What Next?

After a rewarding, and weird, trip through Africa, a major sailing voyage through Asia Pacific is the next adventure.  Learning to sail, buying a boat, and making meaningful passages will make days-long sept-place rides look like child's play.  At least that's what I'm expecting.  Keep tabs on Adam Wible and Ian McHenry in this yachting adventure: http://yachting.adamwible.com.  Upgraded mirror of this site at: http://www.adamwibleprinceton.com.  http://www.adamwibleprinceton.com/what-next/.

Post mortem

For the curious - some brief statistics from the trip.

Photos and videos are below:

• West Africa Summary (geotagged this time)
• Some videos on YouTube
• Senegal to Gambia
• Guinea, Sierra Leone, Mali, and Burkina Faso
• Mali and Burkina Faso

Total trip days: 42
Days with shower: 22 (52%)
Average daily spend per capita: $73

Kilometers traveled: 8,354
Hours in transit: 221 (9.2 days of 42 days = 22% of the trip)
Average transit speed: 38 km / hour

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Morale Chart (links to daily posts)

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Spend by Category ($USD)

Category	Amount	AW	GB	RH	Percentage
Accomodation	724	336	336	52	6%
Bribes	109	44	44	20	1%
Entertainment	236	114	114	09	2%
Food & Drink	1,007	466	489	53	8%
Nightlife	291	127	131	34	2%
Purchases	124	43	79	02	1%
Transportation	8,617	3,532	3,392	1,694	71%
Visas	986	520	361	105	8%
Total	12,093	5,181	4,945	1,968	100%

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Spend by Country ($USD)

Country	Amount	Visa	Non Visa
Senegal	2,291	00	2,291
Gambia	811	315	496
Guinea Bissau	179	80	99
Guinea	499	170	329
Sierra Leone	301	191	110
Mali	2,786	190	2,596
Burkina Faso	678	40	638
USA	4,460	00	4,460
France	58	00	58
Italy	30	00	30
Total	12,093	986	11,107

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Transportation Breakdown ($USD)

Type	Spend	Normal	Crisis
public shared	403	380	23
public taxi	70	34	36
private fee	1,920	1,920	00
private fuel	799	799	00
private extra	545	53	492
flight	4,879	4,460	419
Total	8,617	7,647	970

http://www.adamwibleprinceton.com/post-mortem/

Leaving Africa

Day: 42
Location: Yoff, Senegal
Weather: balmy but breezy = 28 degrees C
Health: good
Accomodation: Alitalia flight
Price, room: 0K CFA
Shower: no
Morale: 5
Total spend: 28K CFA

AW: After sleeping in and taking one last pass through the market in Bamako, we hopped a minibus to Colaba, and then a taxi from there to the airport. There were some very relaxed formalities, and then we had a smooth 1.5 hour flight, in a venerable DC9, with a bumpy landing in Dakar. Compare to 36 hrs (or never) by bus and 50 hrs by train, with the plane costing 4x and 2x respectively, and it doesn't seem like such a raw deal.

For old times sake we decided to kick back at the Hotel Cap Ouest, a short walk from the airport. It seems to be under new management with a flurry of improvements and more guests. We also had a farewell beer with Momo (he insists that it's no problem, despite his genuine Muslim beliefs). He brought carvings along to sell and was wondering if we had any spare currency on us (nope).

We did learn one interesting thing: evidently the renter had passed the Pajero (it was the Rob and Momo show at this point) on its way back to Dakar from Kaolack, seeing it running in ostensibly good health, which makes it more logical that he didn't suspect much and asked only for 15K CFA. Momo told him we had done Saint Louis and Lac Rose before swinging through Saly down to Kaolack and back up.

According to Momo, the problem turned out to be a cracked bottom cylinder that was caused after the second head gasket was installed. The car evidently gets warmer with a new gasket, and we failed to completely change out the water for fresh cold stuff in the morning, and so caused the third major overheat. If true, that would be news to me, but who knows.

Tonight we again saw people running for fitness on the streets at night and realized that we hadn't encountered recreational exercise (other than for children) since leaving Dakar.

Then we said goodbye to Africa and walked to the airport.

http://www.adamwibleprinceton.com/leaving-africa/

One last day in Bamako

Day: 41
Location: Bamako, Mali
Weather: hot = 37 degrees C
Kilometers: 100
Hours: 3
Health: good
Accomodation: Auberge Lafia
Price, room: 10K CFA
Price, water: 500 CFA
Shower: yes
Morale: 5
Total spend: 257K CFA

We bought our plane tickets for tomorrow, 3 PM to arrive in Dakar at 5 PM. Our flight will be at 1 AM the following morning from the same airport, so we will bum in the airport until it is time to board.

Today we had a schawarma, some ice cream, went on the internet, and then went out to the bars. Can you tell we're done with Mali?

http://www.adamwibleprinceton.com/one-last-day-in-bamako/

A failed attempt to return to Dakar

Day: 40
Location: ?, Mali
Weather: hot, partly cloudy
Kilometers: 100
Hours: 16
Health: pissed
Accomodation: Sangue Bus, mat in village
Price, room: 0 CFA
Price, water: 500 CFA
Shower: no
Morale: 2
Total spend: 3K CFA

AW: We arrived at the bus station as requested at 7am, expecting the bus to leave at 8:30. It did! 25K CFA each in a massive "aircon" bus - what could go wrong? We planned to arrive in Dakar a full day before our flight anyway.

The AC turned out to be more myth than reality; a way to describe the frame of the bus more than anything. We did get lucky with the seats though - it wasn't totally full so we had 2 each. Despite a few hang ups and one 45 minute stop, we were moving and happy until the bus ground to a halt at 10:30 AM.

While the pump caused the bus to stop the passengers couldn't help but notice the oil dripping out of the gearbox - it was spattered all over the left side of the bus. The driver says it isn't a big deal, we will just refill it later. He tried to start it one last time, and the radiator exploded and then the battery died (both of them). The mechanic eventually arrived and swapped out the spark plugs and fuel pump. Gasoline was spurting everywhere while they worked out the kinks, yet he continued to chain smoke. We told them it was insane to be lighting matches and smoking while dripping in gasoline, but did not manage to influence behavior.

The complete inability to control or influence anything is now a familiar feeling, but it never gets easier.

The mechanic was pretty efficient in fixing his piece, but he did exhibit a classic single minded, blinkered approach. He didn't look at the oil or the radiator. We had specifically discussed concerns about the border crossing and he told us he would be escorting the bus all the way just in case. As soon as we were moving he was gone.

15 minutes after that the bus was broken down once again with oil pouring out of somewhere new. The driver explained that he had sent his helper back to Bamako and he would return with a new bus because this one was shot. He would be back tonight and we would do the 350 km to the border at night to make up lost time.

By 11 PM we were pretty sure he wasn't coming back that night, so expected him in the morning. By the morning the whole situation sounded rotten after the company hung up on a call after we inquired after the new bus and then the answering machines were on. We made the choice to bail.

With ground options rapidly evaporating, we decided to head towards Bamako in a minibus, and would flag the new bus if we encountered it on the way. We didn't. When we got to Bamako they hadn't sent a bus, nor had they sent a mechanic until mid-morning. They took so long to find 50K CFA for our refund as we fumed outside that the last viable bus option left without us. I guess we will be flying.

The following is a summary of the timetable for a fairly typical west African mechanical problem:
08:30 departure
08:45 stop
08:55 leave again
09:50 stop
10:30 start
10:50 stop - engine problem
15:30 mechanic arrives in Mercedes
18:50 bus starts, mechanic drives off
19:07 bus breaks down with massive oil leak
06:30 wake up and harass driver
07:20 jump ship and head back to Bamako
08:30 2nd car with mechanic leaves Bamako to meet bus
09:25 we changed minibus for Sept place
09:45 we arrive Bamako
09:50 reach bus company office, ask for refund, boss is called
10:15 last chance bus with another company leaves while we wait for boss to get cash back
10:45 we extracted our refund

We will take an Air Burkina a flight for 102.5K CFA each out of necessity to reach Dakar in time for our flight to Paris.

We have no idea what happened to all the other people in our bus - good luck to them. Aside from physically threatening driver (satisfying, but not helpful), none of the passengers (ourselves included) could come up with any viable plan to put pressure on the bus company to deliver some form of customer service.

http://www.adamwibleprinceton.com/a-failed-attempt-to-return-to-dakar/

Killing time in Bamako I

Day: 38
Location: Bamako, Mali
Weather: clear
Kilometers: 0
Health: just fine
Accomodation: Auberge Lafia
Price, room: 10K CFA
Shower: yes
Morale: 6
Total spend: 50K CFA

Today we did a few things:

• Used internet
• Lunch at a Senegalaise restaurant, bad yassa poulet
• Went to the crappy pool at Azalai Hotel Salam for 3K CFA each
• Fancy french dinner at La Campagnard
• Drinks at casino, lost 10K CFA in one go at roulette

http://www.adamwibleprinceton.com/killing-time-in-bamako-i/

Killing time in Bamako II

Day: 39
Location: Bamako, Mali
Weather: overcast
Kilometers: 0
Health: Guillaume has a sore throat, so he wore his scarf
Accomodation: Auberge Lafia
Price, room: 10K CFA
Price, water: 500 CFA
Shower: yes
Morale: 6
Total spend: 45K CFA
Song of the day: "The partisan but he's got to know", Swan Lake

Today we did a few more things:

• Bought a couple souvenirs
• Used internet
• I smashed my toe on a rock laying in the middle of the floor at the main post office. Superficial damage.
• Got fancy dessert: profiteroles, ice cream, creme caramel

http://www.adamwibleprinceton.com/killing-time-in-bamako-ii/

A day of nothing

Day: 36
Location: Bobo Dioulassi, Burkina Faso
Weather: nice, no rain
Kilometers: 0
Health: worse than yesterday, better than two days ago. Guillaume is slipping down the slope with a cough and sore throat.
Accomodation: Le Zion
Price, room: 4K CFA
Shower: no
Morale: 6
Total spend: 64K CFA

Nothing happened today. Seriously.

http://www.adamwibleprinceton.com/a-day-of-nothing/

Return to Bamako, fight with Keita

Day: 37
Location: Bamako, Mali
Weather: cloudy and cool in the morning, hot and clear by Bamako
Kilometers: 550
Hours: 7
Health: very tired, not clear why exactly
Accomodation: Auberge Lafia
Price, room: 10K CFA
Price, petrol: 550 CFA / lt
Price, water: 500 CFA
Shower: yes
Morale: 6
Total spend: 91K CFA

AW: The interesting part of the trip is now behind us - we will now simply work our way to Dakar for the flight out.

A brief review of mileage:

• Mopti - Timbuktu - Mopti: 817 km @ 49K CFA = 11.9 lt (6K CFA) per 100km
• Mopti - Dourou - Ouagadougou - Gorom Gorom: 870 km @ 63K CFA = 12.9 lt (7.2K CFA) per 100km
• Gorom Gorom - Fada N'Gourma: 430 km @ 28.3K CFA = 11.0 lt (6.6K CFA) per 100km
• Fada N'Gourma - Ouagadougou: 231 @ 15.3 = 11.5 lt (6.6K CFA) per 100 km
• Ouagadougou - Bobo Dioullassi: 361 km @ 29K CFA = 14.4 lt (8.0K CFA) per 100km
• Bobo – Bamako: 646 km @ 41.5K CFA = 12.6 lt (6.6K CFA) per 100 km

The 14.4 comes from our partial use of the AC, in conjunction with straight 120 kmph between Ouaga and Bobo. This indicates at least a 1.8 lt/100km impact, which is about a 14% degradation in performance, so it is about as expensive as we always thought. Diesel averaged 500 CFA/lt in Mali, and 600 CFA/lt in Burkina. This was a 6 cylinder 1.8 lt truck, so you can imagine that this would be even more painful with a V8 Landcruiser (maybe 15 lt/100 km).

We left Bobo at a leisurely pace in the morning, paid a 2K CFA fine at the border due to the expired papers, and continued on to reach Bamako at 4PM. After dropping off Modibo's gear at his place in the northwest of the city, we washed the car to help the stink and hope to make a favorable impression on Keita, the owner.

We were preparing for conflict, given that we were returning the truck 2 days early (there just isn't anything left to see!), and thus were hoping to save 90K CFA in addition to the 16K we should be reimbursed for bribes due to his bogus paperwork. At a rental agency, this is standard customer service, but we knew that we would be presenting Mahamadou Keita (the guy who rented to us) with significantly less revenue than expected. We didn't anticipate the intensity of the fight ensued.

Keita wouldn't hear anything of it, telling us to take the car and drive it around for 2 more days, despite our veiled threats (what if something happens to the car? No really, let's say something happens to it, then you'll feel stupid right?). Tempers started to flare with neither of us gaining any ground.

• Against us: the hand written contract promising the 435K CFA remaining - we had negotiated on a per day basis, but totaled it at 13 days to make sure he understood and would accept far less than half up front.
• Against him: the decent, logical, and precedented concept that renters pay the agreed amount by the day, regardless of the exact number of days.

We finally offered to pay the chauffeur for 2 extra days, while he asked for only one of the 2 days. Still not good enough, we offered 15K extra and paid it.

Then, in what would prove a terrible decision, Guillaume followed my lead and walked out, expecting Keita to suck it up and leave us be. Plus I had secretly nicked the contract with the copy of Guillaumes passport, which he tore up as we walked away. Instead, Keita emerged a minute later, screaming that he needed the paper, and that he was calling the police.

We talked to the commissioner to call his bluff, and the guy sounded reasonable, but suggested we come into the station to solve this. Keita was infuriated (the shredded contract didn't help), yelling that we thought we were dealing with savages. We got in the car to go to the police. I apologized for the walk out, and he immediately called off the trip, eager to cancel his bluff and demonstrating the extent to which this was a matter of personal pride more than business.

He dropped us off at our hotel (no doubt to continue the battle, claiming that it was supposed to be 14 days so we had shorted him two. Guillaume eventually got it through that there are 24 hours in a day, and he finally gave up. We didn't trust him and would remain a little paranoid that he would be back for some reason or another.

In the end, we had to pay our own bribes, and we gave Modibo a 12K CFA tip, but we did wiggle out of the 90K.

GB: Not fun. I mean we have enjoyed the tough bargains here and there, and learned a lot in general, but this was just bad. Keita is essentially a nice guy, but a completely irrational businessman. As a result, the conversation leading to the walkout was among the most frustrating that I have ever had. No arguments, but in the end though, once he caved on the police threat, he became a benign opponent.

I guess the one lesson learned is that if you bring in a 3rd party to rule on a conflict, you want to make sure that your version is the first that makes it through. As I started explaining the situation on the phone to the commissioner I could hear him warming up to the poor tourist being coaxed into overpaying for 2 days of rental he does not need (story was of course conveniently sprayed with positive comments about our behavior, the car's status etc. Which in some cases may have been slightly optimistic). Keita heard him warm up too, which brought him to yank the phone from me to begin explaining his view of the situation.

So the trip comes down to this. It wasn't graceful and we aren't proud of it exactly, but we did free up 90K CFA to blow in Bamako. If that's not a noble cause, I don't know what is.

http://www.adamwibleprinceton.com/return-to-bamako-spat-with-keita/

Ouagadougou to Bobo Dioulasso

Day: 35
Location: Bobo Dioulasso, Burkina Faso
Weather: beautiful
Kilometers: 350
Hours: 4
Health: feel strange, but not bad
Accomodation: Hotel Le Cocotier
Price, room: 5K room, 1K Modibo mat
Price, petrol: 558-578 CFA / lt
Price, water:
Shower: yes
Morale: 6
Total spend: 131K CFA

AW: We had real espresso and white yogurt at a street stand this morning which was pretty delicious. I had already taken my third Cipro, and my stomach and general health had already improved to the point that we could rule out Malaria. The symptoms of Malaria are pretty vague, I think: headache, achy joints, fatigue, upset stomach, fever, and vomiting. Basically, live in fear because you're not going to be able to distinguish it from a respectable hangover.

We went to the market, which had burned down in early 2003, but was due to be rebuilt very soon. In fact, the only thing that had changed is that vagrants were now using the charred structure for a toilette. While it was unlocked, the locals claimed it was illegal to enter, and that it hadn't been rebuilt because the government sucks. We treated Modibo to Senegalese food (his first time), greased the crank shaft, added oil and diesel, and drove to Bobo on more great roads.

Given that it was a Friday, we were obligated to party; Le Tharkay was rumored to be the best place in town. Sorry to say that these may have been the worst looking women in west Africa, and that's not even considering the dental side of things. It was a pretty hectic party, but the street food after (brochettes with onions, garlic powder, butter, and pepper sauce in a roll) was the highlight, at least until the heartburn in the morning.

GB: We got to Bobo after a fair but of driving, and started looking for our hotel, which we expected to find on the "place de la Revolution". Yet when asking around, we were met with looks of bewilderment, amused smiles, poor attempts at making up directions, or when we got lucky, confessions of ignorance. Only once we had been stopped by a cop for an orange headlight did he tell us that people here call the place the "place de la Mairie".

He guided us to the hotel, but only after he extracted a 10K bribe from us by threatening to impound the car. Now, we would normally not say no to an offer to park the car under police surveillance for a minor fee, especially if that would give us a chance to not give in to a corrupt police officer, but since today is Friday, the car would have been stuck until Monday. We paid the bribe and added it to Keita's tab.

http://www.adamwibleprinceton.com/ouagadougou-to-bobo-dioulasso/

Big market, to Ouaga via Fada N'Gourma

Day: 34
Location: Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso
Weather: overcast, but no rain
Kilometers: 600
Hours: 7
Health: Adam is all messed up, Guillaume has never been better
Accomodation: Hotel Zaaka
Price, room: 6.2K CFA
Price, petrol: 599 - 608 CFA / lt
Shower: yes
Morale: 3
Total spend: 94K CFA
Song of the day: "Dashboard", Modest Mouse

AW: We woke up at 4 am this morning to drive out to the dunes at Oursi, 40 km north of Gorom to see the sunrise over the dunes. In fact, the drive was fun, the dunes were OK, and the colorless sunrise was bad. I felt fully ill this morning, so I took Malarone, multivitamin, and Advil, deciding to wait and see if it would get better or worse.

We went back to Gorom for a breakfast of more beignets (what was I thinking?) and coffee, before stationing ourselves adjacent to the market, cleaning up the car, and waiting for the full swing market at 11AM. The market was definitely colorful, but they didn't have anything useful for us to buy. If you're in the market for a gigantic sack of millet, a goat, or some plastic sandals, you would be pretty happy here.

The women were the most unique looking that we have seen, with tattooed faces (the blackening below the lower lip, so it looks like you slobbered some blackcurrant juice, was the most popular), piercings, some of the brightest clothing (fluorescent), and lots of facial scarring in intricate patterns. The elderly of the species get the title for most cantankerous - don't bother asking first, just pretend that you haven't yet snapped the shot and make a little gesture and you're good.

We decided to fund the dreams of local footballer kids running around in the bazaar with a 1.5K CFA plastic ball. We told them to share of course, but one kid had already sprinted off with the prize and the others were in hot pursuit.

My health was now wretched so I laid in the back seat of the truck while Modibo and Guillaume jolted me to Fada N'Gourma. When we got there, Guillaume and Modibo got some brochettes (meat skewers) and of course a Fanta and Coca, respectively.

The locals were among the calmest and nicest we had met, even if they were a little peeved when Guillaume started feeding the meat to a stray dog with post traumatic stress syndrome. While he expected to have the living crap beat out of him at every sound and human movement, by the time he finished eating all the meat he was allowing himself to be petted. Guillaume used the Purell hand sanitizer afterwards.

GB: The Dunes of Oursi were definitely anti-climactic. But overall the morning was fun and we got some good pics. However the car still carried heavy scarring from the previous day's quasi-drowning. Indeed, the inside would now fill with an almost unbearable stench every time we left the windows closed for even a small amount of time. So we decided to clean it up at least on the inside. Unfortunately we couldn't find a bucket so the effort was limited, and our idea to test the A/C pushed back until further notice.

After strolling desperately around Gorom Gorom in search of the items that we wanted to bring back, but this initiative resulted in failure as well. We instead decided to fund the development of the local football club by buying the kids a ball. However no balls were available that conformed to FIFA specs, so we bought a smaller one. I hope this doesn't limit their learning experience. More seriously though, while the delivery was anti-climactic, it felt great to find a way to give, while not supporting any begging scam, and through an acquisition that will by its very nature encourage sharing (anyone ever had more fun with a football alone?)

We then set off for Fada Ngourma, where my father had spent a few months working some 35 years ago. The drive was uneventful, except I thought Adam had Malaria, and thus almost canceled our pit stop in Fada in order to get Adam a doctor in Ouaga ASAP. But he violently opposed the idea, for which I am indeed thankful. Arriving in Fada, we entered a very bland town. But the idea of treading in my father's footsteps after all these years was worth it.

We took a few pics, drove around, saw the hospital, and left again. We finally arrived in Ouaga around 10PM, and got burgers. We then found a cheaper hotel that provided a better situation for Modibo, and went to sleep.

http://www.adamwibleprinceton.com/big-market-to-ouaga-via-fada-ngourma/

Flooding the truck, road to Gorom Gorom

Day: 33
Location: Gorom Gorom, Burkina Faso
Weather:
Kilometers: 350
Hours: 5
Health: holding up, but Adam is feeling the start of something nasty
Accomodation: Campement Rissa
Price, room: 9K CFA including Modibo
Price, petrol: 604 CFA / lt
Shower: no
Morale: 9
Total spend: 115K CFA
Song of the day: "Lovestoned", Justin Timberlake

AW: For breakfast we grabbed an onion omelette with bread, beef kebabs, and cafe au lait. The coffee, in all of west Africa without exception, is made with way too much ultrasweet condensed milk and a little sprinkling of powdered Nescafe. Average price for coffee: 150 CFA.
We got magnum bars at the expat supermarket - 2K CFA each. That's a higher Magnum index than Montmartre in Paris at 3.50 in 2002. In fact it is the highest ever.

Outside the supermarket some guy jumped out with a 2 week old Economist - he wanted 3K CFA for it. He got lucky because he also had Time, Newsweek, and a bunch of other stuff we wouldn't have considered, but he decided to put his best foot forward. We bargained hard saying that it was very old, when in fact we didn't care - then bought it for 1.5K CFA. We discussed the delayed rains in an earlier post - they arrived this morning / last night.

The drive from Ouaga as far as Dori was easy, flying at 120km / hour on perfect tarmac. Then came the legendary road to Gorom Gorom, which was pitted dirt and was really insane given the swollen rivers flooding the roads.

Guillaume and I went through a few rivers each without incident, but when we came up to the big boy, we decided it would be better to let Modibo do it. A huge greyhound type bus led the way, with much trepidation - water was well above the massive wheels, but it crossed without incident. Burkina is the first west African country we have noted to have big bus transport options as opposed to small cars and minibuses, which may say something about access to capital, or the quality of the roads.

To cross a river it is important not to shift gears while submerged, as the car will take on water during the shift. This means 1st gear all the way through, maintaining a sufficient speed to avoid getting stuck. Jiggling the steering wheel left and right appears to help maintain traction as well. Modibo started into it, with water quickly coming above the hood, but no apparent problems. Just when we reached the middle of the river, where the current was the strongest, the front wheels (RWD) slipped and the right front wheel fell off the cemented portion and dropped several feet to the eroded river bed. The engine died. Within 10 seconds, there was water up to my knees in the passenger seat. Modibo's reaction: "Ca c'est pas bon. Guillaume's pack was soaked, but mine was on the seat. More importantly, had someone just demo'd a Hilux? I walked the packs out of the river in waist high water.

As usual there were 8-10 well built dudes loitering in the vicinity, but they didn't spring to our aid. Eventually Modibo stated the obvious by asking them to push with us. They would be happy to, for 7.5K CFA. Done! At first, the group of muscle men wanted to lift the vehicle straight up and place it back on the piste. Guillaume convinced them to put the car in neutral and push it reverse, and then push it out, which went off without a hitch. When it came out of the river we opened the doors and muddy water poured out. They quickly dismantled the air filter and checked the engine, and then told Modibo to start the car. It didn't work - but black water poured out of the tailpipe as he tried again and again, until it started up and ran really rough, still spewing the black water. The car smells like hell, but there is no serious damage. I wouldn't count on it going this well if it ever happens to you - it seems our bad luck with the Pajero is now matched by our good luck with the Hilux. Moral of the story - if it isn't clear where the road drops off into the river, stay away from the unknown edge and put people in the water to indicate the edge and the depth.

It's Wednesday night, and we made it to Gorom Gorom ready for the massive Thursday market tomorrow. We are concerned that this market will be one of the weakest on record given the flooded roads, and the fact that many people will likely stay home to tend the farm after the critical first rain. We'll see.

GB: Apres l'habituel petit dejeuner extra gras a base d'omelette et brochette, on a pris la route de Gorom Gorom, ou est cense se trouver le plus grand marche d'Afrique de l'Ouest. La premiere etape, jusqu'a la ville de Dori, est goudronnee. Au contraire de la seconde. 60km de piste, le tout constelle de trous, flaques et autres obstacles divers. Tous restent mineurs, si ce n'est pour les points ou la route croise des rivieres. Car il a plu des cordes le matin. Associe au retard de la saison des pluies, les cours d'eau sont passes de asseches a bien remplis, et pour ne rien arranger, les courants sont forts.

Adam puis moi meme passons les premiers. L'eau monte au niveau des genoux des passants, qui ne semblent pas particulierement rejouis de nous voir soulever des gerbes d'eau sur leur passage. Cela dit, jusque la tout va bien. Mais l'important, c'est pas la chute, c'est l'atterrissage.

L'atterrissage, justement. A 30KM de Gorom Gorom environ, on arrive sur un ruiss eau plus proche d'un fleuve qu'autre chose. Adam, dans un eclair de genie, me convainc de laisser Modibo gerer ce passage. C'est avec reticence que je laisse ma place, sous la pression du souvenir du 4x4 defoncé au Sénégal.

Je decide en guise de consolation de monter sur le bac arriere pour la traversee. Je prend l'appareil photo avec moi et me mets en position. Modibo demarre et lance le 4x4 dans l'eau. Jusque la tout va bien. Je prend une premiere photo, mais l'angle est mauvais. Je retouche le zoom et me prepare a reessayer. Le choc est me surprend alors à double titre. Je perds l'équilibre, alors qu'au meme moment le moteur rugit. Alors que je me cramponne au bord, Modibo reessaye d'accelerer. Seulemen t de la ou je suis il est evident que ca ne marchera pas. Je lui crie d'arreter, et le moteur s'arrete.

La roue avant gauche a quitte la route, et est desormais coincee dans un trou. La voiture penche de 30 degres vers la droite, et de ce cote la commence a etre dangereusement submergee. L'eau commence a rentrer par l'arriere et au niveau du siege passager. Les jambes d'Adam, mon sac, et celui de Modibo sont submerges. Je passe a Adam l'appareil, il regroupe les Ipods et autres, et emmene les deux sacs a terre.

Pendant ce temps Modibo a negocie avec un groupe de jeunes qui a accepte de nous aider pour 7.5K CFA. De l'eau jusqu'au torse, on pousse la voiture hors de l'eau. Une fois remise sur le chemin, on passe d'ailleurs pas loin d'en ressortir par l'autre cote sous le coup de l'enthousiasme de nos depanneurs...

Une fois la voiture a terre, la sourde apprehension est palpable chez nous trois. Un des jeunes essuie le filtre a air, puis nous annonce que "c'est bon, y'a pas de probleme". Apres 6 semaines dans la region, on attend de voir. Modibo prend place, et met le contact.

Teut teut teut... Hum.

2eme essai. Teut treut treut. Bon.

Ou plutot pas bon du tout. Mon taux d'adrenaline atteint des sommets qui me rappel lent le Senegal... Un jeune nous fait alors constater qu'a chaque essai la voiture crache un liquide noir. Ben au moins on aura nettoye l'echappement.

3eme essai: Treut treut treut vraoum. Modibo ecrase le champignon au point mort et on a l'impression que notre 4x4 se retenait depuis des mois tant il crache du liquide pendant longtemps. Enfin, en tous cas il marche. Maintenant seul subsiste le risque que le chassis ou la direction soient touches.

En arrivant a Gorom Gorom, ce doute reste, mais desormais tres faible. On trouve un campement sympa, et apres un bref diner on s'ecroule tous. Demain reveil a 4h du mat pour aller voir le lever de soleil depuis les dunes d'Oursi.

http://www.adamwibleprinceton.com/flooding-the-truck-road-to-gorom-gorom/

Crossing from Mali to Burkina

Day: 32
Location: Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso
Weather: clear and scorching hot
Kilometers: 300
Hours: 4
Health: dicey, but no red flags
Accomodation: Hotel Yennenga
Price, room: 7.7K CFA
Price, petrol: 604 CFA / lt
Price, water: 500 CFA
Shower: yes
Morale: 6
Total spend: 113K CFA
Song of the day: "Making a Killing", Phantom Planet

AW: We wrapped up our hiking the next morning by 10:30 AM, after climbing a steep ravine (aka Faille) from the sandy plain back up to the plateau. We took our last photos and had another megadose of Miaggi for lunch before Modibo arrived with the truck, and then drove us to Burkina through the sand.

Border guards and police in Burkina are renowned for being the least corrupt and most efficient in the region, although the cause is unclear. We found this to be true, although we still managed to bribe the border guard. The visas were fine, although he complained because the were no clean pages in my passport given the hash other west African officials made of what should have been sufficient. He agreed to put the visa in the back cover, where not even the Czechs had the audacity to go. 10K CFA each visa.

The problem was that the truck didn't have the CDAO or carnet de passage, so we could sell the car in Burkina without paying taxes, and worse if we got in an accident the Malian insurance would be useless. Oh well, we gave him 2K CFA and told him we would take care of it in Ouaga. In fact, the price would be 27K CFA to do it in Ouaga given that it is only done by the month. Our expected value of bribes being well below that, we decided to let it slide.

It is hard to pull out meaningful differences between Mali and Burkina at this point, beyond the obvious police point. The roads are immaculate in a hub and spoke arrangement from Ouaga, and there are tolls from 400 to 600 CFA depending on where you are going. I don't think we have seen a single bridge in Burkina as the fashion is to simply concrete a concave patch with the full expectation that the river would flow right over the road during the hivernage, and cars would drive right through the river.

Ouaga has changed drastically since the guides were printed. It seems healthy, but an inordinate number of highly recommended spots appear to have closed within the last year. Nevertheless we had the best lasagne in Africa for dinner, and then crashed while Modibo battled mosquitos in the car all night and failed to catch a wink.

GB: Modibo is increasingly becoming a homie on this trip. As we met him in Dourou with the car we set off on a 30 minute drive in pure sand all the time. Modibo would keep yanking the wheel left and right, downshift like a racecar driver from time to time. Swerves at high speeds also proved necessary in order to avoid various elements of the local landscape: trees, rocks, cows, etc. All that time Modibo looked like he was driving the kids home from soccer practice on a calm Sunday. Except for the ample swerve movements of course... While quite the calm dude in general, we are increasingly gratified with comments on driving, the cost of stuff, or general reflections on how to lead your life in Africa, all punctuated by either a "Est-ce que tu vois?" (do you see?) or by a long and satisfied "voilaaaa" when we rephrase something he just explained.

After about an hour, we got to the Burkina border, and proceeded with the Burkinabe formalities. What about the Malian ones? Well, to the best of our knowledge, there weren't any. Given Adam's passport space issues though, we can't say we missed them. So we got to the border post of Burkina Faso. There we ask for the visa prices, and the first surprise comes: it's cheaper than the guidebook indicated. Fine, but no more surprises, then.

Unfortunately there was one more: we did not have the CDAO certificate of insurance. I begin to have a deja vu moment with what happened in Gambia, when I got swindled out of 11K. This time I get a 2K and a 5K, each in a different pocket. I walk in expecting to have to discuss price. Instead we are given 2 options: the "certificate unavailable" receipt for 25K or the "failure to present the certificate" receipt for 12.5K (not quite sure why anyone would go for option 2). We then have to suggest (yes, we were not offered the usual "arrangement") that maybe there is an alternative. The guy grows uncomfortable. I start sweating bullets. For sure this country is not corrupt and I'm going to be jailed on the spot. Then he says "I don't know, I guess you need to see what you want to do." Massive relief on my side, he's asking for a price. I thank him for the advice and shake his hand with a 2K CFA bill in it, under the amused eye of Modibo, and off we go.

http://www.adamwibleprinceton.com/crossing-from-mali-to-burkina/

Getting schooled on the Dogon

Day: 31
Location: Nombori, Dogon Country, Mali
Weather: Beautiful, too hot to walk mid day
Kilometers: 18 a pied
Hours: 5
Health: tired despite rest
Accommodation: Campement Ireli
Price, room: 4K
Price, water: 1.2K CFA
Shower: no
Morale: 6
Total spend: 75K CFA

AW: We woke up and learned some things. The stones for the houses are broken out of the cliffs using dynamite, and are then chiseled into rectangles by hand. A cut stone of average size would cost 50 CFA, but with transportation etc the real cost is more like 100 CFA per stone. If you showed up and wanted to build a house, you'd need to pick a spot and make your case to the chief. If you have enough money to build a big enough house on the area you've selected, and if the chief approves, you are good to go. Land ownership is purely collective, at the village level, so there is no concept of purchasing a plot. Our guide estimated a house would cost about 1.2M CFA, or $2.4K. It would be really fun to go, buy and cut all the stone, build the house, and then give it to someone to live in.

We also learned that our guide believes himself to be a reincarnation of his grand father. This was decreed at his birth, and he was given a pretty nasty scar on his chest as a parallel to his grandfather who was shot in the chest in some war. Our guide is an animist, combining ancestor worship, reincarnation, spirit of the earth, sacrifices to fetishes, and fortune telling with sticks and jackals, etc.

Arranged marriage happens at age 4 for men, at which point their mothers find a pregnant woman and strike a deal with an agreed amount of millet and potentially money to secure a relationship. If the newborn is male, he will be a close friend. If female, she will be a wife. The interesting part is that the man can get out of it once he is old enough to have an opinion.

Our guide was set up with a girl, dowry paid and all, but when he finally saw his fiancée she was not big enough so he rejected her and found another. He also had one child with a mistress who has since gone to Cote D'Ivoire. We asked if his wife was pissed about this and he responded, "elle n'a pas le choix, c'est mon choix." That's what happens when you have a lot more women than men as the Dogon do. Is it because the men are more likely to leave to seek work elsewhere? Is it something in the Maggi?

The food is good, or rather the dish is good - it is always the same dish. Rice, spaghetti, macaroni, or couscous with a delicious sauce: peanut oil, tomatoes, lots of onions, and Maggi Arome seasoning (read MSG). Those Maggi Landcruisers are among the select group of trucks delivering the things that go everywhere in the country: alcohol, cigarettes, gasoline, beef bullion, prepaid mobile airtime cards, plastic sandals, coca/fanta, and water. For breakfast we ate beignets, which are donuts made from fried millet, eaten with sugar. These are delicious but so bad for you; I think they may be responsible for the massive attack on my digestive tract that would hit in 2 days time.

The hiking was less interesting today, mostly in the sand on the plain below the cliff. The villages were also less interesting - still atmospheric but less visually striking. It took 4 hours to have lunch, most likely by design given the heat of the day. Even though I was already exhausted by noon, this chafed because sitting on a chair made of sticks for 4 hours just seems unamerican.

We ended the night pretty bummed out, for no apparent reason - the trip just started to feel too easy being led around by guides and never having any problems. Can't we just have some problems already?

GB: The adrenaline slowdown really does not feel that good. Not to mention that given how talked up Dogon country is in the guides, this area is intensely touristy, even now. As a result, our constant feeling of being lone travelers in an area forgotten and abandoned by the western world suddenly turns into a tourism jewel visiting societies that apparently don't need you. While they will burn all the cash they can from your hands, they seem prosperous from farming and herding.

That's until I meet a French director filming a documentary on Dogon schooling, who explains 2 things. One, the Dogon are disturbingly poor, affecting health, education, and the lot. Two, tourism is leading to personal enrichment (campement owners) in a world where property rights are very much geared towards collective ownership. As a result he fears the only source of income that can solve one will create two, which could lead to a breakdown of the social structure. Guess appearances can be misleading...

We hike all day, well, 5.5 hours - the rest we sit waiting for someone somewhere to do something for us. Pictures should be pretty cool though.

Trekking Into Dogon Cliffs

Day: 30
Location: Ireli, Dogon Country, Mali
Weather: Beautiful, then torrential downpour
Kilometers: 80 + 7 a pied
Hours: 1 en voiture, 1.5 a pied
Health: tired despite rest
Accomodation: Campement Ireli
Price, room: 4K CFA
Price, water: 1.2K CFA
Shower: no
Morale: 9
Total spend: 96K CFA

GB: Eventful day. It all began with the drive to Bandiagara. We let Modibo drive since we wanted him to check for any weird signs, after 2 consecutive days of aggressive driving on rocks, sand, dirt and water. The car seemed fine by the time we got to Bandiagara, so after we got lunch there I took the wheel.

It was supposed to be a dirt road, so could be fun. We were headed for Sanga, at the north of Dogon country, where we hoped to set up 2.5 days of hiking in the region. And fun it was, for sure. Potholes, mud, rocks, and weird half pipe-like structures (see also inverted bridge) which allow the water to flow through during the rainy season.

As we kept getting closer to Sanga, we started discerning what seemed like a huge rain storm just above our destination. It seemed like the place was facing a major downpour. We were later to learn that this was the biggest single rain pour in 7 years, and a landmark event. While we were driving through what felt like a deep fog made of rain, we thought this was "rainy as usual" and definitely agreed that the rainy season had not been overblown.

After an hour of driving under intense rain, we got to Sanga. Modibo introduced us to a guide manager. We came to an agreement quite fast and we prepared our bag while the guide arrived. Not the best deal ever, but 75K CFA for the 3 day 2 night trip.

We then set off for Dogon country. In order to get there, we had to climb down a ravine, which given the equipment we had, certainly activated the adrenaline pump. Yet we made it, after a few scares due to Adam's shoes' poor adherence... Onitsuka tigers are crap for hiking boots. After 2.5 hrs of walking and climbing down, we got to Irely, a beautiful Dogon village, at the bottom of a cliff, itself bordered by a narrow plain, and further along by sand dunes. At this point Dogon country felt so amazing it was overwhelming, we just did not know what to focus on, considering how many sights were offered to us....We went to bed at 10, tired but happy, and feeling good.

AW: Ireli was legitimately excellent. It's not that it is untouched (the first cell phone tower went up last week at Sanga), or unvisited (Jacques Chirac has a house here), but it is different than anywhere I've been. The vast cultural differences seem genuine. There is a big plateau towering over a scrubby dune landscape that stretches all the way to Burkina Faso. The plateau falls off via sheer cliff faces and overhangs that are filled with ancient pygmy dwellings. These little houses are right out of Star Wars, and they are so high into the cliff that they are impossible to access today. While some Dogon believe that the pygmys could fly (I would like to see that on youtube!), according to science, there were once vines all over the cliff face that the pygmys could climb. Climate change forced them to follow the big game into Central Africa. Dogon houses are built primarily from cut stone (some mud brick also), and climb up the cliff face in a ramshackle way. There are a bunch of conical granaries with wooden hats, which store millet, onions, etc. There are taller ones for each male, and shorter female versions that the men are obliged to construct, one for each wife. The livestock runs everywhere through the maze of steps, squares, walls, and houses, while kids ask for bonbons and demonstrate their prowess with slingshots. We recommend looking at the photos when they are up because it is hard to describe, but this was amazing.

http://www.adamwibleprinceton.com/trekking-into-dogon-cliffs/

Return from Timbuktu

Day: 29
Location: Mopti, Mali
Weather: intermittent rain, cool at night
Kilometers: 450
Hours: 6
Health: fine, dehydrated
Accomodation: Ya pas de problem hotel
Price, room: 3.5K CFA x 2 = 7K CFA
Price, petrol: 503 CFA / lt
Shower: yes
Morale: 7
Total spend: 109K CFA
Song of the day: "Kalifornia" Mos Def

GB: I woke up at 4:45 AM, my mattress drenched in rain water. No surprise, then, that I had been dreaming that I was under a waterfall and then drowning.

I checked outside for the camel guides, secretly hoping they weren't there, since my eagerness to go had greatly waned due to pouring rain. So instead I decided to join Adam, Sanna, and Modibo inside to sleep some more.

At 5:30 AM we woke up again. I went to see outside to check, and this time found a small Tuareg waiting right outside. Not sure how long he had been waiting, I pretended like we were on time and told him we would be right over.

The ride was fun but at the end of the day, we felt the impact of driving a hard bargain on quality of service. The camel went for 10 minutes into the dunes, then stopped, while our guide proudly announced to his incredulous audience that we were at the "Porte du Desert". I stopped short of asking to see some form of proof. We hung out in the dunes a bit before turning back. On the way back I asked for the Tuareg coffee, only to be told they did not settle around where we were. Makes you wonder how real this "Door" actually is.

After we got back, we decided to go take a stroll around the city before leaving.

AW: We popped in to visit one of the worst museums I've ever seen, after haggling over the price of entry of course. They had like 2 broken pots from 1981, and a photo of ladies doing a tourist dance in 1986. While we looked at the museum, some guy stamped our passports, even though we weren't crossing a border.

We also stopped by the houses of various notable western explorers who were commonly slashed by Tuareg if you believe the guide book. Renee Caille, a French citizen, learned such good Arabic that he passed himself off as an Egyptian scholar for a year without anyone finding out and slashing him. He also went 3,500 km in West Africa in 18 months with no government funding. We definitely have him beat there. But he did it in 1830 and was riding a camel or whatever.

The houses looked like the other stone houses in town, but in general stone houses are for the rich, mud houses for the poor, and tents for the touareg.

We thought we'd grab a quick breakfast and be on our way. As it turned out, they had a shortage of bread, eggs, milk, and food generally in Timbuktu. We settled for a coffee and french fries. When we finally got the food, about 1.5 hours later, we were pretty pissed, so we ate and left Timbuktu.

Before we left we talked to a Tuareg who had just returned from the salt mines at Taoudenni, bringing back salt slabs. This was the original salt gold trade that put Timbuktu on the map. I personally will trade anyone salt for gold, but I guess this reflects how the economics have changed over the years - indeed the margins have come out of the business. The trip takes 16 days and is done with a caravan of 40 camels. Each camel can carry 4 slabs (one on each side and 2 on top), and each slab will fetch 4K CFA in Timbuktu. So that's 16K per camel x 40 = 640K CFA, or $1,280 for the 16 day trip. I could be wrong about the 40 camels anyway - he was speaking french after all. Hilariously, the Lonely Planet says you can go along with the caravan for 650K CFA, riding a camel for 18 hrs per day, eating shit food, for 36 days round trip. Worst idea ever.

The road to Timbuktu

Day: 28
Location: Timbuktu, Mali
Weather: HOT
Kilometers: 450
Hours: 9
Health: good
Accomodation: Sahara Passion, terrace
Price, room: 2.5K CFA x 2 = 5K CFA
Price, petrol: 503 CFA
Price, water: 416 CFA each for 24 bottles
Shower: no
Morale: 9
Total spend: 91K CFA
Song of the day: "Salva Mea" Faithless

GB: The road to Timbuktu was described to us as "bad, but with a 4x4 you're fine". We were also told to expect the following breakdown:
- Mopti - Douentza 200K – tarmac
- Douentza - Timbuktu
part 1 - 100KM - dirt track, a few holes
part 2 - 100KM – bad
We were told to expect an average of 50Kph all included, for an 8 hour trip.

Going to Douentza was no problem. Once in Douentza, we stopped for lunch, checked the water level on the car and strengthened the screws on the forward bumper.

We then set off on the first "tough" part. The road was heavily corrugated (i.e. quite choppy) but as we discovered that you barely feel it at 80 kph or above, we started cruising. The occasional hole was of course surprising, but the car seemed to take it well.

At the end of part 1 we shifted drivers and Adam took the wheel. The real fun began. At that point everything on the road went south. The chops in the road seemed to be impossible to avoid by going faster (we tried, only to feel as if the car was going to disintegrate), and we regularly came upon deep sandy patches. We got stuck 3 times, and each time the 4x4 function on the car came in handy. Lock the front wheels into gear, engage the 4 wheel drive, punch the gas, and I could then watch Adam drive the car out of what seemed like a sea of sand. While we looked at each other in dismay the first time we got sanded, by the third time it had all become a routine. We are pretty happy with the car. The 1991 Landcruiser may have been quite a liability here - tough to say for sure.

We had to cross a ferry (7.5K CFA!), once again a great illustration of monopoly pricing. Since driving back was not really an option, nor was driving around the Timbuktu River, we caved. We finally entered Timbuktu the Mysterious after 6.5 hours of driving, exhausted but relieved that the car was still running. By that time we had tightened the bumper twice, and used duct tape from our guidebooks to hold the headlights in place, since they had gotten disconnected and started to wobble dangerously. We also found an oil leak since the bottom screw of the oil tank had suffered a hit. No apparent structural damage however.

Our chauffeur/chaperone proceeded to pray as we arrived, although it remains unclear whether he was thanking God or asking for one more favor: a safe return.

We started strolling about Timbuktu. Mud houses, sandy roads, 4x4s all around, and the feeling of being at the edge of civilization made for a very unique feeling.

As it was the last day of campaigning for local legislative elections, we got T-shirts of one of the candidates: Sandy. I hope he wins, and I hope he never turns out to be a dictator... We then went to the opposite side, but they only had one T-shirt.

We met there a local kid who took us in now darkening streets into an empty building and onto its roof, where a restaurant was operating in the moonlight. We sat with Sanna and had a good dinner. The conversation trailed off into the evening as we arranged through our friend for a 4AM camel ride into the dunes the next morning, all under an impressive desert sky.

AW: My favorite part of the drive was when all trace of the road ended near this field full of cattle. Guillaume came around the corner and hit the dead end at around 60kph. In a stroke of genius he cranked the wheel and turned a full donut before coming to a halt, and then continuing through the cows.

Timbuktu hadn't seen power in 3 days when we arrived. This made it difficult to complete the ritual chugging of ice cold Fanta after peeling off the synthetic leather bench seats. We eventually, in the midst of negotiation over the amazing Sandy shirts, found an Arabic version in a 2L bottle. Disregarding the diabetes risk, the three of us pounded the soda in about a minute, and then staggered around for another 30 minutes waiting for insulin levels to normalize.

Timbuktu was a little anticlimactic, but that was exactly as expected, so we didn't know quite how to feel. It was great to walk around in the sandy blocks, and note that cell phone reception was a little better than in my apartment in New York.

There was, very surprisingly, almost no hustle, possibly because people were so occupied with some guy cranking on an electric guitar at the political rally. I guess he lugged a generator along with his amp. This rally was more sophisticated than the other campaigns we witnessed, which primarily involved overloading a truck with people, and then rallying around honking and yelling at people.

Naturally, we had taken the cheapest option to sleep on the terrace (they swore there were no mosquitoes). The nights had been very comfortable in Mali, no deep freeze or anything. There was, however, a sandstorm followed by thunder, lightning, and rain. Eventually, we were drenched and had no idea where Modibo was with the car keys, so we busted into the one unlocked room to find shelter for the electronics in our pockets. The grand poobah proprietor was snoring loudly inside, but I found this bed made of sticks, and the others dragged in mattresses. Some Arab guy jumped in the stick bed about a half hour later, and was very surprised to find me in there too, but I didn't get up so he got uncomfortable and left. 2 Hours later, when we had to wake up for the damn camel ride, we realized that the snoring guy was actually Modibo. A crap 4 hour night, but I guess Timbuktu isn't legendary for being a cake walk.

Segou, Djenne, and Mopti

Day: 27
Location: Mopti, Mali
Weather: dry heat
Kilometers: 500
Hours: 6
Health: fine
Accomodation: Ya pas de problem hotel
Price, room: 3.5K for roof x 2 = 7K CFA
Price, petrol: 504 CFA / lt
Price, water: 500 CFA
Shower: yes
Morale: 9
Total spend: 99K CFA
Song of the day: "What goes around comes back around", Justin Timberlake

AW: After we woke up early and saw some very photogenic scenes of morning on the Niger, we backtracked 9KM to Segou Koro, an ancient village upstream. The village chief was quite the extortionist, spinning some yarn about the lack of a maternity in the village that led to 3 infant deaths this year alone. As if that crap would work on us... Actually it did and we gave him 6K CFA. His response: “OK, now you can take photos no problem.”

It was a picturesque village, but we continued on to see something bigger 300km away: the grand mosquee at Djenne. This mud structure had mythical status in my mind ever since we studied old photos of it in college art history. In person, it was impressive despite the tourist atmosphere that has grown up around it. It is the largest mud structure in the world after all.

We grabbed some rice and caught the ferry back to the road and continued to Mopti. We arrived at 7PM and the hotel had a pool! But we couldn't swim because they were chlorinating. There was a nice bar on the terrace, right near the mats and mosquito nets where we would be sleeping.

We met a group of Brits working for Madventurer who had just come from Timbuktu. They claimed to have done it in 9 hours with no problem in an old Land Rover Defender. The flights were feeling expensive and we would have to wait until Saturday anyway, so we made the call to drive the notoriously bad route - to the surprise of the chauffeur the next morning, but whatever. We also met a 22 year old Swede named Sanna who agreed to come with us and split gas round trip to Timbuktu.

We have confirmed that the rains are officially late this year. Could have disastrous consequences for the locals (it sure is hot), but we haven't dealt with many mosquitoes, nor had any road problems, so it is a mixed blessing for us.

GB: Timbuktu it is. After all, so far driving our beast on tarmac has felt like massive overkill. Plus, the dubious looks of the Brits as we explained that our chauffeur was more of a facilitator/mechanic since we did all the driving eliminated any qualms I had before, thinking of Mahamadou potentially having to pick up his car at the scrapyard....

The hotel is really nice. Paradoxically enough, for once we don't even have a room, and yet it feels as if this is the most luxurious place we have slept in. Must be the pool we were refused the right to use...

Other than that, not much to say as we spent most of the day relaying each other behind the wheel, as we raced to Mopti. The driver seems to be finding his new status as a paid passenger to be quite enjoyable, and given the 4 hour nap he took today, he is probably the most rested among us. A good guy though. We had a bit of a moment when, as we got stopped by the police in an obvious bribe extraction attempt, he went to discuss the matter with the policeman, only to come back explaining that we had missed a turn and were headed in the wrong direction completely. Something he had missed due to intensive sleeping. While seemingly unfazed by this discovery, he had a puzzled look which I took to express his lack of familiarity with being driven, and the sudden realization that despite appearances, he was indeed the professional driver in the car. We had a good laugh, and then Adam, me and my "grand-pere" were back on our way - the right one this time.

Finally on the road with the Hilux

Day: 26
Location: Segou, Mali
Weather: Scorcher during the day, but monsoon clouds and breeze made it cool and comfortable by early evening.
Kilometers: 250
Hours: 6
Health: great!
Accomodation: Toyota Hilux
Price, room: 0K CFA
Price, petrol: 504 CFA / lt
Price, water: 400 CFA
Shower: no
Morale: 9
Total spend: 43K CFA
Song of the day: "Shutup I'm dreaming of places where lovers have wings", Sunset Rubdown

AW: So Mahamadou was the winner. He put new tires on the back wheels, replaced the halogen lamps, oil change, and removed a funky canopy from the back, and we were ready to go by 7PM.

I just want to make sure everyone is aware that we chose to spend a LOT more money over the course of the next 13 days in order to reduce the chance of further mishaps. Prudent? That's flattering, thank you. Now we all wait for something to break.

We spent the morning making final calls and last offers, searching frantically for cash, and buying ice cream and mango juice for Guillaume to keep him slaked. OK, I had a little ice cream too. Due to some details around an interbank transfer, I had run flat out of cash in my etrade account, and no additional funds would be available for 3 days. My etrade card is our only visa debit, and we struggled to find any MasterCard options in Bamako, so we thought we would have to resort to Western Union, Swift transfer, or cash advance (probably insufficient).

Quite a cash crunch because we needed to pay up front for the car ($600 is half!), and have enough cash to make it all the way to Ouagadougou, including potential flights to and from Timbuktu ($400), and all petrol, accommodation, food, and admissions, not to mention a cushion. We had been seeing MasterCard sign s in several banks around the city, but they all said they got excited and put up the signs even though they didn't actual take MasterCard yet. Then, we heard there was one HQ branch outside of the city, and they had started there. We took and taxi and were in luck - the first MasterCard ATM in Mali had opened last week.

We were so sleepy for some reason that we let the chauffeur drive to Segou. It was supposed to be about 2.5 hours away but he drove slowly so it took us 6. When we arrived, at 2AM, we parked by the Niger River and slept in the car until 6AM. During the night, someone rifled through the personal effects of our chauffeur, Modibo. He looked very sheepish, but they only took his cell charger. We would store his bag inside the cab going forward.

GB: We had it: the much desired and simultaneously much dreaded second 4x4 of this trip. I have no doubt we will spend the next 13 days with our ears attentive to the faintest uncommon sound, or our eyes riveted to the heat gauge, as we hope to diagnose any potential problem before it escalates. This one is the stuff though. As mentioned above, we once again had a shady option in the form of a baker/used 4x4 importer, who after initially agreeing to a price almost half of this one (25K CFA), raised his demands to 35. We hope to have learned from our mistakes and took a financial hit to ensure safety and success. Not that this should prevent us from pushing this car to its limits.

Brief yet typical misunderstanding as we met our chauffeur, Modibo. Dude shows up, and suddenly as I confirm that he is all included, we discover that his living expenses were not. He is paid 5K by Mahamadou, and we are to cover his living expenses to the amount of 3.5K per day. In a pure consultant reflex, we quickly calculated and proceeded to argue that this would imply a 135% operating margin in the chauffeur business. Highly improbable given observed supply... After bitter negotiations, we came out unscathed financially (3.5 went down to 1, which Mahamadou very grudgingly agreed to pay after we stonewalled), and in pure African fashion we were all suddenly related (Adam became Mahamadou's "petit fils", and I became the chauffeur's). We set off at 9PM for Segou, many hopes and fears tangled into a tight knot of expectations.

Chasing 4x4 leads

Day: 25
Location: Bamako, Mali
Weather: HOT
Health: perfect
Accomodation: Auberge Lafia
Price, room: 10K CFA
Price, water: 500 CFA
Shower: yes
Morale: 9
Total spend: 41K CFA
Song of the day: "Put it on me" Akon

AW: Today we tracked 5 leads for a 4x4:

Brehima - upscale legit rental place, first price was 75K, very quickly followed by 55K and finishing at 47.5K with us not satisfied. 1998 Toyota Landcruiser.

Moussa - guy met in the internet cafe, came back with 40K for a Pajero (no way, burn me twice, my fault), and later a Toyota Tacoma, which was a little wimpy, and a single cab.

Shek - met him in the street, and he brought us a Landcruiser pickup, but for 50K CFA. Expensive for any year!

Balde - this guy was a baker, literally. We were asking around, and were shown into the office of his bread bakery. He was a little flighty, never done this before, and agreed to 25K CFA before reneging the next day, saying he didn't know where prices were supposed to be. 1991 Toyota Landscruiser, just imported from France. This is old, but it had enjoyed and easier life in France than a comparable African version. We wanted 30K, he refused to go below 35K

Mahamadou - I was ogling his truck, a 2001 Toyota Hilux 1.8L diesel double cab pickup, when some guy on the street introduced us to the owner. No he had never done this before, but in typical African fashion he happened to be cash strapped right now. We couldn't get under 45K no caution 150K upfront, chauffeur (chaperone) compris.

Winners announced tomorrow.

Fine, it turned out to be Mahamadou. The bulk of our spend today ended up being on nightlife. The main strip was far from the center, so we took a cab to check it out.

GB: We initially wanted to go to Bla Bla Bar, if only for the indispensable pleasure of getting in a cab and asking for "bla bla" and actually meaning it. But once we got there, we found a geriatric leisure facility. No offense, but not quite the "nightlife must-do" the guide mentioned. So we went to "La Terrace" bar and got a couple of beers there. As we are now accustomed, a girl came up to us a couple minutes after we sat. From Ghana originally, she was in Bamako to study computer science.

After a small misunderstanding around tip (you mean NY standards have not been adopted internationally?), we talked a bit with the waitress in order to get a sense of the good places. Conveniently enough, the place she indicated was just downstairs from the bar.

Once we got there, we first got the impression that little was different from NY: large dance floor, hip hop music, gorgeous waitresses. We were largely mistaken, as we would soon discover. Once again flanked by girls who seemed to appear from nowhere, and not quite sure how to handle that part, we danced for a bit, before we were stopped in our tracks Guinean army style (see previous post on encounter with Qaddafi). The dance floor was emptied by security, and at this point it seemed something bad had happened, but unclear what.

In fact, this was a joyful day as there are only too few: it was the birthday of an ORTM journalist, and the inauguration of a new concept of a show from Ivory Coast. In the end, after a 1hr succession of shows of mediocre to low quality, we put an end to the night. But not before our new friends insisted on giving is their numbers, request to which we obliged of course, despite the pointlessness of doing so. Between 4x4 sourcing and random contact exchanges my phone now has more African contacts in it than not.