We did some bike maintenance then strolled down to the beach between two rows of breeze block buildings. The waves and tide were high, dramatic stuff and it made getting along the beach to the lagoon quite exciting, dodging waves and rocks. At one point Robin was left hanging by his fingertips as a wave hit the wall below!
Everyone on the beach wanted to talk, about their shop, about their drumming or other enterprise, or just to ask for money to feed a puppy in a plastic bag :/ A couple of poor security guards baked in the sun outside a posh hotel while guarding the helpless white whales that were washed up on the deck chairs, sunbathing wobbly bits while being spoon fed; it felt embarrassingly colonial. They were pretty much the first Europeans we'd seen in weeks. Further along the beach the lagoon was beautiful, the tide was turning and standing waves formed in the outlet to the sea, dogs played on the waters edge and several locals were jogging in the sand.
While changing money in town we bumped in to Muhammed, we'd actually met him briefly on Goree, a tall slim Rasta with a one love outlook on life. It was cool he recognised us and came over to drink Cafe Touba sitting on a wall in the square before going back to his house to hang out for a bit. Down a sand street it was a room in a divided house built round a courtyard, simple but he had plans to fill the place when he moved the rest of his merchandise from nearer Mbour. He insisted on a gift of a couple of the necklaces he makes and sells before walking us up to the internet cafe run by a guy who called himself of all things Mr Ben the shopkeeper, it wasn't a show I'd imagined being exported to Senegal! He was learning English and spoke pretty well, his favourite expression being to abbreviate 'we're together' to 'we be gether', in good humour! Other guys came and went and it felt like we'd met and chatted with most of Somone by the time we left in the dark, waving our goodbyes to the last of the locals, and walked down the sand at the side of the road. Live music was playing somewhere off in the countryside and it was really nice to hear it in come and go with the breeze in the peace of the dark street.
The reggae was playing back at Myriam's and we had a warm welcome from Sarif who'd taken up his position on the chair at the door, winter woolies and all. The bikes were still safe inside the courtyard and we joined the gang for their 'family' meal; a big dish of Senegalese rice beans and fish with pinches of chillies at one of the tables in the bar, we felt so privileged and welcome it was even harder to leave the next day!
An early start got us up to Bandia national reserve to catch the animals before they sleep after midday, rhino, giraffe and buffalo were promised wandering amongst warthogs and monkeys. A long red earth road lead up to the ticket and guide lodges beside a tall baobab. The entry cost was huge, it was going to be about £150 for a one hour tour so we settled down for a wait to see if we could share the 4x4 with anyone else who might turn up. From a seat with a cold drink in the restaurant it was possible to see the watering hole and everything but giraffes and rhinos passed by, by the time midday came and went without any other visitors we felt we had actually had a good slice of wild life so the disappointment wasn't too bad.
We missioned on up the secondary road from Sindia to Thies then east to Kbombole on the primary. To Baba-Garage (no sign for a photo unfortunately) to Darou Moustr should have been a secondary too but turned out mostly to be 4x4 trails through mostly sand, sometimes pretty soft! It was easier to ride along side, dodging the baobabs and thorn bushes and stopping in some of the villages, occasionally to the tune of 'toobob toobob!' (foreigner) sung by little kids voices. Villages as always were the most tricky where the sand was thickest and most trodden and speed needed to be kept low for safety, we felt pretty guilty spinning the wheels to get free while fighting not to make too much of a spectacle but still people smiled and waved back.
Camp was made just past Segata, rolling off 300m in to the land beside the road and parking under a tree in the sandy earth. It was a beautiful night without a tent and the first time we'd had moonlight as we cooked and got ready for bed.
Sunrise was a large orange circle hovering behind the Bonsai like trees on the horizon. It broight with it a friendly farmer, hand hoeing the land for the coming rainy season. He was elderly wearing a long brown woolen shirt and bobble hat with few teeth when he smiled at us. We offered him some tea and without any In Wooluf he asked for something to eat and luckily the mangoes from a village yesterday were on hand. He turned and started shouting to another farmer, 'petite petite petite!' he called and he came to join bringing a little fuzzy haired kid with wide eyes. The son spoke some French and we talked a little about the land and found out they didn't like the tea without shovels of sugar like the Moroccan Nana. Maybe it's individual experience or maybe it is the result if years of food and monetary aid from the west but people we were finding often demanded and got upset when they didn't receive money, at this point the old man began this and we decided to pack up the tea party and move on, but not before leaving some more mangoes. It was a bigger problem in Senegal than the other countries we had been to and it could be quite upsetting, usually it was the kids with tins but occasionally adults too. Knowing what to say or do was always tricky, particularly if we'd just asked for directions for example. Sometimes we could make a joke and get a smile turning tapping pockets in to a drum kit or saying 'yes yes for me please!' when they shouted 'cadeux!', others all we could do was say no, sorry. What was even more difficult to deal with was when an embarrassed elder chased them away with a stick. In fact something seemed to have suggested to people that every westerner simply oozed money, we had to negotiate some crazy prices some times, people thinking nothing of doubling or tripling the price and we heard a few times during negotiations 'but €10 is nothing to you', even when dealing with big businesses.
From Louga we kept north to Mpal where turned down a sandy street that lead out in to the Pal-merinaguene Sylvo-Pastorale Reserve. The map had again mislead us somewhat; there being no fuel in Mpal (we had to overshoot and return) and again a 'secondary road' being no more than 4x4 tracks in the sand! That said it was possibly the most beautiful ride of the trip so far.
The beginning just after lunch was the most tricky section, with no clear route we asked in every thatch built village. People were shy and occasionally a little scared at first when we stopped but always warmed up even without any french to help things along. We saw signs for 'Senegal Hunger Project' along the way and could clearly see how hard life could be in these rural areas, though the hospitality still extended to occasional invites for tea. Later when we couldn't stop in the sandy sections nods and waves were exchanged with smiles and sometimes shouts.
The name of the reserve was apt and most of the sand was topped with thin lime green grass which goats and bony cows roamed across.
Half way across we stopped for an oil change on the DR. It had been difficult to find anywhere during daylight where we could get a moments peace with the bikes to do it and the cool breeze beneath a spiky tree was a good spot, even if the sandy soil wasn't ideal conditions!
The last section of fast firm piste turned in to a quagmire of soft rutted sand 15km before we expected a nice Tarmac road, there was nothing to do but power through it to Kuer Momar Sar. Again the map was lying about the route and we were glad to have google maps downloaded on the iPhone to cross reference with!
The Tarmac took us north to G'nit and the potholes continued north, not just potholes to damage you're wheel but quite capable of consuming the whole thing! With the bikes we could mostly dodge round them but the poor locals trucks and 4x4s must have taken a beating.
Again we camped under a tree in what had now become Saharan desert again and again we were welcomed in the morning by a happy shepherd this time inviting us for breakfast. We'd already eaten so shared a little of ours with him before getting back in the road.
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