Roderick Phillips's Blog, page 18

A word about overlanding, Day 189

Overlanding is not for people who like their creature comforts such as a bed, good food, and hot showers, or for those people with hygiene phobias.  But if you have a burning desire to explore remote areas off the beaten track, no money, and a willingness to muck in then overlanding might just be for you.  Having said that, overlanding can be challenging.  And this is nothing to do with the camping and the inevitable rough traveling, but the group of unknown individuals that accompany you on the journey.  Considering that I have pined ad nauseam for luxury throughout this blog, you might be surprised to find Christi and I even contemplating this type of journey.  And it’s not that we’re particularly enamored of overlanding, but it is about the cheapest and fastest way of exploring a remote area and the one thing that Christi and I are desperately short of is greenbacks.  Now if we truly had stuck to our budget we would be in good shape, but time and again we’ve been seduced by luxury rooms and first class bus rides, which is the main reason we’re stuck overlanding again.  Yes, folks, Christi and I are old hands when it comes to overlanding in Africa, having driven and camped all the way from Cape Town to Cairo (although we had to fly over the Sudan for safety reasons) on a previous 6-month journey.  Which is why I know the main issue will be our traveling companions.

Dragoman is probably the preeminent overlanding company in the world.  They are headquartered in rural England, but run trips on reconfigured Mercedes-Benz trucks that are painted bright orange across the globe, including South America (although clearly Christi and I avoided them there).  Fortunately Dragoman do trips through West Africa, which is a very challenging destination.  Public transport is rare to non-existent, especially during the wet season when roads can be washed out, while the temperature in these Sahel / desert environs can easily top 120oF in the dry season. Hiring a private 4WD vehicle and driver would be prohibitively expensive for Christi and I so the only way that we can explore the region in a reasonable time frame without breaking the bank is to overland.

And this is the way that it works: Dragoman supply the truck, camping equipment, cooking equipment, two drivers / tour leaders…and not much else, because the passengers do most of the work.  We cook, we clean, we buy food, we put up the tents and take them down – everything.  In fact each passenger (and there are a maximum of about 20 per trip) is assigned a job, such as loading / unloading the luggage from the rear storage locker, laying out chairs, cleaning the truck, monitoring the staple items so we don’t run out of rice or tea etc.  In addition, in teams of two (and not with your traveling companion) you are required to cook breakfast, lunch, and dinner on a rotating basis.  For example with 20 people aboard, that’s ten teams of two and with a 30 day trip that means you and your partner will cook three times.  And if you have never cooked for 22 people before (including the two drivers) on two burners, well now is your chance to learn!

Our joining meeting is at 10 am when the two drivers, Luca and Darren, go over the basics I’ve just described.  They also mention that we, the passengers, will get the most out of this trip if we work together.  Luca and Darren also assert that they are not the United Nations and that we, the passengers, are all adults, so unless World War III breaks out we are expected to solve all our own squabbles.  There are 18 passengers and we eye each other suspiciously.  Most turn out to be British, which may or may not be a good thing.  Jobs are handed out and I along with two others are given the dreaded task of loading and unloading the luggage.  Damn.  This job is by far the most grueling.  Christi gets the easy job of ensuring we don’t run out of staple items.  Typically, young, poor backpackers do overlanding trips and the partying can go on long into the night with lots of sleep walking if you catch my drift.  Our group is much older and I learn later many are ardent independent travelers who came to the same conclusion as Christi and I that it was more cost-effective to explore West Africa by overland truck than by any other means.  The trouble with independent travelers (myself and Christi included) is that we are also independent thinkers, which means gaining consensus on any decision could be challenging.  Young backpackers, on the other hand, are generally happy as long as there is the prospect of sex and beer at the end of each day.

One final point before we start chugging around West Africa: the kitty.  If you want to go overlanding you have to pay twice.  The upfront payment to Dragoman HQ is for the use of the truck and camping equipment, the driver’s wages, Dragoman profit etc.  Then there is the kitty, which is paid locally to the drivers.  This covers the cost of the food, gas, camping fees, organized activities (such as national park entrance, mosque entrance) etc. and needs to be paid in cash.  The kitty is a guess: we may spend more in which case we all have to chip in a little extra or we may get a little refund.  This Dragoman trip through West Africa is 5 weeks and the kitty is €510 each.  Ouch – West Africa truly is an expensive destination.  Actually Christi and I had hoped to be aboard the truck for 10 weeks, but the second leg of the trip through Mauritania and Morocco has been cancelled (and refunds issued) because of political unrest in Mauritania (read kidnapping of aid workers).

Over the next five weeks, therefore, we will explore Ghana, Burkina Faso, Mali, and Senegal.  OK…let’s go!

Our particular orange truck, which goes by the name of Tortuga, lacks air-conditioning and it is bloody hot in Accra.  There is a fridge on board to keep food cold and a large tank of purified water in case we’re out in the wilds for days at a time.  Seating is fairly basic coach style, although there is one table on each side of the aisle surrounded by 4 seats (like on a train).  And hush…hush there is a safe hidden in the truck for all our valuables.  The safe even has its own secret code just in case the locals realize that there is quite a bit of money on board.  So rather than say I need to get into the safe, you say I need to get into the zebra?’  Real cunning, don’t you think!

Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching, heart-breaking tale of love and test tubes.

The post A word about overlanding, Day 189 appeared first on Roderick Phillips.

Kumasi, Ghana, Day 190

It’s the usual routine this morning: breaking down the tents, breakfast, attending to the bloody bags, and then we leave Lake Bosomtwe for Kumasi, the second city of Ghana. It’s a 2-hour drive to the Presbyterian Guest House in central Kumasi and then we have the rest of the day to explore. Kumasi was, historically, the capital of the Ashanti kingdom.  And the Ashanti people are famous for making Kente cloth.  One of the best places in town to find Kente cloth is the massive open-air Kejetia market.  As usual in Africa, the market is a combination of litter-strewn alleys and open sewers mixed with a vibrant, throbbing mass of humanity all on the move at the same time.  It is chaos personified.  There are fetish sections, high quality Kente weavings as well as the more mundane fish, vegetables, clothing, hardware, and shoe stalls.  It’s all in your face, strange, confusing – yet Georgina (from whom Christi purchases two pieces of Kente cloth for us to use at night rather than our suffocating sleeping bags) says today is a quiet day. God knows what it must be like when the place is truly busy. We’re also feeling rather brave and try lunch at one of the numerous food stalls.  We make sure to avoid the snot this time and end up with a very pleasant paella-type dish called jollof and another of the yummy light soups (with chicken).

Next we wander up to the National Cultural Centre, which is adjacent to the zoo.  And in the trees over-hanging the zoo complex are hundreds of fruit bats, while at street-level an enterprising lady is selling roast bat in a spicy relish.  Naturally we have to taste it.  Of course if you ask sane people about bats one of the chief concerns is the fact they carry the rabies virus.  Did we worry? No.  Are we stupid? Perhaps.  FYI roasted fruit bat (and don’t you think he resembles ET?) tastes rather good (like game rather than chicken).  We stick to nibbling the flesh, though, because the poor little chap was cooked with his intestines in situ.

Now it may just be the heat, but I am feeling very thirsty and becoming a little irritable…Oh no…

Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching tale of broken hearts and broken test tubes.

The post Kumasi, Ghana, Day 190 appeared first on Roderick Phillips.

Lake Bosomtwe, Ghana, Day 189

Last night at Brenu Beach was quite magical.  We had the tent flaps rolled back and palm trees framed the mighty crashing waves on the long sandy beach.  Up above the sky was clear and the stars shone brightly.  Dawn brought another beautiful sunrise and Christi is feeling much better.  So far so good.  Today is a long driving day, almost due north from the coast to Lake Bosomtwe, near the second city of Ghana, Kumasi.  The drive will give everyone an opportunity to talk and exchange life stories.  It’s too early for problems, but not for identifying where those problems might arise in the future! Today is also the first official cook group so we stop in New Elmina market for supplies. While the cook group shops, Christi and I poke around and photograph market life.

Life aboard the truck is easy as all you have to do is stare out the window and enjoy the scenery.  There is no toilet aboard the bus, though, so when you want to pee you have to speak up.  We stop for lunch at any random spot we choose and tables and chairs are quickly unloaded, while others prepare lunch (salad and sandwiches).  There is also no air-conditioning so all the windows are open, unless the road is dirt and then the windows have to be closed and we basically sweat.  Also if the sun is beating down on your side of the truck then you get doubly uncomfortable.  Ah life on the road!

So a quick word about my tour companions, whose names I have changed so they won’t sue me!

Aphrodite – an occupational therapist from Bristol.  Just completed Cape Town to Cairo trip with Dragoman then immediately flew to Cameroon to travel through West Africa.  Aphrodite may be having a fling with one of the Dragoman crew, Adonis.

Adonis’ co-driver is Peewee Herman.  

Laurel and Hardy – both married, both retired and both living in France; and both English.

Margaret and Dennis Thatcher – Dennis is actually the eccentric scientist type, recently retired.  Margaret is his domineering wife.  They are both avid independent travelers and country collectors.  They already find life aboard the Dragoman truck rather restrictive (ones to watch, me thinks)

Sheldon Cooper (of Big Bang Theory fame – come on keep up!) – quirky, brilliant Dutch guy.  Also a country collector.  In love with a Hong Kong girl and calls her constantly.  And I mean constantly.

Thelma and Louise – Australian teachers; older women who are getting out there, exploring the world, and looking for trouble.  Thank goodness we’re nowhere near the Grand Canyon! 

Hu-man – Quiet girl from Hong Kong; a banker.  Maybe on the run after a financial scandal.

Agatha Christie – retired teacher from London who has completed many grueling Dragoman trips.  Preeminent scandal detective.

Joan Rivers: bawdy, boisterous Brit with a heart of gold.  Another like Christi and I who is on sabbatical from the real world. Traveled extensively with Dragoman.

Doogie Howser - retired Operating Room head nurse from New Zealand; flinty personality.  Also recently completed the Dragoman Cape Town to Cairo trip, then flew to Cameroon to join the tour of West Africa.

(Note the complete Dragoman tour of West Africa comprises three 5-week sections.  The first being between Cameroon, Nigeria, Togo, Benin, and Ghana.  This second leg will go through Ghana, Burkina Faso, Mali, and Senegal. The third leg through Mauritania and Morocco was unfortunately cancelled).

Buddha – a busman’s holiday for this guy as he is a professional tour guide focusing on Eastern Europe.

Sinead O’Connor – Irish accountant; surprisingly serious 

John Malkovich - A freelance accountant from London looking for work in West Africa.  Obviously a cover for some nefarious activities. Another to watch.

The invisible man – I’m sure he was on the trip when we started.

The grounds of the Lake Point Guest House roll pleasantly down to Lake Bosomtwe.  And it is here by the water’s edge that we pitch our tents.  Christi is much relieved that although it is very hot still, it is now a dry heat.  We have escaped the humidity of the coast.  As the evening winds down I notice a perfectly preened Aphrodite heading for the tent of Adonis…

Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching tale of broken hearts and broken test tubes.

The post Lake Bosomtwe, Ghana, Day 189 appeared first on Roderick Phillips.

Los Angeles to Accra, Ghana, Day 187-188

After an all too brief layover in Los Angeles, Christi and I are back on the road, beginning with a long haul flight to Accra, Ghana in West Africa.  South America was but a primer for the adventures to come.  Traveling through Africa will be a whole lot tougher with far fewer creature comforts.  It’s going to be very hot, geopolitically very unpredictable, and the opportunities for health-related problems virtually unlimited (from the things that you can’t see to those large roaring predators which you might only see as a gigantic teeth-filled mouth envelops your head).  Christi and I had no health-related issues in South America whatsoever, but I think we will be very lucky indeed to survive Africa without some mishap.  Although we’re bringing the UV water sterilizer that served us well in South America, I think a shot-gun or a baseball bat might be more useful for purifying tap water in Africa.  Just to be on the safe side, we will be drinking bottled water from now on.  Although Christi and I have had every vaccination known to mankind, I’m still appalled when I read the health section of Lonely Planet guidebook to West Africa.  I even inch a little further away from Christi on our Royal Air Maroc flight from London to Casablanca in Morocco.  (The flight from Los Angeles to London on Virgin Atlantic was reassuringly dull and uneventful, which is exactly how I like my flights to be).  It’s a surprisingly quick 3-hour flight from London to Casablanca (with no time change), while all flight information is repeated in Arabic, French, and then English. The limited spanish we did learn in South America will be of little use to us in Africa.  Our long travel day is not done either as Christi and I still have one more flight that will take us on to Accra, the capital of Ghana, but first we have to endure a 3-hour layover in Casablanca. The time passes quite quickly though, because we are surrounded by an eclectic mix of passengers, including Arab, Black, and White wearing and eclectic palate of colors and styles (from the simple white Arab djellaba robes to the brightly colored tops and skirts worn by black women, while Caucasians are often dressed in boring, conventional suits).  The flight departure board is equally exotic with destinations like Ouagadougou, Nouakchott, Bamako, and Timbuktu.  And Christi and I will see them all before we’re done. 

Christi and I land in Accra airport at 3.30 am (some 4.5 hours after leaving Casablanca) and it is incredibly humid as we cross the tarmac to the terminal building and blissful air conditioning.  The scenes at immigration and customs are chaotic.  Christi and I are tired, but Africa never sleeps and neither shall we – at least not yet.  Our Ghanaian visas are US$100 each, but this minor torment aside we sail through customs and immigration.  As we pass through the Arrivals Lounge we’re on the look out for our courtesy ride to the Niagara Plus hotel.  Our LP guide warned us against taking a taxi from the airport – and especially at night – because of ‘incidents’ involving Western tourists.  Of course these same taxi drivers don’t give you a moment to breathe.  The smother Christi and I with unrelenting offers to help – something we are in dire need of, but I can’t shake that uneasy feeling that danger lurks behind their easy smiles.  Can we trust these people? We have little choice, although as our excited suitor zooms off into the night he could be taking us anywhere…and for any reason. Fortunately we arrive safely at the Niagara Plus hotel, which is…rather basic. After waking up the desk clerk, he can at least confirm that we have a room reserved.  Christi and I collapse into bed, absolutely shattered at 6 am.

We sleep for 6 hours, waking at noon.  Despite still feeling jet-lagged we have very limited time in the Ghanaian capital so it’s now or never.  We’re a little nervous about what to expect in this new city so we confine ourselves to the Osu neighborhood of Accra. Supposedly this is the nicer part of town, but the dilapidated roads and open sewers are not appealing.  The main drag is Cantonments road, which has a busy and buzzing street vibe; everything is hustle and bustle.  We try to remain inconspicuous, but since we’re the only white people walking about we attract a lot of attention, much of it unwanted as the locals try hard to sell us things we don’t want.  It’s hot, loud, and we’re very disoriented by our new and unfamiliar surroundings.  We stumble upon a restaurant specializing in local Ghanaian food called Akwamufie Spot and escape the heat and the attention of the hawkers for a while, although they prowl around outside as if stalking Christi and I. The owner of the restaurant, Eben, is a very friendly guy who suggests some local delicacies. We attempt fufu (mashed cassava – really a sticky paste, dull yellow in color) with light soup and Tilapia (fish).  The light soup is made of egg and tomato sauce with some spice thrown in, which is rather tasty.  However, I have to exchange my fufu for Christi’s banku (cooked fermented maize) because the fufu has a dubious texture.  And I am very texture-challenged when it comes to food.  The way my brain works is that if the texture resembles a dead fly, then I’m probably eating a dead fly (even if I’m truly eating a raison).  Christi, of course, thinks I’m pathetic, but even she had to admit that the goat in okra stew is a tad disturbing.  It has a revolting slimy, snotty texture…well you get the picture.  And let’s be clear about one thing: lips that touch snot don’t touch mine!  Welcome to Africa; it’s going to be different here! (Although perhaps not that different as we eat Chinese food for dinner!).

Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching, heart-breaking tale of love and test tubes.

The post Los Angeles to Accra, Ghana, Day 187-188 appeared first on Roderick Phillips.

Brenu Beach, Ghana, Day 188

The Dragoman drivers give us a day off today.  And you couldn’t wish for a more exotic and relaxing location than Brenu Beach. Camping was much more bearable last night thanks to the cooling ocean breeze, while the rhythmic crashing of the waves against the shore acted like a lullaby.  Not surprisingly, therefore, Christi and I slept wonderfully well and woke around dawn refreshed and eager to enjoy a lazy day editing photos, catching up with our journals, and reading (the truck maintains a library of sorts and Christi was eager to sample the collection).  Sunrises and sunsets at Brenu Beach are simply superb – among the best we’ve experienced during our Year of Wonder.

In the afternoon we walk along the beach to Brenu village.  Aside from the ubiquitous trash, the village is very picturesque.  It’s dominated by a church, while on the beach itself there are endless fishing boats (and a new one being carved) and children of course.  Digital cameras are great because the kids are eager to pose and even more excited to see images of themselves.  The children are super friendly.  They insist on holding our hands as we walk along the beach.  They laugh and smile and I think they are as curious about us as we are about them.  I appreciate this is only a snapshot, but these children (who have so little) seem a lot happier than children growing up in Western culture (who have so much more).  

One word of caution regarding the local kids: they come with a plethora of bugs that are completely alien to wimpy Western travelers (including Christi and I), so once you have finished playing with the locals it is crucial to wash your hands and failing that rinse them in a bacterial sanitizer.  From a health perspective, and especially in Africa, hand sanitizer is worth its weight in gold.  You have been warned.  Don’t leave home without it!  Unfortunately Christi forgot this number one rule of travel hygiene and ended the day not watching another beautiful sunset but stuck in the bathroom vomiting. Go Christi!  

Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching tale of broken hearts and broken test tubes.

The post Brenu Beach, Ghana, Day 188 appeared first on Roderick Phillips.

Kakum National Park, Ghana, Day187

Our first night under canvas is spent in Kakum national park and it is very hot and uncomfortable.  It is also very noisy as tree dassies and cicadas serenade back and forth. I go to bed, somewhat optimistically, in thermal PJs and crawl into a three-season sleeping bag. Sod’s law that West Africa is the fourth season – the too hot to need a damn sleeping bag season! Our day even begins an hour earlier than everyone else as I mistakenly set the alarm for 4:45 am, by which time I’m lying on my sleeping bag in my birthday suit (conservative Christi refused to strip off in case you’re wondering).  We have a powerful yearning for air-conditioning! 

Kakum national park is 145 square miles of tropical rainforest.  It is famous for its jungle canopy walk, which of course is best done as the dawn creeps over the forest because first it’s not hot yet (a relative term) and second the wildlife will be taking advantgae of the conditions to feed, frolick and enjoy themselves before the serious business of surving another day in Africa begins. The canopy walk involves negotiating a series of rickety-looking, highly mobile bridges.  Think Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.  The question I ask is who has the right of way if some lumbering tree dweller prefers the man-made thoroughfare over swinging through the jungle as nature intended? We never need to answer that question, though, because the noise created by 18 noisy tourists scares away all the wildlife, including the elusive West African elephant, giant bongo antelopes, and bush babies (small nocturnal primates).  At dawn the jungle is literally steaming, which is playing havoc with my camera again (Remember the Esteros del Ibera in Argentina?).

Back at the truck we eat a quick breakfast, pack up the tents, store the damn bags (I’m hating this part already) and then it’s back to the coast to visit another slave castle, which is known as either St. George’s or Elmina castle.  During the drive we see a quite amazing series of shops in what can only be described as the African religious aesthetic.  They include the Blood of Jesus bicycle shop, the Glory to God barbers, the Holy Ghost entertainment center, and the Kingdom of Heaven book store.  Also there are endless posters celebrating the visit of President Obama in July 2009.

Elmina castle was originally build by the Portuguese in 1482 and is the oldest European building in sub-Saharan Africa. Christopher Columbus visited this castle in the same year it was built – some 10 years before discovering the New World.  Obviously at this point slaves were only used in Europe.  The castle was originally built to house gold, ivory, and spices, but these same storerooms became the holding cells for 600 men and 400 women.  Kofi, our guide gives an excellent account of the awful life lead by these slaves during this time.  It is believed that over a 20-year period as many as 15 million West Africans became embroiled in the slave trade.  Outside the castle is the dynamic, edgy, dirty, poverty-stricken fishing port of Elmina. We explore a little, but it does not feel entirely safe – my camera is an unwelcome intruder – although we do see a new wooden fishing boat being build by hand.

Our busy day is not yet over as we drive a little further up the cost to the palm-fringed, idyllic Brenu beach.  It’s Playa el Agua without the crowds.  Christi and I enjoy a refreshing dip in the warm waters of the Atlantic, our tent pitched a mere 30 feet from the crashing waves among the palm trees. Now this is heavenly.

Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching tale of broken hearts and broken test tubes.

The post Kakum National Park, Ghana, Day187 appeared first on Roderick Phillips.

Cape Coast Castle, Ghana, Day 186

Christi and I have just enjoyed our last night in a hotel bed for 5 weeks (upgrades are possible, but not on our budget!).  Unfortunately, neither of us slept well as we are still  bedeviled by jet lag.  My first job on the Dragoman trip is to help gerrymander 18 pieces of luggage into the rear storage locker.  And I will continue to do so with the help of two other passengers twice a day for next 35 days.  What a thrill. Our first Dragoman adventure lies 3 hours to the west of Accra at Cape Coast Castle.  A European settlement has existed on this site since 1653, although the current incarnation was built by the British in the 18th century. Cape Coast Castle is one of about 30 slave forts built on the Gold Coast of Africa.  Numerous colonial powers claimed ownership over the Gold Coast over the years, the last of which were the British (which probably explains why Ghanaians all speak English while the lingua franca of West Africa is usually French).  Indeed, it was only in 1957 that Britain granted the Gold Coast its independence, creating present day Ghana. The castle actually sits in a beautiful location overlooking the azure waters of the Atlantic.  On the surrounding beach eager fishermen go about their daily business – there’s a frisson of energy and excitement about the place.  

Historically, the Gold Coast was exploited for its abundance of gold, ivory, timber, and spices.  But when the colonial powers of Spain and Portugal exhausted the supply of indigenous labor to mine silver (Potosi) and gold (Ouro Preto) in the New World, African slaves were seen as an ideal substitute and there was an almost inexhaustible supply of them. The fact that Cape Coast Castle is such an imposing and heavily armed fortification offers a stark reminder that exploiting Africa and defending this wealth-creating environment from the other colonial powers was big business.  

As we tour the castle, our guide tells us that the slave cells were originally storage rooms designed to hold ivory, gold, spices, etc. However when the slave trade took off these same storage rooms, which had no beds, no toilets, and very little light were used as holding cells for slaves awaiting transportation to the New World.  One thousand men were forced into 5 cramped holding cells and if you defecated you had to sit in it as there was nowhere else to go.  With little food and poor sanitary conditions it’s not surprising that only half the prisoners survived until the slave ships came to transport them to the Americas, the so-called Middle Passage.  At the same time 300 women were kept in 2 separate holding cells.  These girls were routinely raped by their guards, while girls that became pregnant on the long sea voyages were often tossed overboard and left to drown. The slaves left Cape Coast Castle via the Door of No Return.  This was the last view the slaves would ever have of their homeland.

When Christi and I embarked upon our Year of Wonder, we did not consciously decide to follow the slave trail, but having experienced the atrocious exploitation of these West Africans, one cannot help but feel empathy for the slaves and shame for the actions of our ancestors. To know that this beautiful location housed such pain and suffering is a sobering and disconcerting feeling.

One of the disadvantages to any organized tour is the enforced schedule and we have to leave before we can finish exploring the nearby fishing village.  Perhaps today that’s not such a bad thing.  We head inland and will spend our first night under the stars in Kakum National Park.  Unloading the damn bags off the truck is my first chore and then Christi and I put up our tent, which takes a lot longer to do than to to write!

Blog post by Roderick Phillipa, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching tale of broken hearts and broken test tubes

The post Cape Coast Castle, Ghana, Day 186 appeared first on Roderick Phillips.

A word about overlanding, Day 185

Overlanding is not for people who like their creature comforts such as a bed, good food, and hot showers, or for those people with hygiene phobias.  But if you have a burning desire to explore remote areas off the beaten track, no money, and a willingness to muck in then overlanding might just be for you.  Having said that, overlanding can be challenging.  And this is nothing to do with the camping and the inevitable rough traveling, but the group of unknown individuals that accompany you on the journey.  Considering that I have pined ad nauseam for luxury throughout this blog, you might be surprised to find Christi and I even contemplating this type of journey.  And it’s not that we’re particularly enamored of overlanding, but it is about the cheapest and fastest way of exploring a remote area and the one thing that Christi and I are desperately short of is greenbacks.  Now if we truly had stuck to our budget we would be in good shape, but time and again we’ve been seduced by luxury rooms and first class bus rides, which is the main reason we’re stuck overlanding again.  Yes, folks, Christi and I are old hands when it comes to overlanding in Africa, having driven and camped all the way from Cape Town to Cairo (although we had to fly over the Sudan for safety reasons) on a previous 6-month journey.  Which is why I know the main issue will be our traveling companions.

Dragoman is probably the preeminent overlanding company in the world.  They are headquartered in rural England, but run trips on reconfigured Mercedes-Benz trucks that are painted bright orange across the globe, including South America (although clearly Christi and I avoided them there).  Fortunately Dragoman do trips through West Africa, which is a very challenging destination.  Public transport is rare to non-existent, especially during the wet season when roads can be washed out, while the temperature in these Sahel / desert environs can easily top 120oF in the dry season. Hiring a private 4WD vehicle and driver would be prohibitively expensive for Christi and I so the only way that we can explore the region in a reasonable time frame without breaking the bank is to overland.

And this is the way that it works: Dragoman supply the truck, camping equipment, cooking equipment, two drivers / tour leaders…and not much else, because the passengers do most of the work.  We cook, we clean, we buy food, we put up the tents and take them down – everything.  In fact each passenger (and there are a maximum of about 20 per trip) is assigned a job, such as loading / unloading the luggage from the rear storage locker, laying out chairs, cleaning the truck, monitoring the staple items so we don’t run out of rice or tea etc.  In addition, in teams of two (and not with your traveling companion) you are required to cook breakfast, lunch, and dinner on a rotating basis.  For example with 20 people aboard, that’s ten teams of two and with a 30 day trip that means you and your partner will cook three times.  And if you have never cooked for 22 people before (including the two drivers) on two burners, well now is your chance to learn!

Our joining meeting is at 10 am when the two drivers, Luca and Darren, go over the basics I’ve just described.  They also mention that we, the passengers, will get the most out of this trip if we work together.  Luca and Darren also assert that they are not the United Nations and that we, the passengers, are all adults, so unless World War III breaks out we are expected to solve all our own squabbles.  There are 18 passengers and we eye each other suspiciously.  Most turn out to be British, which may or may not be a good thing.  Jobs are handed out and I along with two others are given the dreaded task of loading and unloading the luggage.  Damn.  This job is by far the most grueling.  Christi gets the easy job of ensuring we don’t run out of staple items.  Typically, young, poor backpackers do overlanding trips and the partying can go on long into the night with lots of sleep walking if you catch my drift.  Our group is much older and I learn later many are ardent independent travelers who came to the same conclusion as Christi and I that it was more cost-effective to explore West Africa by overland truck than by any other means.  The trouble with independent travelers (myself and Christi included) is that we are also independent thinkers, which means gaining consensus on any decision could be challenging.  Young backpackers, on the other hand, are generally happy as long as there is the prospect of sex and beer at the end of each day.

One final point before we start chugging around West Africa: the kitty.  If you want to go overlanding you have to pay twice.  The upfront payment to Dragoman HQ is for the use of the truck and camping equipment, the driver’s wages, Dragoman profit etc.  Then there is the kitty, which is paid locally to the drivers.  This covers the cost of the food, gas, camping fees, organized activities (such as national park entrance, mosque entrance) etc. and needs to be paid in cash.  The kitty is a guess: we may spend more in which case we all have to chip in a little extra or we may get a little refund.  This Dragoman trip through West Africa is 5 weeks and the kitty is €510 each.  Ouch – West Africa truly is an expensive destination.  Actually Christi and I had hoped to be aboard the truck for 10 weeks, but the second leg of the trip through Mauritania and Morocco has been cancelled (and refunds issued) because of political unrest in Mauritania (read kidnapping of aid workers).

Over the next five weeks, therefore, we will explore Ghana, Burkina Faso, Mali, and Senegal.  OK…let’s go!

Our particular orange truck, which goes by the name of Tortuga, lacks air-conditioning and it is bloody hot in Accra.  There is a fridge on board to keep food cold and a large tank of purified water in case we’re out in the wilds for days at a time.  Seating is fairly basic coach style, although there is one table on each side of the aisle surrounded by 4 seats (like on a train).  And hush…hush there is a safe hidden in the truck for all our valuables.  The safe even has its own secret code just in case the locals realize that there is quite a bit of money on board.  So rather than say I need to get into the safe, you say I need to get into the zebra?’  Real cunning, don’t you think!

Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching, heart-breaking tale of love and test tubes.

The post A word about overlanding, Day 185 appeared first on Roderick Phillips.

Los Angeles to Accra, Ghana, Day 183 – 184

After an all too brief layover in Los Angeles, Christi and I are back on the road, beginning with a long haul flight to Accra, Ghana in West Africa.  South America was but a primer for the adventures to come.  Traveling through Africa will be a whole lot tougher with far fewer creature comforts.  It’s going to be very hot, geopolitically very unpredictable, and the opportunities for health-related problems virtually unlimited (from the things that you can’t see to those large roaring predators which you might only see as a gigantic teeth-filled mouth envelops your head).  Christi and I had no health-related issues in South America whatsoever, but I think we will be very lucky indeed to survive Africa without some mishap.  Although we’re bringing the UV water sterilizer that served us well in South America, I think a shot-gun or a baseball bat might be more useful for purifying tap water in Africa.  Just to be on the safe side, we will be drinking bottled water from now on.  Although Christi and I have had every vaccination known to mankind, I’m still appalled when I read the health section of Lonely Planet guidebook to West Africa.  I even inch a little further away from Christi on our Royal Air Maroc flight from London to Casablanca in Morocco.  (The flight from Los Angeles to London on Virgin Atlantic was reassuringly dull and uneventful, which is exactly how I like my flights to be).  It’s a surprisingly quick 3-hour flight from London to Casablanca (with no time change), while all flight information is repeated in Arabic, French, and then English. The limited spanish we did learn in South America will be of little use to us in Africa.  Our long travel day is not done either as Christi and I still have one more flight that will take us on to Accra, the capital of Ghana, but first we have to endure a 3-hour layover in Casablanca. The time passes quite quickly though, because we are surrounded by an eclectic mix of passengers, including Arab, Black, and White wearing and eclectic palate of colors and styles (from the simple white Arab djellaba robes to the brightly colored tops and skirts worn by black women, while Caucasians are often dressed in boring, conventional suits).  The flight departure board is equally exotic with destinations like Ouagadougou, Nouakchott, Bamako, and Timbuktu.  And Christi and I will see them all before we’re done. 

Christi and I land in Accra airport at 3.30 am (some 4.5 hours after leaving Casablanca) and it is incredibly humid as we cross the tarmac to the terminal building and blissful air conditioning.  The scenes at immigration and customs are chaotic.  Christi and I are tired, but Africa never sleeps and neither shall we – at least not yet.  Our Ghanaian visas are US$100 each, but this minor torment aside we sail through customs and immigration.  As we pass through the Arrivals Lounge we’re on the look out for our courtesy ride to the Niagara Plus hotel.  Our LP guide warned us against taking a taxi from the airport – and especially at night – because of ‘incidents’ involving Western tourists.  Of course these same taxi drivers don’t give you a moment to breathe.  The smother Christi and I with unrelenting offers to help – something we are in dire need of, but I can’t shake that uneasy feeling that danger lurks behind their easy smiles.  Can we trust these people? We have little choice, although as our excited suitor zooms off into the night he could be taking us anywhere…and for any reason. Fortunately we arrive safely at the Niagara Plus hotel, which is…rather basic. After waking up the desk clerk, he can at least confirm that we have a room reserved.  Christi and I collapse into bed, absolutely shattered at 6 am.

We sleep for 6 hours, waking at noon.  Despite still feeling jet-lagged we have very limited time in the Ghanaian capital so it’s now or never.  We’re a little nervous about what to expect in this new city so we confine ourselves to the Osu neighborhood of Accra. Supposedly this is the nicer part of town, but the dilapidated roads and open sewers are not appealing.  The main drag is Cantonments road, which has a busy and buzzing street vibe; everything is hustle and bustle.  We try to remain inconspicuous, but since we’re the only white people walking about we attract a lot of attention, much of it unwanted as the locals try hard to sell us things we don’t want.  It’s hot, loud, and we’re very disoriented by our new and unfamiliar surroundings.  We stumble upon a restaurant specializing in local Ghanaian food called Akwamufie Spot and escape the heat and the attention of the hawkers for a while, although they prowl around outside as if stalking Christi and I. The owner of the restaurant, Eben, is a very friendly guy who suggests some local delicacies. We attempt fufu (mashed cassava – really a sticky paste, dull yellow in color) with light soup and Tilapia (fish).  The light soup is made of egg and tomato sauce with some spice thrown in, which is rather tasty.  However, I have to exchange my fufu for Christi’s banku (cooked fermented maize) because the fufu has a dubious texture.  And I am very texture-challenged when it comes to food.  The way my brain works is that if the texture resembles a dead fly, then I’m probably eating a dead fly (even if I’m truly eating a raison).  Christi, of course, thinks I’m pathetic, but even she had to admit that the goat in okra stew is a tad disturbing.  It has a revolting slimy, snotty texture…well you get the picture.  And let’s be clear about one thing: lips that touch snot don’t touch mine!  Welcome to Africa; it’s going to be different here! (Although perhaps not that different as we eat Chinese food for dinner!).

Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching, heart-breaking tale of love and test tubes.

The post Los Angeles to Accra, Ghana, Day 183 – 184 appeared first on Roderick Phillips.

Los Angeles, Days 179-186

Christi and I arrived in Los Angeles yesterday afternoon.  We were met at the airport by Christi’s mother and step-father and a lot of hugging.  Christi’s mother (her shoulder healing well after the recent fracture) flung her arms around Christi and would not let go.  I think her family are just pleased that nothing scary happened.  And if you’ve read all my blog posts you’ll know that neither Christi nor I ever intentionally put ourselves in dangerous situations!

We’re trying to keep our brief layover in Los Angeles reasonably quiet because first we’re absolutely knackered.  I think adrenaline kicked in on day 1 and kept us going the entire 6 months we were in South America.  Now that we’re home (albeit briefly) the adrenaline levels are already subsiding and I expect exhaustion to set in at any moment.  This could be a problem because we didn’t return to Los Angeles primarily to rest, but to complete a host of chores, including unpacking and repacking our bags (we won’t be seeing too many glaciers in Africa so its out with the warm-weather clothing).  We will also be camping initially so we’ll need sleeping bags / mat (the tent itself is provided by the tour company – more about that when we get to Africa).  And we will be going on several safaris so I’m going to lug the big 500 mm lens around with me this time. And now that I’m finally back in Los Angeles I intend to give my camera some serious TLC.  And what better company than Bel Air Camera in Westwood. 

Perhaps the most important task is updating our passports.  Christi’s is still valid but has run out of pages, while mine will expire before the end of our Year of Wonder.  And as we only have a few days in Los Angeles, we will have to beg and cajole the authorities to do the work much quicker than usual.  This will be quite risky because government agencies never seem to do anything quickly.

And in between all that I still want to immerse myself in a little Los Angeles culture for a few days.  After all who could visit Los Angeles and not want to spend some time in Venice, Santa Monica, Hollywood, and the Getty Center.

As you can see our time in Los Angeles is going to be a nice little break from our hectic traveling schedule…

See ya in Africa.

Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching, heart-breaking tale of love and test tubes 

The post Los Angeles, Days 179-186 appeared first on Roderick Phillips.