Road notes: Day 9 West Africa/ Day 135 Africa Crossing

Motorcycle repaired! Jerrycan procured, fixer for border crossing arranged, and jettisoning of stuff to make room for fuel and water

Sometimes I put off an errand or an activity that’s so crucial that if it doesn’t work out, it’ll be a bummer. Such was the case with picking up my motorcycle. Given that I’d gone to such extraordinary lengths to get the spare part needed, and the potential that just maybe I’d gotten the wrong one and would have to wait another two weeks — I put off going to Mad Bikes to check on it.

But then last night I got the heartening text from Mamadou, the owner — “Come by, your bike is ready!” He writes to me in French. (I then copy and translate it in the iTranslate app.) He switched out the disk clutch as well as the air filter, tightened up my side mirrors so they wouldn’t twirl in the wind, and in general, tweaked the bike so it's at its most ready for the arduous ride ahead.

Mamadou’s a great guy, about 35 maybe, tall and stocky, with an easy smile. He’s a favorite with all the local and foreign rally motorbike riders. And a champion Rally rider himself. Every time I came to the shop, there was some local hero talking animatedly with him. He wants the best for me and wants to make sure that I’m aware and ready for the intense heat that’s coming my way. “Wet yourself down” I know that trick. At every stop that has a water faucet, you douse your head and your neck guard with water. It then air conditions you as it evaporates, unfortunately rather rapidly, as you ride in the wind. For a half-hour it’s glorious but by the end of the hour, you’re looking rather desperately for another dousing.

Another errand: buy a 10 litter Jerrycan (that’s actually what they’re called) for spare gas. This gives me another 200 kilometers of riding. That, plus I already have a 10 liter ‘fuel sack’ that I’ve had since Cape Town. That should be sufficient for some of the stretches ahead. I also got the worrisome news that there’s often a gas shortage in Mauritania — lots of diesel but limited on the gas. As for Western Sahara, that’s a true no man’s land so you better have enough to get across the whole country with what you’re carrying with you.

I had a similar experience in Ethiopia and it wasn’t fun. You go for miles past one closed station after the other. Finally, in desperation, you buy some of the black market gas that’s sold in containers by the roadside, by people who come out of their huts to give it to you. The danger is that it’s been ‘corrupted’, eg some water added in order to increase the amount of volume. Oddly enough, this gas will still work for many but for my motorcycle — I discovered in the worse way — it’s like poison. I had to have my tank removed from the motorcycle and cleaned out meticulously in Adiss Ababa in order to remove the bad gas. Bad gas that I discovered when my bike started failing to rev up, started stopping and starting, just as I arrived on one of the busiest, most crazy roads I’ve been on, in the outskirts of Addis Ababa.

Extra gas, and even more critically, lots of extra water, means a ton more weight added to the bike, which is already cresting the limits so I’m going thru my stuff and paring it down even more. This is the second time I’ve done this and there’s still stuff I can leave behind. It’s all little stuff that makes it hard to give up as what’s one ounce of extra medicine really going to add? But in aggregate it does help a bit so I’m saying goodbye to some spanking new tools that I never used nor would know how to use anyways. Some more socks and underwear. Extra straps. Extra this and that. I’ve just gotta survive another month on the road — I’m betting now I won’t need these extras.

I also did something that most true Overlanders would scoff at — I arranged for a “Fixer” to meet me at the Mauritania border, at Rosso, and help me across. I’d heard too many bad stories about what can go on there if you end up with the wrong people. There are some serious scammers at this border. One ruse is to tell people when they arrive that they have to stay with their vehicle as ‘it can get broken into’, but not to worry as X will take your papers and do it all for you. Then, X disappears and simply doesn’t come back. That ushers in the second phase — another guy comes who claims he knows where X is but it will cost a load of money to get the passport back from him. Real gangster types so I checked around and found the name of a high-quality “fixer” — a fellow that actually does do a good job of the paperwork — to meet me and handle my docs for me. Now, this actually isn’t necessary as road-hardy Overlanders will affirm. One can push past all these guys, figure out where the uniformed policeman is, ask him to watch your stuff, go inside the border offices, and deal with all the paperwork yourself. But I’m lazy and don’t have much more reserve for the potential problems that can occur so I’ll take the easy route on this one.