West Africa At Last

Well it's time for the next eciting installment of Ed's bycicle adventures and as you can imagine there are so many tales tell and i berely know where to begin.......

I'm in St Louis on the coast of Senegal.
Yes i made it across the desert  and now i have properly arrived in West Africa. I'm staying in a small encampment of musicians from Guinea Connackry on the beach. Living in rickety grass huts and spending the days playing music and hanging out. This is the life! and exactly what i hoped to be doing here. It's a fantasticly vibrant city on an island in the north of Senegal. It's one of the few places here with lovely old coloneal buildings left by the french, however crumbling they may be, and the place is buzzing with so much going on. This is essentially a fishing town and the water side is a crazy hive of activity building boats, mending nets, sorting, drying, smoking and seling fish. It stinks and to an English eye is absolute chaotic madness. Goats and sheep every where, children running about the place, horse carts, trucks, rubbish spread about everywhere, dirt, and every colour of the universe in the most fantastic dance of creation. I love it! I'll stay here for a liitle while so you'll get pics next time but here's a little taster:
Abduli making the all important Atire tea...

So How did i get here?
Well the last post i wrote in Boujdour in Western Sahara and the going was pretty tuff. Thankyou so much for those folk who left comments on reasons to do a journey of this sort. I found them all really inspiring and the last couple of weeks have been a huge learning experience for me. After a few more days cycling through the desert i was in a pretty good rhythm with it all. Long distances and endless emptyness. Most days had a hazy layer of cloud that kept the temperature down and created a mysteroius white washed effect over everything. I slept a couple of nights camped by service stations as there were no longer any towns along the way and continued to meet good people and largely enjoy life on the edge.

There were even the occasional signs to say i was heading in the right direction!

One afternoon a met a very friendly crew of guys living in tiny fishing huts nestled into the cliffs. These were pretty much the only people living in this part of the desert and they came from the city to work with the fishing for a couple of weeks at a time. We marvelled at one another for a while, drank tea together and i carried on my merry way.

That night i found myself i little unstuck as it was getting late and the service station i was hoping to get some supplies had nothing to offer. There was a campsight 30km further on but it would soon be dark and i was at a loss as to what to do. Just then a van pulled up with two French guys who offered me a lift in the right direction so i jumped on board with little idea as to how events would unfold. It turned out that they where heading to Bambako where Frank ran music projects for blind kids and that night we had a great little jam in the car park of a service station where we camped together. After that i found myself cought up in the flow of things. We were having a good time hanging out and had a lot in common including our route. I ended up excepting the offer of a lift to Nouakchott, the capital of Mauratania. I had had it in mind that i may take a lift of this part of the journey as it is this strectch of 450km of road where there have been kidnappings in recent years and the British foreign office advises against all travel. However if you were to allways follow their advice you would probably be to scared to laeve the front door. There was also a strong east wind blowing so i was happy to be cruising at speed in the van rather than battling the elements and risking dodgy encounters. Having said that I'm sure it would have been fine and infact i found myself feeling like i had missed out on part of the journey and let myself down. But what the heck i was having a good time and continued to hang out with these guys for a few days in Nouakchott playing music and enjoying the connection. I will checkout their projects when i reach Bambako, hopefully in a few months time.

It was as if someone had pressed a fast forward button for a few days of my journey and the xperience in the van answered many of my earlyer quetions as to why i wanted to travel by bike. It is indeed a completely different experience and people treat you in a very different way. I was very happy to get back on my bike for the 300 km across the remainder of Mauratania to where i am now in Senegal.

Entering Mauratania the desert begins to change straight away. First there is 4kms of "no-mans land" to cross after Morroco that belongs to neither country and is littered with abandoned vehicles and has no tarmac but a rough track winding it's way between the frontiers. There are also people looking to buy and sell vehicles or change money and ofcourse quite a scetchy vibe going on.

But once in Mauratania the desert is more inhabited with paople living in huts and Bedouin tents along the road side and for the first time in days there are actually trees and tufts of grass. Heards of camels, goats and even cattle start to appear and more and more villages along the way.

The Capital of Nouakchott is an incredible meeting of black West African cultures with the more Arab peoples of north Africa. There are people from Mali, Senegal, The Ivory Coast and all over, here to do some kind of business or other and the city has that chaotic West African feel thats going to be the norm from now on. One afternoon I paid a visit to the Gambian Embassy and had tea with the Ambassador who was expecting me as he is an Uncle to Lamin from the Fresh Start Foundation. It was lovely to meet the guys there and speak English and we had our photo taken together with the bike so hopefully i will have that soon to put up on this blog.

I have feeling that this post is probably just about long enough already so i'll draw it to a close now and tell you all about Senegal after i have been here for a little but here's a few pictures of the road south from Nouakchott to give you a taste of what a bike ride in this part of the world is like.

all the best to ona and all from the open road.
Ed

Plenty of time to my self.

This sure is a long road indeed and there ain't nothing i can do but just carry on peddling. Well, i could ofcourse jump on a truck and catch a lift for a few hundred kilometers and the thought has entered my mind many many times over the last few days. But i guess i must like the challenge, or maybe i'm just mad..... answers on a post card to......

But really, I have indeed wondered what this is all about, as you can imagine, and why anyone would embark on such a mission in the first place. I have my reasons, my big visions and motivations but it isn't allways easy keeping the vision in focus so i would love to hear from you as to what you think its all about. What does it mean to do a journey like this? Maybe I'm just looking for a bit of encouragement when the going gets tuff or perhaps it really is a total waste of time.... what do you reckon? Please leave a comment below.

And back to the blog;
I'm in Boujdour, another coastal desert town, and resting up for a day befor heading ever southwards. Now the distances are so epic i'm covering around 140km in a day which takes it out of you. So a day of rest was well needed.
The people here have been so friendly and welcoming as they have in all of southern Morroco. I'll sit in a cafe and moments later my neighbour will be chatting away with me asking questions of what i'm up to. I love the response and general disbelief when i explain that i have cycled from England and heading to The Gambia. There's a gentleness and relaxed way of being around here. The men seem to have all the time in the world to sit around in cafes and watch the world go by. What the women are up to, i don't know as most of them are hidden away probably making the world go round in far more usefull ways than us boys.

The road continues to follow the coast some of the time and then dip inland for a while where there really is very little variation in the landscape and continues to look mostly like this;

Thankfully there's not to much in the way of traffic passing this way but there are still plenty trucks and quite often they'll pass with the beeping of horns and waves of encouragement. This feels great untill the aftermath of a great force of hot wind mixed with sand and exhaust fumes hits me as i brace myself and hold course and the truck passes on. There are also the odd heard of camels and a few amusing road signs including;

..... clearly there is a danger of splashing water.....????

watch out for the sand.......
But my favourtite was this one;

When i saw this a become very excited that perhaps there maybe other cyclists on the road as i had not yet met any. A few kilometers later, or was it a hundred.... i realised that it must have been put there just for me and that made me feel much safer indeed.
and this one....

ohps

There are police checks all along the way aswell and the police have all been really friendly and equally bemused as to what I'm doing. One told me about someone thay had met once who was doing something similar for charity and i explained that i was doing the same however he was unimpressed when i told him how much i had raised so far. This got me to thinking about how to raise the profile of this trip and try to raise more cash for the Fresh Start foundation in The Gambia.

Firstly a massive thank you to those of you who have supported this project in all sorts of ways, only one of which is by donating cash. It would be great if any one would like to put it out on their own networks, have links on websites, or send twitters, of which i know nothing, or tell their rich friends or generally spread the word in anyway that works for you. when i reach the Project in the Gambia I'll send lots of pics and more info about whats going there which will help the whole thing make a bit more sense.
In the meantime big love to you all. I've got another 1000km of desert to cycle through befor Christmas.
Untill nexttime, here's another picture of some camels cause i love em,

All the best
Ed

Where the desert meets the sea

I'm 3 days into the desert now and it feels like a very long road to Mauratania.
A long, straight, flat road of empty desert with the pounding Atlantic Ocean on my right and the endless Sahara on my left. Its going to be at least a week of this but thankfully there are a handfull of towns and villages along the way to seek food and shelter, internet cafes and entertaining locals.
But a lot of the looks like this:

From Tafroute I headed west out of the mountains of the Anti Atlas to Tiznit and to the coast passing through Mirleft and Sidi Ifni. I stayed on a great little beach nestled into the cliffs but I can't remember the name of the place and it wasn't on my map, but some how i found myself there. From the cliffs huge red sandstone headlands jutted out to sea and over the years had been eroded into the most fantastic natural arches.

It was a secret little paradise with just a handfull of folk staying there and perfect to take it easy befor the long days cycling in the desert. These began from Guelmim heading south west to Tan Tan which was a dramatic ride through mountains and sandstorms with crazy winds cutting across the road blowing fine red dust over everything. But the ride was beautiful all the same.

That day also was my first propper meeting with the camels of the desert; first the road sign and the the real thing at watering time by the roadside.

I have got into a bit of routine now and a generally covering about 120 km each day on these flat roads and
as you can imagine i have so many photos i'd like to upload for your viewing pleasure but this computer is being so painfully slow that i think i've reached my threshold with technology for now so i'm gonna call it a night. Any way all the best from this little town of Tarfaya that already feels like the far ends of the earth but is only realy just the beginning of this long road across the Sahara.


Agra

Run to The Hills

Well it seems like an age ago since i last wrote in Rabat.
So much has happened, I have met so many different people, in many many places and there has even been some exciting drama to keep the reader entertained.



Agrandir le plan

I am currently close to Tafraoute in a stunning valley in the Anti Atlas mountains and enchanted by the glorious natural beauty of the place and dramatic scenery that just blows me away on every corner or over each new high mountain pass. The hills are arid rocky pinky red coloured formations while in the valley, where surely sometimes a river flows, there are dates palms and argon trees from which they harvest their cherished Argon oils.

It's great to be riding in these more remote places and this time of year there are very few tourists about. However even when you think you are absolutrly alone miles from any where there will allways be shepherd about like the dude above looking after his flocks even on the highest peeks he'll be there to greet you.

So i.m jumping ahead, what has happened on the road since Rabat...... , ohps, I can't find the question mark key on this arabic stylee keyboard.
Well the first few days were pleasent enough cycling through farmland south from Rabat through Rommani, Oud Zem and passed Beni-Mellal. Here I found myself on some busy roads with loads of trucks and busses so the cycling was not much fun some of the time and the weather was pretty dull as well. Just passed Beni-Mellal on the main road to Marrakesh a car pulled out in front of me and sent me flying over the bonnet into some kind of ninja role on the tarmac and I landed on my feat only slightly bruized but well shaken. Yes capoeira saved my life! The bike also was miraculously unharmed but my guitar took the brunt of the collision with the road and saddly was this time beyond repair. Now at this stage I would ensure all my family members that i'm absolutely fine and there is nothing to worry about!
The guy driving the car was totaly unhelpful and seemed unconcerned as to my well being but instaed only how he was going to weasel out of the situation, but the police were great.

Yes, thats the guy above......ggrrrrrrrhhhhhh.....

In the end i had to let go of any idea of getting any compensation out of him and set off just very glad to be alive. This was deffinitly a low point on the road and came just when i was already a bit fed up with everything anyway. But funny how things work out, for just after the accident i set off to look for a room for the night but the hotel in the nearby town was way to expensive; and then came along Hamid. As if he really was a manifestatioin of my guartdian angel, he invited me to stay with his family out in the sticks. So just a few hours later here i was in the bosom of a Morroan family being completely spoilt with endless tea, biscuits, tajhines and couscous and here they are, Hamid with his lovely Ma and Pa.

I ended up staying for three days taking it easy and relaxing into the rural life of a village in the olive grooves in the shadow of the Atlas mountains that loomed way above us. It was hard to leave but the calling of the mountains was ever present, however the weather turned and the rain fell forcing me to rest up and be spoilt for a little while longer. The family didn't want me to go at all and the thought of me on my own in the snowy mountains worried them as if i was their own son.When i finally did make my move Hamid's mother had tears in her eyes and the love of a family home touched me deeply but i felt revitalised ready for the road once again.

I made a slight detour to go into Marakesh to se if i could find a new guitar to keep me company upon the road. As you may know Marakesh is a fairly bonkers Morrocan city with its fair share of hassle so i didn't stick around to long. I ended up buying a guitar from a dude who had photos of himself with Jimi Page back in the day so i also felt happy that my trusted guitar found a good resting place in Marakesh as he took it as part payment.

 

And so to the mountains i did peddle. It had been raining for the last  four days in Marrakesh but up in the mountains it had been snowing heavily and so on the clear blue sky morning that i left town the fantastic snow capped peaks could be seen even from the city. I took it nice and easy and spent 3 days cycling up the hills towards the pass of Tizi-n-Test which at 2100 meters was the highest point of the my whole journey south and beyond. there was also another day of rains that slowed things down but the day I crossed over the pass was wonderful mix of spectacular sunshine and snow storms on the pass its self.

Crossing the Atlas felt like a significant moment in the journey. As is often the case the southern side of the mountain range was very different and much dryer than the north and from here on through the Anti Atlas and towards the great Sahara desert its just going to get dryer and dryer. For thats where i'm heading next; to the coast and then south to the desert.

This part of Morroco is home to the Berber people who are the original inhabitants of this region befor the Arabs moved in to the more northern parts of the country. They are the indiginous and are very keen to point out how they are different from their Arab neighbours. Having got further south the general vibe has become much more friendly and laid back and the Berber music has a great rootsy Afro feel well worth checking out. 

Here's a couple folk i met along the way keeping me entertained.

Much Love to ya all and see ya for the next exciting instalment of my bycicle wonders.

Ed

Rabat and beyond

This place is such a meeting of the new and old Morroco.


Agrandir le plan

I'm in Rabat, the capital of the country, apparently where the king lives and thankfully it's a very mellow city with very little hassle, but plenty of lively street life. I'm staying in a little hotel literally in the walls of the old madina. My room looks out over the wall of the old city to the modern part with wide streets, cafes, banks and further out all the embassies uncluding one for Mauratania where i have just picked up a VISA for 3 months. I had to explain that I was on a bike and it would take more than a month to get there and cross the desert to Senegal. Whilst sorting the bla bla at the embassy i met all sorts of other people heading that way. They did all think i was mas to be cuycling but it's good to know there's plenty of folk traveling that road.... After all the foriegn office does tel you not to. But if you followed all their advice you would be scared to leave the house at all:

Since i'd arrived in Morroco i had spotted the odd cyclist in our traditional spandex uniforms speeding about the roads and wondered if they were actually local lads..... And they are. It seems like Its getting quiet popular here and these two i met on the way into Rabat were so friendly chatting together as we cruized into town. I learnt alot about how you ride in Morrocon cities with these two aswell. It's all about the flow man ~ and not so much about traffic lights and junctions but we already knew that hey...

The ride from Checfchaouen took me out of some beautiful mountains to roling farmlands and then for a day of absolute flatness through fertile fields with rich black soil. Every where people were plowing with tractors or horses, while endless streams of donkey carts collected the veg and grasses returning to the towns loaded up. I'm sure in the region where they grow all the beatroot the donkey po on the road was a radient purple red colour; funny, the things you notice while peddling along.

evening game of football

Oh yeah, and you can buy anything here on the road side......

I may not get round to writing for a little while now as i'm going to be heading inland over the atlas mountains, then the Anti Atlas and south towards the desert.... at least thats the plan, so who knows whan i'll get round to sitting at a computer again.

Now the journey really begins.....

AFRICA.......

Yes Yes Yes,
Africa at last, and everything changes.


Agrandir le plan

So much has happened since my last post its hard to know where to start. Sitting here in this little internet cafe in the old madina in Chefchaouen. and on all the other computers teenage boys are on face book or watching music videos or football on you tube. Out side the tiny streets are painted blue and I'll try to recount the last few days.

After Jerez i took to the Atlantic coast south of Cadiz and braved gale force winds and wild storms that blew off the sea. First to Puerto Real through some marsh land, farms, and sad looking waist land.

I had wondered if it was actually wise to travel on that day but the weather turned out to be so dramatic it was great entertainment the whole way passed Chiclana de la Frontera, Conil de la Frontera and to Canos de Meca where it turned out Nelson Defeated the French and Spanish at the battle of Trafalga. As Nelson was a Norfolk lad i had an extra feeling of pride as i gazed out across the stormy seas untill the wind became so strong that my bike which was lent against the light house railings was blown over on top of the guitar strapped on the side. The whole thing happened in horrible slow motion yet there was nothing i could i do. I knew it was risky carrying the guitar on the bike like this and that this could happen at any moment but why now just as we reached the final days in Europe....... Well this all sounds very dramatic and it was for a while, however the next day i bought some super glue and glued up the cracks once again and there's plenty of life in her yet.
The next couple of nights were spent camped out with other characters of the road:  A Belguim couple driving an old merceedes camper to Mali...... That's funny, that's where i'm going on my bike; so we shared stories and eat wholsome food in their van sheltering from the rains.

The next night i camped just north of Tarifa with these crazy cats in the Casa de Porros. These guys really are living their dreams in vans on a kite surfing beach in the south of Spain. Their dilapidated caravan looks out across the straights to Morroco, Africa and beyond. There are van dwellers from all over hiding out on this little piece of land by the beach on the edge of Europe, and that's definitly how it felt. I sat and gazed across to Africa with just a little fear of what may lie ahead but eager to cross the waters and start the next chapter of the journey. As it turned out, i spent the following few days in Tarifa awaiting a package of the new video camera at the post office before i could catch the boat so i had plenty of time to gaze and wonder, and enjoy some stunning sun sets.

And then my boat came and suddenly the journey stepped up to the next level. I landed in Tangers at midday and decided to head up into the hills as I now had a few days free before i could get a Mauratania visa in Rabat. So I ended up cycling the110 km up the Riff mountains almost a 1000m to arrive in Chechaouen and arrived on the edge of darkness. In My first day cycling in Africa i was greeted with waves, thumbs up, cheers and beeping of horns probably more times than the entire cycle across France, Spain and Portugal. This is going to be something quiet different. The day was quiet full-on though, so i am just acclimatising here for a couple of days getting used to a new way of life before the 3 day ride to Rabat. This is a beautiful laid back town with a stunning old blue medina and plenty of guys calling out; hey my friend.... let me sell you something...
I guess I'll get used to that as i am now a white man in Africa once again, with all it's pros and cons.

Many, many other tales to tell.
Many more yet to unfold
To Africa and beyond.

10 days in Sevilla

Well i could have stayed here a whole lot longer and i did meet a bunch of English folk who have done exactly that. Life just seems a bit easyer, the weather is good, the rent is cheap, and people seem to have plenty of time to sit about the place in bars and cafes drinking the day away.
When I first arrived befor it rained i had mentioned how dry the landscape had been on my journey down and Pablo replied that it didn´t worry them as they didn´t drink water any way. Its true; coffee and beer at different times of day seems to do the trick.
So what did i do with my time in Seviila? Well i stayed with Jorge, who some of you may rememeber from Brighton capoeira 5 years back and Marta his lovely girl friend. They were fantastic hosts and so kind to let me stay for so long. They are still on the Capoeira tip and we had some fun leaping about with the group here. I even gave a class for the crew and did i lot of 'cup-oeira' together on the streets.
I also did get to check out a bunch of flamenco shows, both in the traditional Penas and some late night sessions.

They seem to have a fairly standard form with one ridculously skilled guitarist, a couple of passionate singers and a dancer caught in the throwes of exctatic creativity expressing their very souls to the world. The best performances also had half a dozen ´palmieros´ who clapped mental poly-rhythms that worked together with the foot stamps of the dancers to drive the whole show. Sometimes at the end other people would get up and sing and dance aswell and there is strong energy of a culture very much alive and kicking. There are obviously lots gigs for tourists going on but this is a living culture that the people here love and are very proud of. And long may it be so. And check it out, here it is going on at a zebra crossing!

I´ve been completely blown away with some serious musicianship of the guitarists and took a few classes that twisted my little neurons into knots and left me with plenty of home work to do. It feels like starting all over again, but you gotta challenge yourself sometime hey!

And talking of challenge myself I had a great day at the beach remembering how i was never very good at surfing. Jorge and i got quiet excited about the fact that my funky little go-pro video camera was also water proof and great for filming water sports so we strapped it onto the front of the surf board and tried it out in the shollows just to be safe. However the first little wave knocked it right off the end of the board and into  the murky waters. It sank and disappeared, never to be seen again. Ohps! Thankfully the lovely Visions movie crew are sending me another one so i can carry on making my road movie when it arrives....

I started to feel quiet settled in Sevilla but remembered that i had another mission ahead of me so I´ve packed up my bags and hit the road again. I am writing this in Jerez de La Frontera, 100km further south, that some people say is meant to be the real birth place of flamenco. I may stay a couple of days to find out for myself befor moving on to Tarifi and catching the boat to Africa!

Oh yeah, i did want to mention one thing about travelling by bike. You do get to see every inch of the landscape and its not allways pretty. Having enjoyed the city life of central Sevilla for a while I was struck by how the land was such a mess for a good 20km travelling away from town. I felt quiet sickened by the carnage that urban life creates but we tend to be blissfully unaware while enjoying it's bright lights. I know i´m quiet an idealist but i have found my self imagining how beautiful many of the landscapes i have cycled through must have been even just 50 years ago befor our modern world mashed it up so badly. Endless monoculture farming or the overspill from growing cities.

Any way ever onwards and south wards i go......