) I’m fine thanks. “I am an artist” Oh, I see. (Next a bag is opened with trinkets and usual tat). “just look” Ok, I’ll just look “which do you like?” I like this one, but let’s remember, I’m just looking (that was the deal, remember?) “Choose a free gift” Oh, that old chestnut…walk on..

It made it difficult to accept anyone talking to me. Annoying for me as I always try to talk to people and be friendly. A greeting from what initially appears to be genuine show of friendliness was always laced with some sales pitch for yet another bag of tat or a small stall around the corner out of sight. Some of the items were nice, but on a bicycle tour? Kids also shouting over “give me five dollars”, I’d reply “if you give me ten”. (Jeremie, The French chap we met on bicycle tour with Claire corrected some locals once who thought every European has a government issued ATM card that enables them to a never ending supply of money ‘out the wall’. He explained that we actually have to work for this money and our employer then puts ‘some’ money into a bank account).
Senegal seems to be big on Orange (the phone people)…or maybe Orange is big on Senegal. Every village on entry has a Bievenue sign and Bonne Route on exit, with further signs dotted through the village.
Now heading toward [The] Gambia, where I’d be taking a few days off at a friend’s holiday house, and fitting replacement tyres that were brought down by him when he drove his American GMC truck there in September 2010. With no need to visit the capital, Dakar, at Thies I veered off the main road onto a quite country like road, still good tarmac and with some scenery of what real one expects real Africa to be. Back onto the main road again at Sindia and following this for 45 miles to Fatick where I’d take another quiet road to [hopefully] a river ferry crossing. Some locals at the town of Fatick confirmed there was a ferry. This scenic route was about 60km shorter than the main road and avoided going through Kaolack. Once again it was a good tarmac road. Just as I arrived at the end the ferry was about to pull away, perfect timing. On the other side of the river was Foundiougne. Staying here for the night at a guest house room (£6), via someone I started talking to on the ferry. 

The road out of town, quite a contrast to the previous day’s smooth running. ~20 miles of broken tarmac, pot-holes, gravel and sand, real Africa I guess! From here getting to Roy and Carols house in The Gambia was achievable but I had no intention of big miles, with a 4-5 days rest another night free-camping was no problem. With little to stop for the miles slowly crept up and not before long I as was at Karang, the border town. Stamped out of Senegal, then into Gambia things couldn’t have been easier, to be honest, I could have just carried on cycling, there was no border guard, just the border office set back off the road with a few chilled policeman ambling around, maybe a sign of life in Gambia.

Happy kids helping the tourist fill bottles (filtered) from their well

Timing! The Barra to Banjul ferry, I always seems lucky with ferries, always on the verge of departing just as I approach. Banjul being the capital of The Gambia. Luckily there was a money changer in town as the ATM here was not working. The currency in Gambia is the Dalasi, approximately 45 to the pound. With about hour’s sun light remaining meant a quick sprint to Brufut, the destination town….so much for my free-camping plans?

There’s a few good things (so far) about [The] Gambia: 
(1) Along with their native Wolof, Fula and Mandinka they speak English, my limited French does present me with frustration at times! 
(2) Islamic, although still preached isn’t such a big issue, so no 5:20 chants to Allah. 
(3) Beer, thanks to the above point, is as easy to buy as baguettes. I have a new addition to my menu: Rice and baked beans…with baguettes of course!

So now the bike’s had new tyre’s fitted, a clean chain, new hub-gear oil, new break-pads, and even brought some polish for the saddle. Next up I’ll be heading east for a while, following the main road through The Gambia, popping back into Senegal before reaching Mali. One good thing being currency, for the next four countries (Mali, Burkina Faso, Togo & Benin (Five including Senegal)) is the same, the CFA, (Central African Franc).