We had the worst landing I have ever experienced, many feared we wouldn’t be making it to the truck at all. The lady next to me had taken my hand in panic while muttering she hated flying. Props to the piolot. We were met by our driver Mark who led us through the drizzel to the truck where we headed to the ferry to check whether they were even running in the storm. Hours later we were on a ferry trying to keep what little food we’d had down. A few hours of driving and a border stop we were in our camp for the first night. I was lucky to have Elisa, from Finland, as my tent buddy as she’s already done a few of the African Trails tours and she had our tent up in minutes. We were then treated to a hot dinner before a well needed sleep.
It was wet and cold for the first few days but new fun and exciting. We spent a few days in a camp ground in Chefchquen exploring the blue medina and steep lush hills. My first cook duty was with Ben, from Essex, in our first bush camp outside Rabbat. Finding food for the night proved difficult amongst half a dozen small convience stores and a load of garages but with my garbled french finally found the market and we made it through gracefully.
After a day of wandering Rabbat we settled in for our night in the bush as locals made their way past on bicylces, donkeys or mopeds. We were later questioned by the men from the Forestry asking if we had a permitt after a bit of explaining they agreed we could sleep here for tonight. Later, after it was dark and the tents pitched, the police came by to tell us it was unsafe and we couldn’t stay. After much discussion they said to pack up and follow us to the army barracks. Just as the first few tents were being packed they decided that one of them would spend the night in the car and we could stay. Our third night in Rabbat was spent at a campsite due to inability to bush camp.
We were there applying for several visas, all to go well except Randy, the Americans, who has not been issued a visa to Maurintania, our next stop. He’s going to call until he gets it or will have to fly in and meet us in Mali.
We spent a beautiful night on the beach on our way out of Rabbat, a quary near Vouloubalis, a lovely campground in Fez, a windy night in the dessert, another on the edge of a valley, one in the middle of the desert in a Berber camp and now we are in the Todra Gorge sleeping on the roof of a hotel under the stars between the gorge. We’ve passed through Efren a strange swedish style village where on the way out the scenery changes from grass, to snowy hills to bare desert. We were shown around Resini a carpet shop, a fossil ‘factory’, an old palace and served Berber style pizza.
From there we jumped on a string of camels to make a 2 hour trek to the berber camp. We got there in time to hike an enormous sand dune to see the sunset. Not as beautiful as it sounds, I almost died on the way up due to non-existant physical prowess, then upon mounting I discovered you couldn’t see a thing due to sand whipping in your face. Elisa, Jesco (German), and I shared a beer at the top before running down. Elisa screamed joyously the whole way even after going head of heels half way. It was abosuletly brilliant.
We then spent the evening enjoying tea, Chicken Targine and live drumming which many of us dozed off to before heading to bed. We woke up early to watch the sunrise and have a delicous breakfast before heading back to the truck. A day of driving landed us in the Gorge, where I’ve spent today relaxing, walking around with a mute Elisa, after she had taken a 24hr silence bet last night and we are just waiting for dinner now.
Arriving at the Marrakesh Marjane brought great pleasure to many as there was a mcDonalds, admittedly I was one and had the best Toblerone McFlurry. We camped just out of town and took a shuttle in the first night to have an overpriced dinner overlooking the main square. Elisa and I took off for a wander through the market and quickly broke away from the main square.
We spent the next few hours exploring the back streets bustling with merchants shouting their invitations, scooters, donkeys and chattering locals. We stopped at a great hole in the wall for a 4Drhm coffee before moving on to look for hippie pants. As the night went on it was decided 120 was the asking price and no one was dropping. The night getting later the shops began to close and we had our best offer due to Elisa’s nationality. Upon hearing she was Finnish and therefore from a land of vodka we got the price down to 50. We left with high hopes and promises to return the following day.
As we wandered off from there chattering away we suddenly found ourselves in a rather dark back alley not leading in the right direction. I had a good idea of which way we needed to turn but as we finally made our way for the next alley we were luckily stopped by some men. They pointed us in the right direction and said we’d be thuroughly lost down our chosen route. With that we headed back to the meeting spot to wait for our shuttle back to camp. I’m constantly warmed when I get help from someone with no other interests or intentions.
Our second day was spent going in circles bargaining for pants and enjoying not knowing where we were. As we walked down a street a boy of about 14 walked past calling after me “Very beautiful…big ass”! Elisa and I had only just been discussing 10 minutes prior that in some cultures our flat bums wouldn’t be considered beautiful; yes I think my flat bum is beautiful, previously however I did not think it was big! I stand corrected. I finally purchased a pair of cotton olive green hippie pants for 35 Dhrm.
Making our way through the old city walls we stopped for Elisa to buy water, as she got her purse out a group of young boys came up asking for money for sweets. She decided to oblige if they would sing or dance for her. She began to try explain to them what she meant by singing so she began in a sing song voice “ Lala laaa laa lala”. Before she’d even finished her music number they had grabbed each other and scattered. Elisa stood looking shattered, staring at me questioningly. “What did I do?” she asked. As she asked it hit me and I reminded her in giggles what “La” means in Arabic, ‘No’! Its one of the few phrases we have all learned and used on a regular basis and with great effect.
That evening after a lovely shower I eagerly went to bed early pleased to be tired and ready to sleep. This proved impossible as my tent was 3 feet from where the others had decided to sit up drinking and sharing stories, I eventually got back up to join them. Just as I was getting out a stool a car pulled up and Randi and some others piled out. They went around introducing themselves and getting comfy. Randi had returned to town earlier to retrieve his camera that he’d forgotten and met some locals from Essaura who had given him a lift back to camp.
As they didn’t seem to be leaving anytime soon we took our beers and stools down into the unfinished pool to let the others sleep and got to know our guests. It began as a rather awkwardly odd but pleasant evening but as it got later and we were all ready to turn in it became a little unnerving as 2 of them suddenly left on their own. They went to be ill but Elisa followed to check as the truck and tents were in that direction and one can never be too carefull with so much stuff. Soon after that they left only to return 10 minutes later, as we were getting into bed, to collect Randi. Elisa ran after the car to tell Randi he needed to be back by 9 as we were leaving.
Elisa and I lay awake discussing the fact that the company he’d left with didn’t seem perhaps the safest. Just as we were dozing off a car returned and Elisa poked her head out to see all but one sitting in the car, as the other wandered around our campsite. We lay and wondered whether Randi had gotten himself in a bit of a situation or was just hanging out. I soon couldn’t fight my bladder any longer and had to wander out into the dark towards the far away loos. Passing the car I quickly headed for the loos checking my shoulder the whole way feeling uneasy. They were still there when I returned and I lay up for the next hour or so waiting to make sure Randi stayed and they left.
So much for my early night, they didn’t leave until about 3am. A few days later Mark reminded the group, to the gratitude of many of us, that no one is to ever be brought back to our camp. It is not only ones’ own safety you need to worry about but the group as a whole as we’ve all far too much to lose to take silly risks.
That morning we rolled out of camp leaving our last fresh water shower for the next 2ish weeks; baby wipes, ocean swims and bottled water from there on out. As we pulled into a dingy dirt car park on the beach in Essaura that afternoon I made a brilliant discovery. I have for a few days been telling Elisa that I want to find some Zebra print cloth to make a Halloween costume with and right there on the beach it was dropped into my lap. It was a rather grubby old single mattress cover thrown unlovingly on the edge of the car park. It has adopted the unattractive name of Pissy as everyone else is disgusted by it. I love it with a creative passion!
After putting my new found project aside Elisa and I were racing to the beach. I suffered a moment of unease at taking my clothes off at a beach surrounded by muslims but it quickly passed and I was splashing loudly into the waves. It was absolutely splendid. I am truly a water person, I feel like I’ve come home no matter where in the world I am. We spent the remainder of the evening enjoying free wifi in exchange for overpriced coffee, a hilariously rough game of football on the beach and grilled sardines for dinner.
The next day, being a Friday, Ben and I started out early to do our cook group shopping as the stores close around noon. Laden with bags of food we desperately tried to explain to a cabbie where we were staying. After a few tries we managed to get ourselves back to the truck. Randi at this point had still not been able to get a Mauritanian visa so as we left he hopped out at the bus station to head back to Rabbat to retrieve his passport. I spent the day upfront with Mark providing terrible company as I drifted off in my own thoughts staring at the gorgeous ever changing landscape passing us by. As we pulled into the clearing that was to be our camp for the night I could’ve hugged the man, simply beautiful! It was a sandy clearing with jagged cliffs falling away all down the coast with the waves breaking loudly far below as birds flew above. On our way to the edge to soak it all in we met a man who informed us, through Wilna, that it was the Bald Eyebus mating season and pointed out their nests on the far cliff. As we sat and stared into the vast expanse of sea feeling peaceful and content he then informed us it was a protected area and we couldn’t spend the night here.
We were all devastated but not as much as Ben, who had returned to the truck and begun to unpack the kitchen. We packed up and headed up the road until we found a path down to the edge of a dirty beach. Still great but nowhere near as perfect. Ben and I made a delicious stew and we all spent the evening learning Finnish Facts, telling stories and asking riddles.
By 9:30 the next morning we rolled into Taghazout to buy lunch and hire surf boards for the day. A couple hours later and I was wading into the waves with a 7’6 tucked under my arm and a massive smile stretching across my face. I was no better than my last ride but I was also no worse. That elation from catching the wave and standing never ceases for me. Elisa was amazing for her first time and my terrible instructions. She lasted the entire day and was standing on her 8’6. I spent the day in and out of the water before retiring from the sun late in the afternoon. I of course got a splotchy sunburn which has inspired me to soak myself in sunscreen after having to squat to pee with a sunburn behind my knees.
Our camp was on a bushy cliff which after setting our tents up we discovered was a favoured place for fishermen to park. One pair had driven politely around our tents and parked on the edge unloading their gear including a couple pots of tajine before hiking down the cliff. I later discovered another group camping just beyond us as I went to search for a spot to pee.
It was a windless silent night as I went to bed that night. As usual I lay awake in and out of a daze but not sleep. At some point another car pulled in and parked. Soon after I heard Mark get out of the truck and wander off. While in the tent one can easily become disorientated and potentially easily unnerved. The soft thud of the cab closing, the truck door squeaking shut. Suddenly through the quiet night there came the sof crunch of footsteps. My heart racing, they came nearer. Someones outside the tent. I wake Elisa with a rough shake and whisper. We lay dead still listenning. My stomach jumped into my throat at the soft rustle of the tent rippling behind my head. The quiet but insistent rustle of someone trying to find the zip. As in a dream I sit up right and open my mouth, however, unlike a dream when no sound emerges a blood curtling scream erupted from my belly. It has been years since I last drummed for the Dragon Boat team but all those years of diaphram using training kicked in just like that. Despite my shrieks the movement continued around the side of the tent to the entrance and out poured another round of profanity my mother would be shocked by in an amazing screach. Finally the familiar sound of Orm’s voice from a few meters away.
Then Mark called out from close by, “Are you ok?”
“No I’m not okay, someone’s trying to get in our tent!” I whimpered pathetically.
“Um its okay Suzanne, it was only the wind” Mark responded.
Whoopsies! Feeling like an utter fool I lay back down trying to steady my heart. Elisa and I had a good giggle before she drifted back to sleep and I spent the rest of the night feeling foolish and cursing every breath of wind until the morning finally came.
It wasn’t until the next evening that this little episode became funny for me and I rewarded Mark, my knight in shining armor, with a beer and chocolate.
Monday saw us in Agadir, our last Marjane. We all bought our precious cigarettes, water, loo paper, baby wipes, munchies and supplies for our upcoming Hat Party. I was going to attempt to make a cake over the fire but it became far too hot to think about being around a fire more than necessary. The next night was to be our Hat Party which Elisa and Emy had come up with as a good excuse for a party to finish off our booze before entering dry Mauritania. Originally one’s hat was meant to be constructed from unpurchased products, the rules had been changed to include creative use of bought items.
The night was a great success and an even bigger one for myself as I won! I was presented with a first place medal that Emy had made out of a water bottle cap and tin foil, this was accompanied by a bag of Mars bars! I had wrapped a couple black garbage bags around my head Berber style, then decorated it with drawings of waves, camels, a surf board, a gust of wind scaring a blonde girl protected by a knight and little faces of each crew member. For a veil I taped together the Marjane symbol from saved bags, and touched the look off with dark lined eyes.
I should explain Marjane is a supermarket which is a cross between Walmart and Save-on, so you can get basically anything there. Only found in Morocco we’ve become spoiled to one every few days as Mark loves them. We have spent many hours wandering the isles and eating our lunch sitting in the parking lot. We’ve all become quite attached to the chain.
A quick run down on everyone elses hats. Mark was a sad donkey using his wetsuit hat and the bootys folded on either side of his head, Ben was a happy donkey – half a waterbottle folded over his head with card board ears, David covered his head in tiny balloons with the aid of a swim cap and placed a champagne glass in the centre, Emy was an amazing Moroccon store-‘free to look’ she had made tinfoil items such as the hand of fatima, a pair of slippers, camel key ring etc, Orm was a Tajine of randomness-waterbottles constructed to look like a Tajine pot filled with odds n sodds he’s collected, Jesco wore a pair of stuffed long underwear on his head, Elisa was a discoball that she had tediously constructed from plastic cups she’d coloured, Jon had constructed himself a crown of clothes pegs, Andrew and I made him a bowl for his head which he filled with loo paper charging 5 Dhm a go, Graham stuck true to his love and made a sheesha out of a waterbottle and old sheesha, Wilna had a pile of pitas stacked upon each other with Terry our adopted plastic dinosaur amongst small plastic dinosaurs all tied to her head with streamers. Over all the night was a great success.
The next day we drove into Layounne to fill the trucks fuel tanks, all together just under 2,000 litres, and stock up on food for 3 days before heading across the desert.
A fresh trail of sweat rolls down my nose moments after wiping my face. Feeling glued to the seat from the pool of sweat gathering under my bum I shuffle trying to get a breeze to dry out. The tarp flaps noisily behind me as I stare out across the barren land flying past. Its been the same for a good 30 minutes or more now; rocky with a scattering of sand and pitiful looking shrubs. I force down another gulp of the coldest water I can find. Mmm just like drinking bath water. We’ve been driving across the Western Sahara for 2 days now. It seems like forever ago we’ve had a shower, we’re all a filthy sorry sight. My knotted mingy hair whips crazily in the wind, more sweat pours down my face and I smile. Its one of those smiles that you can feel in your stomach, deep and overwhelming. I’m constantly hit with that feeling of utter happy peace. I’m here, I’ve done it. Its been nearly 15 years since I knew I wanted to see Africa and no amount of a sweaty bum is going to ruin a single moment of this dream.
The next few days were filled with long drives across the rocky sandy desert. We spent our time staring out the windows, reading, napping, writing, and many hours playing cards. Our last night in the Western Sahara (Morocco) we consumed the majority of the last alcohol as Mauritania is dry. After everyone else has gone to bed Elisa and I sat up late sharing a bottle of wine listenning to the waves crash just ahead of us with the stars gleaming down overhead.
We arrived at the border early the next morning and stood around waiting for the truck to pass through the xray. A small child of about 7 came out to taunt and play with us. It was a great spectacle to see white blonde Elisa chasing a small muslim boy around the police and cars.
After finally exiting Morocco we hit no mans’ land with the most horrendous yet fun bumpy ‘road’. We pulled over shortly after crossing for a quick loo stop which would’ve made a great shot of us ladies. Emy had dashed off behind the nearest mound and I in tradition of managing to follow her squatted down next to her. We were soon joined by Elisa and Wilna, a neat little row of glimmering white bums.
The border crossing was thankfully uneventful and the officials pleasant, just tediously long. After having been stamped in everyone is once more checked on the way out then about twice more after. No real logic or organization apparent. As soon as we arrived in Mauritania the heat hit us with a scorching force. Our thermometer was immediately bouncing on 45. I put my layers on, applied loads of sunscreen and tried to hide from the sun shining through the truck, as Mark has taken to calling me Red. It’s the kind of heat combined with long desert drives that makes one slightly insane. I’ve finished my first 2 books and have just cracked into Jane Goodall’s. Twenty Chickens for a Saddle was great, thank you Tamsin. Yesterday was also Orm’s (Joel) 30th birthday. He was donned with a crown of balloons in the morning and we sung happy birthday to him at random for the entire day.
No names mentioned but somehow a bottle of Black Label Johnnie Walker made its way to our camp fire our first night in Mauritania in order to celebrate properly. That night as we sat around on the mats talking and watching Orm play with his lit up flying toy he’d received from Wilna. Suddenly out of the dark sand dunes appeared a man dressed in white robes who tried to speak to us but as Jesco is the only one with minimal Arabic it didn’t go too far. As he was drinking the water we’d given him his identity became clear as a 100 or so goats came ‘bahing’ their way down the dune. After a cigarette he was off after his herd and into the night.
Despite the slight breeze throwing sand about Elisa, Andrew, Kyle and I decided to spend the night under the open sky. Our unrolled tents formed a small barrior at one end with the fire guard aiding as well. I lay staring at the stars until it became unenjoyable blinking in sand. I had Kyle to one side and Elisa to the other with a tent at my head so I managed to find a spot for my face with no sand and had a great sleep. Elisa and I have grown used to cuddling up on the cold nights at the beginning and she seems to continue to take over my mattress despite the heat thus I end up half on the ground, or this case Kyle’s sunnies, whoops. It felt amazing to have only the sky above and made the 3 wet wipe face wash the next day totally worth it.
The morning started as did the day before with “Happy Birthday” as Graham, my fellow 1986 Canadian, emerged from his tent. He was given a Espana hat, as his nickname has become Spaniard from Gladiator, as well as a plastic flowered apron from Wilna and a beautiful Canadian pin.
After an early start we made it to Nuakchott by noon to buy lunch and dinner. It was ridiculously hot, the therm had maxed out at 50 in the shade of the back of the truck. Ben and I changed 100 USD for 27,000 oogaboogas and wandered all of a block before I crawled back to the truck to chug water in the shade. The city was loud, busy, smelly, dirty but everyone was very friendly.
David, Elisa and Jon took off to go to Senegal for the week and the remaining 10 of us headed towards our campsite. By this point we were all melting into our seats and greatly looking forward to a swim. The campsite, despite being hard to call it a campsite, was perfectly situated a 2 minute walk into the water. The waves threw us about drowning us in salty water cooling and restoring our spirits.
The remainder of the afternoon was spent between the water and the shade of the truck where we consumed large quantities of bath water warm water and coke. I’d conquered at least 8ltrs of water by dinner time but luckily needed every drop of water and only had to use the disgusting squat toilet twice. As there was no water to throw down the loo it all relied upon gravity and stunk to high heaven and was overrun with flies.
At 5 we headed down the beach to the fish markets as the boats were coming in for the day. It was a great sight to see the men pulling the boats up the beach as the waves crashed around them throwing everything to and fro, heaps of fish piled all along the beach and boys with carts hauling off the days catch. We wandered amongst the stalls of squid, little fishies, big fishies and fishy stench. I lasted about 30 minutes before I had to head back due to the heat burning my legs and sucking the life out of me.
Mark helped Wilna and Emy prepare a leg of lamb which they served up with a sweet and sour sauce stirfry. Amazing. I started my malaria meds. We lay our gear out on the roof around midnight, extremely late for us. There was an incredible view of the city behind us and the crashing waves with the moons’ reflection infront.
As per my nightly pattern I lay awake for ages before managing to doze off. My slumber was rudely interrupted by some small insects attacking my face and hands. I eventually tied a shirt around my head leaving only my nose and eyes exposed, pulled the hood of my sleeping bag tight and rolled onto my stomach leaving only a small breathing hole. Not pleasant in such heat but better than being eaten alive. By the time I had figured out the best position I had numerous lumps all over my face but was luckily lacking the evidence by the morning. Ben and Graham weren’t as lucky. Ben had welts all over his forehead and hands and Graham looked like he had chicken pox.
We were originally going to be staying in Nuakchott for two nights but after our first melting day in the city we’d decided to get the heck out and keep going. We headed back into the city that morning to stock up on food and water. While buying copious amounts of water the clerk gave me a friendly lesson on Mauritanian currency as I was obviously incompetant with it. It lasted 10 minutes and involved a lot of me smiling and nodding to his french explanation but I did catch that he was a nice man but anyone else would have ripped me off for not understanding. Everyone has been friendly and stops to shake your hand and say hi, it took a few times before I realized that unlike Morocco they were going to let go of my hand once the exchange was over.
Emy and I filled the water jerry cans hauling them from across the street back to the truck, it was a great workout; by that I mean I pulled my shoulder. Ben and I then went to the loo down the street which required a head lamp so as not to pee on ones’ feet. As each of us took our turns we were greeted by some locals who told us how much they loved us, very uplifting bathroom stop.
It was 10:30 and it was already exhaustingly hot. I spent the day on the truck trying to get a facefull of wind without getting burnt. There are numerous police checks along the way which either wave you through or jump on board to check the passenger list but mostly to have a good look as far as I can tell. We stared at miles of desert that would slowly change into different variations of desert with small clusters of tents or straw huts every once in a while. We were regularly slowed or stopped by herds of goats, donkeys, or camels crossing the road. A bush camp wasn’t found until 6 which was actually quite nice as no one was keen to start setting up and cooking in the heat. Despite having done nothing but consume water all day set up is extremely draining and unpleasant when so hot. After the bug attack from the night prior we all set our tents up except Kyle who decided to test out his mosquito net under the truck, he discovered it was broken in the middle of the night. He managed, however, to come out of it unbitten.
Morning loo walks have become a colourful and fun affair as Emy has made a loo stick named Dumpy. When going behind a small bush in a vastly open space or just down a dune its never relaxing knowing someone may stumble upon you at any moment. Emy has a particularly big fear of this so she decorated a few sticks with bright tape that are placed a few meters before your chosen spot so anyone coming knows to go no further. Its quite amusing to watch someone wander off with a glittery stick, loo paper and a shovel.
I felt the need for sunscreen before we’d even left at 8:30 for the Malian border. This border experience was much smoother and relaxed than the past as we spent the whole time sitting on the truck enjoying a odds and sodds lunch. While Mark was sorting our visa papers we went to buy water then returned to get our passports stamped. Once again we crossed the border into a truly entirely new country, surprise surprise eh! There were now mud huts with thatched roofs replacing the tents and straw.
We started our drive towards Kaye with sweat rolling down our backs and hot wind in our faces. We stop in town to collect water, money, snacks and dinner.
With no plan at all Ben and I collected our cook group allowance from Mark and set off in search of the market, if ones’ lucky we’re parked quite near. From there you buy some meat, usually 1.5-2kg, arguing in broken french that no you do not want bones and fat, give us real meat. Meat tucked under our arm we now have a vague idea of a possible meal, now in search of veggies, these will now determine to an extent what we will do. Pathetic whilting tomatoes all around, a few massive cucumbers, loads of fresh lettuce, onions, potatoes, small bushells of carrots, some strange lumps and that’s about it. We decide to go for a curry with salad and pancakes for breakfast so we grab some eggs along with our veggies.
When we finally arrive to our bush camp the kitchen is set out and our fire pit dug, far too close if you ask me! Cutting veggies with the afternoon sun beating down isn’t made easier by a fire burning 3 feet away. Everyone pitches in to chop, peel and crush before setting up their tents and relaxing. Then comes the pleasant act of cooking- when you want nothing to do with fire. Taking turns we manage to turn out a delicious curried veggie with coronation beef and a fresh salad. The women wash up and go first, followed by the men, Mark then the chefs themselves. This way if you mess up and theres not enough its only you that will pay. Once dinner is finished dishes are washed in the basins, hopefully everyone helps with the pots, sauces and gear is packed away and all can relax before turning in to bed.
The next day we make it into Kaye to have our usual cook group stop and wander before heading to a camp at the Senegal river for two days of fresh water! We pull into our camp ground on a grassy cliff overlooking the river just a 5 minute walk away to be met by a local guide. As we roll out and eye the area up for tent and loo spots he tells us a bit about the area. We quickly help unload the kitchen then grab our gear and head to the river.
Wilna, Emy and I were desperate for a shower and shave by this point so we brought along stools and supplies. A great sight we were sitting on our stools feet in the river shaving our legs as a group of locals looked on, Emy and I sychronize armpit shaving. It felt beautiful to swim in fresh water and I was greatly rejuvinated when I headed back up the hill to watch dinner be created. Once back the boys had dug two fire pits one for dinner and the second sadly for our garbage to be burned in, most foul smell ever. We enjoyed a late night of sitting out the heat reading and playing Bananagrams before heading to our tents to sweat it out for the night. I woke up 6:30 as usual and vaguely watched Ben have his morning smoke from his tent and a dog wander the camp. Suddenly I noticed the dog I’d chosen not to yell at was beginning to pee on my tent! Grrr, I scared him off before he could do too much damage but I had to give it a good wash in one corner.
That day was spent taking a tour of the fort before heading to the waterfalls 3k up the road. The Chinese are building a power station there and are blasting so you can only visit at certain times. We headed in around 1 and didn’t come out for a few blissful, burning hours. There were amazing pool formations some with rushing water, others dry and many with perfect swimming holes. We played around slipping from pool to pool enjoying the beauty and coolness of it all. Kyle took on a diving mission and swam through caves from one pool to another. He some how convinced me to do one and I can say I’m immensely proud of myself but didn’t feel the need to do anymore.
After hours of fun I began to feel the burn I knew was coming so headed back to the truck. By the time I had arrived at the truck I was feeling thuroughly burnt and dehydrated; not good as there was little water amongst the group. Emy and Orm lent me a rehydration sachet and Wilna lent some of us water that saved my life. The rest of the evening past as any other and the next day we headed towards Bamako with just one bush camp left before the luxuries of a hostel.
Our last bush camp was a perfect last night out in the bush playing memory games and drawing names from a hat for our new cook groups. Once it was dark and growing late Ben and I helped each other throw our tents up, I took the only close spot left with Ben a few feet to one side and Kyle a few meters behind. I mention their proximity simply because they both woke up covered in ants that had found their way into their tent during the night and I was unscathed! Yay. I did, however, find some horribly large bug crawling out of the ground under my tent when packing it up. It was the size of a big thumb and looked like a spider minus the right number of legs, so a giant fat spidery ant! We chopped its head off, enjoyed fresh mangos, packed up and headed towards Bamako.
Due to the last few weeks terrain loo stops are always a great challenge for the women in the group. As a smoker I have my cig lit as soon as I leave the last step, then it’s a hurried evaluation of the nearest shrubberies to be found and with a shout I’m hurried off towards my mark. Smoking as I go I scope the others out and squat behind my bush, usually about the same time the other 3 have chosen a spot near by or in some cases must wait for the one available spot. Pants down smoke in mouth one then has to manouever mid pee should the wind change, you’ve placed yourself on a slope, the ground doesn’t absorb anything and causes anxious foot shuffling. Then while pulling up your trousers you head back to the truck finishing off you smoke just as the others are climbing on and you’re back to your sweaty seat. If you’re unlucky as I was once you pay more attention to your destination than whats under you and you step on a branch sending 2 2inch thorns through your slip on shoe and into your foot. I’ve learnt to wear my runners to trek to the loo from now on.
We arrived in Bamako early afternoon, police trailing us for some supposed violation. After amazing manuevouring on Marks part we squeezed through the hostel gates and tumbled out sweaty, filthy and ready for a cold drink. Angela had arrived a day prior and we all sat around telling stories while enjoying cold beers.
xoxo Drifting Daisy
