Quebo to Kanforte - Day 208

Date: March 14th, 2010
Distance: 97km
Country: Guinea
Song of the Day: Map of Your Head - Muse

What a miserable failure of a day. I just couldn't seem to do anything right. It doesn't look like there are many good roads out of Guinea-Bissau to Guinea. I was hoping to take a little dirt road. I made the first turn okay, but not the second one. If I had checked my map, I might have noticed. Nope. Then again it must not have been that well marked. It might not even be more than a single track through the bush. So instead I went 30km along a road parallel to the border.

Eventually I met a guy who said he could take me across the border. He did this all too effectively. I ended up in Guinea without passing any checkpoints. Crap. I had just smuggled myself into a new country. My over eager guide dropped me off in Sansale and I had to go back 7km to Guinea-Bissau. On the way I got hassled at an army checkpoint on the Guinea side for a bribe. First time anyone had overtly asked for one. After a few minutes of refusing he let me go.

Finally I found my way back to Guinea-Bissau. The border was just a rope with old socks tied to it. There was a sort of army checkpoint there. It consisted of three guys hanging out in the shade. One of them had camo on. That was it. I had to explain why I was coming into the country, but wanted an exit stamp. I wasn't even sure that they could give me a stamp. But one of the guys pulled out a little kit and a ledger. Eventually I got the stamp. Whew.

Now I could head back to Guinea. I had to cross the army checkpoint I was hassled at earlier. That was actually easier than I though. I just quickly explained what I had done, then gave a quick "Au revoir". Good enough. There was a similar routine on the Guinea side of the boarder. I had to get a stamp at the police station. The police station looked exactly like all the other mud brick huts in Sansale. I had to ask around for a gide to find it. I did get the stamp from the shirtless guy who I think was the police chief. Tight border controls in this part of the world.

Originally I wanted to make it to Boke. It was getting late and I didn't think that was going to happen. I was hoping to just make it to a town called Dabiss. The problem is there really isn't a road in this part of world. M bike trail is more like it. I am not kiding. I went through about 20 miles of countryside on single track. Sometimes on boardwalks over streams that must be torrents in the rainy season.

My hopes were dashed when I arrived at a small village on the edge of an estuary right before sunset. The method of crossing was dugout canoe. That was the only route to Boke they said. Yee-haw. I guess the bike wasn't a bid deal since they were already taking a motorcycle. I helped get the stuff in, and push the canoe out into the water through knee deep mud. My only hope was that any parasites in the mud would have been killed off by gasoline spilled all over the beach. I am not sure if that is a sad thought to have.

Still, we did get to the other side without capsizing. I am not quite sure of the physics behind it. I was almost sure we were top heavy. I at least know how to swim though. Then it was another mess pulling the canoe out of the mud and up on the beach so it could be unloaded. My legs and pants were just covered in mud by the end.

Oh, and it was dark by this point. I didn't really feel like riding through the bush at night. One of the guys on the boat said to talk to Mr. Kalful in town. We met him along the way into the little village. This was actually the one bright spot of the day. He let me use a spare bedroom he had. It even had a mosquito net. Plus they fed me dinner. I don't speak Soussou, the local language. The version of french spoken here is usually just broken phrases. So communication was a bit difficult. Still, I got across that I was on a bicycle tour across the world. They seemed pretty excited about that.

For dinner they had rice with peanut sauce. Plus what I thought were meatballs. That was sort of right. They were fish balls. I really don't like fish in Africa. It is the cheap meat, so it gets used a lot. Often it is old and not refrigerated, so it had a bad fishy taste. That wasn't a problem here though. There is one other big problem. Bones. You would think when they make a fish ball, the person would take out the bones. Or the fins. Nope. I spent half the time spitting out bones. Still, I was quite thankful for the meal. It was quite tasty despite the bones.

I just can't believe what a warm and friendly welcome I received. It really redeemed the whole day.

-Dravis