The increasing intermittence with which I produce these blogs is not unnoticed. Indeed, imperfect punctuality is becoming quite the standard to which I seem to be relaying my ramblings to you all. Perhaps this is the second-hand effect of the total chaos that is west African bureaucracy rubbing off on me? Or more likely, the craziness of this part of the world doesn’t leave a great deal of energy left for such correspondence? Either way, I’m here now, so pin back your eye lids, you’ve got reading to do.

Where were we last? Ah Dakar, Senegal, a part of the world I will gladly not return to. Let’s try to place things fairly chronologically, starting with the place which we last left off…

A visa for Guinea, easy. Straight forward process, a ‘no receipt given’ special price for same day visa and off you go. Cote d’Ivoire however, not so successful. The, ahem, wonderful (read that as sarcastically as you can) staff in the embassy were happy to take my money, but when it came to issuing a visa, they were more inclined to tell me to piss off and blatantly lie with the suggestion that it is impossible to ride a motorcycle overland into the Ivory Coast and attempting to do so would result in me being arrested at the border for some kind of heinous visa fraud. Quite the pickle.

Nonetheless, armed with a paper visa for Guinea at least, I made a break for the border, wanting to leave Senegal, with its corrupt officials, chocking traffic and manic busyness behind. My last day in Senegal was sent off with two punctures, the first of which I’m somewhat convinced was done by a hotel worker who I refused to give extra money to because he bravely opened a door for me. So I spent half the day getting especially sweaty, wrestling with tyre leavers in the topical heat. I also had a few monkeys and lots of bitey insects for company as I moved through the thick jungle to the east, which was nice (the monkeys more so than the insects).

The border into Guinea was as west African borders tend to be: shit. Seeming to go on forever and culminating in be being taken into a special room with a very unfriendly policey man who spent a while shouting at me in French whilst I pretended to understand him. Something about declaring myself to the ministry of security and not being a spy. Oh well, got out of there and into Guinea we went.

Running water (and enough places to buy food) are obviously not amenities that have yet to become normal in Guinea (excluding Conakry) and so bucket showers were to be the norm for the next few days, as was patchy electricity that tended to go off after a short while, and stay that way until the morning. Perhaps the most noticeable thing about Guinea however is the roads, or lack thereof them, unless you count pothole laden, red slick mud clearings that offer only a slightly more convenient mans of transporting oneself that simply hurling yourself directly into the dense vegetation.

Guinea, bad roads, but I must say, very nice people.

I left on the route south pretty late, spending most of the morning unsuccessfully trying to sort out insurance but making friends with the locals in the process. I eventually hit the ‘road’ and made it so far before calling it a night in the only hotel on the map that actually existed. I ventured further south the following day, aiming to leave early to reach Conakry in time to find this mystical security place, get a full visa stamp and hopefully find more luck with the Cote d’Ivoire embassy here than in Dakar. Typically, best laid plans often go astray however.

More mud, manic drivers, a near death experience hear or there and I made in to Conakry. What a crazy place. It’s notorious here with overlanders for having some absolutely mental traffic. Conakry how your reputation proceeds you. Three lanes of traffic going the wrong way on the motorway whilst we drive head on into them? Sure, why not. Tiny, unpaved market street being used as two-way traffic network for trucks and thousands of bikes? Makes perfect sense. There are literally no rules here. I’ve been on the roads in the city a few hours and already have seen multiple accidents, including one where a car driving the wrong way down a dual carriageway took out two guys on a scooter! Head on a swivel and hope for the best here!

The ministry of security was not as Hogwarts as the name suggests, instead it involved the typical bullshit of police asking for 50 dollars for something I’ve already paid for, then when threatened with the prospect of calling my embassy they kicked me out and told me to go to the airport instead.

Made it to the airport and after a few hours trying to convince them to let me into immigration even though I entered the country two days prior and eventually I had the visa stamp. Woohoo. As I was leaving along came a Liberian guy and we got to chatting, then along came his mates and before you know it I have about 10 new friends and they all want photos with the crazy English guy who is covered in mud from head to toe and smells like three week old unwashed motorcycle gear…

As much as I liked my new friends the clock was ticking and I had to head to the Ivory Coast embassy. Too late for a visa today unfortunately, but seemingly I can pick one up tomorrow. Let’s hope, but they appeared to accept my evisa receipt I’d already used in Dakar and didn’t make up anything about how terribly illegal it would be for me to want to cross a border without using a plane.

A friend told me that Guineans don’t like to eat. I didn’t really understand this until I got into the country but there really are almost no restaurants or shops outside of Conakry. Since I was there though, and there was a real life supermarket staring me in the face I decided to load up on supplies. Why am I telling you about by international shopping habits? Not so much because of the shopping itself (although they did sell baked beans which was pretty miraculous), but because on my way out I bumped into an American guy called James. After another lengthy chat in what is seemingly the friendliest place in Africa we called his friend over, who in turn called his reporter friend and voila, I ended up doing an interview and taking some pictures for the local news. Another one of those weird things that happen on the road.