Well today was much, much longer than we’d anticipated or planned but came right none the less.

With a quick pack up complete we were on the piste and swallowing mouth falls of red dust by 8:30 am. We’d planned to stop at ‘Camp De Lion’, which sits within the Nicolo Koba National park. We’d been given the details and info from friends who after a visit themselves, simply described the place as ‘a must’. That was good enough for us, besides, having bush camped for the past few nights we’re both really in need of a shower.

The red dusty piste seemed to go on forever but with the ‘Tabascee’ (Muslim celebrated holiday…probably spelt wrong) still being celebrated, we were left to ‘enjoy’ the piste without to much traffic. The piste finally was replaced with asphalt at N13 09.330 W14 05.088 and we could begin to relax as we rode and at last enjoy the glorious scenery around us.

The excitement of spending a few days in the National Park and perhaps seeing lions, elephants and hippos, not to mention a getting clean was steadily growing. So at 3pm two very excited motorcyclist made a right turn off the main road and headed towards the stop barrier at the entrance to the park, where we were dutifully told, that we could not go any further as motorbikes were not permitted in the park because…”the noise could scare the animals”? Um, yeah right…and the noise and sight of a Land Rover defender blazing a path through the scrub is soothing I suppose??? We suspect or rather hope that the real reason we were turned away was for our own safety, but to be told it was because of the noise was a bit hard to swallow at the time. We were tired and very disappointed, the fact that we’d waited at the barrier for 45 mins whilst the gate staff all refused to come out of the large round hut because Senegal was playing football (and lost) just exacerbated our frustration.

Back in the saddle we were soon back on asphalt and heading down to Kedougou and still in the area protected by the National Park. Regular signs warning the passing motorist of the dangers of savage animals were regular..

As we drew closer the horizon took an a ominous dark hew…smoke and a lot of it, was blackening the sky. Bush fires were appearing everywhere, left and right and some a little to close for comfort but we had, so far, managed to avoid any ‘close encounters’. 15 km outside Kedougou that would change as the fire had taken hold of the scrub right up to the road on both sides. With no other way through it was time to take a deep breath and find what a barbeque chicken feels like…Mmmmm, crispy. Shit that was hot! Lisa had bravely volunteered that I go first, so off I went. Now pause for thought here…’Love is…’ getting bravely cremated whilst your wife takes photographs of the event…. Aaahh the things you do for prosperity. With Lisa through safely and both of us feeling the warmer side of medium to well done we headed into Kedougou and picked up signs for ‘Campement Le Bantamba’ foundat N12 32.529 W12 10.302.

We were both tired, in need of a cold shower and most of all we wanted desperately to be clutching bottles of ice-cold beer. So with our situation explained and a price agreed we set up home and 20 minutes after arriving, two cold beers were thrust into our hands by the smiling staff member who’d greeted us at the gate…bloody hell we already love this place. The site has a very, very relaxed atmosphere and the food we had (we were to knackered to cook for ourselves) was wonderful. Lots of rice served with beef pieces stewed in a rich peanut sauce. With the noise of the river and the mateing bull frogs at the base of the camp providing the background atmosphere, the evening put our silly frustration earlier into perspective…we’re bloody lucky to be here. Night, night.

Our plans to get an early start were again scuppered as Lisa coughed and sniffed herself awake. After a coffee fuelled power meeting it was unanimously decided that with her Highness still spluttering and coughing and both of us a little more tired than we’d care to admit, we should stay at use the time to do some diary, emails and a few other jobs on the bikes we hadn’t got to at Jangjang-bureh camping. A good choice.The Campement is another great find and isn’t in Lonely Planets yet. The site’s been open for a year and is owned by Moulaye (Senegalese and his Austrian wife). A lot of thoughts gone into the place with some nice touches, like the names animal rooms, each one with athe appropriate animal careved in wood at the front door and on the attached to the key for the room.

The foods great, the staff our friendly and the cold beer (at 60p for 0.5 litre) certainly doesn’t hurt. Obviously we’re camping but the site offers…wait for it, air-conditioned rooms (circular huts with traditional reed roofs) all with en-suite’s, double beds and mossy’ nets. We really were tempted but our budget is already pushed.

If you fancy staying here's the detials: Tel-00221 937 96 30 Mobile-00221 690 72 35

GPS: N12 32.529 W12 10.302.

Kedougou all the way to the next village Sataya was very bad asphalt and saw us using the dirt track to the side of the road as much as the road itself, so many of the pot holes were simply to big to ride around or just to tightly packed together for us to weave through them. The asphalt was finally swapped for familiar red dust dirt, which kept us company until the next main village – leaving the main track we headed for the village centre, with only about 20 huts it wasn’t hard to find but we needed to buy bread.

Our arrival had sparked some local interest and within minutes the village had turned out to see the ‘Martians’. Our every move was carefully observed and our cunning bread buying technique scrutinised by the growing crowd of children, teenagers, adults and oldies. Our exit from the small building to daylight tipped a chorus of shouting and applause…had we passed some kind of test? It had been decided that we were OK and weren’t here to cast spells. Within seconds a barrage of questions hit us, some in French but most in a language we didn’t recognise. All we could do was answer as best we could. The atmosphere was excitable and friendly…so I decided to ask permission to take a photo, this met with approval and very quickly saw the young girls brushing themselves down and checking hair styles prior to the snapping of the camera lens.

Back on board we had decided to head to Satadougou across country on something not much more than a cycle track, this’ll get better and wider we thought naively. The terrain changed constantly – from hard packed mud to volcanic shale to patches of razor sharp lava rock and plain old dirt. As the track became narrower it also became rockier with both bikes regularly grounding out. Apart from cycles we didn’t see any other vehicles using these tracks and by mid-day we were both, hot, sweaty, dusty and knackered. With concentration pushed we stopped at the top of our first large dry riverbed crossing. Steep banks on both sides and rocky sections meant that we’d walk the route first and get an idea of what was ahead. Having ridden first and with only a few feet to go from the top of the opposite bank my left pannier caught the steep bank, ripping the pannier from the frame and throwing me and the bike right into the small gully in the middle. I’d taken the bank with some speed in order to make it up and out and had hit the ground hard. My right shoulder was in agony and fuel was pouring from the bike. Throwing myself backwards onto a tree stump did something to my shoulder and the pain eased. With the bike still bleeding gas, we needed to get it up. It took us every once of our strength and about 15 mins to get the bike upright again, as the rear tyre and right pannier had become wedged. With the exertion and effort we were by now both dripping with sweat and desperate to get our sweat sodden and heavy jackets off. The huge biting flies surrounding us made sure that wasn’t possible and were already chewing into any bare skin they could find! With my pannier still on the floor I returned for Lisa’s bike and bought it across this time with any spills. Concentrating on reattaching my bent and buckled pannier back onto my bike with the use of some strong nylon cord, we hadn’t noticed that the flies had all but disappeared, unfortunately the buzzing all around us hadn’t. Out activity had roused the interest of a large bees nest, which although we couldn’t see, was obviously quite close. Ten became 20, which became 50, which in turn became hundreds. I was getting nervous and Lisa a little panicked. We were miles from anywhere with nothing but jungle around us. The bees were beginning to swarm. A sudden scream from Lisa pierced the air. A bee had got inside her jacket and stung her on the rear of her right shoulder. The sting was still there, so carefully but as quickly as possible we removed it. Her shoulder was swelling and the pain and panic was written all over Lisa’s face. The number of bees was still growing. We needed to get out of here fast. Lisa’s shoulder was getting stiff and very hot. We had to leave now. Manhandling Lisa on to her bike and with the right verbal encouragement imbued, she was soon off and out of sight. After getting my pannier attached to my bike, I followed quickly.

As we continued to ride the track became a little wider but still not a cars width. A huge black boar ran across the track. It was non too pleased with the noise of the engine and Lisa’s grunting BM engine simply annoyed it even more. With more time to look, Lisa had spied the reason for the boar’s hostility. Protecting his large family, which was scurrying in the bush, is a serious business and 5+ baby boars have got to b e a handful. A similar reaction greeted us some 20 minutes later as we approached a bunch of very pissed off baboons. These things were ‘big’. Now I’m no Dr Doolittle but when something almost as big as me is jumping up and down beating the ground with club like fist’s, bearing it’s fangs and screaming at us, you know it’s not terribly happy. As we rode by a little quicker than normal, I wondered…how fast can baboons run? Please don’t bite us, please don’t bite us.

The day had been long, incredibly hot and daylight was disappearing fast so riding on a few more km we found the next village. Again we were soon surrounded by dozens of excited eyes. With the normal courtesies exchanged we requested to see the ‘chief’ and asked for his ‘protection’ and permission to stay the night. We were both knackered and dehydrated and were grateful that the headman had shooed away all the children for us – being stared at all night whilst cooking is a tad off-putting! The villagers decided to have a party. The singing finally subsided at around 2am – they don’t seem to go to bed with the sun going down around here!

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