November 14th - Dakar!

I'm writing this in a really really nice (everything's comparative, the tap turns when you move it) hotel room in Dakar on the eve of our flight to Rio! Actually we're only flying to Morocco tomorrow, and then Rio the next day, but it's still the eve of the transition to our next phase of the trip. Our last day in Africa has been not fab, but the past few days have been great!

November 9th - stresst day in St Louis. 
By now we've learnt that we hate cities. It's a complete nightmare cycling through unfamiliar busy roads, particularly in Africa where people have no fear, and often no wing mirrors. We woke up in the morning and had a lazy breakfast, enjoying the luxury of having a room (hut) and not having pressure to start cycling before it is too hot. After this we ventured into St Louis. This was about a 5k cycle which isn't far, but it was on a pot-holey road with lots of traffic. As soon as we were stationary we were descended on by people wanting to "help" us or sell us something, or just talk. I like talking to people but it's a complete nightmare and really put us off standing still for any length of time, which reduced our enjoyment of the city. A typical example would be us trying to find the bridge, somebody coming and pointing out the bridge, and then asking for money because he'd "helped" us. This is incredibly frustrating and led to us being quite rude - not what we wanted. After a few hours of this we descended on a posh looking restaurant for lunch - this cheered us up a bit. After lunch we made friends with a man who claimed he'd met us before but neither of us recognised him, anyway we ended up going back to his house for a cup of tea with his family. His house was quite far away and at that point we were exhausted - so we went to the youth hostel and fell fast asleep.

November 10th - St Louis to Zebrabar (a true oasis). 
We tried and failed to leave St Louis early and head for Zebrabar, a campsite we had heard much about from other travellers. It turns out it was worth its fab reputation. A beautiful campsite in a national park, with hammocks strewn around the site, and cold beer in the fridge. We got there at around lunchtime and decided to go out in a boat and have a look at the birds. The guide seemed very happy with this plan but it turns out it was a big mistake as in the middle of the day all the birds are asleep, as he cheerfully informed us when we were halfway round and had only seen a seagull which could very well have come from St Mawes. I'm exaggerating slightly but it's very frustrating to feel like you're constantly being ripped off by people. He clearly would have known that we wouldn't see anything but still agreed to take (lots of) money, and didn't even seem very sorry. After the boat trip I fell asleep in a hammock for hours and then we all ate supper together with the european family running the campsite, and the other campsite visitors - two very friendly Germans heading for South Africa. They had only taken 11 days to get to that point! For those people riveted to the progress of my fish eating, supper was some delicious fish kebabs, which I ate with relish.

November 11th - Zebrabar to a tiny village north of Kebemer
We left Zebrabar earlyish and set off back towards St Louis and joined the main road heading south to Dakar. Most of this was riding through a national park, filled with salt lakes, and monkeys in the trees. When we joined the main road the landscape being less varied, but still green and lush which is such a contrast after the desert. Being able to stop and rest under a shady tree is something I won't take for granted ever again. After a beautiful day's riding we got to a village and decided we would stop for the night. We asked somebody where we could camp and were directed to the old police station, where a man lived to guard it, and he had a spare room. This was a weird evening, as he seemed to want to marry both of us, even though he already had two wives. He was also keen for us to watch TV with him in Wolof, which is the Senegalese dialect. Obviously neither of us speak Wolof but being English we pretended to enjoy it for ages, laughing on cue. Mosquitos are becoming more and more of a problem but luckily he had nets that we slept under (we've got one). This was an uncomfortable night as both of our thermorests have punctures so we've been sleeping on the ground. This is okay if it's sand but less okay if it's concrete floor.

November 12th - Kebermer to Mboro
We had a relaxed schedule this week because we'd booked flights to Rio with plenty of contingency. This means we could meander a bit, so we decided to go to Mboro, a small town on the coast. We continued along the main road to Dakar, and it gradually got busier. The hassleness is just constant in areas like this, and I'm really not sure why because they can't get many tourists coming close enough to shout at? But they all seem to really expect us to give them our bikes. Even quite fat women ask us for our food - one even tried to break off a bit of bread as we were eating it. We arrived at Mboro early enough for a beer and a game of backgammon in a european run campsite where we were the only customers. Despite this the owner could not have been less interested in us. I know I'm more nosey than the average person, but how can two women arrive by bike to your campsite and you don't even ask where they've come from? The campsite was lovely though, and had enough wifi for me to download the Joseph soundtrack. Mum and I sing when morale gets low and Joseph is a common choice.

November 13th - Mboro to Lac Rose
We left Mboro and headed along the coast to Lac Rose. This wasn't very far so we took a diversion to the seaside town of Kayar. Once we were there any thought of sitting restfully on the beach was destroyed because we were converged upon by enthusiastic locals again. In the villages further off the beaten track people are generally a lot nicer, but not less annoying. I love love talking to people, especially strangers with fascinating lives, but I also love sitting on my own and reading my kindle. This is impossible in Senegal. One person suggested we ride along the beach to Lac Rose, which in an uncharacteristic fit of adventuring we did! This was 10/10 would recommend. The sand was hard and the sea a glorious blue, and the beach mainly deserted. It also had that element of risk as occasionally the sand wasn't hard and it was scary. We got to the bit of beach *next to* Lac Rose, and it turns out that in between us and it were loads of sand dunes. There is NOTHING more frustrating than pushing a heavily loaded bike through sand. NOTHING. After an hour of this we were both seriously struggling, and then two locals came and took our bikes like absolute heroes. We got back onto the road and made it to the lake. My expectations of the lake were pretty high by this point and it was slightly disappointingly pink. By this time we both wanted to stop so we pulled up at the first place that said "camping". This was a campsite in name only - they didn't even have running water. The owner said we could pay what we want, and we agreed a price, and then he said he'd take us to his village for supper. These invitations are always met with both joy and dread - it's often really lovely and interesting to meet local people and eat their food, but it is also really hard work, both being polite and remembering to take your shoes off at the right moment, and speaking french for a long period of time. Shortly after this two other visitors arrived, one of them a British cycletourist called Robin who we had heard about from other people. He is heading to South Africa on a two year trip. Meeting Robin was unbelievably exciting. Not only was he a fluent english speaker but a fluent cycling english speaker!!! We had lots to talk about and it was really nice spending time with somebody other than mum (I'm 99% sure she'll never read this). We all went to the village and ate chicken and chips, and got a lift back (7 people in one car).

November 14th - Lac Rose to Dakar.
Before actually coming to Dakar I had a vague plan that I'd spend my medical elective (if I ever pass another exam) there. If I ever go to Dakar ever again I am not going by bike. Cycling into the city was awful beyond all imagining. I'd give us survival odds of about 4/5 so I'm quite pleased we're both alive. We had various small errands to run which were all stressful and took ages, and then we had to pack up the bikes. One of the hotel staff tried to help me, which at first I found very annoying as trying to explain what I was trying to do in French was v lengthy. Soon my stamina disappeared and I become very grateful as he moved our bikes around with ease whilst we were practically too tired to stand up, eventually we got the job done and collapsed into bed.

November 15th - Dakar to Casablanca (by plane)
I'm now at Casablanca airport in a free airport transfer hotel (who knew that was a thing?). We had an awful morning in Dakar, trying and failing to go to the Isle Goree (too tired for accents sorry Sally) and getting ripped off buying various things. The day only got worse as we got to the airport and found out we had to pay 300 euros to take the bikes on the plane. The people who told us this were seriously unhelpful and with 10 minutes before the flight was due to leave we were still outside the airport. Luckily it was running on African time and we made it with a whole 1 minute to spare...

PICTURES TO FOLLOW