From Slave Ships to Bike Trips

Senegalese people are obsessed with wanting to go to America.  They think we’re all super rich, and that by coming here, they can be super rich too.  Recently one of my friends was talking with his family about slavery in America.  His description was somewhat as follows: “yeah, boats would come to Africa, and fill up with Africans that were to go to America to work.”  Well his family was so keen on the idea that they asked him if boats like this still existed, and if so, how they could get on one.

So I recently just got back from an ALMOST completely successful bike trip.  Every year, Peace Corps Senegal has a huge 4^th of July party for all the volunteers in the country.  It’s in Kedegou, which is the neighboring regional capital from my regional house.  Overall, it’s about 250K away, and it’s pretty much a straight shot.  Inspired by all the biking we had been doing lately,  a few of us decided we wanted to bike it.  We would leave 1 July and (hopefully) arrive by the 3^rd.  

Let me begin by saying, it was almost really well thought-out.  The first day we rode about 70K to my friend Amanda’s site.  It was pretty uneventful, in the fact that nothing major went wrong.  What did await us there though was a beautiful campemont (hostel-ish place) right on the Gambia River and almost ice-cold beers.  We even got to see what we think were hippos in the river.  From there, we went to Amanda’s village.  Her family was great to us and it was cool to speak Pulaar in a village other than my own.  We couldn’t all fit into her hut, so we set up a mini-refugee camp in her compound.

Unfortunately for Amanda, in the time between her village visit and installation, her village decided to get a solar powered mosque right next to her house.  Because of that we got a 5AM wake-up wailing the next morning.  This was to be our longest day.  Much of it was to be spent riding through the national park.  This meant there was to be absolutely nowhere to stop to get food or water for about 110K.  So, we had to pack in everything we needed for nourishment, in addition to our bags and water bottles.

The day started off pretty well.  We biked for a few hours, took a short water and leg break and hit the road again.   We had heard that there was a campemont about 70ishK on the inside of the park that we should hit next.  We decided that would be a good place to have lunch and to spend the hot part of the day.  At that point, things turn against us.

There’s a rule in PC, that if you get caught riding a bike without your helmet you can get administratedly separated and sent home.  All of the sudden, we see a truck that looks like a common PC car.  My friend Austin had forgotten his helmet in Tamba, so he dropped way back behind us, got off his bike and started tinkering with his tires. His plan was to pretend to have a flat tire so that if it was PC they would be so distracted by that, that they wouldn’t notice he wasn’t wearing a helmet.  He even went so far to let the air out of both tires.  The rest of us had realized that it was army men, so the fact that he went to so much trouble was hilarious.  They told us about a guard station a few k up the road.  We had heard that the campemont was really close to that guard station, and were excited and eager for a chance to eat and rest before hitting the dusty trail yet again.

By that point, the hills had started getting bigger (I take back everything I said about Senegal having as much elevation change as an anthill) and it was starting to get really hot.  We were excited to hear that our destination was close.  We get to the guard station, tired and ready for the campemont, so we quickly greet them and ride off, ready for our lunch.  Well, our information was a bit faulty, because the campemont turned out to be the guard station.  We, however, did not know this, and kept riding in high hopes of finding it relatively soon.  By that point, the hills and the heat were beginning to be killer.  There was one point where I thought I was going to throw up.  One of my friends actually did, and another became so overheated he blacked out.  At that point it became a matter of safety.  We stopped by the side of the rode and said that would be where we would rest there for the hottest part of the day.

It was then that we discovered a major problem. We barely had any water, and we had no idea exactly where we were or how far we had left to go.  That was a little troublesome.  There was little we could actually do about it but rehydrate and then ration what we had left.  Well, about 10 minutes later, Hurricane Abdulaye decided to descend upon us.  The skies in an instant grew dark and opened up.  We rushed to cover all our gear, and in a span of 10 minutes went from being worried about heat stroke to instead being worried about hypothermia.  We were freezing, and trying to collect rainwater into our bottles.  It must have been a pitiful sight to behold because every car stopped to talk to us.  At one point we see a sept-place (station wagon) loaded with bikes on top.  We knew they had to be PC volunteers headed to Kedegou and they were! They stopped to greet us, and to see how we were doing.  One even took a picture because we must have looked so pitiful.  We explained to them our situation, and they gave us several huge bottles of water, stating that we were all a family...literally one of the nicest acts of kindness I have ever received.

At that point we decided to keep riding once the rains let up.  We were going to be racing for daylight, but there weren’t any other options.  Luckily the rains cooled things off quite a bit, but unluckily the hills kept growing and growing.  Now I don’t mind doing a steep hill as long as there is a sweet downhill on the other sided, but for all the ups we did, I can remember only one downhill.  In 9 straight hours of biking, I remember 1 downhill…sweet, Senegal strikes again!  About 50K later we make it through the hills and thought the park.  Somehow, but thankfully we were all still alive. 

Just outside the park is a town called Makko.  The moment I saw it I was infinitely inspired.  I greeted everyone I saw (which was probably the whole town at this time of day) as I rode by on my bike.  I just kept thinking, “this is it! We finally made it! “   About five minutes later, I see the sign…our campeomont was another 10K away.  Now 10K is definitely not a far distance by any means, but at this point I was done.  I was beginning to drag, and the thought of doing another 10K felt the same as the thought of doing anther 100K.  At that point, I went from one of my highest highs to one of my lowest lows.  It was so frustrating, but we obviously had no other options.

Praise be to God, about 5K later, we see a sign for a different campemont that’s much nearer.  We decide to take advantage of this sweet opportunity, and turn off the road into its direction.   Our salvation was to be found about another 1-2K off the road towards the river.  Well, Hurricane Abdoulaye definitely did his fair share of damage to our “road.”  In order to get to our salvation, we had to trek through swamplands with all our bikes and gear.  It was another wave of complete frustration, but what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right? 

When we finally get there, they try to “twobaab” tax us-inflate rates insanely high because we are white.  In all honesty, we could afford it, but it was a matter of principle.  We decided to act like we were leaving, although, we literally had nowhere else to go, and night was beginning to fall.  We had some bitter arguing, and finally got them down to a reasonable price, and spent the night showering, eating, drinking, and sleeping. 

The next morning, we wake up, and begin to get ready for our last day.  Austin starts washing our bikes at 6:30AM.  Meanwhile, the only “potable” (potable in the sense that we were willing to risk it) water is well water- so we begin to pull water for our bottles.     We should have timed things better, because by the time we were done it was 10:30AM and already hot. 

So day 3 started a bit late.  We went back through the swamp to get back to the road, thus defeating any reasoning in washing our bikes in the first place. We get to the road around 11, and by 11:30 decided to forego day 3 and take a car the last 35K to Kedegou..  Call us quitters, lame, whatever you want, but that ride into the party was, all in all, a pretty sweet decision.  We arrived with plenty of time to celebrate our nation’s birthday…and celebrate we did. 

Next year we’ll know better…