Where we are going
there won’t be roads!
I haven’t gone back to misquoting movies at the start of
each blog entry but this really did seem like a suitable way in which to start an
entry about a long and somewhat bumpy trip on a motorbike all the way from
Accra to Mole National Park in the North of Ghana.
Saturday started well and the road to Kumasi was looking
good… or at least to start with. Having
headed out north to Koforidua a week or so before I had a vague inkling about
what was to come. If I had engaged any
sort of common sense, or indeed had an ounce of sense of any kind when it comes
to direction I would have been prepared for the missing chunk of road. Unfortunately I have neither common sense nor
sense of direction; and the nice smooth red line on the map did not equate with
the spinal shock and bruised posterior I had suffered whilst on a bus heading
back into Accra the previous week. I
therefore discovered that not only was the road still under construction in
certain places, but that it takes about 45 minutes to cover 40 miles of sand,
mud and bomb sized craters when sitting on the back of a motorbike. This was about as uncomfortable as sliding
down 5 flights of stairs when wearing only one’s pyjamas. Having been in
trouble numerous times as a child for doing this I can say with a fair amount
of authority the resulting friction burns from sliding back and forth on denim
also feel uncomfortably similar.
It was with great relief and happiness that I saw the sign
to Linda Dor service and rest area and stopping for a quick break was an
option. A quick Fandango later and I was
good to get back on the bike and start heading north again… I ummed and ahhhed
for a bit about whether or not I wanted to brave the restrooms- public
restrooms have never been a preferred option, but given the fact we had covered
so few miles I really felt it would be a good move. So, I queued up outside to pay for my toilet
paper (it came pre folded and cost 20 pesewa) and then I was allowed
inside. I was actually quite stunned by
the size of the room and the number of stalls, there were two long rows of
immaculately kept stalls and only two people using the facilities. Despite the fact there was a sign in the
parking lot quite explicitly saying, “It is forbidden to urinate here” it turns
out at least three people thought the sign did not apply to them, and even that
they could use it as a target, or a balance pole. Turns it was there loss as this was possibly
the best-equipped restroom I have encountered since arriving in Ghana. The doors to the cubicles may have been
without a closing mechanism but that is why you take a bag with you,
right? To prop the door closed? Better than that tho were the automatic,
motion sensitive soap dispensers, complete with soap, AND the automatic, motion
sensitive paper towel dispenser complete with paper towels, and functioning
power. It was truly worth the entire trip
just for this. 20 pesewa well spent, and
I would be happy to give more.
I would like to say that I will not be recounting any more
restroom stories for the remainder of the blog, but that would be blatantly
untrue, and just not funny. The other
one involved a garage with an impeccable clean restroom- it would put anything
but Buckee’s to shame! It had a roster
on the wall for cleaning duties, it had soap, towels, and tissue no running
water and a goat that came charging at me head down as soon as I opened the
door! Short tussle with the goat later-
you’ll see me roping cattle at the rodeo yet- and the restroom was mine!
The rest of the roads toward Kumasi and beyond were indeed
paved, if not with gold, then a more modern equivalent- tarmac and it was
indeed full on 24K tarmac at that. It
was a long, flat black ribbon of it stretching all the way ahead of us… or at
least until we were about 40 miles from our destination, and then it changed
into sand, mud, ridges, gravel and potholes.
It was truly the most uncomfortable, bone jarring, brain shacking
experience I have ever had the misfortunate to encounter.
Luckily for my back the adventure was about to take a more
interesting turn, for no sooner was the National Park in sight and unpacking,
relaxing and looking at some wildlife seeming a distinct possibly the lightning
started to flash, the thunder started to rumble and the clouds gathered, heavy
and dark. This was no flash in the pan
storm either… it was a full on all night and into the next morning job. Which meant that the sand, the mud and the
gravel had all turned into clay, mud and gouges of missing road. There was no way the bike was coming down
that track.
So, at 6:30am, in the rain and with the distant echoes of
thunder still ringing in the air it was time to find someone with an 4 x 4
flatbed to transport the bike 40 miles cross country and back to the tarmac…
five men, a broken windshield, a bent tailgate, broken roll bars and five hours
later we arrived back on a tarmacked road!
There was so much more to this adventure- but I’m just not
sure it can be done justice here- the video (to follow) might be much better at
telling the story than me!
I have also missed out- the randomness of road name in
Kumasi, the most amazing Indian meal I have eaten in a long time, the beauty of
the Black Volta, the 13th Century Mosques, the amazing Ashanti Gold
Mining towns, an the medieval feeling of some of the “forgotten” villages… but
this was truly an African Adventure worthy of its own book- not reflections in
a blog.
