Sadly I had to leave the Zebrabar this morning. I am definitely stopping at the Zebrabar on the way back. Definitely. I wish now that I had stopped at St Louis to get my Passavant extended, which would have given me more time at the Zebrabar – but Dakar here I come…
Leaving early I gingerly made my way along the sandy track to the main road, and then started heading south to Dakar. The roads were fine and initially there was little traffic on the road, but as you approached Dakar the roads got progressively more busy, mostly with big HGV’s belching clouds of dirty black smoke. All the villages and towns I rode through were very busy and congested, and despite the traffic there would also be a police checkpoint. Sometimes two – one on entry and one leaving.
With each checkpoint I would automatically give them a ‘Fiche’ – which is a photocopy of my passport. Before I left Nouakchott I had about 30 copies made as I didn’t know how many checkpoints I would find. At first I would stop, open my helmet and give them a smile with a ‘Bonjour’ but by lunchtime I had been stopped around six times. This was starting to get ‘old’.
Riding through one busy town I got flagged to stop. Opening my helmet and smiling as usual he told me to get off the bike. It was the early afternoon and hot so there was no way I was going to sit in the open sun with my bald head so as his 4×4 was parked under a tree, that’s where I decided to sit. After walking around my bike and looking for some kind of fault he then came over and asked for my passport, which I gave him. Then he started to shout at me for some apparent reason, with him towering above me, so I decided to ignore him and look away – as you would while a toddler is having a tantrum. Then he would walk around and into my vision – still shouting – so I would look the other way. This went on for a few minutes until it went quiet so I looked up. He handed me my passport, made a thumb and said “Aller” (go) so I stood up, got on my bike and left. After that and as I approached Dakar the stops became more frosty, and at two of the stops the policeman asked for a ‘gift’ – while rubbing their finger and thumb together. I would just smile and act like the village idiot.
My plan was to stay at a campsite to the north of Dakar near Lake Retba, which is supposed to be a pink lake. Apparently, it’s pink due to a certain kind of algae, but when I got there it wasn’t pink at all. Just a murky brown. The roads approaching and near the lake have no tarmac and are soft sand – which really had me fighting to keep the bike upright. When I got to the two possible campsites, besides being wet through with sweat there didn’t seem to be any kind of campsite, just derelict hotels. Each time I stopped there was quite a lot of interest in me and my bike so I decided to go to Plan B and head into Dakar and stay in a hotel.
Once I left the area I stopped and quickly found a hotel on Booking.com and soon found myself back on tarmac roads again. Hooray…! By the time I got into Dakar the temperature was around 45 degrees and on the outskirts of the city I stopped for fuel, something to drink and some cool shade as the petrol station had lots of shade. I was overheating and needed to cool down as the roads were very busy.
Getting back on the bike again I started to make my way into the city. It was mid-afternoon and the roads were massively busy with cars, taxis, mini-busses, busses, trucks, donkeys and mopeds. In Nouakchott the driving was quite ‘competitive’ but in Dakar – there are no rules – as it’s definitely ‘every man for himself’. Dakar is definitely the world champion when it comes to competitive city driving.
I must admit, I quite enjoy it when it gets like this, and the only logical way to approach this is to just pick a spot and go for it. As chaotic and as reckless and as dangerous as it all seems, when riding in Dakar, it’s not as bad as you think. If someone ahead of you wants to change direction, they don’t just change direction but gently start changing direction before they lunge for the gap. There is an indication so its relatively easy to predict. Also, when the traffic is stopped, it’s quite acceptable to mingle between the vehicles or use the centre reservation or even the pavement if you need to… 😉
I found the Hotel Les Residences Abdou Diouf quite easily, which was in a gated-community so it is really secure. My bike is parked on the pavement outside the hotel and the woman on the reception said my bike would be completely safe. The only downside was that my room was on the third-floor and I had to make three trips to get all my luggage off the bike, so by the time I had finished and finally closed my hotel room door – I was completely exhausted. The hotel is costing around £12 a night, so I was quite happy with it as besides being pleasantly cool, it is immaculately clean.
The room has no air-con, but it does have a large fan on the ceiling – which is just right. It also has an en-suite toilet and shower and although there isn’t any hot water, to be honest I was just as happy to have a cool shower as even in the evening its still quite warm. It was about 250 kms (155 miles) today and I feel like I’ve ridden twice that, but it was a great day and even though all the police stops really annoyed me, I thoroughly enjoyed the ride once I got into Dakar.
