Happy Christmas!!

A rather strange medium, but the best way to wish all of our friends and family a wonderful Christmas time and (for those of you in northern Europe) warmest mid-winter wishes.

Pic 1 shows life just outside the fort at Cape Coast. It is hard to believe that only 200 years ago slaves were being led down those very steps (now a mass of colour and life) to work in the colonies - many passing through Bristol's docks. The fort is now listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site and a very sobering place to visit.

Further along the coast we have found ourselves the perfect place to spend Christmas - a stetch of palm lined beach in southern Ghana [www.greenturtlelodge.com & pics 2+3]. Many other overlanders we have met along the way are also converging here so rest assured, we'll be in good company!

Reflections on Guinea

Neither Sanna nor I knew much of this country other than it was mountainous and had given the world great musicians such as Mory Kante and Bembeya Jazz!
Our revised entry route from southeast Senegal proved to be the most challenging yet. There was no problem with the border procedures - the officials (obviously surprised to have visitors) were extremely helpful and friendly once we had awoken them. However, the road (clearly marked on our map) was no such thing. After climbing the boulder strewn ascent to 1000 metres, the route quickly deteriorated as years of heavy rains and even heavier trucks left their marks. When we did manage to take our eyes off the road we were repeatedly awed by the spectacular scenery of the Fouta Djalon [photo 1].
Once we did reach tarmac (of sorts) all traffic seemed to be heading in the same direction as us - towards Kankan, Guinea's most religious town. As there is hardly any public transport in Guinea, and vehicles are few and far between, those that were travelling were packed with everything bar the kitchen sink! [photo 2 - yes, they are motorbikes!].
The following weekend was Tabaski: hugely important 3 day family celebration in the Islamic calender where each family is expected to slaughter a sheep. In Kankan we were privileged to be invited to witness one extended family's slaughter of two bulls by the head of the family [photo 3].

We found the Guineans to be the most friendly, hospitable and generous people so far. Where else in the world would a hotel manager offer you a free room for the night because "we were guests in his country"?
From Guinea we are passing through Mali and Burkina Faso on the way towards Ghana's beaches for Christmas.

Failed Coup Changes Plans

Looking out to sea from Cap Skiring (Senegal's southern remote beaches) a lone frigate patrols the horizon. Just 12km away lies the border with Guinea Bissau, now recovering following a failed coup d'etat by members of the armed forces last weekend. The President survived but the usual civil unrest followed and many non domicile residents evacuated. This is particularly sad for the country - one of West Africa's poorest - as its people have been slowly recovering from the civil war 10 years previously.

This news meant out with the maps again and a re-think of our route as we were due to cross the border within the next two days. We decided to head east through Senegal visiting Niokolo Koba National Park (pic. 1) and Bassari country (pic. 2) before cossing into the Guinean mountains thus bypassing Guinea Bissau.

Sanna writes ... 2

Encounters with Policemen

A constant feature of travelling throughout West Africa is police checkpoints, army checkpoints, customs checkpoints and immigration checkpoints. Every time you enter a town you have to stop at one or other and sometimes all four which can take anywhere between 2 minutes and half an hour. On a hot dusty day, after hours of driving over potholes, remaining serene and unruffled can prove challenging! We have found that these encounters fall into 3 different categories, but all start in similar fashion:

Jonnie (usually) driving along tooting at passersby amid a chorus of local children hailing our arrival with cries of ‘toubab’ (from colonial times when children asked for two bob – now means tourist or white person – to which Jonnie usually replies in wolof ‘mofingo’ meaning ‘black person’ to general hilarity although mostly Jonnie’s). I spot a POLICE HALTE sign and we desperately start scanning the surrounding area for (a) any sign of a policeman; (b) the exact spot in the road we are supposed to stop (very important not to exceed this imaginary line) and (c) small children and goats who are venturing too close to the wheels.

After a moment or two of indecision (and feeling slightly stupid for having sat in the middle of the road for no apparent reason other than to entertain the amused onlookers), we happily think we’ve avoided an encounter when a policeman appears and ambles up to the passenger window. After recovering from the double surprise of seeing a lady on the driving side and then discovering there is no steering wheel on the left the policeman commences…

Friendly Policeman
Policeman: Hello, how are you?
Jonnie: ‘Fine, how are you?’
Policeman: ‘Fine, you are well?’
Jonnie: ‘Very well, thank you and you?’
Policeman: ‘Yes, yes fine. Where are you from?’
Jonnie: ‘England’
Policeman: ‘Ah England’ (knowingly) ‘Good good’ (we smile encouragingly).
Policeman looks at my watch.
Policeman: ‘I like your watch.’
Sanna: ‘Thank you. I like my watch.’
Policeman: ‘Give me your watch.’
Sanna: ‘No, I need my watch’
Policeman: ‘No, no, I need your watch.’
Sanna: ‘But it is my watch.’
Policeman: ‘But I want it.’
Sanna: ‘So do I.’
Policeman: ‘Well give me a beek.’
Jonnie: ‘A beek? What is a beek?’
Policeman: ‘A beek!’
Jonnie: ‘A beek?’
Policeman: Yes! A beek. You know, a pen, a beek.’
Jonnie: ‘Ah, a Bic!’
Policeman: ‘Yes, yes, a beek.’
Jonnie: ‘Sorry, we have no Bics.’
Policeman: ‘Ok, nice to meet you. You can continue.’
Inexplicably and happily waves us off.

Disgruntled Policeman
Policeman: ‘But why did you not stop?’
Jonnie: ‘We did stop.’
Policeman: ‘Yes, but you stopped here, why did you not stop there?’ (pointing two metres back)
Jonnie: ‘Because we thought the stop was here.’
Policeman: ‘No, it is there!’
Jonnie: ‘Shall I reverse?’
Policeman: ‘Yes! Reverse!’
Jonnie: ‘No problem.’ (Jonnie reverses 2 metres)
Policeman: ‘Now come forward’ (we pull forward) ‘Where are your papers?’
Sanna: ‘Which papers would you like?’
Policeman: ‘All your papers.’ (we hand over the numerous documents required)
Sanna; ‘All ok?’
Policeman: ‘Where is my cadeau?’
Jonnie: ‘Cadeau?’
Policeman: ‘Yes, my cadeau?’
Jonnie: ‘Sorry, we only speak english’
Policeman looks hopefully inside the car.
Policeman: ‘No cadeau?’
Jonnie: ‘No’
Policeman: ‘Your steering wheel. It is on the wrong side. That is illegal!’
Jonnie: ‘It’s a British car – right hand drive.’
Policeman: ‘Yes, but you are in Africa. You must drive with the steering wheel on the left.’
Jonnie: ‘That is not possible. Our steering wheel is on the right.’
Policeman: ‘So where is my cadeau’
Jonnie: ‘No cadeau – cadeau are for children not for you’
Inexplicably and begrudgingly signals us to move on.

Officious Policeman (in Gambia)
Usual conversation ensues until we hand over our international driving license…
Policeman: ‘But where does it say Gambia in this driving license?’
Jonnie: ‘It’s an international driving license. It covers everywhere.’
Policeman: ‘Do you think I’m stupid? I know what an international driving license is!’
Jonnie: ‘Of course.’
Policeman: ‘So where does it say Gambia?’ (we frantically search for anything that says Gambia and produce our insurance)
Policeman: ‘But that is not to do with me, that is for customs. I don’t want that document. Where does it say Gambia in this document?’
Jonnie: ‘It doesn’t.’
Policeman: ‘Why not?’
Jonnie: ‘Because it is international’
Policeman: (raising his voice) ‘Do you think I’m stupid? I’m the lieutenant of this police post. I know what I’m talking about and you are committing an infraction!’ (he looks back at his 5 minions sitting under the tree and watching with interest)
Jonnie: ‘We’re very sorry.’
Sanna: ‘You’re a very important policeman’
Policeman: ‘Yes, I am a good policeman. What should I do?’
Jonnie: (hopefully) ‘Nothing?’
Policeman: ‘And what would your police in England say if I did nothing. Would they think I was doing my job properly?’
Jonnie: ‘Yes?’
Policeman: (now almost squeaking with outrage) ‘No! They would not think it was right. You must have a fine.’
Jonnie: ‘We have no money’
Policeman: ‘Well you must go to court.’
Sanna: ‘Ok, we’ll have to go to court then.’
Policeman: ‘You will have to wait for the judge.’
Jonnie: ‘No problem’
Sanna: ‘When we go back to England we will tell them that the international driving license is wrong. We will speak to the RAC so they know in future.’
Policeman: ‘Well you are wasting my time with this driving license. I know what it is supposed to say.’
Jonnie: ‘Shall we continue then?’
Policeman: ‘Yes, yes. Go! Continue!’
Inexplicably allows us to go in flurry of disgusted head shaking.

Generally though we experience the first scenario more often than not. The police, army, customs and immigration are very friendly (see pic 2), and are more interested in having a chat. Recently they have started calling me ‘boss lady’ which I thought was a nice touch (and Jonnie thought was appropriate), but have since found out they call everyone ‘boss lady’ so less impressed. In reality the divisions are more along the lines of Pilot / co-Pilot and Chef/ Sous Chef and I’m not sure I’ve got the best end of the deal!

Wassu Stone Circles

Almost 10 years ago on my first visit to The Gambia, (Aussie) Pete Ray and I made a 4 day trip up river. We were keen to visit Wassu Stone Circles - a neolithic burial site dated to be around the same period as Stonehenge. As fate would have it, we arrived at the stones as the sun was going down making the red rocks glow in the setting sun. With no provisions or anywhere to stay that night we gratefully accepted an offer from the 'keeper' of the stones to eat and sleep at his compond.

And he is still there! Morro was as welcoming and keen to show us around as ever - and yes, he did remember the time two backpackers arrived at the site 10 years ago as he was locking up for the night!
We spent a wonderful evening with the family in their new compound and, just as 10 years ago, a huge bowl of delicious meat and rice appeared as fires and the sound of distant drumming and singing began to fill the night.

Beyond the Sahara

With the Sahara behind us we are now enjoying the lush deltas and beaches of Senegal. There are of course the cities and the magical St Louis captivated us for a couple of days. It was here we heard of the death of Miriam Makeba - one of South Africa's finest singers - and were very moved by the affection of the Senegalese towards her.
Our plans to drive inland to the Nikiolo Kobo National Park changed when we bottled out of the necessary 8 hours of continuous pot-holes! Instead we're relaxing in the beautiful village of Toubakouta, 40km from the Gambian border. I expect we'll cross tomorrow........

'The Choum Railway Piste

For both Sanna and I, one of the great "must do's" of this trip was driving the 500km alongside the great Choum railway (above pic.) in northern Mauritania. Recently made famous by Michael Palin's 'Sahara' series we thought "well, if he can do it......"
His trip was on board the 2.5km train - the longest in the world, carrying ore and phosphates from the mines deep in the Sahara to the coast. Ours, however, was in Jemima who loved and hated the two day desert crossing. She did her best to follow old tracks which frequently disappeared beneath the moving dunes and to find her best route through the 101 different types of sand without getting stuck. Only once did we need to get out the sand ladders, shovel and jack to ease her onto firmer terra firma.
Our night spent in the desert was breathtaking. The sunset, stars, eerie sound of the train during the night and our setting beside an outcrop of rocks (2nd pic) made for what will remain one of our most memorable lifetime experiences.
17 hours of dune and sand driving later and we're in the relaxed, friendly town of Atar planning very little for the next couple of days before our 450km drive south to the capital Nouakchott.

How to Steal a Country

1) Claim it is yours.
2) Allow the International Court of Justice to consider your claim.
3) Ignore their findings 'cos what do they know?!
4) Pour in troops and lure in civilians by creating a tax haven with many well paid jobs.
5) Wait a few years before announcing an election.

This seems to have been Morocco's approach to the Western Sahara since 1975 and after a UN brokered ceasefire in 1991many indigenous Saharawis still find themselves living as refugees in their own land. For us travelling south, other than being stopped at umpteen roadblocks / checkpoints, our experience is of a very friendly region which strangely feels more Westernised the further south we go. No doubt this will change drastically when we cross the Mauritanian border in the next day or two.
This leg of the journey has involved great distances (so far 3 days and over 1000km of desert highway (pic 1) but tax free fuel - 35pence/litre). We're currently relaxing in Dakhla (pic2) - the last major town before we start our Saharan crossing.

Over the Atlas

We crossed the High Atlas via a 111km off road route which give us time to appreciate the spectacular scenery whilst enjoying being off the beaten track. Using GPS co-ordinates we navigated our way up to the pass at 2200 metres above sea level where we spent the night looking down on the most spectacular thunder storm. Just a hundred kilometres or so south of these dramatic mountains the terrain flattens and the Sahara begins. Sand dunes start rising out of the horizon and the clouds which formed and swirled within the mountains evaporate raising the temperature considerably.
We're currently in Zagora planning our drive west along a route which may or may not be passable due to the rains. The rivers all converge on these flatlands creating muddy deltas and washing away tracks and bridges. Still witnessing homes destroyed by these exceptional flash floods.
Above photos of our Berber hosts in the Atlas mountains and Jemima getting herself into a very uncompromising position!

Further Evidence of our Changing Climate

After the last two summers in England we should be used to unseasonal rain, but the storms in this part of Morocco have caught everbody off guard. Not only in the Middle and High Atlas where they originated, but also in the desert flatlands to the south where we are now. High winds, rain and hail have caused widespread damage to roads, bridges and property. In one town (where we stopped for coffee) it was estimated that one in three homes had been badly damaged or destroyed. Being built traditionally of adobe (mud bricks, rendered with mud and straw) such buildings are particularly vulnerable in heavy rain. Sadly, but not surprisingly, they are slowly being replaced with sand and cement - and so the cycle continues....
Above photos show us fording a flooded bridge and me getting 'roped' into some adobe repairs.

Sanna writes... 1

I am keeping a daily journal of our 6 months away and thought I would put some excerpts on the blog from time to time, but having looked back at what I’ve written these contributions would essentially be about food (unsurprisingly) and Jonnie heroically repairing our electrics in various different locations. So I’ve decided instead to tell you various anecdotes. The first is about arriving in Morocco without the all important green card:

In Morocco with no Green Card
A green card or ‘carte verte’ is basically a flimsy bit of paper which insures you for driving in Morocco, not so much for your own benefit, I have come to realise, but more because in the (very likely) event that a crazy Moroccan crashes into you all their expenses are covered and you still have to pay to repair your own car. Genius. Anyway, I very efficiently double checked with the man at the RAC and various other sources that I could definitely buy our ‘green card’ at the border – all replies in the affirmative. We decided to cross between Algeciras and Ceuta (instead of Tangiers) because we thought that, with Ceuta being Spanish (in much the same way Gibraltar is English, but with better duty free options), we would be able to hang out in ‘Spain’ if there was a problem. The border with Morocco is 1km down the road from Ceuta and we arrived without incident. We were ‘helped’ by very friendly people who I thought, at first, were either a modern version of the Knights Templar for tourists, or extras on Star Wars the New Generation, but in fact they were just helpful Moroccans wearing brown jellabahs (see photo above). With our passport form (yellow) and car form (green – although crucially not green card which is not actually green at all) filled out we were waved through with no problems whatsoever. I did mention the fact that we had no green card to the border guard, but he didn’t seem particularly bothered so we happily drove off thinking how easy it had all been.

Five minutes down the road, having experienced an alarming glimpse of Moroccan driving we turned back to the border to try and ask more firmly where we might get a green card. Armed with my very official looking file of every conceivable piece of information you might need when driving in Africa I approached the guard (who seemed more concerned that I was walking the wrong way through a border post than the fact I was illegal) and insisted he tell me where the green card cabin was. He replied that the green card cabin was only open at the Ceuta border during summer and that we would have to get it somewhere else (although not so forthcoming on where exactly) otherwise we’d have to go to Tangiers. We continued on the the nearest town Tetouan where we were going to change our Euros into Dhiram anyway and thought we would try to get the card there. After 4 hours and lots of to-ing and fro-ing between extremely kind people from the tourist office and AXA, lots of mint tea and several telephone calls later we found ‘Assurances RANDA’ who were able to issue us with a ‘carte verte’ for Dh 950 (about 90 Euros).

So we are now completely legal and ready to face everything Moroccon driving has to throw at us! (We are certainly the friendliest drivers on the road as Jonnie happily hoots his horn at anyone and everyone and waves out the window with abandon – especially if it’s a landrover!)

Saharan Storms

It's only 24 miles between Algeciras (in Spain) and Ceuta (also Spanish run but well and truly attached to the African continent) but what a difference a stretch of water makes! Not just in people, language, food and rules of the road, but climate too. It's been chucking it down and over the last two days we've encountered thunder storms, flash floods washing away roads and gale force winds! Our tent has been amazing (thanks Paul) keeping us dry and sheltered through two pretty severe nights.
Anyway, weather looks like it's changing for the better now so we can continue exploring these magnificent towns and cities without our raincoats! Currently in Meknes (Morocco's third Imperial City) enjoying getting lost in the medinas and drinking mint tea in the squares. Above, photos of Chefchaouen, a beautiful hillside town in the Rif Mountains with windy cobbled streets where all the buildings are painted a tranquil white/blue.

Down the Silver Route

The Ruta de la Plata runs between Gijon in the north to Seville in the south. A truly historic route previously trodden by pilgrims, traders and crusaders (and now overlanders). You can read more about the route at link below:

http://www.spain.info/TourSpain/Grandes%20Rutas/Rutas/Rutas/0/Ruta%20Via%20de%20la%20Plata?Language=EN

It's been a fantastic leg of the journey for both of us taking in some incredible historic sights as well as passing through some of Spain's most beautiful landscapes whilst experiencing the changing cultures and scenery as we progressed south. I'm writing this in Tarifa while Sanna stocks up on 'Western' products before our planned crossing to Morroco tomorrow from Algeciras. No tickets booked - we'll just turn up early and queue....

Settling into Spain

Heading over the Picos de Europa and north towards the city of Gijon to stay with Clara and Oli - a couple we had met in June at Martin's birthday. What an amazing city!! Ok, we've decided if we ever want to leave England this is the place to move to! Mountains in view, beaches in walking distance, not over developped, sociable and full of cider houses (siderias). Above photo is how not to serve cider at Apple Day - from above head height and into glass held below waist to agitate the drink and release the goodness.....
We had an amazing couple of days (thanks mainly to our hosts) who first planted the idea of travelling South following the old ´Ruta de la Plata´ from Gijon in the north, through Leon, Zamora, Caceres and finishing up in Seville in the south.

And on into Spain

Hope all border crossings are this easy!....Jemima is proving to be a very good workhorse, coping well with the most challenging mountain passes we can find. Only problems so far have been a rattling exhaust mount, melted brake bulb holder (from overuse on the descents) and blowing the leisure battery charging fuse. All sorted at no expense!
For our first night in Spain we followed a dirt (hunting) track off the main road for 2km and were rewarded as it opened out onto a plateau with fantastic panoramic mountain views. [And fortunately no hunting the following morning!]

There´s Bears in them Hills!

Well - a Stevie Bear at least.... After a chance e-mail and a slight detour we met up with Steve for a couple of days at his sister and niece's farmhouse in the foothills of the Pyrenees. Only about 50km from the Spanish border and with a view of the peaks, it was the perfect spot for a bit of R & R as well as walking and some catching up.

Camping and a new look....

Camping in Cap Ferret (outside Bordeaux) for 3 nights while Sanna pops back to Londres for an urgent hair appointment .....and the screening for 'the Barristers'. Finally all over for Sanna so celebrated with birthday champagne. (Thank you Simon and Carole!)

The Wine Regions

From Brittany to the Loire and some wine tasting at Chateau Pierre Bise - delicious white wines 6 of which are now on board (pictured above with vineyard owner). Then through Cognac and on towards Bordeaux where we drove through the medoc and haut medoc stopping for some more wine tasting at Chateau Loudenne on the banks of the Gironde (Jemima in front of the chateau gates). Continuing south we passed through the Cote de Gascogne - Armagnac country - and spent a lovely afternoon learning about fermentation, maceration and vinification - and still remembered it all after extensive tasting! Last photo is outside Chateau de Millet with the owner Francis Deche and his daughter. This is the life!!!

Free Camping (& food)

Day 2 and we find ourselves on the South Brittany coast amid a crazy throng of ‘palourdes’ gatherers. The shellfish (rather like a cross between cockles and clams) were in abundance following two consecutive low tides. Sanna's charm won us a washing up bowl full; most of which we returned to the sea. The remainder we cooked and added to our evening meal. Very tasty - especially when washed down with a fine Rioja. Thank you Gary!

Overnight Ferry

After a good night's sleep aboard the overnight ferry to Roscoff we discovered Jemima had been up the whole night making new friends! A Breton couple returning from a tour of the UK and a couple from Bromsgrove (Malverns) off on a walking holiday in the Pyranees. This cameraderie never happenes with Ford Mondeos!

The leaving weekend

Our last weekend in the UK was one to be remembered. Surrounded by family, food, September sunshine and the beautiful Devon coastline! France tomorrow....

vehicle prep.

Here's Jemima at WOMAD festival, and yesterday, Jonnie helping to remove the gearbox!

Jemima!

And our vehicle.....