I'm stuck! At least in the short term. Not in some exciting sense of being trapped in the jungle on an impassable dirt road, but in the waiting for a boat to decide to leave sense. That more or less describes current events. Despite horrible weather (really its been utter shite), terrible ‘roads’ at times, a crash and a whole load of police checkpoints progress across Nigeria has been reasonably swift. Until now that is.

For those in the audience out of touch with west African current events, there is currently a civil war going on in western Cameroon. Essentially a separatist gorilla group have claimed the area as ‘Ambazonia’ and are doing their very best to interrupt my travel plans. Cameroon’s government has chosen to close the main land border to tourists due to the presence of rebels in the area as kidnappings and violence are apparently highly likely. As much as I like doing adventurey things, I’d rather avoid any interactions with such people, preferring to remain alive and unkidnapped long enough to get home and see my dogs. There is an open border further north but this still moves through apparently rather sketchy territory. it would also add several days riding on and with the rain being how it has been the past few days, the notoriously muddy route would probably be a total pain in the arse.

So, that leaves the nautical option of taking a boat across the pirate infested bay of Guinea and enter Cameroon by sea. This in itself presents two avenues. Namely, the ‘flying boats’ from Oron, or the larger ferry from Calabar. Every single person who I have spoken to who has taken the flying boats relayed what an utterly shit experience it was and that swimming would’ve preferable. Calabar ferry it is then.

But wait, this is west Africa, the land devoid of efficiency or regulation. Naturally, rather than maintaining a strict departure schedule and providing cargo quotes based on a set price index by weight or load type, they seemingly make their prices up based on how much money it looks like they can extort from you, knowing full well that you have practically no other option. So here I am, sat waiting for the boat to depart, which is already two days later than they initially told me and having paid about £500 for the privilege. These things are meant to test us and I’m sure this’ll simply be a funny memory in the future...

So overall theme of the present is waiting. In a hotel without electricity most of the time, or wifi ever, no books to read or much to do in the city other than go to the very excellent supermarket; I am therefore undergoing some forced relaxation. Let’s face it, there are worst situations to be in. Africa is at times, a test of patience and this is one of those. Normal service of mile munching, dirt road slaying, adventure will resume eventually and when it does I will no longer be in west Africa, but central Africa and so a new chapter of the journey will have begun!

What else can I tell you? I’ve had few more marriage requests from the ever thirsty Nigerians. God knows how because the smell of my bike gear is now essentially a biological weapon so repugnant it'd make a rat vomit. Alongside the fruity smell, I’m usually so dirty from dust and exhaust fumes that arrive after a long days ride looking like a miner yet they still seem to like me. Most people remain very pleasant and are always interested where the random white guy appeared from, the closest I’ve got to the stereotypical unreasonable police was an encounter with a likely rather bored group of officers who insisted I empty all my panniers out so they could check for drugs. Even so, once it was established I hadn’t ridden about 7000 miles across Europe and Africa as the worlds most determined drug mule, they were lovely and normal service of chatting shit about football and taking photos resumed. I was fortunate at least, to have the company of the security guard here last night as we shared a drink with and talked all things Africa into the wee hours.

Perhaps not the most thrilling of reads then and frankly I’d be surprised if you made it this far. But here we are, boredly awaiting my vessel to a new land, eagerly waiting to get back on the road and heading south.