The turning-point of my journey

Later in Dakar I realised I was trying to come up with new ideas to continue south in vain. I came to know that the only way was back, north. Once I accepted that it felt so good, the cycle-journey was over, I didn't want to do it anymore. I felt a rush of joy and excitement in my body over the thought of going back. A new adventure! But before turning, I wanted to cycle to Banjul in the Gambia, because Dakar feels a little bit cliché with the Paris-Dakar rally. Joshua and me said goodbye to eachother, we were hoping to meet up in Banjul.

I went out of the huge city Dakar and on a dirttrack in to the bush. This was cool. In a village the children were helping me to push my bicycle forward in the sand and we crossed a paved road. I continued to Toubab Dialow were I stopped to the next day. I wanted to make I stop here because the waves were good. I surfed on my body in the sunset, beautiful.. Next day I continued but the dirttrack was gone. I tried to cycle on the sand of the beach whitch was a difficult business. Soon I gave up but soon found the dirttrack. I wanted to go back to the paved road so I went inland to cross the road.

I went in further and further and I got more and more tired. There was a lot of sand on the track and I had been pushing the bike since eight o'clock, the time was now twelve. I was lost in the bush, I'd been chosing several ways just to move forward. I knew that the way back was so long so I continued. Up came a little village. The women and children was surprised over the "toubab" (white man in their language) turning up from nowhere. I saw a donkey with a cart. The donkey belonged to a man who was working. After some discussing we made an agreement that the man's little brother was going to take me out to the paved road for 800 CFA.

Soon we were on our way. The donkey was hauling it's cart with my bicycle, luggade and one kid. The other kid (the brother) was controlling the donkey. We didn't move fast, but I appreciated to walk slowly instead of dragging that bike in the sand. The sun was blistering. We passed two other small villages were the people were interested in our business. Then we came in to the town Diass, where we found the paved road. I payed the boys for their work, we said goodbye. I was tired, the time was two o'clock. I got invited to eat with two shopkeepers. I ate and then I continued. On the fourth day I reached the Gambia. On the borders I got to know that my english friend Tony Eveling had passed the borders only a little time before me.

I was happy and cycled on everything I had. This road from the border to the ferry was like a Switzerland cheese. Zigzagging my path, I hoped to bump in to Tony on the road to Banjul, but I never did. I passed the Gambia river with the ferry. My idea was now to book a flight with the Gambia Experience, a english company, to London. But they wouldn't accept my overweight, so I had to send over the bike seperatly with a freight company. The price of DHL was 800 Euros. Crazy! I would never pay that, a lot more than I payed for the bike! I took for granted that the other freight companies wouldn't be so cheap in any case. I took a fast decision to go back all the way with the transports available. It would be fast if I did it intense, and way more cheap than flying. The following day I was to be on my way north.