Mali

Immediately after crossing into Mali villages looked different, instead of rectangular huts or tents people here built round mud huts with pointy straw roofs. People were very friendly and curious, I pumped water at the communal well, so I would have enough for a night of bush camping. I have gotten better at taking showers under my foldable water reservoir and can now do it using only about 5 liters of water. I tried to sleep like the locals that night, skip erecting the tent and just lie on a mattress on the floor. It seems to be not that easy though, because all night long the bugs were crawling over me.

When I get to a new country I am always a little anxious. I might not have local money yet, I don't know the prices and everything looks a little different. Initially it can be quite a challenge, for example, for a European to identify specific kinds of stores or street vendors in Africa. Translucent buckets contain cake or muffins, big plastic bowls mean rice with sauce is being sold, guys carrying strings of plastic cards sell cell phone credit.

I chose a remote route to Bamako that took me three days. I rode through small villages, crossed a river in a dugout canoe, met curious and extremely hospitable villagers and camped in the bush. At times the path was tough, other times I rode on an incredibly wide and smooth dirt road, built by the Chinese and apparently part of a Dakar-Bamako highway project. On one of the diversions around a stretch of road being built I dropped the bike in soft sand and, for the second time, broke the tube under my bike where I keep my tools. I was too annoyed to try and fix it and simply duct taped it all up and continued.

I reached the outskirts of the capital Bamako and braced myself for the chaotic traffic I expected. Chaos it was, but terrifying and fun at the same time. I had waypoints of a couple of Hotels that allowed camping and followed the arrow on my GPS. The place where I ended up was owned by a French-Malian and when he held a party that weekend I met some French expats who were vivid motorcycling enthusiasts and invited me for a day out on the bike.

I had planned to stay in Bamako just for a week or so, while I was waiting for visas and got some repairs done, but things came up and I ended up staying for two weeks. One day, for example, I noticed a crack in the rear frame. I took the bike apart and had it welded in the metal shop across the street.

I had been on the road for a while and needed a haircut. So I just went to the first hair salon I could find and the guy was a good sport and said he'd do it. He had never cut straight hair though and I had to tell him how to use comb and scissors, so predictably the outcome was not quite what I had envisioned.

When I finally felt I had enough visas, shoes were fixed, the frame welded, my tube repaired and shopping was done, I left Bamako to head not straight towards South Africa, but rather take a detour through Guinea and Sierra Leone, where travel would be challenging but, I thought, more rewarding and memorable too.