Good-bye OK Inn, hello Ghana. With more great roads our arrival at the Ghana border at Paga was quick and easy and pulling up in front of the customs building we were soon inside and filling out the usual paperwork but this time made all the more easier as everything was in English!

The British heritage of the country was obvious immediately as stacks upon stack of paperwork lay in semi-organised piles neatly tucked into tightly bound manila files. Records of the passing public and their vehicles, all in triplicate! Our helpful customs officer was in full flow stamping, signing and inspecting every piece of our documentation, with a thoroughness we hadn’t seen since entering Russia. Complementing him on his professional approach to our entry, he looked and with a wry smile said, “well You see, this is the legacy you have left us, things in order and in place”. It’s a little more than just noteworthy that after all the borders we’ve now crossed this Ghanaian officer was also the first to actually ask to inspect the bikes and their corresponding frame/engine numbers before he put his stamp to the Carnet. I have to admit that after the battle we had to get the Carnet’s in the first place, it was quite nice for them to be taken seriously.

Back on the bikes we were soon off and again using good asphalt roads the miles passed easily as arid savannah plains rolled away from us to our left and right. As we rounded a fast wide bend and with Lisa behind me I slowed up as a darkened shape made it’s way into the middle of the road about 500 metres ahead. Ah…well, whatever it is will move as soon as it see’s the size of the laden BMW hurtling towards it. As the distance decreased the ‘dark hunched shape’ could now be made out for an African bald headed vulture that was happily tucking into the bloody entrails of a poor cow that had moved off the road a little too slowly. ‘OK now, look up, flap those bloody huge wings of yours and fly off’, I thought as I rode closer still. Nope, this guy was intent on finishing his gory feast and no bloody tourist riding an over-laden Bavarian motorbike was going to interrupt him.

Secure in the knowledge that he would ‘of course’ eventually move, I pressed on. The distance between us was now short. “Pisss-off”, I shouted loudly, when at last I realised that I may just have underestimated the nerve of my opponent. I’m not really sure why I shouted “piss-off”, I mean the chance of coming across a linguistically gifted vulture is pretty slim; let alone a multi-lingual one that understands English…Mmmmmm.

‘C’mon move, c’mon move, c’mon move’….at last he realised his folly! With majestic effort those huge wings were brought into life as they began to pump the air and lift off was imminent. Majestic yes, clever NO! Kojak with wings had decided to use the road as a runway and had decided to take off down the centre white line…’Oh shit’, I’m going to hit him. This is going to hurt. Thud”, *thump~, flap#, rustle*, flap”^*#! I peered over the top of the dark screen; I’d instinctively ducked behind. My bike had a new mascot. I pulled over to inspect the damage. I’d hit him from behind at around 60 mph and pushed his ass through his head. His neck had been broken instantly but his huge tail feathers had become entangled in the metal oil cooler under my lights, so there he lay on the bikes front beak…attached! Having never hit or killed as much as a sparrow before It seemed more than a little strange that the first creature I hit, be a Huge African Vulture? Peeling the bird from my bike attracted the attention of a group of children on their way from school. Without batting an eye-lid they hoisted the lifeless bird and spread the massive wingspan. My grief was short lived as the need to seize the photo opportunity took hold…The pictures say it all!

Miraculously the BM’ was undamaged so back on the bike and leaving the kids to play with the carcass….’that just doesn’t sound right, does it”? We were back on the road and heading to Tamala, a mid sized town to our South. Late afternoon saw us parked up by the side of the main road, baking under the sun trying to work out where on earth we were going to stay. A red Nissan pulled up behind us, and the well-dressed female driver was quickly out of her car and walking towards us. Janice was from Zimbabwe and eager to see if we needed assistance. She had moved to Tamala with her husband only a month earlier and was house hunting, so new to the area. She was also staying at Gariba Lodge, which was now only 100 metres behind us and to our right. It was agreed that we’d pop in and with Janice’s help see if they’d let us put up a tent. Reception greeted us politely, but it was not possible to put up a tent. With our disappointment noted and our financial predicament explained the receptionist quickly called the owner. Conversation over, she smiled back at us and asked…”would you like a room if we provided a 50% discount”? Our surprise and delight were obvious. With clean white sheets on a large double bed, air con, bathroom and satellite TV in the room, we’d thought we’d died and gone to heaven. Thank you Gariba Lodge for a wonderful respite and your very warm welcome. You can find Gariba Lodge at GPS: N9 26.671 W0 50.683

With photos of Gariba and it’s staff taken for prosperity and best wishes for our onward journey received we revved the bikes and headed for central Tamala in order to pick up cash, fuel and hopefully the main road south to Kumasi. The day was already incredibly hot and it was only 10 am. We’d decided to head for Mole National Park which we’d read was small but after years of neglect was now being revitalised with cash injections from the Ghanaian Government. With an increasing number of elephants in the park and the chance to get up close we would hopefully spend the night there.

The good asphalt road was swapped for dusty and very corrugated piste only 40 miles outside Tamala. 53 miles and lot of vibrations later we were finally arriving at Mole National Park, where unusually camping is allowed (at your own risk). Choosing a wonderful spot on top of the escarpment we erected the tent a little nervously noting that no one else was camping and that the area for camping was outside the fenced and protected area of the rooms and Motel. We figured the view and placement of the tent made up for the small risk of being trampled to death by stampeding elephants, who we were told do occasionally make their way up here. The view is breathtaking with rolling and rugged savannah as far as the eye can see.

The motels swimming pool, restaurant and bar area are free for campers to use…bliss. After enjoying a couple of incredibly cheap ice-cold beers and simply looking out on this incredible landscape we finally made our way back to the tent. A family of wild boar had moved in next door and were happily foraging for late night snacks in the dusty grass around our canvas. We made our way past careful not to disturb them while grinning at each other like children…goodnight.

A day of rest at Mole. Our night’s sleep hadn’t been good with several very large baboons pacing around our tent cooing and grunting at each other, and probably wondering where this large green ‘thing’ had come from? Peeling back the canvas door of the tent, we’d been woken by loud trumpeting and even louder splashing from the watering hole that lay only 100ft beneath us on the savannah floor. The magical sight before us was 10 elephants all enjoying their early morning bath! Huge playful grey skinned giants frolicking in the cooling muddy water. Neither of us had been prepared to see them with such little effort, nor had we realised just how big these incredible animals are. Long trunks, huge tusks and massive ears all thrashed about in the water…we simply sat and watched for an hour. Again, one of those times when we look at each other and realise just how privileged we are to be here. Mid day coffee (now doesn’t that sound so civilised) was disturbed when one of the baboons had cleverly managed not only to get into the compound that surrounds the Motel but also managed to undo the door of a large pick-up and was quit happily helping himself to the packed lunch that sat on the passenger seat. By the time Lisa, I and most of the other guests had arrived at the car park; he’d eaten his appetizer and was now tucking into his main course having climbed onto the corrugated roof of the car park shelter…brilliant.Taking our cue from the elephants we decided the best idea was to spend the day playing in the pool.Baboon warning: These animals can be playful but don’t underestimate their size or strength. They are also very smart. We were warned not to let the Baboons see us getting into our tent, as they will try to imitate and learn how to get in.