BEP and SJD in Accra, Ghana

High-Tech Trash

2008-04-03T17:04:00.004Z

Here is something to think about from National Geographic. All credit to NG.

High Tech Trash or http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/2008/01/high-tech-trash/carroll-text

I've seen the kids pushing carts of discarded electronics across Accra town. Smelled the wretched burning as I was riding here and there. I didn't really understand what they were doing or where they were going with their haul.

Thinking that you're doing the right thing by recycling is getting more and more complicated.

Mangos in moderation

2008-03-12T12:55:00.007Z

I’m not sure this really this qualifies as a locally acquired taste since there is evidence of my appreciation of mangoes prior to arriving in Ghana.

Here I am somewhere in Australia delighting in mango ice-cream next to the world’s largest mango. Oooh that was good.

Even before that though, I was making a concoction I called mango salsa. It included (duh) mango, red and green pepper, cilantro, onion and a liberal dash of tequila. Batches varied wildly from what might be described as “a nice balance” to “who put the mango in my tequila?” Perhaps not always intended for the kiddies, but it was generally a hit at the office.

Fast forward a few years when my office setting did not quite allow for mid-day communal munching. Trader Joes filled the void with pre-packaged, sliced, dried and very sweet mango chunks. A few of these babies could send my blood sugar sky rocketing. They made (and still are) a great mid-ride treat when legs are flagging.

Ok, now onto Ghana – a country up to its ears in tropical fruits – pineapples, coconuts, papaya, oranges, bananas, plantains and, of course, mangoes. At least two varieties of mangoes even. Big juicy mangos are my favourite. Apparently they are not native to West Africa, but do well enough economically. The smaller, stringier variety is native, I’m told, but is really not worth all the teeth cleaning effort involved to really enjoy it. So…

Almost every outing included at least a quick glance at the road side fruit-n-veggie stands to check supplies. Sometimes they were perfect to be eaten now. Others needed to wait a day or two to ripen. I’m still not sure how to tell the difference. There was usually room in my bag for a mango or two.

Before

After

Mixed with yogurt, ice, milk and other fruit.

Always a mess to prepare.

Unfortunately, after several months of eating mangoes, I seemed to develop some sort of allergy. Not right away as would be ideal. No, I would continue to eat plate after plate of mango. A few days later my lips would become almost chapped lasting for two weeks. I will spare you the pictures. We weren’t certain if the allergy was caused by ingesting too many mangoes, or handling the sappy ones right from the tree. At least twice this happened – the last being in May 2007. It was pretty frustrating, but I swore off mangos for a while.

Now March 2008, and it appears that I still have a slight allergy. This only after SJD carefully did all the washing and slicing. All I did was admire the bright color and have one little bite. Mmmmm…so good, but so bad too.

Now, I'm afraid that mangos are just out to get me. There are a number of fruit bearing trees on my project site - including mangos. Most of the fruit has been picked by passersby for personal consumption or perhaps resale at the tro-tro stop. It is just the way things work around here.

The project site gate keeper swings open the gate in the morning when I arrive for work on my bike. The larges mango tree is litterally a few feet beyond the gate. A few months ago during prime growing season, the branches were hanging quite low full of fruit. Only after riding head on into a low hanging mango a couple dozen times, the mangoes disappeared.

A coworker still, every now and then, surprises me with a plate of freshly cut fruit. Mostly pineapple, papaya or bananas now. And not just one banana either. Sometimes as many as five of the tiny variety.

Pharaohs v Indomitable Lions

2008-02-11T21:58:00.000Z

As Marta mentioned, Ghana was host the African Cup of Nations for the past three weeks. An event much more exciting that my sock sorting for sure...

Millions of spectators were expected to swarm to newly constructed or refurbished stadiums in Accra, Tamale, Secondi and Kumasi. Ghana's Black Stars promised to keep the cup in Ghana. While neither expectation nor promise materialized quite as planned, the pride and spirit felt on the streets of Accra was hard to ignore. Businesses closed early. Night guards huddled around grainy TV's or transistor radios.

I managed to catch three games in Accra. Ghana defeating Morocco. Cameroon eliminating Ghana. Egypt winning the cup by beating Cameroon in the finale.

SJD waving the flag for Cameroon in Sunday's finale versus Egypt.

A not quite filled stadium in Accra moments before kick off. Most seats were filled once the game started.

Ghana's Black Stars defeated Ivory Coast's Elephants to take 3rd place in the 16 team tournament.

2008-02-08T16:10:00.000Z

Sooner or later all that was new and interesting becomes old and ordinary. I include myself in that analysis of course, although SJD, diplomat that she is, would likely conjure up a statement to the contrary. I hope at least. Right hon?

So we've settled into a bit of a routine here. Already eh? Yup, eighteen months in and we don't have anything new and/or exciting to report covering the past eight weeks apparently. Note the date of the previous post.

Why just today I was contemplating organizing my sock drawer, when it dawned on me that, today being Friday, I have all day Saturday to complete said task. I could do it then. Then an even more ingenious realization entered my mind. I've worn socks perhaps ten times in the past eight weeks. Finding an appropriate pair shouldn't be too much of a problem really. Barring any mood swings of Mother Nature, this open toe trend is likely to maintain its current path.

Sort neck ties darkest to lightest? Puuuuuulleeeezze.....

Well, looks like Saturday's plans are wide open.

2008-02-01T08:48:00.000Z

So here we are in February already. While many of you shoveled snow or braved ice slickened trails to get in some winter riding, I washed the harmattan dust off the car and rode the stationary trainer indoors...again. Yup, we've just come through the "cold" season here. Our very polite and diligent guard, Godsway, battled the evening chill with a trench coat. Babies were bundled up with blankets and hats. Moto couriers fought the biting chill with with appropriate gear. We obronis simply enjoyed the respite from sweating the moment we stepped outdoors.

Sure the trees lose their leaves and exercise outdoors usually concludes with a hacking fit and blurry vision. In spite of the dust, we quite enjoyed the harmattan break from normal heat and humidity. The dust blown down from the Sahara lays a thick haze over Ghana. You can stare directly at the sun without going blind. Not sure why you would want to do that, but you can... And did I mention that every outing does not produce 4 gallons of sweat? Alas, the harmattan has passed and heat and humidity are back with a vengeance. The haze is still here. And to make it even worse, the Black Stars lost to Cameroon in the semi-finals of the African Cup of Nation Soccer tournament.

N6 10.409 W0 05.012

2007-12-13T13:41:00.000Z

Here we have two rides worth of GPS data overlayed on GoogleEarth. Both rides started from Aylos Bay Hotel - more or less at 1 o'clock on the image and proceed clockwise.

In red, Chris, SJD and I headed down some valley and up to a ridge top. Eventually we turned around since we were not certain which trails lead where.

In blue SJD and I did a 42 mile road and dirt road ride. Maps were accurate enough showing the intended route on lightly traveled paved switchback mountain roads, however we still missed one turn as indicated by the little spur on the left side. Luckly the topo maps indicated the power transmission lines running parallel to the road. It was enough information to tip us off we were indeed on the wrong track.

Back on track one valley over heading NE we were expecting some dirt road, but were a bit surprised when road surface deteriorated so badly about half-way in. Packed dirt gave way to sand washes and exposed rocks before reaching Akasambo.

Notice the yellow spot in the center of the image - land clearing fire. Lake Volta is a the top. The Akasambo Dam is just barely visible at the top of the blue loop where the lake gets skinny.

Tour d'Accra

2007-11-26T20:07:00.000Z

So I overestimated the distance of the race by 266%. Nobody is perfect, and I'm a prime example.

Yesterday, with a fair bit of arm twisting by one of the Ghanaian cycling superstars, Randolph Mensah, I started the Tour d'Accra road race. When he showed up at our house on Saturday afternoon he didn't have all the details on the tip of his tongue. In fact, all he knew was the starting location (Teshie-Nungua police barrier) and approximate time - 8am Sunday morning. I thought I had him convinced that I was in no condition to race unknown distances. No, my target heart rate lately has been set on "recreation" not "decimation." Cleverly, he upped the ante by presenting two bright green sponsor t-shirts for me and the missus. Everyone asks about the missus - SJD. I had to accept.

Really, I did not want to race. The bike wasn't prepared. I didn't feel like waking up early.

Later that evening I was feeling a bit guilty. Here I am in Accra with a small fleet of bikes, parts and gear to spare. These guys bust their bee-hinds every race in the same duds, on beat up bikes, on terrible roads in scorching heat. No classes based on weight, age, ability or gender. Just show up and ride what you have. It is rough on the edges with just a hint of rules, but is pure racing in some sense. This time though we actually had to pin on numbers. The big time!

SJD, who has much better sense than I much of the time, told me that I really should race. She didn't go so far as to say that she would wake up at 6am to make coffee for me. Just nudged me out of bed. A free t-shirt and a nudge got me going. In fairness to SJD, she did drag herself out of bed by 10am to cheer us on passing Burma Camp.

I had just enough time to lube the chain, pump the tires up to pressure, and get all gussied up in City-Bikes/Metro Gutter wear before riding to the Teshie-Nungua - about 10 miles. It would be a perfect warm up...if the race were to begin on time.

Geez, that road between La and Teshie is in horrible condition. Potholes, dips, sand, crumbling edge rumble strips. I'm trying to think of a road in DC that might compare to it. Hmmm...

Things are running late again. About 90 minutes late. Given that many of the racers arrive by tro-tro, taxi or riding (like me) a little extra time is okay. After several introductions, a prayer and display of the prizes, the promoter goes over the course - in one of the local languages. I heard three laps, and mention of a few landmarks - Burma Camp, Achimota, Kaneshie, La. No doubt it seemed like a long race to me. I didn't really have any high expectations of finishing with the leaders. As these races go, once you're spit out the back from the pack, you tend to lose ground quickly.

Finally around 9:30am we're set loose behind a rolling enclosure police escort. Police, bikes, team cars. Add Sunday church traffic, goats, chickens, pedestrians, tro-tros and everything else Ghana into the mix. There is a lot to pay attention to. Early on I was content to sit mid-pack. The pace was pretty high at first, and the police were having a tough time clearing traffic. At one point we bunched up and instead of simply slowing, the lead riders overtook the police and weaved through a sandy shoulder between waiting tro-tros. Everyone followed including the team motorcycles. Talk about hairy.

The course eventually made its way onto roads with less congestion with the pace hovering at around 25mph. Seemed comfortable enough. I recognized the landmarks, but noted that we were headed farther and farther northwest of town before finally turning left on the Tema Motorway. The pack was split in two by a mid-pack crash. Two riders seemed to run out of road, or simply squeezed into a stopped car. Meanwhile the front of the pack seemed to accelerate, creating a gap. I was in the chase group now trying to bridge up to the lead. The police escort abandoned us and zoomed ahead. Traffic took over the roads, but a few volunteers were able to keep a few intersections clear while we passed. The 15 second gap steadily increased until we reached Kaneshie Market - notorious for traffic jams. We more or less had to give up the chase at that point.

At this point we had clocked 30 miles and were just now pointing back eastward towards Teshie. Two more laps of this? That is absurd! I rode out the lap with two other riders, eventually dropping one with a flat and the other to fatigue. Back at Teshie, I completed the first lap logging 47 miles. Do the math. Three times 47 equals 141 miles. I did this while stopping to purchase a water sachet. I have never ridden 141 miles, let alone raced that distance. The officials checked my number and I began the second lap. A few miles in, I decided I really could not face another 94 miles of Accra traffic and smog. I phoned SJD and told her my sob story and that I was coming home. She promised an ice cold smoothie would be waiting for me.

In the end I logged a decent 72 miles at 19.5mph average. Not bad, all things considered.

Today, I had to laugh reading the newspaper coverage of the race. In the end, Samuel Anim, of Accra won a TV and about $300 for first place. Randolph did not place, but was glad to see me out there. Total distance was stated as 53 miles. Apparently the course was one 47 mile lap, plus two 3 mile laps. Not 141 miles. Oops. Guess I mis-understood the pre-race instructions and didn't notice the course marshall telling me to turn right instead of left.

Oh well... Like I said, I'm not perfect.

The Ghanaians, for whatever reason, like to see me fizzle out and will likely invite me to the next race. The silly thing is is that I'll probably do it.

Tug of War - Ghana style

2007-11-24T16:34:00.000Z

Happy Thanksgiving! Stay away from those nasty malls and read our blog instead. It doesn't cost a dime.

Friends Rebecca and Joe from DC were visiting Ghana this week.

As you can see, they came prepared...definitely prepared for Ghana. REI is great!

They spent their time between Accra, Cape Coast and Volta Region walking in the canopy, taking in slave forts, stamping batik fabric, observing monkeys and buying beads. To wrap up their visit, we drove (we didn't make them to bike) past the small coastal fishing villages that dot the sandy road west of Ada on our way to the Songaw Lagoon Bird Santuary. A group of men, women and children were pulling a fishing net to shore, so we decided to stop long enough to watch and perhaps snap a photo or two if they didn't mind.

Well let me tell you they didn't even pause long enough to greet us, but asked us to get in line and start pulling. Perhaps he said, "Don't just stand there, fetch us some drinks." I guess it is that mid-western instinct kicking in that tells me hold open doors or push cars free from snow banks. Or perhaps we're just crazy. Whatever the case, we grabbed hold of the net, dug in our heels, and leaned backwards. Figured we'd have the net up on shore in no time with four extra bodies. Wrong!

See the other group beyond the beached fishing boat in the distance. That is the other end of the net. Twenty of us on each end. Out in the water, all sorts of fish...hopefully.

When enough of the net was far enough up onto shore, one of the older boys would anchor it to the nearest palm tree with a rope while the pullers headed down to the front of the line to repeat the process over, and over, and over.... We pulled for a good thirty minutes.

Small children waited patiently with baskets and aluminum bowls for the catch to be revealed.

The smallest of the children simply added ballast to the mamas who were tugging in unison. That is SJD in the center background.

Nobody seemed to notice or really mind that we jumped in. After thirty minutes we were soaked with sticky salt water, coated with sand and begining to sun burn.

The other mid-western instict - well timed rest breaks - seemed to be ignored here in Ghana.

Our hands and arms were so fatigued that we could barely thank them for letting us have the fun of lending a hand, before we had to let them finish what they started. We hadn't seen a single fish tangled in the net at that point. SJD was assured by one man that the catch today would be a good one though. If not they would try again.

Back in the lovely AC of the car, we gulped down a few cold drinks and continued west past more villages with people wrestling nets against a stubborn tide. At the end of the road we reached the lagoon but were too exhausted to set out for more exploring. Turned around and headed back to Ada - this time without stopping to take photos.

So we may not have actually caught any fish, but at least we worked off a few of those extra Thanksgiving dinner calories trying.

Tanzania to Kenya by bike - part two

2007-11-03T20:31:00.000Z

Part two of two (thank goodness, right). I'll try to wrap this sucker up shortly. Any of the included photos can be viewed in larger format by simply double-clicking on it.

Day 9
The Land Cruiser and driver met us at camp at 6am to whisk us up and over the 8000' rim that creates the Ngorongoro Crater. 2300' below the crater rim is teeming with all sorts of critter life.

Wildebeest sparring

Hippos staying cool -- occasionally one would roll over to get the top side wet but that was as animated as they got .

Hippo tracks - when they decide to move, stay out of the way...

King and Queen of the crater (these were taken just after they mated - we captured that moment as well but thought it might not be an appropriate image for a G-rated (so far) blog)

Thompsons gazelle

Hyenas - it was fascinating to watch the other wildlife quietly move away as these guys approached. Earlier we had seen some hyenas finishing off the bloody remains of a zebra that obviously hadn't moved away in time.

The black dot in the center is (honest) the highly endangered black rhino. There are only 25 of them in Ngorongoro. We got a good view through the binocs...

Safari dorks

Day 10
We headed north to the land border crossing into Kenya at Namanga. Along the way, Sabrina's fuel supply line sprang a leak - no doubt a victim of rattling down washboard roads. Come to think of it, Sabrina did seem a bit sluggish up some of the hills. As SJD, Trevor and I pondered our fate, ate some popcorn and looked for shade, Scott and Fish scurried under and inside Sabrina taking it all in stride. Hakuna matata... Matters were under control before we could panic and grab the bikes to attempt a self rescue.

Under here? Hmm...maybe up here?

Onward up the road to the border crossing. Entry visas were obtained easily enough and we were allowed to proceed to the start of the day's ride.

The ride, a relatively flat 30km meander, started as a washboard road but soon deteriorated into a sandy 4wd track winding through the scrub paralleling the international border by 1/2Km. Very likely we could have simply ridden the bikes across the border, but then we would have had some explainin' to do with immigration officials in Nairobi later in the week. Interestingly enough though, my GPS indicated that we had crossed the border a few times during the ride - wonder whether it is accurate.

(Bike set-up:
We decided to take our own bikes on this trip. We had the option of renting bikes, but reasoned that 550Km on an unfamiliar bike would be a bit of a drag. So we have well traveled bikes.

The only modifications we made before the trip were to the tires. Actually, we replaced the tubes with Slime tubes - self-sealing ooze limits the number of thorm punctures. Also, we installed tire liners between the tire and tube. Same effect.

The rest of the bike remained in normal XC mode – rather Africa proof and simple.)

Riding off the gravel road instantly exposes your tires to all sorts of thorny grasses, bushes and trees. The sandy 4wd track eventually narrows down to a few Km of flat single track before reaching a rock outcropping named Solomon's Rock. At first I thought this was just a rest break before pushing on to the next village, so I goofed around a bit on the rock itself. It wasn't until the bus pulled up that I realized we were actually going to camp at the foot of the rock. This place is remote and exposed but incredibly beautiful as well. It is hard to imagine how it supports life and it seemed empty as we rode in but soon enough signs of life and appeared (including while SJD was taking her sun shower out in the open behind the bus...she thinks she covered up before the view got too racy). Winds kicked up as the sun sank towards the horizon making setting up tents a bit of an adventure. We thought we might inadvertently go paragliding.

Me riding up Solomon's Rock; Scott taking in the scene

Fish and Scott made a simple but delicious picnic up on top of Solomon's Rock as we watched the stars take over the night sky.

Two local Maasai were hired to watch the camp as we slept, keeping hyenas at bay. They made a small fire and chit chatted softly until the morning. I assume the spears were for real.

Day 11
Word had spread quickly that we were passing through the area and morning brought several Maasai men and women jewelry vendors out of the distant villages to visit our camp. They unrolled their blankets to display their handiwork for us to peruse, bargain and purchase. It is a shame that I'm not necessarily a big fan of the colorful bead bracelets and dangly earrings. What looks completely appropriate on the Maasai, seems a bit ludicrous on me. I made up my mind to buy something from every third person.

We met a Maasai man named Solomon who gave us a tour of his family compound on the opposite side of Solomon's rock. (Oh, now I get it.) He was very open and honest about the Maasai culture and practices. We asked whether they continued the practice of female circumcision and Solomon matter-of-factly said the government tries to stop it but they are not ready to give it up. Easier to understand customs such as how the males become warriors were explained as well.

Solomon's two wives and eight children live in the compound with two other family groups. I asked if they get along - the wives- and he replied, "yes" but was quick to move onto the next subject. He said his mother wants him to take a third wife but he's not so sure he's up for it.

This house that SJD is posed beside to provide some scale seemed to be fairly typical construction - branches tied together for structure; dung to cement things together; low, thatch roof. Solomon indicated that much of the family had relocated 5-10Km south (probably into Tanzania) to be closer to more reliable water sources. Once the rainy season resumes, the family and livestock will likely move back.

This is the local school. How did we miss it right there under the acacia tree when rode in the previous afternoon? Solomon introduced us to the teachers and students who were all on perfect behaviour. SJD and I were handed chalk and asked to teach the class for few minutes. We froze for a moment wondering just what we might say. Economics? I'm still juggling currency conversion rates. Construction? I could learn a lot here. Geography? I'm not even sure where I am let alone which other countries border Kenya besides Tanzania. Then it clicked.

SJD taught arithmetic; I taught art

The little boy drawing the giraffe was such a picture of concentration. He took several minutes to carefully draw a long neck and a box-like body and little ears. His classmates watched with delight and rewarded him with a big round of applause.

Of course more singing broke out. The children entertained us with several verses of "one little, two little, three little elephants" accompanied by clapping and percussion on the benches. Very cute.

After all this excitement we geared up for a short ride across the dry Lake Amboseli into a stiff head wind. But first we had to take turns riding each other's bikes.

A Fish on a bicycle!

Maasai guy on Fish's K2.

Midway across the lake bed, herds of wildebeest grazed nearby. Generally they seem pretty skittish around vehicles, but on bikes we gave them plenty of room and rolled past as a group. I was the only meat eater of the bunch.

We jumped back into the bus before entering Amboseli NP since carnivores and other tramplers and head butters were present in the area. Camp for the night was inside the confines of a rather flimsy electrified fence. There was plenty of evidence that elephants passed through regularly. Trampled fence poles and piles of dung here and there.

Another windy sunset, then dinner at the base on the north side of Mt. Kilimanjaro.

Day 12
Wildlife viewing is best in the morning hours before the heat of the day - although I would argue that the sun is pretty intense even at 9am. We packed up camp and headed out on a two hour self-driven loop through Amboseli NP. As required, we drove very slowly and stayed on the established track but apparently no one told a large male elephant that was SOP. He made some unhappy sounding noises as he approached the bus and seemed on the verge of poking a tusk through the window. We had no desire to upset so sneaked off as quietly as a bus can.

Once again we were lucky to have Kilimanjaro as a backdrop and soaked up the iconic scenes of wildlife seeming to pose for us in front of the mountain.

We exited Amboseli on the north side 4wd track leaving most animals behind and continuing on the bikes. This was grind of a ride. Slightly uphill, dusty, sandy and into a wind during the hottest part of the day. We did spot a few giraffe at close distance, but were too slow to grab the camera before they trotted off.

At our deserted lunch stop, we quickly attracted a crowd of children who seemed to materialize out of nowhere on their way home from school. They watched our every move ... before we left, we gave many a turn on the bike.

By the time we rolled into camp for the night the winds had picked up once again and SJD and I resorted to strategically placed tethers to keep the tent from folding in the wind. Our host for the night was Robert, a 73 year old Maasai who was quite a character. With his limited english and lots of body language he regaled us with talks of being tossed into a tree by a rhino and attacked by a lion (he had the tooth mark on his leg to prove it) as a young man. His second wife, Beatrice, and several children also stopped by for greetings. In contrast to Robert, they exuded calmness. It made for a nice mix in that family.

As we prepared to turn in for the night, we looked a bit anxiously at the gray clouds and wondered if we might need to put the rain fly over the tent. Robert assured us that it would not rain until November 14. A few hours later we were all scrambling in the moonlight and wind to get the rain flies over our tents before we were soaked by the rain....

Day 13
We hit the road early knowing that a 77Km ride with 2000' of climbing awaited. Scott mentioned that this was a trucking route, although we saw maybe eight vehicles the entire day -- one of which came roaring and sliding down a hill at us; we wisely got off the road for a moment to let it pass. The term “highway” in these parts takes on a different meaning. More cattle, donkey and ostrich and zebra used the road than vehicles.

For whatever reason we made good time since finally, we we're able to take advantage of a tail wind. My rear tire developed a slow leak that didn't seem to seal properly until later in the ride. Considering how far we'd come already without any major mishaps, I was pretty pleased.

Camp seemed pretty posh after the last few nights in the remote and dusty plain -- it even had hot showers.

Day 14
The home stretch and into Nairobi. We were not in any hurry to eat breakfast or break down camp, and in doing so got dumped on by a brief rain storm. It was just enough rain to make packing a mess, and cause us to rethink the final bike route. Scott thought the tracks might be a bit of a quagmire for the bikes and bus. I didn't really feel like dragging a filthy bike through a Nairobi hotel lobby either. The decision was made to stick to the paved road. Not the most exciting option in the end, although the Kenyan rural roads are in even worse condition than some of the roads in the remote corners of Ghana - and this is just 30Km outside of Nairobi -- so we had ample opportunity to practice bunny hopping potholes.

We loaded the bikes into Sabrina and drove the final few Km into the center of Nairobi to our final destination, the Heron Hotel. After all those nights sleeping on the ground, a real bed felt downright odd.

Day 15
Following a farewell breakfast with our group, SJD and I headed into the city center on foot to wander, window shop, snack and relax. Nairobi is a big city with busy public parks, crowded sidewalks, proper storefronts, cafes and action - so much larger feeling than Accra and in some ways Washington, DC. During the daylight hours, it was pleasant and inviting. The National Museum was closed for renovation so no serious educating took place, but we visited the memorial at the site of the US Embassy bombing back in 1998 before heading back to the hotel for a quiet dinner.

We're back in Accra now with two dusty bikes to reassemble sitting in the middle of the foyer.

Many thanks go out to Escape Adventures guides Scott and Fish for always providing tasty meals, safe driving and a relaxed camp atmosphere. As well, asante sana to all the amazing Tanzanian and Kenyans we met along the way for showing us your country.

So...where to next?

Tanzania to Kenya by bike - part one

2007-10-30T22:22:00.000Z

We're back from our supported bike and bus trip from Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania to Nairobi, Kenya. What a fantastic way to see two countries up close and personal! Sure it was a bit of an unconventional way for westerners to get from A to B, but it was all worth a little discomfort and a bit of effort.

Back on 10/11 we arrived in bustling Dar Es Salaam right around afternoon rush with two boxed bikes and three duffel bags. The pre-arranged transport to the beach villa was waiting outside the airport to scoop us up. A bit to our suprise, the transport was simply a compact Toyota Corolla. Let the adventure begin...

Waiting to join the ferry crossing.

With one bike box hanging precariously out of the trunk and the other across SJD's lap in the back seat we made our way across town to catch the ferry, and continued down to Kipepeo Beach Village a few Km south of Dar.

Kipepeo beach chalet

Safe and sound we moved into our chalet, napped and then hit the white sand beach.

SJD

No vicious Gulf of Guinea under-tow sucking us out to Zanzibar. Just crystal clear warm water. Colors were spectacular.

The next day, Friday, we hailed a taxi back into Dar simply to hit an ATM and say that we've been there. There wasn't much time really to do much exploring. Wasn't much going on either. Friday was the last day of Ramadan, so most streets were empty and shops closed. We headed back to Kipepeo to swim, reassemble bikes and eventually meet the rest of our biking group and guides.

Our biking group was quite small. In fact, SJD and I made up 2/3 of the paying customers. The third biker, a Brit, made up the other 1/3. The two guides, Scott and Fish (short for Falesha). Just five of us. Normally the entire group is twn or eleven. Knowing that mechanicals and accidents seem to multiply exponentially with larger groups, we felt a bit lucky to be a sleek an somewhat inconspicuous group. Fish and Scott explained a typical day, and what to expect along the way.

Bright and early Saturday morning with the bus loaded we left Dar behind to avoid simply battling traffic. Since I get to deal enough with horrible drivers in Accra, I was happy to sit back and take in the scenery for an hour or so. There would be plenty of riding in the days ahead.

(A few quick notes on units of measure.

Distances: They'll be measured in Km, instead of miles since 100km sounds further than 62.4 miles.
Elevation: Recorded in feet rather than meters for the same reason, and nobody really likes to multiply by 3 to get an approximate elevation in meters.
Time: Standard African time applies. Leave the watch in your pocket. A rooster will let you know that you need to wake up in one hour.)

Day 1
Before lunch we pulled to the side of the road outside of Dar to start the day's riding segment - a mostly flat dirt road out to the seaside town of Bagamoyo. Spinning the legs felt good after being cramped in airlines, taxis and lounging on the beach. The ride was not all that long, 25km, but was quite hot and humid and provided a decent opportunity to make sure the bikes were operating properly. Although SJD and I have adapted somewhat to similar weather in Ghana, Trevor (the Brit), having come from a much more dreary and cooler UK seemed to struggle a bit in the tropical climate. He seemed to perk up a bit with a beer and sunscreen.

Later that afternoon we strolled into the dusty center of Bagamoyo to scope out two small local artists' galleries. I noted that many of the wood carvings I see available in Ghana look remarkably similar to those in Bagamoyo. Masks, animals, heads. I bought just one knowing that the opportunity to shop would come again later down the road.

Even though the town sees tourists now and again, I was still quite the novelty for this little one.

Day 2
We departed Bagamoyo by bike for a much longer and hotter 65km stretch heading inland. Pretty quickly we were far from any major towns and safely away from any vehicles except bikes. Lots of people on the all too familiar Phoenix singlespeed - a.k.a. The Black Mambo -covering decent distances.

SJD bridges a gap on the Black mambo

A bit optimistic perhaps, Trevor thought he had spotted a giraffe far accross an open field. We all stopped briefly but realised he has spotted a parked yellow Caterpillar backhoe. Be patient. No animals today, except for a spooked baboon or two scampering away into the bush.

The ride segment headed mostly west and inland a few hours. Scott followed in the bus a few minutes back and picked us up before we reached the main north-south highway. We drove north an hour through enormous sisal plantations to our camp site in the junction town of Segura.

Sisal plantation

Noticeable, so far, compared to Ghana has been the lack of speeding privately owned cars, sputtering taxis and rickety over-loaded tro-tros . Ghana is full of them. Transport in TZ, so far, seems dominated by large buses and tractor-trailers. Not sure if we're just way far away from any towns, or just a indicator of some economic status best left to someone else to analyze. Whatever the case, it makes traveling seem a bit less death defying even if the habit of passing on blind curves and crests of hills was readily observed. Roads too - so far - seem to be pothole free, albeit narrow.

Day 3
We've settled into a morning routine already of: wake up at 6am; pack tent and sleeping bags; eat breakfast; load bus; depart by 7:30 am. Small groups are nice.

While loading the bus, I heard a crash from the nearby junction. I walked around the front of the building but didn't see anything obvious, so went back to loading. A half-hour later as we were driving away, we saw the remnants of the mishap - overloaded tractor-trailer misjudged corner plowing into ditch and power pole. I spoke too soon apparently.

Fish drove steadily north towards the lush Usambara Mountains - apparently the highest population density outside of Dar Es Salaam. We followed a steep and winding mountain road up through the small towns of Lushoto and Soni. The hillsides are lush from the mountain streams and are heavily cultivated with vegetables I have not seen in several months. Fish did some quick window shopping for veggies in Soni - literally out the bus window -before pulling over to unload the bikes.

We rode a few more km up the road before hitting the jeep tracks, attracting a retinue of small children running alongside, and a stop at Irente's overlook. The last few hundred meters before the overlook included some steep pitches. SJD and Fish were cheered on by some old gents sitting near the track and sailed right to the top; I tried to put on a burst of power and snapped my chain...

We were all rewarded with great views at the top.

I snapped this picture after repairing my snapped chain.

Everyone lines up to slap my hands.

We continued climbing and following ridge contours, and attracting a crowd of children whenever we stopped, before ending our 45km ride zipping a lengthy downhill into camp - a former colonial era farm now a campsite and lodge run by a German, Mr. Muller. Nice place. We enjoyed the cool mountain air at elevation 5200'.

Day 4
No biking today. Instead, we met a local man named Francis who acted as tour guide and answer man. Francis is a retired elementary school teacher - taught for 35 years. Everyone knows Francis in these parts it seems, and he is quick to greet people as well as scold school kids who are late to class. He lead us on a brisk hike up the side of the hills through fruit and veggie crops to the Mkuzi primary school.

At Mkuzi, the students were rehearsing for an upcoming Parents' Day presentation, so formal class studying was being put aside. We were treated as special guests - greated by the entire teaching staff for a short Q&A session that we were not really prepared for. What did we learn?

English is the dreaded subject (and even the english teacher seemed to have a pretty slim grasp of the language).
75% students pass primary school exams, but many can't afford to pay the fees to continue to secondary school when families must pick up half the cost, about $20.
Children are taught about HIV/AIDS.
Nine of the twelve teachers were women. None of us westerners considered this to be odd, until Francis pointed out that only relatively recently have women been given the opportunity to earn money outside of the house.

Afterwards, the students - all 400 of them sang and danced a few songs for us. Very cute. One of the teachers tried to teach SJD the moves. She gets an A for effort but just a C+ for full flow and rhythm.

SJD kinda has the hang of the hop, skip, wiggle, clap dance.

The hike though the village continued with stops here and there for Francis to purhase a single cigarette, or show us his house before arriving back at camp.

BEP and Trevor

SJD and I headed back out on our own looking for a nearby waterfall. Along the way a teen decided he would be our escort, guessing that anyone heading that direction must be going to the waterfall afterall. He never announced his intent or asked permission, but simply walked about ten steps in front of us for a good half hour. We paused before heading into the woods behind him, and then had to make it clear that we did not want him following us. He did anyways, and was joined by several smaller boys. They all just kept an eye on us from a distance when we stopped to rest on the boulder below the falls. Kind of creepy, but mostly just annoying. Sorry pal, no tip for you. He followed us back into town another half hour, but seemed content that we didn't offer a tip. Weird eh?

Ok, another GH:TZ observation is this. Kids in Ghana (and plenty adults) love to scream "obroni, obroni, obroni...give me X" at us until we think they might just pass out. It is so grating after a while. The swahili word for white man/european is "mizunga" and the children do call out but more often than not, they just shout out a cheery "jambo" (hello in swahili) with a big smile. A nice vibe. We quickly mastered jambo and a few other swahili words so we could return their cheery greetings.

Fish prepared camp fire charred veggies for dinner and chocolate cake cooked over the coals. Yum.

Day 5
After breakfast of crepes with banana sauce, we loaded the bus and departed on a longish serpentine ride through the Usambara Mountains. So far the weather had cooperated, but just started to spit rain as we rolled out.

The rain continued on and off for most of the day. Once you're wet you're wet, and even if the sun comes out you'll still be wet, so you might as well just forget about it and enjoy the ride. So we did. More heart pumping climbs leading up to incredible views as well as a stop at a Benedictine Monastery with a beautiful garden in the midst of their orchard and farm. SD bought some of the local macadamia nuts. I certainly did not envision Africa looking like this.

The Usambaras are chock full of paths connecting villages. We would have been happy to spend more time here exploring.

We made quick business of the long descent out of Soni - dropping from elevation 5868' to 2019' in 21Km. A total of about 55 km on the bike for the day. Changed into dry clothes, ate lunch, and packed the bikes to drive north to Pangani River Camp.

The view of the gentle river was nice but was also home to some really vicious mosquitos who did not seem to find clothing or deet to be a barrier to biting. Soon after dinner we retreated to the tents.

Pangani River Camp at sunset

Day 6
In the morning, we rode out of Pangani Camp heading north along rail road tracks some 40Km at a pretty good pace. Pretty flat, straight and not very interesting. We more or less skirted a mountain slope, but visually the scenery never changed much and one needed to be attentive to avoid slipping on off-camber bits or weird drainage gizmos. A passing train would have been interesting to see, but that didn't materialize. It was a good work out I guess.

Me along the RR

Ahead of schedule again, we loaded the bus (aka Sabrina) and headed north to camp at the ominously named Snake Pit Farm near Moshi for the night. I think the guides were probably thinking by now that this group is way too easy - up on time, efficient and more or less self reliant.

Moshi lies pretty much dead south of Mt. Kilimanjaro, and seems to be a base for many of the trekking companies. When skies are clear you can get a decent panorama view left to right. Skies cleared just before sundown.

Mt. Kilamanjaro in the monring sun

Sure looks like you could just walk up the side to the summit, doesn't it?

Before the sun totally dissappeared, SJD and I wandered through the dusty village looking for activity.

These children posed with their "cars".

Beer run!

The best activity can usually be found at the local beer vendor. We happended to be around when the delivery bike came by. That would be 60 bottles balanced on top. Crazy! Note the small rock placed in front of the front tire to keep the entire load from rolling away.

Day 7
On to the big city of Arusha for a half day visit without any scheduled activities. We managed to ditch the touts and money changers that greeted us as soon as we stepped from the bus. (Yeah, easy target.) We simply wandered through the produce markets marveling at how orderly everything appeared compared to markets back in Accra. Picked up a few gifts and escaped the bustle in a cafe.

The afternoon ride started on the outskirts of Arusha heading west into Maasai territory to the rather touristy campsite. The camping area filled up quickly with large overland bus groups. The Snake Camp features several species of snakes (with clinical but still very frightening blurbs on how common and poisonous each could be), crocs, lizards and raptors - all behind glass, walls or cages thank you. After that little visit we were looking at sticks and rocks much more closely - looking for any movement or distinct patterns.

And smack dab accross the street from the Snake Camp - curio stalls. And we were drawn to them. Hmmm....more mask carvings and painting of Maasai guys in odd numbered groups. Mass produced someplace perhaps. I haven't seen anyone yet actually carving or painting.

Walking back to the camp we stopped into the small, but well done Maasai Cultural Center for a short but interesting tour. Perhaps more on the Maasai later.Day 8Back to the bikes early. The ride for the day covered at distance of 87km all on lightly traveled paved road. Easy enough although riding a bouncy mountain bike on pavement is not as much fun as cruising along on a proper road bike. Through one police checkpoint, we're into the rolling plains of the Maasai cattle grazing lands. The only other vehicles to pass the entire day seem to be the hired Land Rovers and Land Cruisers heading towards Serengeti NP or Ngorongoro Crater.

Fish wheelin' and dealin' for jewelery with a Maasai mama during a rest stop.

The Maasai red robes really contrast against the sandy terrain. For the first time, we started to hear less "jambo" (or "sopa," which is the Maasai greeting) and a bit more "give me X" as we passed. We were told to keep an eye out for giraffe grazing in the Acacia trees along the road, but were not lucky enough to see any.

Maasai and SJD heading north

With a tail wind and net elevation loss, we finished the 87km riding segment early into Mto wambu town. Busy place. Look out for all the bikes, peds and livestock.

Fish and Scott took the night off from preparing dinner to take us out instead to the oddly named, but very local Fiesta Complex. Sooo much food. Yet another variation of bananas, local bean dish, BBQ'd beef. Tasteee!

It was an early night to bed for the next day's jeep trip to the Ngorongoro Crater for critter viewing. The bikes have been working hard and needed a rest anyways.

The good stuff -- wild animals and stunning scenery-- follows in part II.

Jambo!

2007-10-29T17:59:00.000Z

We're back from a little bike trip from Dar Es Salaam to Nairobi. Pics and stories to follow for sure.

2007-10-11T09:42:00.000Z

Wow! A 14 year travel journal.

Expedition 360

Timber !!

2007-10-03T12:16:00.001Z

This photo was snapped last weekend along a path we have covered many times now over the last year. Just beyond the bend were several much larger stacks of freshly cut 2x12 planks.

Illegal logging? Perhaps. Chainsaws are often heard buzzing away in the forests, but are rarely ever seen. Boards processed in the cover of the forests are carried out to the dirt tracks one by one.

An arcticle that appeared today on the BBC website below.

Ghana hopes for EU timber deal
Ghana hopes a new timber trade deal with Europe will reduce illegal logging but activists warn that time is running out for the West African country's trees.

Read the rest of the article here:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/go/em/fr/-/2/hi/business/6983895.stm

Wli Falls

2007-09-11T10:11:00.001Z

Arg! I deleted this entry by accident.

Last week we broke with tradition of the last seven years and did not race the 100 bike race. Instead, we swapped Shenandoah mountain laurel for West African palms and headed back up to the Volta Region for some riding and relaxing.

Rain was threatening more or less the entire time we were driving up. The drive is getting to be quite routine, but the rainy season has taken a toll on the road surface. Potholes riddle already uneven surfaces. Every now and then a volunteer road crew appears over the crest of a hill, mobilized to extort a few pesewas from passing motorists while presumably filling the potholes with sand and gravel 50m at a time. It beats simply begging, but is also a bit unnerving as we scramble for loose change while the guys block the road with their shovels. One has to imagine that the activity repeats itself after every rain or perhaps only whenever a car passes.

Up at the Mountain Paradise we headed out on the bikes again to map out a new section of trail from Biakpa to Gbedzieme through the forest bypassing Amedzofe. A cadre of small boys followed us through the village and into the bush curious why we wouldn’t just take the road like everyone else. We tried to explain our intended destination. The oldest boy – perhaps 8 years old – insisted we follow him although his directions seemed a bit suspect. Eventually after four or five confusing trail-junction discussions they simply deemed us hopelessly lost (or perhaps just stubborn) and went back to fishing in a nearby stream. They were half right.

All was going well enough for twenty minutes or so. We could guestimate our location using the landmarks of the lodge on one ridge and Mt. Gemi high up on the other. Soon, we topped out on a low knoll. From such a vantage point we would normally see over to Lake Volta and distant mountains. The dark clouds heavy with rain were rolling in and obscuring the view. As well, the trail ahead disappeared into the tall grass. At this point we decided to retreat past the small boys and back to the lodge. We arrived back at the BMP, once again, minutes before the skies opened up for the next few hours.

The following morning we ate breakfast and headed up to Wli Falls on the border with Togo for a short hike. Not bike.

It seems that most of the few – okay tourist attractions – require some sort of formal log book and “foreigner“ fee to keep tabs on who is visiting. As well, we are usually expected to hire a guide. Wli Falls is no different. Somehow, after paying the requisite “foreigner” fee we convinced the rangers that we did not want a guide. Trust me – if you can find your way from Hohoe to the Wli Falls parking lot in the first place, the very flat and well maintained path should not pose much difficulty either. I suppose a guide might mention other facts about the area as well. Assuming you can restrain yourself from jumping into the pool at the bottom of the falls, all should turn out just fine.

Several types of butterflies flutter about along the path, although they’re difficult to photograph.

An common millipede sneaking up on SJD.

The glossy photos hanging on the walls of the ranger station indicated a nice cascading falls that you might want to cool off in on a hot west African day. Well, let me tell you this. That must have been snapped during a drought. The falls today were full on, no doubt fed by the overnight rains. As we approached the falls, the wind picked up and a heavy cool mist was blowing hard through the air as we approached. We couldn't see much of anything, even when we tried hiding behind a big tree for protection from the wind and wet but SJD managed to get a snap of BP pretending not to notice how wet he was getting. On our way to the falls, we had seen a few other families walking back from the falls, but none appeared to get nearly as soaked to the core as SJD and I did. Guess that would get kind of old for the guides after a few trips.

Apparently it is possible to hike all the way to the top of the falls and across the border into neighboring Togo. We clambered a little way up a very steep trail in order to get a look at the falls away from the "storm" at its base (photo on the right). We'll be back.

Emmanuel's new bike

2007-09-05T15:36:00.000Z

Emmanuel the gardner has been dutifully sprucing up our yard for the past year. Since he relies on tro- tros or walking to get to and from work we don't really keep close tabs on his coming and going. Tro-tros seem to be the cheapest way to travel, but at the expense of being slow and unreliable.

Every now and then I see a bleary eyed Emmanuel around 7am stepping out of a tro-tro or walking down our street as I'm returning home from an early morning ride. A few weeks ago he commented that the tro-tro operators were increasing fares to offset the rise in fuel costs. (The federally set price for a gallon (US) of standard petrol currently runs about $4.08.) The additional cost was being passed onto the the passengers.

We had planned to go give Emmanuel a raise anyways to account for inflation, transportation and being a generally pleasant fellow. Instead we were able to work a deal with Emmanuel to incorporate the cost of a new (to him) bicycle into a portion of his annual pay raise. It was actually his idea in order to offset his transportation costs. Since I ride almost everywhere already, I thought his idea was brilliant. Sort of a green version of a car allowance. So off I went on my bike Monday afternoon to the Nsawam Road bike markets in search of something maintainable, reliable, safe and used.

The markets are sprawling with all sorts of bikes standing in perfect rows ready for inspection. The selection ranges from tri-cycles to mock-mountainbikes to Chinese farm bikes to road racers, to BMX to Dutch folding city bikes. I have yet to see a tandem in the collection.

The men that clean and repair the bikes used to be helpful, if not a bit pushy at times. Since I've never actually purchased anything in the past - just looked, yesterday they barely showed any interest in me - which was actually fine by me. I was able to inspect the repairs and components closely without being asked if I wanted to buy everything I touched. Sometimes the guys will do such a good job cleaning the bikes that broken bits can be overlooked easily.

When it came time to make a deal, the prices were just too high at the first vendor, so I carried on down the road to three more vendors. I was about to call it a day when I saw a 15 year old fully stock Specialized Rockhopper mountain bike. No rust or dents to the purple to blue fade paint scheme. Original tires. Everthing worked. By far the nicest bike I had seen all day. I haggled the price to fit within my budget. Paid in full, we loaded both bikes into a taxi and headed for home.

[SJD and I both owned the same circa 1992 Specialized Rockhopper as our first mountain bikes even before we knew each other (coincidence?). It is one solid machine. In fact, SJD has been riding her's almost daily ever since. Mine was long ago passed along to a friend and then sold in DC. It was last spotted a few years later at an anti-war rally on Constitution Avenue a few years ago. Good bike! So, we're a bit partial towards the Rockhopper...]

Emmanuel was finishing up the sweeping when I arrived home with the two bikes. I explained to him that he had to wait two more days before he could ride it home so I could make a few minor tuning adjustments. But I let him test ride it briefly. He hiked up his coveralls, swung a leg over the saddle and rolled away towards the corner narrowly missing the trash barrels and bushes. It was a bit amusing to watch the expression on his face. Sort of joy and terror. It hadn't really crossed my mind to ask if he had actually ridden a bike with hand brakes and freewheel, or even any kind of bike for that matter. Ooops.

So here he is this morning with his new ride.

2007-08-23T22:34:00.000Z

Odd week here in Accra yes indeed, and there are still two more days to come.

Monday: Biking home from work, a motorcycle cop gave me the right hook. Yup, he came up from behind and made the all too common sharp right turn across my path leaving me to grab both brakes and weave to the right in unison with him. It is one of those bonehead moves that if you anticipate happening is easy enough to avoid, but still infuriating. I followed the officer one block back to his barracks, and told him that he really ought to be more careful being a cop and all. He didn't seem too bothered or concerned, but explained that he thought I was going straight. Well, if I had not turned with him, he surely would have flattened me. Eh, why bother arguing...

Wednesday: Biking to work again in the morning I noticed an expired horse in a taxi pull-off area of the road in the central business district. In Ghana, anything that might obstruct the flow of traffic is quickly cordoned off by placing a few broken tree branches or clumps of grass around the obstruction. Doesn't matter if it is a stalled taxi, missing manhole cover or dead horse apparently. Would this scene draw attention on Constitution Avenue in DC? You betcha! Might even shut down the city for the morning, or at minimum warrant a $25 parking ticket. Accra...not even a single gawker. Come to think of it, there really is not much road kill on the roads here given the large number of goats, chickens and dogs roaming freely. Luckily the turkey buzzards that flock to my project site in the afternoon didn't catch a whiff before matters were cleaned up.

Thursday: Evening bike commute from work. Ok it was dark out, but my bike is outfitted with headlight, flashing tail lights, reflectors and a bell. I've been riding in traffic for years and have never been hit by a car. Until tonight. I paused briefly balancing at an T-intersection waiting to turn left when the car behind me hit me. A bit more than a love tap, but not hard enough to send me over the hood. Perhaps I was a bit lucky that I was moving just slightly when I felt the bumper nudge my rear wheel. I exchanged a few unfit-for-print phrases with the driver, somewhat expecting her to pull over. Instead, I think, she hollered "sorry!" before driving away into the dark of North Ridge. Not quite sure how to explain her actions, except that Ghana seems to be having a rash of mob justice reactions to petty crimes that usually have an ugly ending. Maybe she thought I was a nut case. No, just a bit miffed. I did get a little bit more than her license plate number though - the whole dang plate fell off in the ruckus!

So now what? No witnesses. No harm to me. I've got better things to do than file a police report that will likely just be filed away.

TGIF!

Part 2

2007-08-07T16:05:00.001Z

Here is Part 2 of the Al Jazeera video. Another 12 minutes.

Part 1

2007-08-07T13:54:00.000Z

Here is a 13 minute video from Al Jazeera TV showing bits of life in Accra.

Transmission will be slow and choppy on US dial-up or Ghanaian DSL.

2007-08-06T13:33:00.000Z

Another good weekend in the Volta Region. Weather looked threatening, but held off for the most part. Just a few sprinkles, but the clouds and fog kept temperatures comfortably in the 70sF.

SJD unfortunately pinched a nerve in her lower back before the rides even started. Simple movements were excruciating, so she decided to hang out at the lodge and get in a few short hikes when I returned from riding.

I headed out on two familiar, but somewhat remote routes laden with the GPS, cell phone and maps, camera as well as the requisite bike parts/tools, food water and enough good natured greetings to go around. All went well enough even if the rocks were slippery and trails were overgrown. The image above shows the GPS bread crumb track of the two rides overlayed. Green is day one. Pink (hard to see) is day two. The yellow squiggle indicates the Ghana/Togo border about 2 miles into the distance. Ain't technology grand?

The Ps visit Ghana - Part 2

2007-07-10T22:42:00.000Z

More than a month has passed now since went to sleep in the Mole Motel. So... picking up where we left off 52 miles down a bumpy dusty road up north near Mole National Park, here is Part 2 of Up, Over and Down 'round Lake Volta in a Compact Car.

Mole to Tamale to Yendi to Nkwanta

We were back in the car at 6AM barreling back down the wash board road at a somewhat quicker pace leaving the elephants, monkeys, bush bucks, wart hogs and baboons behind.

Whoa, talk about leaving something behind!!!

Reaching pavement towards Tamale was really quite a refief if it would only last. The car seemed to be floating on air.

There is a very noticeable bicycle presence in the north, but especially near Tamale. I haven't been to China or the Netherlands yet, but this is the greatest concentration of bicycles I've seen anyplace. Cars are hardly noticed. I guess there are many factors that contribute to this. Tamale seems flat (perhaps flat like a tortilla...Tamale-tortilla-tamale. Oh well) Bikes are somewhat affordable - certainly more so than a car. Remote villages get cut off following a big rain, but bikes can usually push through the puddles. And holy cow can you carry the goods on a bike even if you have to push it. (See previous post) Also noticed - the number of women and girls riding bikes. You don't see that in the more affluent southern regions of Ghana. Ironically, Tamale was just a refueling stop for us this time.

Privately owned cars between Tamale and Yendi were few and far between. All tro-tros, mopeds, bikes, pedestrians and few bush taxis. If the road conditions continued, by any reasonable estimation, Nkwanta should be just another 2 hours away. Hah! Wishful thinking. The paved road continues to the junction town of Yendi where we turned south. The next 112 miles of dusty, rutted, pot holed roads into Nkwanta were covered in just over 6 hours at a break-neck average speed of 18mph. Believe me it seemed so much faster. So, 260 miles in 11 hours was a bit overly ambitious. By this time the family was getting used to the jolts, weaving and sudden stops. Even SJD, normally a jumpy passenger, didn't really mind what she could not see from her perch in the back seat.

Every dusty little village seems to have its own form of barricade manned by a drowsy officer of some sort. Sometimes a swinging gate must be opened. Other times, a rope is dropped, or a barrel is rolled out of the way. Rarely did there seem to be any purpose served. We'd probably passed through 30 or more of these make shift road blocks on the trip so far. A lorry driver, during a stop for a cool drink (we werethe only ones at the bar not drinking beer) about 50 miles from Hohoe assured us that we'd be there in "one-hour" because our car was "strong." We had all grown used to noises emanating from the underside of the car as it scraped over mounds, holes, ruts and rocks, but an hour seemed and absurd time/speed estimation to Hohoe given our pace so far. But safety and time are merely concepts here. Every now and then we stopped to make sure we had all four wheels still attached.

We rolled into the only known accommodation in the dusty little town of Nkwanta - The Kilamanjaro Hotel around 4:30pm stiff, tired and willing to accept almost whatever was offered resembling a resonably clean bed and shower. A rather sudden, brief but intense storm must have been chasing us into town. Dusty little town was turned into a muddy little town. After that passed, we ordered dinner and strolled the main road with a bit more energy before the sun went down to see what Nkwanta had to offer. The ubiquitous auto repair lots, tro-tro stop and vendors selling "Aligator" machetes for sale apparently. They seem to be as Ghanaian as kente and banku. (Be careful opening holiday presents this year).

Nkwanta is home to another game park straddling the Ghana/Togo border. According to the signs, lions are present, or have been spotted. Another time. So there is more to Nkwanta than meets the eye.... Time to update the Bradt guide.

Back at the Kilamanjaro, the staff produced the oh-so-common flimsy plastic chairs and table in the middle of the parking lot so we could dine alfresco. I guess we were served more or less what we ordered even if it did appear to be hastily puchased on the street and plopped on a clean plate.

The rooms were again very basic, but had probably seen better days and perhaps a broom from time to time. But sometimes you get what you pay for. In this case $10. So you try to remind yourself of that when the bar TV showing the football game blares until 1am, or the mobile public service announcements van begins it's rounds at 4:30am. It's Ghana. (Yes, need to update the Bradt guide on this one too.) As we drove South out of town, we saw a new hotel, the Gateway. It looked more promising than the Kilimanjaro as we zoomed by with a touch of regret. We'll check it out next time.

Nkwanta to Kpandu to Biakpa

Not surprisingly, we were up and out the door of the Kilamanjaro before 7am again without breakfast. More stretches of dirt road south into Hohoe had me a bit annoyed at this point. Eventually pavement returned as well as the lush greenery of the Volta Region. It is absurd to think of the VR as home, but the scenery does seem much more familiar and refreshing after so many hours in the more barren north.

Hohoe is just another refueling stop in the push down to Biakpa.

Kpandu is known locally for its pottery coop. We stopped for a looksee and a few purchases. River clay hand moulded pots, figurines, and other objects. Many of their products are exported around the globe.

At last we reached Biakpa Mountain Paradise and settled in for a light lunch on the newly constructed dining porch. The more we visit BMP, the more we like it and the staff - Tony, Enno and Wisdom. There is a steady rotation of teens from the village of Biakpa who assist with various tasks or guide work. No electricity ever. Water usually. But all is forgotten once the cool evening breeze kicks up around dinner time. The fufu and ground nut soup with chicken is tasteee. Mom and dad bravely ordered up banku and tilapia having grown tired of variations on fried rice and chicken since leaving Anamabo. But the fermented banku is a bit too zippy for our tastes I'm afraid.

So, the final leg of the trip into Accra was pretty uneventful except for a torrential rain storm that we waited out, which was just fine by all.

We really had a fine time on the trip, however it was a lot of driving in a short period of time. A few more days to stop and explore would have been ideal. TdG V2.o will be even better.

So for now, it is back to Accra, work and catching up with that bike race in France.

DCMTB takes on the best of Ghana and...

2007-07-05T07:20:00.000Z

Two weeks ago I was tipped off by a friend that a major race was going to be staged in Accra on July 1. A few days later I managed to get invited to participate in the Bahmed Cycling Challenge Cup - a showcase of the best talent from Cote d’Ivoire, Togo, Nigeria, as well as Ghana. Ghana would use the race to select their national team to for the All-Africa Games this month in Algeria. The opportunity to show the DCMTB colors in a real race was something I could not miss.

The BCCC was billed as a 115km (72mi) road race and criterium. I am probably better suited for races requiring the sharp bike handling skills and short bursts of speed common in multi-lap crits, rather than the long sustained efforts of road races. The BCCC was sort of both, but really neither. Seventy two miles is a long race, especially considering my steadily declining level of fitness since becoming employed a few months ago. I was resting my hopes on residual fitness, well rested muscles, but mostly eagerness to represent the DCMTB/City-Bikes/Metro-Gutter team overseas.

Since the race advertised a 9AM start, SJD and I rode from home down to Osu leaving a full hour to do the formalities of paying entry, signing liability waivers and pinning on racer numbers. One little detail we forgot - there is no United States Cycling Federation here. At 9AM it was pretty clear that no race was going to begin at 9AM. Nope. A few bikers milled about. There were signs, chairs and the requisite wall of speakers pumping out Ghanaian hip-life and rap at level 11. (The wall of speakers - they really do deserve an entire blog entry. It is no wonder everyone gets up so early in Ghana.) But anyway…no sign of any race promoters.

When asked, a rider named Prince explained that the race will begin in about “an hours time.” Yeah, it is always good to allow a lot of extra time here, and not get too upset when things don’t start when advertised. So I decided to do a quick course 4.5 mile loop to warm up the legs and lungs, as well as note any tricky corners or stretches into headwinds. After a few minutes I returned to the shade of the vacant VIP tent. And waited...

The BCCC was not the only event going on in Osu this day. The Milo Marathon seemed to step off on time, and several of the lead runners were streaming by to the finish at Independence Square providing entertainment while we waited. Milo is a powdered chocolate flavored food drink with “MORE ENERGRY RELEASING B VITAMINS”. Guess you’d need it to keep going in these in fancy shoes. Ouch! Several competitors forgo even the flip-flops, preferring pave' au peid. Ouch again! So as runners pass through the various check points on the course, they are handed a ribbon necklace to wear. By the time we were seeing the racers go by, they had quite a stack around their necks. Very festive.

None of the activity seems to warrant much reason to divert or close roads to traffic. Life kind of just goes on around the runners. Every now and then a police officer would swat the toes of spectators crowding the road for a better look. It seems a bit harsh, but is taken in stride.
On top of the marathon and bike race, the 53 African heads of state were meeting in Accra this morning , adding a few extra speeding, honking, passing motorcades into the mix.

Back to the bike race, or waiting for a bike race.

10AM comes and goes with little action. Promoters and more teams have arrived. A roll of tape appears, and the start/finish line is adhered to the road. Progress in small small steps. Apparently all of the formalities have been waived -- no entry fee, no race number, no waiver forms -- making all the delays seem even more puzzling. I take to my shaded chair again to watch the marathoners, thinking I surely should be able to run 26.2 miles. I’ve got the fancy shoes after all.

11:10AM. No kidding. Motorcycles, TV crew and support vehicle are in position. Brief team introductions were made. All of us were proclaimed to be “professionals”. I alone was introduced as “the foreigner. The white man.“ I waved politely and thanked them for the invitation. All a bit unexpected but a little bit funny.

After a parade lap in the sponsor's t-shirts, things got serious. Note the lone rider that did not understand this step.

Riders ready. Set....

Go!

Bunched up.

Bikers overtaking the marathon

The round-about at Independence Square with me taking a breather mid-pack.

Two hours later than anticipated we are sent out to race with the typical first lap shenanigans. The road surface irregularities are painfully noticeable at 30mph - almost like a washboard with potholes thrown in to keep everyone alert. It is clear pretty early that many of the riders are fairly inexperienced with pack riding where maintaining a line is just as important as reacting calmly and predictably, and even more important than simply being fast. The bumps are painful to the wrists and bum, but riders weaving around them upredictably creates waves in the pack. Not even a mile is complete before the first crash occurs. The first rider to go down simply gets bucked by a bump hitting the deck in a tangle of scraping metal on pavement. A rider behind him swerves right into the adjacent open gutter and endos onto the sidewalk. Looked pretty bad. It takes a few laps before the high pace begins to thin the pack creating more room on the road.

Without a team to support, I was pretty much free to ride my own race. I would be thrilled to finish. Content to hang beyond half way. Happy to affect the outcome of the race somehow.
The two hour delay did not do me any real favors. On lap eight my hamstrings began to cramp signaling the end was near for me unless I could get liquids quickly. I guzzled the last of my three water bottles as a small gap opened between the pack and me. My last gasp chase attempt merely resulted in holding steady for a half lap before I pulled over to refill a bottle from SJD. I chased one more lap with another straggler until it was clear that we were losing ground rapidly.

Then out of nowhere I heard the familiar honka-honk-honk-honka of the Fan-Ice guy pedaling his ice-cooler bike full of frozen goodies towards me. I bought one Fan-choco and a one Tampico and faced the fact that I was cooked. It is probably the most shameful example of mental toughness, but frozen chocolate milk tasted sooooo good. Might as well ride back to the start/finish and watch from the sidelines as the rest of the race unfolded. It was a bit of a let down to race just 9 laps of 15 and all of a sudden not be able to turn over the cranks another rotation, but generally a good workout.

The view from the sideline was much more pleasant. With four laps to go the pack had been whittled down to a select group of ten racers still dropping the hammer up to the sprint finish. Local riders claimed the victory as well as second and third spots. All three racers were immediately hoisted upon the shoulders of the crowd for a heroes march back to the start/finish tent. I have never seen such an enthusiastic reaction from a bike race crowd like this.

The next day we read the coverage by the local papers and had a good laugh at the reference to the foreigners' fizzle . See below. Save your eyes and double click on the image for a larger view.

(Also, photo credits to SJD, and Dan & Giselle. Thanks!)

Bamboo bikes - part two

2007-06-28T10:15:00.000Z

Here are a few days old photos of the actual bamboo bikes here in Accra. Notic that it is quite different from the racing bike pictured in the previous post. Take a peek.

Bamboo Bike Project photos.

SJD, Chris and I met Mr. Ho, Muter and Calfee for pizza and beer the night before their demonstration to learn more about their research and offer any ideas or assistance. There is always room for another bike at the D-P household. :-)

We all rode the bike around Osu a few minutes. It really is an impressively simple design, but tough and rides very much like a normal bike.

Sorry for all the "bike" posts lately.

Ghana, bamboo and bikes.

2007-06-23T22:45:00.000Z

The following article appeared in the Los Angeles Times. Dan, from home forwarded it to me.

Bamboo bike quite the offshoot

By J. Michael Kennedy, Times Staff Writer June 18, 2007

Funny where an idea will take you. Ten years ago, Luna the dog — part pit bull and part Labrador retriever — was gnawing on a piece of bamboo growing behind Craig Calfee's bicycle shop outside Santa Cruz.On Sunday, Calfee was due to arrive in the West African nation of Ghana, intent on making bamboo bikes for the desperately poor. Chew toy to bicycle. Whimsy to good deed. Santa Cruz to Ghana. More of the article here.

The Calfee bamboo bike image here.

So, SJD and I will likely meet Mr. Calfee and his group tomorrow afternoon to chat about Ghana, bamboo and bikes.

Cycling competition to mark Republic Day

2007-06-21T09:24:00.000Z

There is some speculation whether or not the Ghana contingent of the DCMTB/City-Bikes squad remembers how to go fast and hold a line enough to participate, but the invitation has been extended anyways. - BEP

Cross posted from http://www.ghanaweb.com

Cycling competition to mark Republic Day

Accra, June 19, GNA - About 78 cyclists drawn from nine Clubs in the Greater Accra Region and neighbouring countries, Cote D'Ivoire, Togo and Burkina Faso will compete for honours in a cycling championship race on July 1, as part of activities marking Ghana's Republic Day Anniversary.The competition under the sponsorship of Bahmed Travel and Tours with a sponsored of over 50 millions cedis which is tagged "Bahmed Challenge Cup" will cover a 115 kilometre criterion race. The race according to the organisers will commence at the Osu Mobile Filling station and take cyclists through Jokers Night Club, Labadi with the Independence Square as the termination point. Among the participating Clubs are All Stars, Dome Cycling Club, Quick Step, Nippon, City Migro, Fire Bunch, Gutten Cycling Club, Young Stars and River Park.Briefing the press in Accra On Tuesday, Mr Albert Oku, Executive Member of the Greater Accra Cycling Association (GACA) said the championship is part of their effort to revive the sport in the Region and the country as a whole.Mr Oku said cyclists competing in the All Africa Games will also use the opportunity to prepare for the pan African event. The Executive Member said 18 cyclists from Togo, Burkina Faso and Cote D'Ivoire have confirmed their participation in the event with the rest of the majority cyclists drawn from nine Clubs in the Region to sum up the list of participants.Mr Oku expressed the hope that the competition will be the first step in bringing the sport out of the doldrums and create more participation from the public.Alhaji Ahmed Bandoh, Chief Executive Officer of Bahmed Travel and Tours called on stakeholders to make cycling a national sport by encouraging the youth to take up cycling. He said his organisation hopes to encourage mass participation in the sport since the sport has been identified as a leisure sport and is an easy and cheap means of transportation in the country. The competition will see the winner pocketing four million cedis and a racing bike, with the first runner up taking home three million cedis and a 24-inch colour television, whilst the second runner up will receive 2.5 million cedis and a 24 inch colour television.

On the road

2007-06-10T17:07:00.000Z

The natural scenery driving from Mole to Nkwanta via Yendi gets a tad monotonous after the 100th mile on a dirt road through the flat scrub but luckily the people along the way keep things interesting. We were amazed, amused, and periodically alarmed at the views out the window.

As you get farther north in Ghana, bikes seem to be the equivalent of the family car. We often saw Mom, Dad and a child or two on a single bike.

The young boy above was picking up odd jobs at Mole with his sister in the basket... The elegantly clad ladies on the backs of the bikes seem to magically stay clean. We think they were headed to church.

Above - a dapper looking fellow with his big load and a woman who can't manage to stay on the bike but at least she gets to roll the load instead of the usual head-carry method.

Tro-tros and cargo trucks are loaded seemingly beyond the point of no return. Here are a few

we managed to catch through the front window...

Oddly, it's the one that looks most roadworthy that was upended on the side of the road. As we approached, we had a sick feeling that we were going to see a bloody scene but there seemed to be no evidence of injury or panic. Our guess is that the bus may have had a minor mishap (e.g., drove into the ditch) and the "helpful" crowd that always materializes in Ghana most likely caused the somersault as they tried to rock it out... Maybe the bus was swerving around some cows who frequently cross all manner of roads -- dirt tracks and highways alike.

Of course, the old stand-by head-carry is always an option.

It's a little sad to see such little ones carrying heavy loads, even if they do manage a welcoming smile as we pass. At least the bath looks like fun -- until the thought of waterborne disease comes to mind.

Farewell Sarah (and Steve)

2007-06-06T13:59:00.000Z

What fun it has been dodging tro-tros and potholes in Accra, wandering wearily in the bush, relaxing in the pool or sipping a cold (if we were lucky) Star at the local spot bar.

We'll miss the two of you.

Cheers and good on ya!

The Ps visit Ghana - Part 1

2007-05-29T11:55:00.000Z

SJD and I were quite thrilled (and a bit nervous) to host my parents during a two week visit to Ghana. Thrilled to see them. Thrilled to experience some of Ghana together. Nervous about setting out on a journey in a small somewhat tempermental car on less than stellar roads to see who knows what. My fingers have finally regained enough dexterity from clutching the steering wheel to share a few thoughts and pictures. So here goes - the somewhat abbreviated Tour de Ghana.

(We did allow the Ps a full 36 hours to acclimate to the new surroundings.)

Accra to Cape Coast to Kakum - With the car fully overloaded and the Ps strapped in, we set out down the coast to Anamabo Beach Resort, near Cape Coast. One hour later, and just eight miles logged, we're stuck in traffic. Sigh... The idle time leaves a good opportunity to attempt to explain some of the common road side professions - hawkers, scrap collectors, cell phone kiosk... At last the traffic begins to move at a more reasonable pace, and Accra is left behind to wallow in diesel exhaust.

A few hours later we arrive at a quiet the little seaside refuge - Anomabo Beach Resort. Just palm trees, clean beaches and basic clean huts. It kinda makes my little camping heart skip a beat actually. But, any feelings of guilt are quickly forgotten once we take a dip into the warm salty sea.

Here, Mom P grabs a wave on the boogie board.

And here, the Ps get knocked over like bowling pins by the undertow.

Once the Ps were plucked from the ocean, showered and dressed, it was back on the road to Cape Coast Castle.

The slave trading past of the Gold Coast is well documented, and rather than mis-state or omit or gloss over important facts, I will simply encourage you to browse the following link. Cape Coast Castle It is difficult to fathom the deliberate organization, appalling treatment and cheapness of life. The road of recovery is long and bumpy no doubt.

The next day we headed a bit further north to Kakum with thoughts of spotting rare forest elephants and all sorts of monkeys. Kakum boasts a suspended plank canopy walk about 1/4 mile in length high above safe ground. The view is quite pleasant and safe feeling. The guide assured us that the bridge could hold 4 tons - or one elephant. Of course none of us questioned how any of this was verified, but followed his advice to proceed just two at a time just in case.

Unfortunately we did not see anything larger than a few pesky insects. I'm sure it had everything to do with the time of day, heat and obstructed canopy, and nothing, absolutely nothing to do with chatty college students or screaming children scaring away animals. I, for the record, always behaved like an angel on group tours at any given age.... No comments? Ok, moving on.

We passed through Cape Coast again to seek out Global Mamas shop to for a few gifts.

Back at ABR for more late afternoon beach time and unexpectedly timely meals. SJD and I had to break the news to mom and dad that accommodations and service would steadily become a bit more "rustic" in the days ahead.

Cape Coast to Lake Bosumtwi - I enjoy driving, but prefer to ride a bike around town. I was begining to realize that I have not really driven much lately. The open winding roads were a nice change from Accra (or Washington's) gridlock.

We didn't have any planned stops or lodging arranged for this night, so we kinda had to try to arrive early to see what was available. Lake Bosumtwi is a lake formed by a meteor strike. Right smack dab in the middle of a few remote guest houses, villages and a muddy, rutted track. Amazing! I'm already stepping well beyond my area of expertise.

Initially we started up one rough track towards an advertised Rainbow Lodge guesthouse, scraping the gas tank all the way it seemed. Alas, we decided a few of the ruts appeared insurmountable. Put the car in reverse and scooched back down the track. All turned out well. We located the simple and clean Lake Point Guesthouse on an equally icky track in the opposite direction. I'm doubt whether Subaru engineers had this kind of driving in mind.

So boats are not allowed on the lake for sacred reasons that I can not begin to explain. Inhabitants float around on planks of wood fetching fishing nets or crossing the lake. Above, SJD teeters on one of them. SJD and I took a nice long walk part way around the lake through a few banana groves and a village or two.

The guesthouse operator, Stephen, assured us that the track continues 'round the lake, but it gets very difficult at some points. He said we should allow 9 hours to complete the loop. SJD and I grinned, thinking about the biking opportunities. Apparently they used to rent bikes, but twice people have ditched the bikes on the opposite side and hired a floating plank ride back accross the lake. Sounds like our kind of trail!

Adanwomase to Kumasi to Kintampo - Another big day of driving with a planned stop at the kente weaving village of Adanwomase. SJD and I have seen kente weavers before, but still found this guided tour very thorough and fun. Just the four of us and the guide. Sette allowed, (ummm, directed) us to participate at every step of the way. You have to look carefully to tell who is the professional and who is the tourist.

Spooling the bulk thread with a hand crank mechanism.

Warping the thread. Basically, during this step you carry a rack of ten of more spools of the thread back and forth between four posts. There are some gyrations performed at each end. If things go well, and you do not A) drop your spools B) break the thread C) turn the wrong direction, somehow the threads wind up in the correct order for weaving. I believe we all failed to perform this task despite having a spotter.

Weaving. Concentrate...

Okay, note that Sette wisely gives us a mini bulk spool or half the warping spools, or a single color/pattern to follow.

And of course wearing. We supported the local economy a bit and jumped back in the car.

Somewhere outside of Kumasi we blinked and zipped past our turn. The gravitational pull of the Kumasi chopped auto market was too strong for the Subaru to resist. As warned by Patience, all sorts of vehicles were being assembled, repaired or dismantled along the side of the road. I crossed my fingers that the fuel pump would keeping doing it's thing long enough to get out of town in one piece.

"Nice dual carriage way," replied a taxi driver referring to the Kumasi-Techiman road. A while later we were making decent progress out of Kumasi. The dual carriage way will be nice once it is built. For now, it is a dusty gravel tro-tro race track with occasional diversions around operating excavators. Onwards to Techiman.

Originally we intended to stay near Baobeng Monkey Sanctuary, but revised the plans, promising monkeys later in the trip. We pushed on to Kintampo for the night. On the map it seemed like a good idea, putting us 40 miles closer to Mole. The roads eventually turned to pavement albeit the type with frequent pothole fields and desintegrating edges. We lost track of the number of disabled tractor-trailers between Techiman and Kintampo. You name it. We saw it. How you remove an entire motor on the side of the road, I don't know, but it is a fairly common site here.

Upon arrival in Kintampo around 6pm we found out the recommended Life Hotel was fully booked. Back down on the main drag options were looking rather grim. We stopped in at the Toronto Guest House down a noisy side street. The TGH doesn't have much curb appeal, and is even less appealing inside. Ok, it is scuzzy in fact, even at just $5 per night. Someone really should inform authorities in Ottawa quickly! I think the lone staffer even suggested that she did not want us to stay there even though rooms were available. We agreed.

In the relative scheme of things, the tent stashed in the back of the car was looking better and better until we rolled into the parking lot of the Falls "Executive" Lodge. Apparently the four extra guests tipped the balance sheet in favor of convincing the owner to fire up the generator for the evening to lure us in. Ah, the economic impact of tourism... Too bad it conked out at 1am with windows sealed. Except for repeatedly referring to my mom as "mama," the staff was pleasant. Yes, we know it is a sign of respect, but it still wears a bit on our foreign ears. Ok. enough hotel reviews.

Kintampo's surroundings probably warrant a bit more exploration of waterfalls on a future trip.

Kintampo to Mole National Park - Up early again for another 140 miles to Mole where we would stay for two nights. The main road to Tamale is very nice. The hills give way to savanna. At mile 88 we make a left turn onto the dirt road to Damongo and Mole. FIFTY-TWO miles of dusty washboard was ahead. According to the GPS we were only able to average an astonishing 15 mph for 52 miles and I still thought the wheels might fall off the car. The bumps could vibrate the car to a halt from 30mph. I was conviced the struts would be blown. Or the bumpers would fall off. We saw more pedestrians and cattle than cars, so felt safe enough driving in the gutter on the left side of the road.

Mole is difficult to reach, but well worth the effort. The motel lies at the southern tip of the vast and remote protected national park. Views from the porch overlook a nearby watering hole that attracts elephants and a variety of bucks, bush hogs and birds, monkeys and baboon. The silence and abundant wildlife finally made things feel a bit more like story book Africa.

We dropped our bags in the rooms, ordered dinner and met a guide for an afternoon safari walk.
The walk is quite nice. Once again the elephants were elusive down in the valley. The next morning from the porch we had some good views of 15 or so elephants romping about in the water, then drying off in the sun. Slow motion excitement!

Larabanga - Hassein Salia seems to be doing something right. He offers "hassle free" tours of his village showcasing the historic mosque, various clan residences, shea butter processing, fruit trees and a primary school run by volunteers.

Below: Shea nuts being boiled to soften the skin. Then, they're left out in the sun for drying before peeling the skin.

There is a rock formation that is of some religous significance smack in the middle of the Trans-Sahara Trade Route. The rock was removed several times for road construction, but miraculously reappeared each time. (Lately I've also seen several semi engines miraculously removed from trucks by hand...but it make for an interesting story in any case) Eventually the road was diverted around the sacred rock. There is the rock, and there is the gentleman ready to hassle us.

In a somewhat amusing shake and bake move, Hassein lured the white robed gent down a ways down the hill before telling us to hop back in the car to speed up to the top for a better picture. Better skee-daddle.

Perhaps we got a little bit of the special attention, but we did have a lot of time to listen to him. I'm sure he would have continued sharing his thoughts on the Ghanaian equivalent to small town politics and power and the challenges of operating a school, had we been able to tolerate the heat any longer. We shared lunch back at his compound before heading back to Mole.

More later on the trip from Mole to Tamale, through the Volta Region and back to Accra.

We're back

2007-05-27T16:51:00.000Z

again. This time from a little loop around the lake with the visiting Ps. More soon.

Weather update

2007-05-06T22:01:00.000Z

Time to update the blog.

Has anyone paid any attention to the weather feed residing on the right sidebar? Either it doesn't work, or the weather is stuck on uncomfortable.

I look out the window every morning at 6:10am to pretty much the same scene.

Weather - Accra, Ghana
The forecast for Accra, Ghana for Today: sunny. Max Temp: 33°C (91°F), Min Temp: 26°C (78°F), Wind Direction: SW, Wind Speed: 9mph

So, seeing no more use in reminding myself of the what has become the norm, the weather feed is kaput.

H5N1

2007-05-05T21:23:00.000Z

Hmmm... As a carnivore expecting carnivore visitors shortly, it is not the headline that you want to read in the morning.

Bird flu was diagnosed near Accra...well about 30 minutes east in the port town of Tema. Who cares? I'm sure I wasn't the only person Googling "Avian flu symptoms" Friday morning.

Why? Well, let's just say that if my ability to avoid repeat bouts with poison ivy is any indication of my failure to positively identify and minimize exposure to the root cause, I thought I'd better get a crash course in H5N1.

So, from what I can gather, we'll likely be just fine. Afterall...
- We do not raise chickens or spend time in chicken shacks.
- The chicken I buy seems to be imported from someplace else far, far away.
- Apparently cooking thoroughly for some period of time kills any germs.

I'm not scientist or statistician, but in other words, I'm probably far more likely be riding my bike; swerve around a gutter chicken and get flattened by a taxi.

The sushi at Monsoon is fantastic though!

2007-04-22T21:41:00.000Z

The usual suspects gathered up in Volta Region for yet another exploratory ride. All was going well until Scott snapped a chain. Quickly enough we had a spare link in place and resumed the slog up to Amedzopfe.

I was off being discreet snapping photos of a church door when Scott unveiled his brand new frame design to SJD. It is quite clever really -modeled from a decade old Gary Fisher Hoo-Koo-E-Doo steel frame. The ride starts nice and solid, but becomes nice and plush just about when you are as far away from home as you can get. There isn't even a weight penalty. Here is the prototype.

DOH!

So Scott's bike that has been 'round the world with him finally was "called home" as they might say in Ghana. We left Scott in safe hands at the Lucky Boy Spot to sort out offers for taxi rides here and there; quick welding repairs in the next village; offers to retrieve another bike quickly. We offered to wedge a piece of bamboo into the tubes and giddy-up.

Scott seems like a bright enough guy with a good sense of the basic laws of physics and an awareness that the nearest hospital might be an hour away once a taxi picks him up. As such, he assured us that he would not actually ride back downhill to the cars. So off we went completing the loop that was rained out two weeks earlier.

Back at the hotel three hours later with no sign of Scott, we were beginning to consider whether or not to send out a search car, or just settle up the hotel bill by selling his belongings and head back to Accra. Luckily for him we fell asleep under the mango tree.

Soon enough Scott rolled in on the new and improved prototype with packing tape structural enhancements. With four miles of jeep road field testing logged he declared the design fit for wall art.

Macgyver would be proud.

2007-04-19T22:32:00.000Z

It wasn't my best move perhaps, and I can assure you that I certainly wasn't trying to get away with anything or get anywhere quickly. Last week returning from Biakpa; 219 miles completed without incident, and just 1/4 mile to go when we came to the intersection of Gifford Road and Aviation Bypass.

Load shedding was in effect for the area, meaning all local business and houses were without power. As well, traffic signals were not functioning. No flashing red or yellow lights. Usually a uniformed marshal of some sort is posted at the intersection to control the chaos. Sometimes a volunteer citizen simply snaps branches off a tree to wave down traffic. Believe it or not, drivers respect guys with branches. Often after dark, the intersection is just a free for all of tooting horns, and squealing brakes and near misses per below.

Same intersection but today riding home from work. Thankfully, the concept of "road rage" has not quite caught on here. Simply wave your arms, honk the horn and wait your turn. Or, put the car in reverse and go weave around the island. It all seems to work somehow. It is scary and funny all at the same time.

In a sense we were lucky. The marshal dressed in camouflage appeared to have cross traffic stopped allowing me to pass through the intersection well below the speed limit. Arms up with palms facing cross traffic. The coast looked clear to me. Actually, I was thinking, this is too good to be true....I don't have to wait, or have to turn away hawkers.

By the time I was half way through the intersection, Mr. Marshal was making it very clear that I had done something terribly wrong, perhaps even insulted his manhood. He waved. I waved back, but cleared the intersection.

Looking in my rear view mirror, wouldn't you know it, he is chasing us down on foot! Hmm...pull over? I wasn't making a getaway. Unbelievably, he comandeered a passing Volkswagon to join the chase (and abandon his duties). Good grief. I used turn signals and slowly made the final turn onto our street when the VW pulled in front of use blocking the road. Out jumps Mr. Grumpy Marshal.

Yes, I saw you. No, it looked safe to pass. I thought you were stopping traffic for me.... On and on...just wasted words. (And considering the really flagrant every day disregard of basic rules of the road like driving on the correct side of the road, with head/tail lights, obeying functioning traffic signals...I was a bit surprised this error actually caught someone's attention, and even more surprised that someone sprang to action) I wanted to add...perhaps something a bit brighter than camouflage would be a good idea. Say...bright orange. And shooing away the hawkers... This hand signal pretty universally means stop... Of course I kept my cool.

Admitting my mistake was apparently not good enough. I was scolded. He told me to come back to the intersection with him. I had to inform him that we were not going anywhere with him. If he needed to write a ticket, he could do it here on the spot. More scolding and the inevitable "next time" warning...

After a few minutes of scolding and me tapping the steering wheel in disgust, I'd heard enough from him and told him he needs to do a better job of managing his intersection. So there.

No ticket.

I mean, on one hand I want to commend the Marshall for attempting to uphold some sort of order. On the other hand, I kinda feel as though someone must have just removed the blinders.

Environmental Film Festival of Accra

2007-04-18T08:39:00.000Z

More information here --> www.www.effaccra.org

Visiting Accra?

2007-04-18T08:00:00.001Z

Ethan has some pretty keen recommendations.

Ethan Zuckerman

Somehow, our humble little blog was plugged. Wow, guess I'd better check my spelling and content from now on.

Back to Biakpa

2007-04-08T14:20:00.000Z

With the long Easter weekend ahead of us, SJD, Dan, Giselle, Sarah, Dave and I loaded up our belongings and bikes for a return trip to Biakpa Mountain Paradise.

We could not get out the door without mentioning plans to Patience. She was raised in Amedzofe - just across the valley from BMP, at much higer elevation, accessed by a steep and winding single lane road. Why we would camp when we can rent a basic room seems quite odd to her.

"Everyone will look at you, and the weather will be very, very cold," she explained with sincerity noting the start of the rainy season in Ghana.

Any cooler weather is welcome, and I assured her that we could probably handle temperatures in the 70s, and a little moisture as well.

She thinks we're nuts, and perhaps she is right.

Well, the car performed remarkably well despite a return of the glowing read "check engine" light. I checked. It is still there.

Our previous trip to the Volta Region was in December of last year. Life in dry dusty Accra over the past few month was getting a bit dreary. (I'm sure my understanding of "dry/dusty" is about as skewed as Patience's understanding of "cold"). The greenery of the VR is the first thing we notice as we make our way into the hills.

Here is a horizontal SJD. She:

A) has just collapsed after returning from an exhausting ride?

B) is waiting for roadside assistance?

C) has not yet started the ride, broken a sweat, or even laced up her shoes, but decided a nap under the mango tree would be a good idea?

Did anyone guess "C"?

Ride 1: Once we got SJD moving, we set off from BMP to Amedzofe to Klipka to BMP. Unknown distance or route. All we knew for certain is that there would be a lot of climbing at the start. From Amedzofe, we would continue north on a ridge line a few miles before dropping steeply to Klipka.
Up and over, round and about we went fixing flats and twisted ankles along the way.

Dave had ridden portions of the extended loop previously, but nearly 8 months earlier. The trails connect no-name villages that appear as pencil head dots on our maps. Some men harvesting palm nuts recalled the last time Dave passed through. They advised a slight detour to Klipka. The trail leading down to Klipka was almost straight down the fall line. A few sections were simply wonderful to ride. Others brought back memories of miserable hike-a-bike days deep in VA/WV.

Dave and Sarah on the trail

The trail eventually deposited us up the valley about 8km from BMP. Paved road gave way to the final 4km gravel road climb to BMP. At the end of the day, the climb was a real chore. SJD was sure someone had moved the lodge up the slope even farther...
We returned to BMP just as the sun was setting and just in time to have a few cold beers while a tasty dinner of jollof rice, tilapia, rice balls and peanut sauce was prepared.

Day 2: After breakfast on the BMP porch we more or less reversed the route back up to Amedzofe on a tougher and steeper doubletrack. The 360 degree view from up top was worth the one hour climb. We grabbed chairs at the Lucky Boy Spot for a quick cold drink and to consider the rest of the day. Dave's mind was made up. He headed straight back to BMP. Sarah, SJD and I noticed the darkening sky to the east over Togo but we decided to drop down the opposite side of the ridge for 30 minutes, turn around and head home. Five minutes into the descent, the clouds began to sprinkle. It was enough of a warning to turn around and head for cover. We made our way back to BMP as the skies darkened and the winds strengthened. We got back just in time to grab rain gear and a book and find a spot on the porch to wait out the storm.

A much welcomed rain dumped on Volta Region for the next four hours almost without interruption. A small forest fire on the opposite slope was extinguished. Village drumming was muffled. The skies cleared in time for dinner. Our hardy tent (thanks REI) had stayed nice and dry through the deluge so we had a comfy night, albeit disturbed by some mighty strong gusts of wind that threatened to lift us up and over the ridge.

2007-04-03T20:01:00.000Z

**WARNING** Bike post

The new job is convenient enough to bike to and fro, and Makola Market is close enough to sneak over during lunch or right before quitin' time and still get home before dark. Not bad.

My commuter bike has been lusting for new tires for a year perhaps. I've probably put about $6.00 into maintaining ole reliable over the past year, so perhaps I could warm up that credit card and mail order a set of durable German touring rubber to the tune of $70.00. Not exactly cheap, but embarrassingly, not the most I've spent on a set of good racing tires for a bicycle. It is the cost per mile that counts over the long run.

(Have you ever figured out the cost per mile of operating a car? Yowza. Now add in all the taxes and subsidies you pay to maintain infrastructure you may not even use. Its just a concept that I do not have actual figures to back up, but you get the picture. Anyways...)

My current four year old tires have at least 10,000 miles on them with just two or three flats. They have worn almost bald, but will likely work fine for another year. So the cost/mile is around...well less than $0.01. Not bad. (Ghana might have a coin in circulation valued at less than 1 penny) Of course, I bought plenty of bagels and cappuccinos along the way to balance things out. But new tires would just make my ride...oh I don't know...snappier.

So, anyway (and this really does have something to do with Ghana), off I went to the Makola bike market where I'm always welcome for just being me - Mr. Moneybags apparently. If I'm lucky I run into one of the guys from the Stadium criteriums. And I did, but didn't recognize him without his bike, helmet and spandex - so embarassing.

"Just looking," doesn't cut it with these guys any longer. We know each other's game. The fourth or fifth vendor was actually polite with me. Asked me what I was looking for. He noted I needed new tires, and by gosh he just happened to have stacks and stacks of brand new tires for sale.

"Yellow and not-yellow tires," he said refering to color of the sidewalls of a tire he pulled from the pile. "Quality," pointing to the made in XXX country embossing.

At arms length, they looked fine. The rubber felt a bit hard - almost like plastic. The sidewalls were thin and brittle. The tread was certainly beefy. I just assume they were round.

"So...how much?"

"c60,000 for two."

I was thinking $6.50 for two brand new tires is a pretty good deal. All they have to do is last 325 miles before self destructing to get the cost/mile down to $0.01/mile. Of course I wasn't doing any of these calculations while standing there. I was thinking that peace of mind for 10,000 miles is probably worth a few extra bucks.

I looked at my watch and back at my stuffed bike bag, and used the excuse to say that maybe I would be back later in the week to strike a deal.

Building a complete bike for less than $50 entirely from Makola Market would be fun challenge.

(SJD comment: Just what we need, another bike... But I'm game. We'll just call it a piece of functional African art and feature it in our living room.)

2007-03-26T20:22:00.000Z

An elementary school we pass between Accra and Aburi.

2007-03-22T22:58:00.000Z

Near Legon.

WAWA Subaru

2007-03-22T19:06:00.000Z

I was out running some errands by car today. Normally I would be on my bike, but I had several stops and many things to carry today. Plus, Patience asked if I could take her and baby Isabella into La to pick up some fabric from a relative. Not a problem.

We got about two blocks from home, when the car sputtered and lost power. Luckily there was a wide shoulder without an open drain. I coasted to a stop and muttered, "WAWA."

"The car is spoiled?" as Patience put it.

West Africa Wins Again!

I suggested that Patience walk back to the house and stay cool, but she insisted on staying; suggesting armed robbers might ransack the car...two blocks from home in broad day light. She called her husband on my cell. Recall that he is the same man who helped me purchase my spare wheel. He rushed to the rescue on his moped with an assortment of tools and much more knowledge of engines than I.

Once under the hood he quickly traced the problem back to a blown 30A fuse. Battery and starter seemed to be cranking. Just not any fuel getting to the burners apparently.

Hmmmm....I think I've heard about this problem recently before. ARG! Bad fuel, perhaps, gunked up fuel filter (hopefully). I don't mind dropping a few bucks changing a fuel filter, but the possibility of a fried fuel pump has me concerned. Hopefully the fuel pump has not been over worked - just the blown fuse. SJD agreed via phone.

We swapped the ABS fuse to get the motor running. Derrick was backing the car up to take it for a test spin, and went right into an open gutter. DOUBLE ARG! I saw it coming a mile away but couldn't get his attention to stop. We got it out no problem and went on our way.

So, our final stop is really close to home. Try to start the car again. Crank, crank, crank...nothing. Now Patience, Isabella, my wilting lettuce and I are stuck again. We call Derrick again who rushes over again to swap a few fuses. Eventually the car is running, but he suggests I just give it a little extra gas all the way home. Easier said than done in Accra grid lock.

I've never seen anyone riding a moped stop traffic with such authority to allow the frazzled white guy to motor through without stopping. Only in Accra...nice job Derrick! Driving Ghanaian style ain't for sissies.

Back home safely, I'm now scouring the internet for quick-ship OEM parts. I mean Derrick was good and appreciated, but even he agrees that his home-made fuse is not very reliable. That, and I dread another trip to the Kaneshie auto market....

Recycling bottles?

2007-03-20T15:38:00.000Z

Without curbside recycling our wine and beer bottle collection was growing. What to do?

We had a similar dilemma with our cardboard packing boxes and paper leftover from the US to Ghana move. The local moving company took the majority of the boxes and paper off our hands once we had unpacked. The remainder of boxes and paper were offered to our guard. He gladly snatched them up off our porch one night.

I made a short trip down near Makola Market a while ago to ogle some bike parts and to see first hand if the decongestion efforts of the AMA were having any affect. Decongestion of hawkers seems to be the hot-topic in the paper in February. Yes, you can actually move much easier. The bike part vendors were still rude and grabby, so I didn't buy any of their junk. I did, however, stumble across a side street that seems to be where one can buy all sorts of used packing boxes and paper.

I somewhat assumed that the packing material would be reused, recycled, and/or resold for just the same. Perfect! We also heard that sometimes Ghanaians will use cardboard for insulation in their houses. I was a bit surprised to hear that one might actually insulate a house in the tropics, but what do I know? Either way, I was glad to see it not simply being tossed into a landfill, or perhaps more likely for Ghana, burnt.

So, back to the bottles... I inquired at two local shops where we purchase wine. They looked at me like I had three heads, and suggested I simply toss them into the garbage. Beer bottles from Ghana Brewery and Coca-Cola Ghana are returned for repackaging/refill/resale. Buying Ghanaian beer or soft drinks requires somewhat of an odd negotiation and promise to return the bottles to the point of purchase. Not so for wine. Seems as though there should be plenty of wine bottles sitting around Accra.

I'm pretty sure the local bead industry uses crushed recycled glass to form new beads. SJD and I are planning a trip to Cedi Beads in a few weeks anyways, so I'll have few questions ready for them. Whether they purchase discarded glass, or get it free? If there is some local collection point in place? How many beads are produced from a single bottle? It will keep me distracted while SJD sifts through beads to purchase. Our friends just posted about their visit here.

Without any better idea in place, I set the current collection of 20 or so bottles on the front stoop one night. By 6AM the next morning, they were gone; I assume the guard snatched them up. I will have to ask him what he did with them.

Working

2007-03-19T11:15:00.000Z

So after numerous emails and phone conversations, dead-end leads, seven interviews, and one really bogus job offer, my six month selective mini-vacation has come to an end. Yup, a job has found me in Accra.

This is good. Oprah reruns were getting boring. The long morning road rides were turning a bit lonely.

I'll be part of the development team managing the construction of a 260 room five-star resort hotel, conference and retail center in the heart of Accra. It appears to be a pretty decent project on paper. I'll have many of the same responsibilities I had in DC, and perhaps a few more. The on-site mock-up is a good indication that a high expectation of quality will be maintained.

And yes, I can bike to work as long as I can tolerate the heat.

Dress to Impress...

2007-03-08T14:08:00.000Z

or not.

It is two days after Ghana's big celebration. Patience, our cleaning lady, was working when I returned home. She asked me to help fold some bed sheets before she popped out the door to grab some fufu and fish soup for lunch. When she got back, we talked for a while about the jubilee, our families, houses and food. She is an interesting, opinionated and curious woman, and the only Ghanaian I get a chance to speak to regularly enough to get a bit of an insider's glimpse of this country. She is the oldest of four sisters and two brothers, and is the mother of a 6 month old daughter, Isabella.

Patience knocked on the front door on March 6, just to say hello and tell us that she was headed down to Osu with Isabella slung on her hips to see some of the Jubilee. I offered her my freebie Ghanaian flag to wave, but she declined. We wished her a good time and good luck with the crowds.

Today it was interesting to hear her impression. What I thought were Ghanaians having a crazy good time, I think she found just a bit too busy. What she noticed was the "plenty, plenty people and lots of white people" milling about Osu. Fair statement. Osu seems, after all, to be the place where most white people go for groceries, restaurants and small retail, and yes, I mill about Osu fairly regularly. Perhaps her assessment was just a bit skewed since most of the Ghanaians that would normally be in Osu were likely just a few blocks away at Independence Square. Not really important to me, but it was kinda funny to hear her say it. I think she had fun although it sounds that even she found the temperature hot and steamy.

Believe it or not there is some hub-bub surrounding the ongoing/recent Jubilee. First is that the President wore a suit, white shirt and tie instead of the brightly colored and wildly patterned traditional kente cloth. I asked Patience what she thought about this. Not surprisingly, she thought it was a snub to Ghana. I explained that I had not really given it much thought until the hard feelings were mentioned to me. Guess I'm used to seeing male world leaders dressed in a clean, crisp boring gray (or dark gray with red or blue tie in DC) suits afterall. She seemed to excuse me for not noticing. I started to explain "perhaps" just what President Kufuor might have been thinking. Perhaps he went for the suit when he realized he was going to get his 15 seconds of TV exposure on CNN, and was attempting to show the rest of the world that Ghana is no longer "the Africa you studied in junior high." Dress to impress??? I have no idea, but quickly realized I wasn't going to convince Patience otherwise. In the end, I think she is right in feeling a bit snubbed. Similarly, there is a photo circulating of former President Clinton with former President Rawlings - both dressed in kente. Ok, Clinton must have been melting in his gray suit, white shirt, tie AND kente wrap. Patience, you have to agree with me on this one. Come on now....

Of course there is the controversy over the expense of the celebration ($20M US), the overwhelming amount of garbage produced, and the much more complicated question of whether or not Ghana has prospered under their independence. I really do not have enough background on these subjects to feel that I should toss around unsolicited opinions.

Completely unrelated...I returned from a nice solo 57 mile road ride out west of Accra along the XX road. The road has recently been repaved, and probably had a shoulder added. Traffic still moves along briskly for the most part, but at times it seems like you're riding along inside the wheel well of whatever truck might be belching diesel exhaust chugging up an incline. I caught up with a Brittish (?) cycle tourer on his way to Ivory Coast. He started way up in Mali two months ago. We rode together for a mile or so, before I wished him happy/safe travels, and I turned around for Accra. Man oh man there was a ceaseless headwind from the west that required much effort to maintain 16mph on the way out. The return trip was effortless crusing at 22mph though. Fun! Traffic was still gridlocked in Accra three hours later.

Ghana @ 50 - two perspectives

2007-03-07T19:15:00.000Z

Two similar but different reports of Ghana @ 50 from western perspectives.

Smart and balanced from National Public Radio.

Touchy-feely from Voice of America. Ummm....okay.

Lost in Lagos on Lufthansa

2007-03-07T18:00:00.000Z

A neighbor here in Accra reminded me that if nothing goes wrong during our travels we won't have anything interesting to talk about at cocktail parties once you get past the weather and jet lag. Perhaps.... Anyways, considering how much extra business Lufthansa might be expecting in/out of Accra this year, perhaps a refresher course in customer service would be advised for their agents in the Lagos, Nigeria airport.

I would like to bring to your attention unsatisfactory customer service experience in Lagos, Nigeria. We believe some compensation should be offered from Lufthansa to make up for its inexcusable lack of basic customer service, which not only inconvenienced us but put us at a certain amount of personal risk.

My wife, Ms. SJD, and I were booked on the February 9, 2007 flight LH 565 departing Accra, Ghana to Frankfurt, Germany via stopover in Lagos, Nigeria. Our final destination, via a connecting flight, was Paris, France. A mechanical problem with an engine was discovered while on the tarmac in Lagos. Two attempts to rectify the problem delayed the departure for nearly three hours. Finally near 1:30AM local time, the captain informed all passengers that the flight was being cancelled. All passengers were directed to disembark the plane for an overnight stay in Lagos, Nigeria. I commend Lufthansa for this decision, however a complete lack of customer service and coordination by the Lufthansa-Lagos on-ground staff continued for the next 24 hours. My complaint follows below.

1. Lufthansa did not have sufficient representation on ground to explain to passengers of what was happening and next steps.
2. The one agent present provided a phone number to contact Lufthansa for further information. When passengers attempted to call it over the next day, there was no answer.
3. Passengers were herded through Nigerian Immigration and had passports (including our diplomatic passports) confiscated because we did not have visas, with no clear explanation of how or when they would be returned.
4. Passengers were boarded onto buses and driven to a poor quality far away hotel in a dicey neighborhood. Lufthansa had failed to notify Hotel staff of our arrival. Staff was caught by surprise and was unprepared for the arrival of stranded passengers at 2:00 in the morning. They did not have room for all the passengers.
5. The following morning, Lufthansa did not make any attempt to update passengers at the hotels of the plan for rescheduled departure.
6. The hotel did not have operating phone lines for passengers to call Lufthansa for flight status. Passengers used personal cell phones instead. Since the phone numbers provided by Lufthansa staff were incorrect or out of date, passengers resorted to calling relatives in Germany for assistance contacting Lufthansa. We were given no resources for these calls to cancel and revise plans and reservations at our final destination.
7. These calls resulted in a raft of unconfirmed rumors about options and an indication that a bus would return passengers to the airport at various times. The bus did not arrive at any of the rumored times and repeated assurances from hotel staff that we would be called with information proved false. At about 5pm, most passengers resorted to hiring taxis to return to the airport, at their own expense.
8. Upon return to the airport around 6pm, Lufthansa managers apologized but clearly had not begun to coordinate the rebooking of passengers. Passports were still being held by immigration. Lufthansa did not even have a list of stranded passengers, or where they were being held in Lagos. This was potentially dangerous, and simply inexcusable!
9. Over the next five hours, Lufthansa chaotically dealt with passengers. The options and story changed frequently and there was no central and authoritative communication to all passengers concerned. Again, rumor and confusion prevailed. At around midnight, we were finally informed that Lufthansa was re-routing a plane from Abuja to pick up the remaining passengers. Passports were finally located and returned less than an hour before flight departure. No one had been fed since a barely edible lunch at the hotel.
10. We finally left in the wee hours of the morning and arrived at our destination 30 hours later than expected.

My wife and I are seasoned travelers and understand that delays resulting from mechanical problems are a reality of travel. However, neither of us I have yet experienced such lack of customer service. So many of these problems could have been avoided by simple leadership and communication on the part of Lufthansa. Lufthansa failed to perform at every given opportunity. As you know, there are options within the Star-Alliance network for travel to Europe and the North America without having to do business with Lufthansa. Passengers deserve and expect much better service from airlines. We hope to elicit a satisfactory response from Lufthansa regarding this matter.
Thank you,

The good news is that our comment is case #961,340 in the online que with Lufthansa customer service.

Happy 50th Ghana!

2007-03-06T12:01:00.000Z

I bet these guys are headed to the parade, don't you think? Right thigh says "Welcome". Left thigh says"Akwaaba". Perhaps SJD noticed what was written on the rear (SJD says an eye was painted on each cheek) .

We just returned from a Ghana @ 50 Jubilee celebration at Independence Square here in Accra. There has been quite a lot of anticipation building up to today. Lots of freshly painted curbs. Plenty, plenty police and motorcades zipping around town. Seems almost like DC in some ways.

Most of Cantonments and bits of Osu were ghost towns. Seemed as though most of Accra was watching the parade. There was a lot going on that we could not get close enough to to see. Every now and then another cheer could be heard. It was quite a party even from the perimeter of the crowds.

First order of business, get a flag to wave.

I managed to be in the right spot at the right momemt as the Ghana Police started handing out the freebies from the back of a pick-up truck.

SJD, Giselle and I worked our way though some of the masses,

but declared defeat when the view of the parade (which was taking place inside the square surrounded by grandstands) did not improve. A Ghana Police officer spotted us amongst the crowd and offered unemcumbered passage to the front row for better viewing. We politely declined. It was intended to be kind I'm sure, but the special attention was rather embarrassing considering the other 100,000 or so Ghanaians straining for a better view of their party. The color guard below probably had the best view.

Back on 28th February Road people were really getting into the Tigo (cellular phone company)truck passing through the crowd with speakers pumping out some high-life music with dancers, bikers, unicycle riders, roller skaters all around all whizzing through the onlookers. Winnie the Pooh, resting on the roof, looks as though he has had enough excitement for one day.

Yes, there were more than a couple painted Ghanaians caught up in the mood.

We ran into the other Ghanaian cycling team (Dome Cycling) that I occasionally ride with.

The 50th year of independence is quite a milestone for Ghana and Africa. Congratulations!

Foix to Paris - wrap it up already

2007-03-01T12:34:00.000Z

The final days of our trip we drove from Foix zigging and zagging a bit, but with most of our progress towards Paris.

France, at least the departments we happened to drive through, seemed to be on school holiday and winter hibernation. Many of the stores and houses were shuttered during business hours. Not too many people walking the narrow streets. The comment "sleepy little town, eh" was repeated quite a bit. Some hotels and restaurants were simply closed for the winter, we were told. RocAmadour, in Lot, is apparently one of the most visited towns in France but felt more like a western ghost town than tourist hub/trap when we passed through. Not such a bad thing.

Also on the plus side there were not any tour buses idling in front of sites, or grinding up swichbacks, or crowds -- and we generally had no problem finding gites on a walk-in basis. Off season travel is quite nice as long as you don't need to see flowers in full bloom, or whales migrating through a strait, or vines full of grapes. In fact, I don't ever recall going to Europe during peak/summer season. Odd...

So... here are our chambres des hotes along the way.

Alvignac - Not much to look at this time of year, but clean and pleasant inside. A bit tricky to find amongst narrow farm lanes. The very friendly proprietor is a great cook. Best cooked meal so far - potato-leek soup and canard. SJD had an omelet with walnuts. Sounds a bit funny, but it was tasty.

Sarlat - Good location for walking around the town center. The house forms part of the old rampart of this medieval city, with owners not quite as old. Nice garden out back. The house was filled with a bunch of dusty antiques that we were afraid to touch.

Perhaps the nicest place we stayed. A huge house near the "sleepy little town" center of Mer. Quite a ways up some narrow curling stairs. A really scary flush toilet that sounded like a space shuttle launch. Nice view of the nuclear reactor cooling towers as well as another old church. Otherwise nice.

Eventually we rolled back into Paris only to spend the next three hours attempting to return the rental car at the Gare Montparnasse. Oh what fun it was circling the block, double parking, looking for a "Budget" sign. Eventually, we ditched the car in the 5th level of a an unmarked garage before trekking back over into the Gare looking for anyone with a "Budget" name tag. The customer agent was not miffed or surprised at our story. Only concerned whether or not we had left the tank on F.

I looked at her square in the eyes and gave her a nice stern, "oui" before SJD could spill the beans that the tank was actually 15/16ths full.

"Any receipt?"

"No. Listen. The tank is f-u-l-l." Any more questions? "Oh, and here is the key. The car is located across the street in the basement of the garage. Merci. Au revoir." Actually, the tank was full before we started the round the block odyssey.

Eventually we made it back to the hotel to freshen up before heading out on one last scavenger hunt for items to take back to Ghana. Oh just cheese, chocolate, wine and sausage as well as a few snacks just in case we got stuck in Lagos, Nigeria again. More on the "AGAIN" part of Lagos later.

All is well that ends well. France never disappoints me. It was a nice time of year to get away with SJD. We're now back in Accra sweating away those glorious added calories without even lifting a finger. Perhaps the urge to exercise will overcome us.

Ax les Thermes + more snow = more pain

2007-02-28T22:34:00.000Z

"Stop! She's only going to march you up a hill, until your feet are cold and wet."

(I've heard stories of SJD and cousin Sheila snow hiking in the Italian Alps, yet I still followed.)

A quick break to down some sausage, cheese and fruit before things get steep and deep.

The next day we rented snowboards at Ax les 3 Domaines (the ski area near Ax les Thermes) yet another recent TDF mountain stage climb. Markings of "Armstrong 7" as well as many other rider names can still be read on the pavement of the winding ascent.

I'll just say two things about this day. The French are completely tolerant of two hopelessly inept adults tumbling down mountains with a board strapped to their feet. After two failed attempts to master the pommel lift, we resorted to walking to the top of the bunny slope. Oh what fun that was. After that we went straight for the big stuff, simply because the chair lift was less intimidating. We proceeded to tumble down a large portion of the runs without interupting too many kiddie ski schools, but leaving nice divets. I recall a few well executed surfy turns, but they were usually followed by an even more spectacular digger. Yeah us! The mountain scenery was worth all the bruises though. Bikes...stick to bikes...

(It just occured to me that you're probably reading these entries in reverse order of which they occured. Sorry. Perhaps you can turn your monitor upside down.)

XC race in Ghana?

2007-02-28T17:57:00.000Z

Why not?

We're just brainstorming right now, but feel we could pull this one off before May '07.

The Aburi Fury 50K

We need to GPS a few routes and coordinate dates with the Tour du Ghana.

Get yer shots and come on over!

Updates will be cross posted here.

Ariege part deux - caves, castles, cheese

2007-02-27T21:56:00.000Z

All that XC skiing really had us rethinking our skiing plans for the day. Perhaps a bit more leisurely pace, exploring the remnants of castles perched on the rocks. Most had some association with rather horrific tales of religious persecution of the Cathars.

On to Montsegur ruins perched up high on a hill. Quite a view from up top. The fortress housed, at times, nearly 600 Cathars seeking refuge from Pope Innocent III's persecution for heresy. When they came down, they were burned unless they renounced their "heretic" faith. Hard to imagine all that on a sunny peaceful day a few hundred years later when you can climb up without much of a struggle to snap a few photos of what's left.

SJD is standing inside the walls. You can just make out the foundation of a chamber to the right of her head. Best guess is that the structure was at least two stories high, as evidence of beam pockets can be seen. Still, how did 600 people manage to live here?

On up the road to Roquefixade. Another short but bracing hike to the top.

This castle is more ruin than castle but, again, the view over the valley and the coming dusk made the scene seem like a painting...almost.

We continued our historical tour on subsequent days. About an hour from Foix is Carcasonne - an assertively restored medieval city. Well, restored in the sense that it is now chock full of shops selling plastic coats of armor, foie gras and post cards...and the windows now have caulk sealants. I mean, we only popped into a few, but just to get out of the pouring rain.

Carcasonne in the rain -- no doubt it is more appealing when the sun is shining and the flowers blooming....

Going back even farther in time, we visited the Niaux cave - a deep, dark and cool cave with stalagtites and paintings of horses, buffalo and dating back 12-15,000 years. It is one of many caves in the area, which has yielded a rich trove of pre-historic paintings and artifacts. As the tour was conducted completely in French, I am very likely completely wrong on some of the facts. I can assure you it was very dark inside though and there really were paintings -- along with names scrawled on the walls by visitors from as far back as the 1600s. We weren't allowed to take pictures in the cave so no photographic evidence.

Fearing we might break some bones on one of our skiing expeditions (OK, that was just an excuse...), we'd been upping our dairy intake - mostly through the consumption of goat cheese. We followed signs for a good 30 minutes over the river and through the woods to pay a visit to Wyon fromagerie. It was noted in some tourist flyer we picked up someplace. Seemed interesting. Why not pop in for a tour? Mr. Wyon and his goats were a bit puzzled but pleasant enough to show us around a few minutes. My guess is that most people give up the hunt long before SJD and I do. Twenty goats produce milk for many thousands of kilos of cheese per year. The goats produce new goats every 14 months. We just missed a birth by an hour.

SJD and Mr. Wyon

The girl goats.

After that we visited a farm where goats were raised for mohair wool. On a drizzly day, the temptation to buy a lwarm, soft blanket was strong but given our present home in the tropics, good sense prevailed and SJD settled for a couple of small skeins (SJD's Zia may be getting a knitting request). We stopped in at a few small out of the way crafts galleries before heading home for a relaxed evening in front of a warm fire.

Had enough? There's more!

Heading into the Hills - the Ariege

2007-02-27T17:56:00.000Z

We took the smooth and very fast TGV from Paris to Toulouse. Toulouse would simply be a place to pick up a car and head further south to Foix, in the foothills of the Pyrennes. We booked a gite outside Foix, further up some windy narrow roads in the Ariege to a village called La Mouline, Serres Sur Arget in nice wet, green and mossy hilly farm country dotted with those charming old stone buildings. Hens running around. A boulangerie within walking distance. Two rooms and a basic kitchen. A comfy bed. Very pleasant proprietors. Piles of wood to burn in the fire place. Not much else though. SJD likes to tend fires and walk briskly uphills. This location was just perfect. La Scierie Gite

Although Foix is in the foothills, it is still a decent drive to the snow capped peaks higher in the Pyrenees. We decided to explore the Foix farmers' market, picking up a few dried sausages, cheese, and local organic wine. Foix, like many of the towns in France, boasts a castle. This one is quite spectacular in that it is still mostly intact. It was regarded as being inpenetrable at the time. In fact, it was closed for the lunch hour when tried to visit, but at this point we were already kinda overloaded with castles and entry fees.

If we all had to draw a castle, I bet it would look something like Foix castle.

Next day we headed up to La Plateau de Beille to do some XC skiing. We had been snow-and mountain deprived for almost 12 months, and were looking forward to cold, crisp mountain air. Snow was a bit thin in some places, but the higher we went, the better the snow and the views across the valleys. SJD, as usual, packed snacks to keep me moving along the way.

SJD in her element.

Why do the words "...and the agony of defeat" come to mind. Why don't these skis turn left?

Me looking somewhat more competent. Probably best to stick to bikes though.

Despite not fully grasping how to actually steer or stop XC skies, it was fun. The tired muscles at the end of the day stewed up nicely over night into fully aching and mostly useless limbs by the next morning. Hmmm...oh well.

(TDF note - Plateau de Beille will once again be a 2007 mountain-top stage finish. Oh my. Yes, these climbs seem longer and steeper in person than on OLN. Will have to check our DVD stash to see who won the stage in past years.)

On the way home we stopped at a full size supermarket to stock the refrigerator for the week. I had almost forgotten what a fresh vegetable department looked like. An aisle dedicated pig parts. Another for cheese. Forgive me...

Paris

2007-02-27T16:15:00.000Z

Here is a brief recap of our nice little trip to France. For now, just pretend that we arrived at CDG without any flight delays, cancellations or having to deal with terrible customer service from Lufthansa.

Upon touch down in Europe (Frankfurt) we made a bee line to the nearest cafe to treat ourselves to a nice bowl of (restrain your excitement) cold fresh milk and cornflakes. And coffee. And bacon (Brian). And eggs. Oh what a delight it was. We didn't even wait to exit the airport or reach our final destination.

We now had just two days in Paris, but made the best of it. We stayed at a small hotel that I stayed at once before several years ago. The staff is still very pleasant. Rooms are clean, simple and cheap. The location is great for exploring central Paris on foot and Metro.

Despite several trips to Paris previously, neither SJD nor I had actually been up the Eifel Tower. Weather was actually quite nice at the bottom. We took several photos before paying a few Euros to walk to the top. Elevators are for wimps...according to SJD. Personally, I think they're somewhat convenient. The wind was really howling above the first level. We were not allowed to climb beyond the 2nd level (oh darn) because the wind and rain was probably really stinging up there. Not just kinda stinging like while we were taking in the sites on the 2nd level.

Sturdy tower I reckon.

Looks good close up.

Looks even more spectacular at night.

(Bonus! I'm slowly reading a really good book The Devil in the White City by Erik Larson. It recounts events in Chicago during the 1890's leading up to the World's Fair. Lots of Chicago architecture history is covered in an entertaining way. There is a serial murderer element as well. All good Chicago stuff. Oh, also there are quite a few references and comparisons to Paris and Eiffel Tower. A big thanks to a former coworker, Mike Holland, for turning me on to this book.)

Somehow we managed (not intentionally) to not step foot in a single museum. Ok, we kinda walked around for half a day in a daze looking at all the storefronts full of things to purchase, but really didn't need in Accra, or in DC for that matter. Wool blazers? Nah. Shoes? Sandals do just fine here. Bike parts? Oooh, that was a tough one, but we resisted. Instead, we sampled chausson au pomme, salade chevre chaud and vin bon marche at every given opportunity. Oh, just for good measure we popped into a few of the well known sites like St. Chapelle, Sacre Coure, Jardin du Luxembourg, and a few markets along the way. We're tourists don'tcha know?

We took a boat tour up and down the Seine. Even bought tickets for an evening ballet performance at the old Opera House for 7 Euro apiece. I did this once before. The view was highly obstructed, especially if you actually sat in your seat. You could hear the performers jumping around on stage, and every now and then get to see them exit stage left. But to see the building itself is well worth the price of admission. Experiencing the lengthy bows and ritualized curtain calls is also amusing. (SJD note - BEP suggested the lengthy applause for one piece was due to relief that it was over...I made an effort to find a better view and actually found the dancing to be quite good)

We were settling into a lifestyle of exuberance rather nicely despite a weak exchange rate and the disappointing realization that my French speaking skills have almost all but disappeared. I kinda toss out the correct words, pause, hope that the French speaker can put them in the correct order, turn to SJD (whose French was only marginally better) for translation assistance, then point and gesture. I try...I really do.

Alas, it is time to head to Toulouse and Foix on the TGV.

We're back

2007-02-25T23:02:00.000Z

We were off hopping around France enjoying cooler weather, snow and fancy food.

I was denied gastronomic asylum. Again.

SJD was content to have fresh milk with her cereal for breakfast.

In any case, we're back in Accra.

All the best,
SJD and Brian

Fashionistas - PEW and SJD

2007-02-09T08:39:00.000Z

Princess Butterfly,

meet your kooky aunt, Queen Landfill.

Velobroni

2007-02-06T12:10:00.000Z

Bears post mortum

2007-02-05T14:57:00.000Z

Jillian (SJD's workmate who also hails from Bear country) and I are quoted in the Chicago Tribune. Just for the record, I didn't really say there wasn't much to do here; I said that I had been watching lots of football because there isn't much else to watch on TV --or something to that effect. Didn't mean to suggest Ghana was dull or uninteresting.

Party Of Three from Phil Rogers of the Chicago Tribune

Cantonments Roundabout - Part 2

2007-02-05T14:13:00.000Z

I received the following email today, perhaps somewhat related to a previous post.

From: "Kelly F."
Subject: Saving Accra's Roots
Date: Mon, 5 Feb 2007 06:01:13 -0800 (PST)

Please spread the word ! Dear friend, In recent days, a family of centuries-old Niim trees
have been cut down on the Cantonments Roundabout island. These trees provided both beauty and shade from one of the city's highest elevations. Many citizens of Accra have expressed dismay. The artists of the Foundation for Contemporary Art would like to commemorate the death of these trees and voice concern about the increasing destruction of trees on public lands.

They will stage an event to be entitled 'Art in the Garden-12: Saving Accra's Roots' on Saturday the 10th of February from four pm until seven pm at the Cantoments Roundabout. If you support this, please come on Saturday. Wear red and black, the colours of funerary mourning. Foundation for Contemporary Art Accra Ghana.

Virginia Ryan
Via Costarella 6 Trevi (PG) 06039 Italia>00393397557854
www.virginiaryan.com c/o Foundation Contemporary Art,
Dubois Centre, Ghana.
www.fcaghana.org

The Usual Suspects

2007-02-05T11:02:00.000Z

A group of the usual suspects is forming for weekend rides at Aburi. We number about eight in all now, after adding Scott - a recent arrival from Atlanta.

Yesterday we coordinated a much shorter ride than the previous week. Probably only half the distance, but connecting a few villages and valleys via buff tight and twisty singletrack. SJD, Chris and I had ridden this loop before. Chris took tumble in some soft sand as he was preparing to deal with a plank crossing just ahead. No real harm done although he looked like he'd been rolled in whole wheat flour (the dust sticks).

About mid-way, we tacked on a few more Ks out of curiosity. The extra loop was quite technical with steep rock drops, narrow grooves, and tight corners. It reminded us of riding bits of Gambrill, the Watershed or Michaux. Just barely rideable, but certainly worth the effort.

Here is a link to Chris' GPS data.

My rough and tumble super jock wife took a rather hard tumble, hitting her backside and forearm on log and boulder. It happened so quickly that we guess she veered into a stump just beside the trail. This will generally flip you and your bike around 180 in an instant.

(Note from SJD's slightly different (aka more accurate) version of events: my dear husband was rolling along just behind me as we went through a casava field. He decided it was a good time for a botany lesson and called out " is that casava on the right?" Distracted -- and trying to be helpful -- I turned my head. As we all know, the first rule of mountain biking is to look where you want to go. Unfortunately, just to the right was exactly where I didn't want to go. There was a nice sturdy tree stump that sent me flying... Lesson learned: tune out the botany questions until break time.)

The ride ended without much more calamity. Chris and his wife invited us over to his house for snacks, beer and a dip in their pool.

Ahh...guilty pleasures.

A Day at the Zoo (and reading the fine print)

2007-02-04T17:49:00.000Z

The previous week was somewhat busy, and Sunday promised to be a three event day, so SJD and I decided to stick close to home on Saturday. We slept in late, made french toast for breakfast, and then got around to making plans for the day. And what did we come up with? The Accra Zoo!

I was a bit surprised to learn that Accra had a zoo proper. Actual living animals housed and cared for. Off we went to see for ourselves.

After a few minutes of getting lost, refound, lost and eventually rolling into the empty parking lot, we were greeted by, no not a ticket taker or even a human dressed as a chimp, but what appeared to the grounds keeper. He walked around back of the ticket kiosk and proceeded to exchange C10,000 for a stack of entry tickets. We were either the only two people at the zoo, or in fact, it may have been closed for the day, or forever. Not entirely clear. We entered anyways.

First stop: Animals on the mend exhibit. A few species of monkeys, a bird or two all recuperating from various ills or abandonment. Not exactly the most cheerful place to regain some strength, but probably safer than the wild. The animals are locked in cages (sometimes) with a few branches, platforms and waterbowls for entertainment. The padlock on the cage below was actually unlocked.

"Hey fuzzy, why don't you give that pad lock a jiggle and make a run for it."

Second stop: Large Chimps Lucy and Martha. Lucy and Martha reside in separate very sturdy cages, perhaps for good reason. When we approached, Lucy and Martha were minding their business - picking at their toes it appeared. I waited patiently for a minute or two for one them to swing from the trapeze or move, or something...anything frankly. Sure enough, a young boy pushing an empty wheel barrow, running actually, and making quite a racket came around the corner. He completely lost control of the wheel barrow and sent it crashing to the pavement on it's side. The commotion certainly got things going a bit in the chimp cage. Lucy and Martha both charged around their cages, swinging from the ropes and tires. I watched. The boy, for whatever reason, simply left the toppled wheel barrow and kept running. I continued to watch Lucy really violently swing her trapeze bar hard against the roof of her cage.

Had I been reading the posted signs a bit more closely, I would have perhaps clued into what might happen next.

I sort of saw something out of the corner of my eye and flinched an instant before feeling a nice THWACK on my shoulder! Yes, Ms. Martha seemed a bit displeased with my presence and decided to share her breakfast with me. Bananas likely. Boy, it would not have been quite so alarming if they had been fresh bananas still in the peel. Do I need to go into more detail? Ok good. Let me just say that for a girl AND a chimp, she has an incredible arm. Well, I did scream and jump around a bit before being escorted off to the nearby water hose for a quick clean up.

SJD, from that moment on, made sure I clearly understood all the other signs in the zoo.

The rest of the zoo trip wasn't nearly as exciting, thankfully. It does house a modest population of lions, ostriches, snakes, turtles, raptors, rodents, and small antelope all appearing healthy, if a bit eager to get to their newer home.

The Accra Zoo is moving to a new location up near Kumasi. A zoo helper napping outside the refreshment kiosk mentioned that some of the animals were being housed temporarily at Achimota Forest Preserve until Kumasi is ready. Something makes me want to go up to Achimota FP, but something also says, "just stay far, far away."

Driver's License

2007-02-02T21:09:00.000Z

Now we're really confused.

We arrived in Ghana 'round about September. Even though we were carless well into November, we submitted paperwork back in September to start the licensing, insurance, and registration process, assuming there would be a bit of bureaucratic red tape to cut through.

The car was eventually sprung from customs. Fine and dandy. We inquired about the status of the Ghanaian driver's license. The conversation was more or less as follows.

Me: "So, all paperwork is cleared? What about the Ghana Driver's License?

Expediter: "Yes please, it will be ready in 3 months, maybe."

Me: "Three MONTHS??? From September? Why so long? Am I okay to drive with my US license?" Too many questions at once...

Expediter: "Yes, three months. Yes, your license is good."

Me: "That is amazing.... Three hours max in DC... Ok, whatever. So I can drive?" The Ghanaians waiting for me to just move along chuckled at my growing disgust.

Three months would be January 2007 more or less.

We've been driving worry free on a DC license. Weaving through police check points and toll booths without a care all because the expediter said we could.

SJD received her official Ghana International Driving Permit this week. It was an exciting moment to hold the very official looking document - a small book similar to a passport. She is licensed to go out an drive like a nut to her little hearts content. Toot that horn. Drive on the wrong side of the road with your flashers on. Remove some lug nuts, and throw a oil drum on the roof. Let's go for a drive with the lights out.

We flipped past the cover reading GHANA International Driving Permit to the first page listing 80 or so countries honoring the GIDP. Next page: the photo, taped on. Name. Incorrect DOB. Futher instructions on page 38, yes page thirty-eight of your GIDP...

According to P38, SJD is allowed to drive type A, B,C private cars in all 80 or so countries. Not bad. EXCEPT GHANA. The biggest stamp in the entire GIDP states "NOT VALID IN GHANA".

So apparently SJD can still drive anywhere EXCEPT Ghana while we wait for Ghana to process their own version of a driver's license. I, on the other hand, have been informed that my paperwork for either license was never submitted by the expediter way back in September. So maybe sometime in June... Then again, maybe not.

Running is good

2007-02-01T14:53:00.000Z

Taxis are better though. I misplaced the post National Milo Marathon coverage of King Tony.

Wheelin' and dealin'

2007-01-30T21:00:00.000Z

Before leaving DC back in September I was busy making last minute preparations to pack up the house and figure out a way to somehow get our car on the slowest boat from Baltimore to Accra. A bit of procrastination is sometimes a good thing. In the case of the car, the extra time allowed me to get a tune-up and new tires, and pick up a few sundry filters that I now get to figure out how/when to install.

The tire purchase, at the time, seemed like a bit of reaction to an over anxious imagination producing thoughts of being stranded whoknowswhere at midnight with two flat tires and just one donut spare. Furthermore, I just assumed that proper tires would be difficult to find in Africa. Not necessarily the case it would seem. I once missed a movie start time because my spare donut was flat afterall. Rough life we live in the big city...

So anyway, the car arrived in Accra three months later with four shiny new tires. The old tires were shipped ahead, and were stacked and waiting in the garage ever since for something bad to happen. Actually, I intended to have the old tires installed on rims for use as spares.

Today I finally got around to checking TIRES off the to-do list. I mentioned to Patience that I was headed out to the grocery store and on a few other errands as I was rolling a tire out the front door. She stopped me to ask what was wrong with the tire. Before I could finish explaining, she was on the phone with her husband arranging to meet me and make sure I didn't get bamboozled by the tire vendors. I could not think of a polite way to say, "thanks, but I prefer to go alone and get bamboozled out of a buck or two, rather than wait." Just find the nearest guy selling a rim and be done with it.

A while later, Derrick and I were making our way accross town to the spare auto parts market between Kwame Nkrumah Circle and Kaneshie Market. He didn't believe me when I explained that SJD and I had walked through the market for fun.

Luckily the tires and rims are located on the road side. I thought surely we could just pull over, point to what we needed, and be on our way home in five minutes. Not so fast rookie.

Derrick kindly reminded me of my whiteness and that I should just stay in the car to avoid being overcharged. He directed me to pull into the gas station a block away. After explaining to the attendants the situation, he and two others were off to the market on a rim hunt. Thirty minutes passed until the three reappeared with a 5 bolt x 16" steel rim - perfect for a spare. We jacked up the front end to remove my wheel to test the fit. Wrong bolt pattern. Back they went.

The second attempt produced a 5 bolt x 15" rim with several dents. Nice try. At this point I realized that I'd better inform Derrick just how much I was willing to spend. He managed to negotiate the price down to every cedi in my pocket.

Now an hour into the search, they returned a third time with a perfect match. We popped on the tire in no time. Derrick paid and tipped the other guys a few thousand cedis and high tailed it back across town beating traffic.

Ghana to Chair African Union

2007-01-30T08:05:00.000Z

From the Washington Post...

Ghana to Chair African Union Instead of Sudan: Top Official

By Les Neuhaus and Alfred de MontesquiouAssociated PressTuesday, January 30, 2007; Page A14

ADDIS ABABA, Ethiopia, Jan. 29 -- Bloodshed in Sudan's Darfur region dominated discussion at the African Union summit Monday, blocking Sudan's bid to lead the 53-country group as the U.N. chief described scorched-earth military policies as "a terrifying feature of life" in the vast, arid area.

More here

Aburi 50K

2007-01-27T19:27:00.000Z

Saturday morning Chris, SJD, Aussie Sarah and Dave met Kofi for another romp around Aburi. We made it pretty clear that we wanted to ride a bit further than our previous outing that ended with a disappointing taxi ride back home. Kofi came through this time.

Rides fall into two categories: Non-epics and epics.

A non-epic ride is pulled off without much misery. You don't need to rely on maps. Nobody gets hurt mentally of physically. Bikes function properly. Weather remains constant. It is somewhat like you wish your daily commute would be.

An epic ride should have equal but opposite elements. You'll regret starting the stupid ride until you return to the car at which time all is forgiven and only heroic memories are left. You'll get lost along the way. Suffer some sort of injury or discomfort, much to the amusement of your friends. A strange (not necessarily bad) encounter with the locals, animal, authority or similar. Some bike part needs to break, repeatedly. It is even more enjoyable if the weather turns unexpectably. Time and distance are, at best, just guesses. An epic ride is similar to what I imagine it would be like to voluntarily commute between Lorton, VA to Baltimore, MD year round.

I guess our Aburi ride, just barely, qualifies for Epic status.

All good epic rides should start with a mechanical before even leaving the trailhead. As we pulled up to the meeting point, I noticed that the left rear on the Subaru was going flat. Nothing was obviously wrong with the tire. Once I had it removed, one of Kofi's assistants rolled it down the hill to the vulcanizer for a look-see. Twenty minutes later it was back on the car, and holding air. Check 1!

All set to ride.

Kofi, SJD and Chris grinding up the main road between someplace and back yonder.

We passed through this village a month ago, and were met with the same enthusiasm. The kids yell and laugh as they run behind us. Who knows why but I guess it makes as much sense as those spectators who run alongside the riders in the Tour de France. Check 2!

Dave knew of a nice little place to grab a warm Fanta. I was not feeling very good, but not bad enough to visit the Stomach Clinic. Not sure if it was the heat, bad water, bad food. Warm Fanta didn't help matters. Check 3!

Come on Chris, we can't stay here forever.

The village drunk shows up to lecture SJD, about what we have no clue. Check 4!

Kofi, the tour guide and sole proprietor of Ghana Bike and Hike Tours. Everybody knows Kofi. Not too many men can wear a Barbie helmet and spandex with such confidence.

A cattle encounter along the road. Check 5!

Chris rolling through a twisty bit of singletrack on his brand new Orange hardtail.

About mid way through the ride, Kofi managed to snap his chain. Not a terribly uncommon mishap, or particularly difficult repair....unless the pin is shot and repair tool is broken... and the tropical sun is beating down...and you have a audience. We tried to reinsert the pin with his pliers (no luck); tried to replace the link with my SRAM link (wrong width chain). Eventually we moved into the shade where my brain could function a bit easier. We ended up removing one link and pressing in an existing link with my chain tool. It was quite the show for 20 minutes. Kids and parents came out to spectate. Every now and then there would be silence, I'd feel a poke on my shoulder, followed by laughter. Apparently they were daring each other to touch the withering white guy. Checks 5 and 6!

Nearing the end of the ride, we came across a boy having some difficulty with his bike. We stopped to see if we could help. The problem was not immeadiately obvious until we realized that the chain was not wrapping around the chain rings properly. Apparently the chain had broken, and while fixing the link he twisted the chain. We took a few minutes to sort matters out before he went of in the opposite direction.

To top things off, the 30K ride we had orginally planned for turned out to be more like 30 miles with 3,500' of climbing.

Ok, maybe it doesn't quite compare to the winter epics in the GWNF in the company of Jens, Buchness, Camp, Quigley, Mike-n-Susan, Dan, Brian, Nancy, Steve and Barry. We're building up to that level of silliness though.

The Fanta Wire Recycled Flyer

2007-01-25T17:44:00.000Z

As mentioned in the previous post. Clever things made from junk. Everything spins and turns too. You can pick up replacement parts almost anyplace.

Cantonments Roundabout

2007-01-25T16:37:00.000Z

There sure are a few mature trees falling in our neighborhood lately.

On the way home from running errands, I snapped this photo above of Cantonments Roundabout (a.k.a. Togo Circle). It is a series of four photos weaved together digitally for the panorama affect. Kinda cool...except for all the missing trees.

I stopped along the opposite side of the circle to ask a man if he knew what why the trees were being removed. (He is a bit of a road-side artisan cleverly making little objects out of junk, wire and garbage.) He explained that a statue or fountain will be installed - a former governor named Offriotta (sp?) perhaps. He assumes that the trees were maybe even planted by this same person when he lived nearby. Who knows...

When I commented that the trees looked very old, he guessed at least one hundred years old. Perhaps he is right. The tree in the center mostly obscured by stumps is quite large. I stopped counting rings on one stump when I got to 80.

In any case, he clearly had a stong opinion about the trees being removed, attributing some of Accra's water management problems to the lack of trees. Makes perfect sense to me.

In fact Togo Circle probably functioned better as a traffic circle than a true park. Certainly not an urban refuge. The trees were a nice touch though in a city lacking parks and cluttered with billboards.

The image above shows Togo Circle before the cutting.

West Africa Consultants' Network - new blog site!

2007-01-22T15:59:00.000Z

This is a project that I, and a few others, have been working on for the past month or so with a few other spouses living in Accra that are seeking employment in various fields.

West Africa Consultants Network

I more or less volunteered to convert the paper version of the Qualification Summaries into a Blogsite. With the blog, we can add, delete and sort content as needed. More importantly we can notify a greater number of NGOs, agencies and private employers on a more frequent basis. We are not simply relying on a piece of paper that may get misplaced. We're up 24/7!

So, we number about 35 consultants at the moment. A fairly diverse group, with skills and interests far different than mine.

Have a look and let me know what you think.

Bunches of bats

2007-01-20T21:08:00.000Z

These rather large bats have been residing in the trees around the 37 intersection for a few months. They fly around in the early morning and the again just before sunset. The swarm is very noticeable in the sky from our house about a 1/2 mile away. The rest of the day they kinda hang around.

37 intersection is busy pedestrian hub as well. Nobody seems to mind or even notice the bats, although the smell of guano is pretty strong. Perhaps it is not at bad as the diesel fumes of idling traffic.

Notice that the tops of the trees lack greenery. SJD suspects they've been gnawing away at the papaya in the backyard trees.

I bet the surveillance camera keeps tabs on the population.

Amaryllis

2007-01-19T11:21:00.000Z

... and check out the snazzy drapery ties.

New shirt alert

2007-01-19T09:09:00.000Z

One of my first outings in Accra back in October was to the batik print maker along Labadi Beach Highway. Archive of the earlier post is here.

Since this purchase, the fabric has been draped across a table to add some color to the house, but also to hide a really ugly side table and coffee table. The style of the furniture was best described as "early motel." Neither trendy nor traditional - just kinda...well functional.

Not far from our house is a tailor named Ester, who operates out of a small kiosk in front of her family's house. We pass it several times each week either returning from fetching the mail, or buying produce from the neighborhood stand located a few footsteps away from Ester. Actually, there are several small tailors around. People who have lived here long enough have their favorite secret tailor. Many are quite talented, and seem to generate a decent income from their work.

It took a few months for me to decide what type of shirt to have made from the fabric. I was not sure if I should just point to one of the photos on the wall of the kiosk (probably not since they were all women's outfits) or try to describe what I was looking for using words and gestures. Would she be offended, or just refuse if I handed over one of my own shirts for replication?

I finally made up my mind to have a cycling jersey made - something that I could wear to the store without looking like I just took a detour from Tour de France. Something similar to the coffee table - neither trendy nor traditional, but functional. I picked a rather plain jersey from my closet - one that fits me well. Then, with a few hundred thousand cedis, I headed off to Ester's shop. I pointed out a few of the details like the rear zippered pleated pocket, side slit, slightly longer tail and narrow collar. She smiled and told me to come back in one or two days. Price? The equivelant of about $5.00. That was easy enough.

She did a really nice job picking up all the details. Unfortunately, the shoulders are a wee bit snug when I reach forward for the handlebars. That's right - too many muscles ;-) We suspect the control sample shirt made of synthetic material stretches a bit more in ways the batik does not.

I modeled for SJD and Patience. Both agreed that it could be fixed. Patience felt a bit more strongly that I overpaid ($5.42), and should really just go to her secret tailor. When I explained that Ester is super-conveniently located, she just shook her head.

So, back I go...

Patience and Isabella

2007-01-18T18:50:00.000Z

Isabella was born a few days before I arrived in Accra. Her mother, Patience, cleans our house as well as the neighbor's.

Infants seem happy as can be cinched up in a cloth wrapped around their mother's or sister's waist. I've watched her get situated a few times, but can't figure out how it all stays put so securely. Patience sort of bends over a bit and swings Isabella around onto her back side with legs splayed. With her other free hand, she whips a cloth around Isabella's bottom, around the other side and tucks everthing in on the front. No knots or velcro involved!

Isabella is still quite small, and not yet able to roll over. Sooner or later her feet will stick out the sides - right now obscured by her mother's elbow.

Revisit to Mr. Rexford.

2007-01-18T11:22:00.000Z

We ended our little Kaneshie Market outing with a side trip into the neighborhood just across the road, Abose Okai, to pay a visit to someone that appeared in this blog back in September - Mr. Rexford and his mountain of bikes.

Rexford remembered me from four months earlier. Understandably so, this part of town is not on the tourist route, so any foreigner really sticks out . It does take a bit of patience and desire to get to his work shop. The road is narrow, filthy and clogged with taxis and pedestrians.

Rexford was surprised to see me return, and seemed amazed that I brought SJD with me. I mostly wanted to snoop for random odd parts, but also intended to learn a bit more about the bicycle business here in West Africa - one of a few odd jobs that seems prevalent. We got an earful.

Rexford's bikes number in the thousands. He admits that he has no idea exactly how many bikes are piled on his property. Where he gets them from is still somewhat of a mystery to us. Some bikes are purchased at Makola Market;others must arrive by dump truck. Everything is used, battered and covered in dust.

Ghana has some odd tariffs on bikes. New complete bikes are taxed. Used complete bikes are not taxed. Import of bike parts, pieces and accessories ARE taxed though. Odd, I say, because Ghana does not produce a single raw material or finished product for bikes that would explain the mix of tariffs imposed on imported goods from around the globe. Everything is imported.

So, lots of old donated junker bikes from the US end up in Ghana through various channels. Many Ghanaians have set up a nice little businesses of buying, refurbishing and reselling bikes. Small scale bike vendors with 20 or so bikes are like Starbucks in the US - everywhere. A used, but functioning ten-speed or mountainbike seems to cost between $30-$45 without much haggling - a pretty large sum of money to most Ghanaians. It is good to see.

It goes beyond resale though. Bikes that arrive in Ghana, but are considered to be beyond repair, are stripped for parts. Not just seat, wheels, and forks. Try bearings, cables, grips, tires, spokes, chain links down to the random nuts and bolts. This enables them to avoid paying the import duty on parts. I think they take the disassembly a bit too far at times. In any case, parts then become available on the local market at a much more reasonable price. Smart eh?

So, what happens to the frame? Well, Burkina Faso has import taxes on frames, but not on parts. Just the opposite, more or less. So, anyone from BF willing to purchase and transport frames up north can buy from Ghana. Anything left over in Ghana is simply sold to the scrap metal smelters once the heap reaches certain proportions or value according to Mr. Rexford. Beats a landfill I guess.

In fact, looking around Rexford's shop, it does seem a bit different. Rexford seems to be in the business of redistribution of bikes. Young boys provide the bulk of labor, grabbing a bike from the heap and proceeding with disassembly. Tools and methods are rather crude. Most disassembly is done with a hammer and screw driver. Proper tools and a bit of education on proper use would go a long way in extending the usefulness of the some of the bikes and parts. The much smaller scale repair/resale kiosks appear to have proper tools. I left the compound thinking to myself, "well, good for them...but I really hope I never need to leave my bike in their hands for repair."

For sharing his time and insite, we bought a large and solid stainless steel rear rack for a future bike project.

Kaneshie Market

2007-01-14T11:39:00.000Z

We have passed the Kaneshie Market several times, but have never bothered to stop in for a looksee. Usually we've been on bike rides out the west side of Accra. Either tired, dressed inappropriately, lacking a bike lock or just not really interested in buying anything, it was easy to pass up. We've been to the sprawling, densely packed Makola Market, and assumed that Kaneshie would be not much different.

We didn't want to give up on Kaneshie Market so easily though. SJD read that there were some nice bead vendors hidden someplace inside. It was a good enough reason for the two of us to wave down a taxi for a trip across town.

Makola seems to be an series of alleys with storefronts that swing open spilling all sorts of merchandise onto the sidewalk, across the gutter and into streets. I would not say that there is much, if any, logic to the layout. It seems as though you simply keep walking until you find what ever it is you need. Flip-flops, drill bits, tupperware, car batteries, children's clothes, mud flaps, cassava, computer cables, belts, dried fish, transistor radios, cookies, picture frames, DVDs, socks. In fact, it seems, that you could simply grab a seat and wait for a vendor to approach you selling something. For some reason it also seems that we attract a lot of attention at the markets. Not the other thousands of people wandering about - the two of us, plain and simple, but fair skinned.

Attracting our attention usually involves pointing at nicely stacked pyramid of produce as we drive by, or shoving an armful of little girls' frilly dresses in front of us as we walk by. Every now and then a vendor is holding an animal by the neck or hind legs. All is up for grabs. Presentation is key. Anticipating your customer's needs is entirely secondary, because there is always the chance that he/she may need a size 15 vinyl loafer today. Even though I will probably never purchase any of the giant live snails or ground flour, it is still a neat place to visit. All this to say that Makola Market is a fascinating place that requires a lot of energy and a different mindset than hitting Whole Foods, Target, Trak Auto, Nordstroms and Best Buy in the same day. It is nice to know it is there.

Kaneshie Market on the other hand seems almost entirely manageable by comparison. Sure, we still were grossed out by fresh pig parts on a platter and jostled in narrow passages. SJD was even run over by a man pushing a overflowing wheel barrow of cassava. Luckly she only stumbled onto a display of plantains causing a momentary chuckle by the women vendors - and an offer to make a deal. For the most part, there is room to move in the aisles without walking sideways of stepping over sleeping children or smoldering cooking fires. There is some semblance of logic too. Ground floor - food. First floor - housewares and beads, hairdressers. Second floor - tailors, lots of tailors. Less chaotic, but still exciting.

SJD sifted through one vendor's bead collection before settling on a few strands and random individual beads. Apparently there are subtle differences that make a bead simply ordinary or of qaulity. Her modest collection is growing.

We continued to wander the upper floors. The third floor houses hundreds of individual tailoring kiosks. By kiosk, I mean 8'x8' wood box just large enough for one person, a sewing machine and perhaps a radio - not necessarily a comfortable work space. Inexpensive though - apparently rented at C50,000 ($5.42 ) per month. African dresses and shirts. More dresses and shirts. In fact, after a few minutes it became apparent that everyone was, more or less, offering pretty much the same twenty or thirty styles, but in different fabrics. It reminded us that we needed to use some of the fabric that we purchased a couple of months ago.

Left to draw our own conclusions

2007-01-08T11:13:00.000Z

aaGuide books understandably do not provide all the answers. Sometimes we have to see for ourselves what lies down the road. Get lost. Fill in the gaps. Accept that we don't understand what we see. Even then we can not always explain what it is, or why and how something belongs there. Some examples from this past weekend's trip out east.

Tombstone miles from any village - What was this guy's record?

Miles of deserted sandy beaches and warm water (low tide). Where is everyone? Is the rip-tide really as bad as they say it is? We didn't check.

Miles of deserted littered beaches (above high tide line). I think I understand some the factors that result in beaches looking like this. It is quite a complicated problem to address. Way more complicated than an abundance of litter bugs.

What is the meaning of this symbol, and why is it on every plastic chair?

Bold and daring means of moving goods. This is nuthin' too.

Critters beware!

2007-01-03T10:33:00.000Z

Who doesn't like to be the first person to spot the local critters when traveling?

Australia is covered with all sorts of interesting critters. We were fortunate to catch a glimpses in the wild of killer whales, cassowary, crocs, stingray, piranha, clown fish, many more fish, even more birds, lizards of all sizes, 'roos, wallabees, a snake or two, and, my favorite, the shower frog. No dingos.

In Washington State we were able to get close enough to this guy returning from our Alpine Lake wilderness hiking trip.

So far in Ghana, we've had modest success with our limited travel. Baboons, vultures, eagles, bats (lots of bats), grass cutters, strange insects. On two occasions now, the hired guide killed the critter much to our alarm, even though it did not appear to present any immediate danger. The snake pictured in an earlier post - crushed buy a rock. The guide initially said he was just scaring it away, but "accidentally" hit it. The second tossed boulder did him in for good. It seemed unnecessary.

This past weekend at Xofa, I noticed something moving past my shoe in the dark while eating dinner. We grabbed a flashlight and spotted a 4" long black scorpion scurrying past. We gave it distance and notified the adjacent guests and wait staff so they could look at it. The immediate reaction of the wait staff was to drop a heavy rock on it. Seemed a bit extreme.

So much for eco-tourism...

Xofa, Ghana

2007-01-03T08:41:00.000Z

Leaving Aburi behind, we headed north again into the Volta Region to Xofa (Bradt pages 251-2), this time without any police service hassles. I'm note sure if Xofa is a village, or simply the name of a farm, but it is a few miles off a paved road through planted hillsides on the low banks of Lake Volta. The footpath described in the Bradt guide has been widened to allow cars driven gingerly.

The short drive up and over the hills that leads down to Xofa would be quite pretty on a clear day. The harmattan is quite noticeable though. We can see the outline of the near mountain ridges, but have difficulty making out much detail. In general though, the surroundings are quite lush even if most of the natural forests have been replaced by agricultural plots. Xofa lies at the end of the winding dirt track.

We are greeted and lea to our stone and thatch hut where we drop our duffle. The single room includes a double bed, hammock and dresser. No electricity. Screened and shuttered windows provide enough light and ventilation. I get the sense that the plants are a bit stressed in due in part to the dry season as well as the water pump being broken.

With a few more hours of day light remaining we make our way to the shore to watch the fishing boats gather their nets for the day. Or maybe they're simply dropping nets for the next day. In any case, while we're waiting, two boys probably eight years old hop into the two boats rather quickly and shove off. A minute later, one of the Xofa staff follows speaking somewhat sternly to get the boys' attention. They keep paddling. We're not really sure what words were exchanged, but SJD seems to think the boys snatched some mangoes from the Xofa trees, perhaps without permission. Later we find out that Xofa actually encourages the other lakeside villages to plant fruit trees in order to provide the fisherman convenient food. Minutes later, the boats disappear into a cove hiding the next village. We can hear the drumming and singing though.

Around 5pm, the cook finds us on the shore to ask what we would like to eat that for dinner. We followed him up the eating area and ordered drinks - warm beer and warm water - and watched the sun set and moon rise as we waited for dinner. We waited and waited. We reminded ourselves to be patient. Waited some more. At last, around 7:15 food arrived. The meal was simple and tasty - rice, tilapia and tomato sauce.

Midnight seemed to pass without much fanfare. Last year we saw Lobster Boy at the Warehouse Theatre in DC. It was funny, odd and interesting but in a much different way.

1/1/07 - We were woken shortly after 6am by the rooster cocka-doodle-doing and staff sweeping the dirt outside our hut. Breakfast had been prearranged for 8am so we could get out and about. Waited until 9am for coffee, omelette and white bread to be served. As well, we had prearranged for a canoe ride across Lake Volta to Dodi Island departing at 10am. Ready to go at 10am, we were asked again to be patient while the canoes were fetched. Rolling our eyes we returned to the beach to read our books and wait. Around 11:15 two canoes arrive around the bend. We ask if they are for us, and how long it will take, and when we'll return and where we're going, and if they understand us or our pointing. They reply yes, but we're clearly not communicating with enough assurance. Soon, one of the Xofa staff, a rastafarian who liked to sing while working, appears to sort matters out. The three grab paddles and tell us to jump in. We're off...to someplace...presumably with a decent swimming beach...presumably a round trip.

The flat bottom wood canoe journey takes roughly 45 minutes to the Dodi Island. Nearer the shore lines, remnants of the submerged forests poke out above the water line. More dangerous are the stumps that lurk just below the water surface. We scraped a few, but were merely jostled slightly. The larger passenger ferries are not always so fortunate.

SJD had a article from a 1961 business journal detailing some of the decisions and lobbying that led to the creation of Lake Volta. It is an interesting piece of history.

The stay on Dodi Island was brief. Just long enough for a mini-hike, a quick swim and to watch a seemingly overloaded passenger ferry drop passengers. Forty-five minutes later we were back at Xofa.

Perhaps more on Xofa later...

Happy New Year!

From the Travel Channel website...

2007-01-03T08:30:00.000Z

Tavel Channel
January 8, 2007
10:00 PM

Celebrity chef and tv host Anthony Bourdain is at it again, this time heading to Ghana. The old Ghana, a land of forts and slavery, is a strong contrast to the modern-era Ghana, a culture filled with food and music.

More info

MTB Aburi

2007-01-03T08:06:00.000Z

To close out 2006 on a good note, SJD and I met another DC transplant, Chris, for a morning mountain bike ride in the hills and valleys around Aburi. Our first ride with Kofi from Ghana Bike Tours was positive. Despite a late start and mechanical or two, the trail and scenery were interesting.

For the 12/31 ride we plotted a route north about 25KM on dirt road and trail. Transportation was arranged to pick us up at the 25KM point three hours later in order to return us to Aburi. Sounded like a solid plan. Off we went. A younger guide led us out of town and down a few rather steep descents into the neighboring valley. Once at the bottom SJD, Chris and I were somewhat disappointed that we had already covered 5KM on pavement, bypassing forests that surely hid trails. Any mountain biker will tell you that they much prefer dirt to pavement. Oh well. Eventually pavement gave way to dirt to double track to singletrack. What was missed was soon forgotten.

Ghana is heading into the hot/dry season, and the harmattan is obscuring views of the hill peaks. The sky is hazy but the air is neither humid nor breezy. The dust blocks just enough sun light to make mid-day exposure tolerable. The dirt roads are left to bake solid as concrete. There are huge tire ruts and gullies that must be remnants of the rainy season. They are completely dry this time of year. It is hard to imagine how the local farmers and school children make any progress during the rainy season. I don't recall any vehicles moving, parked, stuck or broken down.

As we pass through a few small villages, several children playfully chase us on foot shouting obruni, obruni... I get a kick out of seeing just how far any one of them will run in flip flops or bare feet before calling off the chase. Without varying my speed at all, two minutes seems to be the record - and that was against a slight up hill!

The riding progressed without too much drama. In fact, the pace seemed a bit light as if the profile was slightly down hill. We arrived at the 25KM rendevous point in just 90 minutes - or 90 minutes ahead of schedule. Chris, SJD and I quizzed our guide whether to tack on additional KMs, skip the return transport, back track, or simply wait. As quite a crowd had gathered to watch us plan our next move, we decided to peddle on back to Aburi. I had a vague recollection of our location on a map. The ride, from this point, was all pavement and mostly uphill. Not exactly fun, but a good workout and much better than waiting indefinitely. We were a bit miffed about mis-calculation of time/distance, having anticipated a much longer ride. The guides were not entirely certain what kind of vehicle would pick us up either. I wanted to assume pick-up truck or van, but thought I overheard Opel Astra - the common taxi. We agreed to make the most of the ride, and set out up the road knowing that whomever was tasked with scooping us up would certainly spot three red-in-the-face obrunis followed by one Ghanaian on bikes riding up one of the steepest hills around. Fifteen minutes later....

Honking his horn repeatedly and smiling widely, the taxi driver in the Opel pulls over in front of me already with one bike and rider inside. Somewhat out of defiance, but mostly questioning just how we'll fit three more bikes AND riders into this little car, we wave and tell them we'll ride to the top - probably another fifteen minutes of sustained climbing to Mamfe.

We eventually top out and pull over to meet the taxi. Discussion starts about how we'll get back to Aburi. Certainly there must be a second taxi, right? Nah... Just for the record - we managed to squeeze five people and three complete bikes INTO the car. The fourth bike, mine, is being tethered to the roof with twine (cringe). The taxi driver and guide think nothing of being packed in like sardines. And yes, we see all sorts of overloaded vehicles all the time. This taxi didn't even have the ubiquitous overly reassuring window stickers proclaiming "All shall Pass" or similar combinations including of "brother", "father", "riseth", "mighty", or "hath shame".

Well, all ended soon enough. The young boy at pictured at the top was still waiting by our car to greet us as he was two weeks earlier. The guides offered fresh pineapple as we cleaned up and packed our belongings. Chris headed back to Accra. SJD and I headed further north into Volta Region for the long new year's weekend.

On the outside looking in...

2006-12-26T15:56:00.000Z

Boxing Day -- Thanks to the lingering influence of the Brits, Boxing Day is a holiday here in Ghana. Can't complain about an extra day off. BEP and I decided to hop on our bikes for a few hours of local riding. The fact that we can and do hop on our bikes and zip around for several hours without having to consult a map or ask for directions (a futile exercise here in any event) suggests that Accra is becoming home. In many ways it is, but today's ride also reminded me just how "other" things still feel and how much more I have to learn about this place I'm calling home for two years. I see. I kind of know what I'm seeing. But I have only the most superficial understanding of it. A few examples might illustrate.

A few minutes after setting out from home, we passed the airport. Just outside the entrance, a mini-city has sprung up along the side of the road of vendors and people sleeping, praying and waiting. They are, I have heard, pilgrims taking part in the Hajj. Ghana has a significant Muslim population so it is not surprising that people take part in the Hajj. But what is the story behind this mini-encampment? Is it just the result of people caught in travel snafus that have left them stranded (that'd be my first guess) or some more complex story. We ride by.

At the next major intersection, we come across the usual array of hawkers selling food, auto parts, you-name-it, but mixed among them are people dressed in jumpsuits made of brightly colored scraps of cloth and rather frightening looking masks and wigs. They seem to be collecting money. I've been told this is a Christmas tradition (it looks more like a mardi gras outfit than anything I'd associate with Christmas) but what is the origin, who takes part, why? We ride on.

At the last major junction -- Atomic Junction -- before we hit some open road (actually it is a congested area that lasts at least two miles) , we find ourselves in the midst of the ever-popular relatively good-natured game of chicken that plays out on the roads throughout Ghana. We do battle with the tro-tros that are packed to the gills with travelers and weaving on and off the shoulder to pick up and drop off passengers with alarming irregularity. Somehow, everyone seems to know where the tro tro is going and when it will stop. I'm told that the hand gestures are the key -- they all look like frantic waves to me. Perhaps someday, I'll decode it all. We make it through unscathed and hit the open road. At last I feel at "home" -- on a bike, going fast and headed to the hills.

Merry Christmas ! ! !

2006-12-25T17:30:00.000Z

Happy Hanukkah, Kwanza and Boxing Day as well.

Who on earth came up with that corny photo idea and what possessed us to actually take it (it took some doing to place the camera just-so for a time-delayed shot)? Chalk it up to holiday spirit in the tropics.

Second job offer!

2006-12-21T08:41:00.000Z

I just received a call from my wife to tell me about a job opening. She was kind of rushed, but covered the specifics thoroughly enough and needed me to accept right then and there.

The offer seemed decent - free food and drink as well as a uniform. Alas, I had to decline to be Santa for a Day at an embassy Christmas party. No, winter coats, baggy pants, tall boots and hats just aren't my style in the middle of the day. Besides, it would be such a disappointment to see Santa wiping sweat from his brow with his fake beard and fighting off the early symptoms of heat stroke. Sorry for that visual. Sorry to decline.

"What about that first real job offer," you ask. Ah, that is story for another day.

What to do with that old bike?

2006-12-15T16:53:00.000Z

This question was asked recently on the MORE forum. Being that time of year when many of us replace, replenish or replicate something that works just fine, I fully understand the dilemma of the bike crazed consumer - what should we do with that old bike or part (or just about any other object found in a typical house)? Be it buyer's remorse or simply a lack of storage space, we eventually clue in that it might be fine time to downsize.

Since arriving in Ghana, I've had a few email exchanges and phone conversations with various non-profit organizations promoting bicycle usage in developing communities. In my own words, the promotion and description of the programs list below would be entirely simplistic. They all collect donated bikes and parts for distribution and affordable resale through various means. They all need used bikes. Bikes can be just a means to obtaining a better life - not just a indicator of having already achieved it.

Best to skim the sites for yourself for the full story...

Bikes for the World

Village Bike Project

Chain Reaction Youth Bike Shop (DC)

Surely there are many other programs that operate domestically as well.

In my most recent phone coversation with a BftW rep back in Arlington, VA, we discussed how I might be able to provide a somewhat local perspective of the bike scene in Accra and beyond. What works? What doesn't work? What is the Government of Ghana doing to promote cycling (sorry, had to chuckle)? How are bikes being used? What do bikes/parts cost? Who rides bikes? Why?

I'm pretty excited have the opportunity to do something like this.

Oh, so don't scrap that old bike. Recycle it!

New York to Accra non-stop on Delta

2006-12-14T08:56:00.000Z

Delta Rounds Out Year of International Expansion in New York with Nonstop Flights to Africa

http://news.delta.com/article_display.cfm?article_id=10480

Good news!

Tafi Abuipe, Ghana - Kente

2006-12-11T15:52:00.000Z

Biakpa, Ghana - Mountain biking

2006-12-11T14:44:00.000Z

Day Two - All trails lead to Kpedze.

We weren't the first to rise. The local villagers beat us. They must have been up at 6am on Saturday morning. We could hear the faint singing and talking as they passed by on the road a few hundred yards away - perhaps going to a funeral or to market according to the MPL owner.

We finally emerged from our room around 7:30 for breakfast before heading out on a self-guided mountain bike tour. According to the topo maps, a combination of road, tracks and trails could link together four villages. Off we went down the road descending more quickly than any car - not that there were any, but simply the mtbs were in their element on the rocky bumpy road. At Fume, we headed east up a similar rocky road through Gbadzeme village. Although we pass through slowly and quietly, the sudden appearance of two freaky looking white people on bikes wearing helmets is reason enough for the local kids and adults to stop, turn, wave and(thankfully) offer, "you are welcome." It is such a pleasant contrast to the annoying "obruni" we encounter in Accra, and simply ignore. The road passes through the village center and into groves of casava, where there is a split. A quick consult of the map is confirmed by the local farmer who points us to the right. The road, now mostly just and overgrown road with a singletrack down the center rises quickly testing our legs a bit before topping out at Amedzope.

At Amedzope we were greeted in the town center by three teens who escorted us to the very oddly prominent visitor's center. We explained our route to the VC staff. One recommended that the trail is not worth riding to the next town - Kpedze. We had been assured by the MPL owner that the same route was ridden the week earlier. Another staff agreed that the trail does exist, and pointed us down the road. Before leaving Amedzope, we grabbed a quick drink. Shouldn't every tough climb have a bar at the top?

The next few miles of trail were all singletrack. Surely not recreational trails given the number of people walking with bundles of firewood or handsawn planks of lumber on their heads. Sweet trails none the less. We were mindful to control our speed and greet any locals we met along the way.

After another 45 minutes or so of gradual descending, we had to make another fork-in-trail decision. We chose left this time following the sounds of singing and drumming presumably on the fringe of Kpedze. The 1973 topo map was not so much help at this point, but we guestimated that the trail must lead to the village. The singing and drumming, and occasional kaboom that sounded alarmingly like a gunshot but was probably just a kaboom, was just the Kpedze "Kid Fest" wrapping up for the day. We managed to sneak through to the main road rather unnoticed.

The rest of the ride wandered to Dzolokpuita around the south base of the range. From there, we headed up a well maintained dirt road back up into the range through Vane, Biakpa and finally the MPL.

We were back at the MPL well before dark, showered but tired, relaxing and rehydrating ready for another nice meal. We're excited to return knowing that there are so many more trails and roads to explore on the bikes.

Biakpa - Kulugu River waterfall hike

2006-12-11T13:44:00.000Z

With a few hours of daylight remaining after settling into the Mountain Paradise Lodge, SJD and I inquired about one of the local short hikes starting from the lodge. A guide would lead us down the road and into the forest, up and down trails to a series of secluded waterfalls for a small fee. Since we spend waaaay too much time at REI with the end result being a sense of being terminally over prepared, we grabbed our Camelbaks, laced up our hikers, slathered on sunscreen and bug spray, donned our sun hats and joined our guide - Princeton.

Princeton, who apparently has not read any Bill Bryson or Jon Krakauer, headed out in a t-shirt, shorts and flip-flops, carrying a piece of brown bread. Not TEVAs or KEENS. Blue rubber flip flops, without socks. He answered all our questions as we stumbled down the road to the trail head. My question: "Why the machete?" I didn't quite make out his answer, but kinda wanted to believe I heard him say, "Oh, to clear the path of branches and weeds." Into the woods we followed to a rock ledge with a dangling rope down to the first waterfall.

SJD drops in.

We're being watched from a safe distance.

Waterfall number one. Check!

Onward and up the trail we passed through a farmer's small plot in the middle of the forest. Apparently this is on Princeton's regular loop, so our five minute visit was not an intrusion to their privacy. The husband and wife grow bananas, cocoa, avacadoes, palm oil nuts, and yams. All non-mechanized farming up to the point when they sell it in the nearest village - 3 miles away by foot, plus 1 mile in the forest. He shared that the house may last up to six years depending on the weather. The thatch roof probably three years. The three sons have left home for school or work in Accra. We thanked them for the visit and pressed on to the lodge.

Princeton eventually lead us straight up the slope of the hill to the foot of the lodge. Clearly the trails are the shortest distance between two points - not necessarily intended to be scenic, sustainable or easy to walk on in boots, flip-flops, or bare feet.

Back at the lodge, tired and hungry, we ate a simple but nicely prepared Ghanaian dinner as the sun set.

Escape from Accra!

2006-12-11T11:47:00.000Z

Feeling the need to escape Accra, SJD and I loaded up the car with the mountain bikes, maps, snacks and clothing for a long weekend in the Volta Region. The VR is the hilly and green sliver of land nestled between the Lake Volta and the border of Togo. The air was certain to be cooler and fresher than in Accra. We hoped to see some sites, relax, ride, relax, eat and relax. We ended up staying at the Mountain Paradise Lodge, about half way between the towns of Ho and Hohoe, near the village of Biakpa.

For our first major solo outing in our car here in Ghana, I wanted to make doubly sure we would not encounter any problems mechanically or navigationally. We copied all important insurance, registrtation and license docments in case we would be asked to present them. The car was topped off with fuel. Plenty of maps. I stowed a reflective traffic saftey triangle as required by law. All set. Three of for more trips later back inside the house to make sure we unplugged the iron, toaster, TV and computer we were ready to go. Oh yeah, Ghana requires a small fire extinguisher be carried in cars. Not entirely sure where to get one right now, I grabbed one from the house - the big one! The Ghanain gardner, Emmanuel, had a good laugh watching us. Finally we're off for the hills!

Traffic was light, and we were making decent time. Not rushed. Just crusing along getting a chuckle at the reaction and gestures of onlookers to a small car with two half-assembled bikes mounted on top. Certainly not an oddity in the US to see bikes dangling off cars, but in Ghana, oh yes, it grabs one's attention. Stop, turn, point. Kinda the same way I stop, turn, and scratch my head everytime I see a tro-tro or flatbed truck stacked high with oil barrels, couches or humans. Well, the Ghana Police Service apparently didn't think it was just simply amusing as we approached the check point north of Ashaiman. We were waved to the side of the road. I cracked the window as the officer approached the driver's side. He simply asked where we were headed, and for how long before politely wishing us a safe trip. The officers on the other side jabbered on and pointed to various stickers and the bikes on top. SJD just smiled. We pulled away a minute later feeling relieved but a bit annoyed.

Eventually the scenery changes from dry and dusty to greener agricultural plots. Tro-tros pick and drop passengers along the way. People are still walking great distances between towns. Two more police check points produce only curious stares, but no suspicion. An hour or so later we are deep into the Volta Region, passing through small farming villages at the base of a low mountain Akwapim Togo Range. Soon after we turn off the paved road, onto a three-mile gravel and rock strewn switchback road leading up to the Mountain Paradise Lodge.

MPL is the lone structure solidly perched on the top of a hill overlooking a lush valley near Mount Gemi, Amedzope, Gbadzeme, waterfalls, a monkey sanctuary and not much else. The MPL is off the "grid". Perhaps a generator supplies power, but it was not used during our stay. Solar and oil lanterns provided sufficient light for dinner and relaxing before bed. It is quite a pleasant place with attentive staff serving decent meals. The photo below is from the open air dining porch.

Maps - Accra and abound

2006-12-11T10:39:00.000Z

Okay...you can skip this post if you're not planning to visit Ghana, or have no intention of venturing beyond Accra. By the way, you should do both. Yes, this is another commentary on maps.

We've been relying on the Bradt Guide (THANKS BOSTON PROPERTIES!!) to plan our trips. For the most part, information in the 2004 update seems correct and fair. Prices have naturally escalated a bit since printing. One collapsed bridge has been repaired. It is a good guide book specific to Ghana - or as far as we can tell, the only one available in the US.

International Travel Maps "Ghana - scale 1:500,000" is the only map we could purchase in the US specific to Ghana. It is fairly accurate. Togo is correctly indicated to the east. The ocean is correctly indicated to the south. Data to the north, as far as we can tell, should not be relied upon without verification as mentioned in the previous "Aburi and Back" post. A bike trip last week uncovered yet another mapping mistake - locating a hill top village of Larteh in a valley. No worries.

Before heading out of town last Friday morning, we made another visit to the local Department of Surveys (Airport and Gifford Road junction). Here you can buy the much more accurate scale: 1:50,000 topographic maps for any specific area you might want to visit. C50,000 ($5.40) gets you a 24"x36" multi-colored paper sheet that indicates contours, trails, roads, villages, water, structures. With surprisingly accurate for data gathered in 1973, we're only amending whether or not minor roads are still dirt, or have since been improved. Also, we're locating gas stations and police barricades.

Oh look, here is SJD below comparing, overlaying, triangulating and plotting our course.

I'm curious to read comments on GPS usage here. Anyone?

Wednesday morning

2006-11-29T11:01:00.000Z

A few images from Wednesday AM crit practice. The red "Ontario" jerseys were donated by Ontariocycling.org in 2006. The Ghanaian team hopes to travel and race in Canada and the US in 2007.

Above: pre-practice group shot.

Above: It looks like an old 7 speed cassette (with a huge gap in the middle) mated to whatever changer was available. It works though. I think I'll be able to find a good home for all those used bike parts cluttering our basement.

Above: Nobody ever passes on the inside line. Wonder why...

Above: Two post practice shots.

Neighborhood crits with the National Cycling Team

2006-11-28T14:20:00.000Z

What more could a wanna-be bike racer geek ask for?

As mentioned in the Ride fast.Turn right.Repeat post, I met up with the national team for an early morning crit practice session. 7AM just a few blocks from our house, but we never thought to look there/then. There is no online information available. Actually they meet on a street adjacent to the US Embassy that is currently under construction.

The course was short but with a brutal little rise that seemed to get steeper at 20 laps. I hung for 18, but had to rest for two.

Wednesday, I may meet them again to snap some photos.

In a country where soccer is king, these guys have decided to ride bikes.

If you need to call me,

2006-11-28T13:37:00.000Z

my cell number code word is "ochopawalo". It doesn't mean anything, but has a nice ring to it.

Ride fast. Turn right. Repeat

2006-11-27T20:17:00.000Z

Sunday morning I had an 8am invitation to race with the local road teams in Accra. Actually it was just a practice race for the season starting in December. A race none the less. No entry fee or race numbers to pin on. My last criterium race was back in July in the US - a rainy day on a twisty course, and overall not much fun. Although I've been riding a fair bit in Accra, I was unsure just what to expect this morning.

Criterium per Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Criterium

Organizers in the US usually stage racers a few minutes before the start to restate any details about the event - distance, dangerous corners, special rules, sportsmanship reminders, etc... It can sound like a broken record after a while, but is necessary. Today there was none of that, or maybe there was, but I missed it due to the language barrier. So there was a 10 second countdown and we were off, without me knowing if this was a 10 or 15 lap race. There was a motorcycle escort for a lap or two, but otherwise the road was open to traffic, albeit light early Sunday morning traffic. Twenty or so starters settled into a good 23-24mph average speed for the first few laps. The pace was comfortable for a flat course, but I know that these crits generally pick up the speed after the half-way mark and again at the very end. On the final lap there might be only two or three guys that are real contenders for the win.

I rode at or near the front of the pack for five laps sharing the work of setting pace and breaking the wind. Just to see what would happen, I tried a one lap break away. Reality restored order and the pack caught me very quickly. About eight laps in I'm really curious how many laps we have to go. More conflicting information. Nine laps??? "To go, or completed" I ask. A small group that was resting in back for laps 1-8 has now moved to the front and is pulling away while I'm realizing I'm pretty tired. My group of six stragglers rotates through eventually dropping two riders. I'm completely out of water, when the consensus seems to be that we have another 4 laps to go. I'd really like to just pull over and stop, but the three other racers seem to want to race to the bitter end, so I keep going. Finally we get the bell lap - one to go. I take my pull early and settle in on the back stretch. The finish has a slight down hill to a 90 degree turn and 200m flat straight to the finish. I punch it into the corner in 2nd place, swing wide and grab another gear. The guy in first stays in front. We have a good sprint for spots 2-4, although I think I was nipped at the line. Not bad I guess.

Afterwards, the gentleman that was counting laps and keeping time introduced himself and a few riders that are on the Ghana National Cycling Team. We arranged another early Tuesday morning ride in our neighborhood.

Escape from Accra!

2006-11-25T18:59:00.000Z

It has been over a month since we ventured out of Accra by car (another blog entry will expand on this some day). The bike club jaunts, although interesting and physical at times, never really satisfy the need to leave everything behind and see something new.

Last night our friends Dan and Giselle phoned to ask if SJD and I would be interested in checking out the Accra-Tema Yacht Club. I didn't really have any plans, but SJD was tied up with work and reluctantly had to decline the offer. Accra has some pretty swanky parts of town, with enormous opulent gated residences with pricey Mercedes, BMWs and Land Rovers parked in front. On the other hand, it also has it's fair share of people living in very substandard and unfortunate conditions. Could Accra really have a yacht club? Well, we must find out for ourselves. I always kinda cringed walking past the white yachts anchored in Georgetown on a Saturday evening while those on board ostentatiously sipped champagne. Well, the answer is yes - there is a yacht club in Accra.

Dan, Giselle and I headed east an hour or so beyond the suburban sprawl and into the scrub, before heading south a bit down rutted dirt roads through the fishing villages that line the Volta River where it dumps into the Gulf of Guinea at Ada Foah. After a few minutes of searching, we located the ATYC - the first patrons of the day. In the case of the ATYC, the term "yacht" may be a bit of an overstatement. I'm not exactly a sailor, but these yachts available for hourly rent did not exactly conjure up thoughts of caviar, huge wakes.

No, they were something you might expect to see tied down in the back of a pick-up truck barreling down the highway. Starfish. Laser. Ok, we really did know that we were going sail boating - not yachting. We were a bit surprised to be stuffed - the three of us - into the little yellow boat pictured behind Dan and Giselle. No signed and notarized waivers. No collateral driver's license. No map. Just life preservers and a shove away from shore. This is not the US afterall.

Dan grew up sailing he assured me. Giselle, his wife, seemed at ease so I sat still and let Dan pull rope, steer and instruct us when to lean or duck our heads under the boom. The Volta water was quite smooth and the winds were light. We headed down river passing several beachside mud walled, thatch roofed villages nestled under coconut trees. There were several docks, but not a single white yacht. Instead, lengthy wood canoes with motors lumbered from shore to shore loaded to the max with people and goods. The boat in the background is empty, but you can kinda get the picture. The blue and white boat in the foreground is for hire from a restaurant presumably for tourists.

Anyway, back to our little seafaring adventure. Dan is navigating quite well. We haven't capsized or rammed any boats. Eventually we pass a few sand bars and can see the ocean tide breaking at the mouth of the Volta - maybe a 1/2 mile ahead. As the gentle water begins to churn a bit, we decide it is best to swing 'er 'round and head back up wind and up river. Dan instructs us to duck as he whips the little boat 180 degrees with ease. The sail fills with air, and by looking at our wake behind the rudder it appears that we're really cruising. Looking at the trees on the shore it appears that we're standing still or perhaps moving backwards with the current. The constant river tide is matching our forward progress and soon enough is beating it. For about 15 minutes we monitor our lack of progress up stream as we drift closer to the shore. The ocean tide seems to be coming in behind us which it seems, logically, should give us that little push we need to get moving again. Instead it just seems to make us roll up and down in place. What would Shackleton do? What would Gilligan do? What would Dennis Conner do? Dan pointed the boat directly into shore. I'm happy to report that we're safe and sound, enjoying the sand and plentiful coconuts on a deserted beach opposite the ATYC. Come visit! Well, okay not quite.

We dragged the little boat around the horn of a sandbar and strategized for a moment before setting sail again. Our location would allow us to sail into the wind but perpendicular to the current briefly. Even if we drifted a bit we would be spit out into the calmer waters very shortly. Well, all worked just fine. The water was nice and warm - shallow enough at times to require a gentle shove.

Back on course we pulled into the ATYC a half hour later and headed to the local hotel/restaurant for some (what else?) pizza.

For those following along at home, the Bradt Guide page 214-218 has some good info on Ada Foah.

Thanksgiving 2006

2006-11-23T14:38:00.000Z

Happy Thanksgiving!!

Susan and I hosted about twelve friends, spouses and co-workers last evening to a somewhat traditional dinner. We managed to procure three turkey breasts (or would that be six?)...well, the bodies of three turkeys in any case...minus the wings. The rest of the menu was kinda cobbled together with last minute trips to the three local grocery stores, two liquor merchants, the commissary and local vegetable stands. One-stop shopping seems so amateur :-) Next year we'll be prepared!

So here is the menu.

Wine and beer
Hommos and pita chips
Cheese and crackers
Carrots and celery sticks

Roasted herb turkey breast
Stuffing
Gravy
Yams and apple casserole
Roasted potatos with garlic (lots) and red onion
Roasted green beans with dill and mustard sauce.

Famous chocolate wafer log
Ice cream
Apple pie

Pumpkin pie

Pound cake

We wish we could have shared the day with even more of our friends and family, but hope that each of you did the same someplace.

We're especially thankfull to report that everyone reported to work today without food poisoning.

Meet the Chain Gang

2006-11-20T10:06:00.000Z

Here is our local bike club, The Chain Gang, getting ready for another Sunday morning ride. They meet at 8am, chit-chat for a while until someone decides to roll out - usually around 9am. First stop is generally 9:02 at the local gas station to pump up the tires. Around 9:15 we roll out in earnest. We were told by two Australians that 8AM GMT is also known as Ghana-Man Time. Makes sense.

Yesterday, Sunshine (white/blue shirt, shorts with yellow stripe) informed us that the ride would take us out to the former salt ponds area west of Accra. I've explored quite a bit by bike, but have yet to go many places alone - somewhat for safety, but also because maps detail is lacking.

Some more photos along the way.

Approaching Independence Square on the way out of Osu.

Passing through Jamestown.

A very determined and impatient driver.

Ah, the things that you don't experience speeding along in a air conditioned car. The blaring high-life music. Curious children.

Traffic jams. Weaving and rattling tro-tros loading and unloading passengers. The open gutters and odor.

Ahh...love those tro-tros at Kaneshi Market.

The ride was dragging on and seeming more like a death race than a recreational ride. We decided to call it a day and meander back home on our own.

Kotobabi Soccer

2006-11-15T18:20:00.000Z

A fellow dip husband and I had an invitation to play soccer on Sunday afternoon. Just the chance to kick the ball around. No keeping score. Certainly no full field or goalies.

It has been about five years since I last kicked the ball on the National Mall. At that time I was trying to balance my biking habit with something different - soccer. I suppose a more productive use of time would have been to read more books, create something, or brush up on a language. Nah...soccer. Well, each week I would limp home with sore knees and ankles. The high school soccer muscles had fully transformed into their current cycling muscles under a slight layer of 30-something body fat. That little experiment lasted probably six weeks.

This weekend, David and I met our Ghanaian contact Tirol (???) at nearby grocery store. During the phone conversation that lead up to the arrangements, Tirol used the words "friendly", "coach" that made David and I kinda wonder just what we were getting into. Certainly this was just a pick-up game. Maybe a practice at best. A short cab ride to the Kotobabi soccer pitch exposed the truth a bit more. As Tirol explained, he was sitting out this game recovering from malaria. The other team, he begain to explain... Wait a second. We wanted to assure Tirol that we were just two guys approximately twice his age looking to kick a ball, that had infact not kicked a ball in recent memory. I was trying to avoid embarassing myself by recalling one of the more basic rules. We hadn't even arrived, but realized we were in waaaay over our head.

We paid the taxi driver his fare at the edge of the lot, and sure enough at the soccer pitch there was a small crowd sitting in the shade watching the current game. I kind of whispered to David that the crowd would only certainly grow if the two of us attempted to play. I think he agreed, that although it might be quite amusing to watch to older guys trip over there own feet, that the game deserved more. We took a seat under the tree and watched.

The Kotobabi pitch is just a red clay dirt open space with a slight downward slop to the north goal. Chalked touch lines had long since been worn away by the previously played matches. There is no grass to be seen - just the gritty red clay. What could possibly grow in this heat and under the enless games afterall. There are no bleachers. No scoreboard. No soccer-moms with coolers and collaspable chairs.

Without any grass to slow down the ball, the ball movement is very fast to the point of seeming out-of-control at times. Bounces are big. Simply keeping the ball in bounds and under control seems difficult enough. The field surface does not provide much traction for making quick stops, starts or changes in direction. The gound is too hard for cleats to dig in, but too slippery for shoes to grip. Attackers kick up dust, then plant a foot and slide before booting the ball on goal. The goalie attempting to stop the shot, moves his feet until eventually gaining traction. My joints just ache watching the players twist, slide and bump chasing the ball. The local Dynamic All-Stars control the ball from the whistle, and pelt the opposing goal with shot after shot.

Tirol explains that this field is the home field of one of the current Ghanaian National Team - The Black Stars (Michael Essien?) that surprised so many major world soccer giants in the 2006 World Cup. Certainly the recent soccer accomplishments by the Black Stars must inspire the local players the way Michael Jordan or Lance Armstrong does in the US. There is definitely an enormous amount of athletic talent and determination displayed on the field this day - probably every day. Every player has the basics skills and a enough flair to be a standout on any team I've played on.

We'll be back someday.

Strange days

2006-11-02T21:21:00.000Z

The day started out normal...for being in Ghana. Breakfast and coffee at 6:30 AM. Checked the tire pressure on the bike. Downloaded some NPR podcasts.

SJD had asked me to do some ironing since her week had been very busy at the office. No problem. Might as well get it out of the way before considering a bike ride or plans for the rest of the day. Recall our extra large house? I went to the Ironing Board Room and plugged in the iron. The IBR is next to the Room Without a Purpose Room. Anyway, I'm ironing away just fine. As I hang the first garment, I notice something small plop onto the floor, but don't pay much attention to it. After two or three more items, I'm done. I unplug the iron. Voila! Done. I catch a closer look at the something small that went plop on the floor and realize I've ironed one of our house geckos. Yes, less than two inches long and grey-green with four toes. Kinda like the commercials without the schmarmy sales pitch. Cute little guys, or girls. They wander around the corners and ceilings of the house silently and efficiently eating bothersome insects. We don't ask or invite them to do it. They just take it upon themselves to keep our place tidy. So now we're down one gecko. I guess he was hiding in SJD's shirt and didn't think to scurry out out when things got hot. To make amends to the remaining geckos, I stirred up the ants nest on the front porch in hopes of providing a special treat.

All chores complete and evidence of the ironing mishap disposed, I headed downtown for lunch. Nothing too weird there, except for the quicker than normal service.

Next stop, the Mapping and Survey Department for another map. You may recall from earlier posts that maps of Ghana leave a bit to the imagination. Somehow, the Canadians have managed to map Ghana in great detail. Sure the maps were original in 1974, and are not exactly sized for easy transport, but the roads and villages seem to jive with reality - something KLM maps (depsite all the tech available to fly planes) doesn't quite seem able to pull off. Michelin, for whatever reason, isn't even a player in the map business here. So, thanks Canada! I purchased another great big map for adventures another day. The guys at the MSD always seem to have exactly what I'm looking for right at hand. So the day takes a strange twist after that. I mapped out a short route to the near northwest side of Accra. Main arterial roads with wide shoulders. One or two turns to remember. I was headed to the gate of the Achimoto Forest Preserve since our guide book suggested it might be a viable place to ride bikes without having to deal with much/any traffic. Getting there is easy enough. There is a gate with people streaming in and out. A kiosk to the side lists hours, but has the fees scratched off, so I ride on through. As far as forests go, Achimoto is a bit underwhelming. Trees do not seem to grow higher than 15', but the vegetation is extremely dense. Several people are carrying books and plastic patio chairs and exiting the park on foot via dirt roads laid out on a perfect grid. Something isn't right. It seems as though people were making Achimoto home, and I didn't want to surprise anyone. Hey, folks call Rock Creek Park and streets all over DC home too, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised by this. I give it few more minutes before deciding that I'd come back another day with someone who has been here.

As I'm back-tracking my ride back into town, I pass a car and truck stopped at a busy intersection. Two Ghana Police and a few other people are standing on the island gesturing and talking on cell phones. Figuring it is just another minor fender bender it doesn't really catch my attention. Another glance over my shoulder, and I realize I know the woman (AKA Jane)involved, and I circle back around to ask if things are okay with her. Physically everyone is fine, even if clearly frustrated. Cars sustained only minor damage. The GP are directing both drivers to move cars from the turn lane. Jane snaps a few digital photos. With some reluctance, both drivers move the vehicles. (Where is the cop car? The badges? The radios? Back up? In DC, this would surely mobilize three or four squad cars.) In Ghana, well.....let's see... A call to the local station eventually got the attention of a dispatcher who recommended Jane call a cab to deliver two officers to the scene. No, squad cars are not very plentiful, but taxis are everywhere. Cops are on the scene, although I'm not really sure how they got there - doesn't really matter at this point. A minute or two later, the officer allows the truck to leave the scene. We ask the cop what is going on, but there is no answer. One officer is producing a nice sketch, but there are none of the normal exchanges of name/insurance/address/license. The other officer is growing impatient. More waiting... The cop launches into an exhaustive and wandering diatribe accussing the US and Jane of being arrogant, imprisoning the innocent, obruni this, obruni that... Finally, the officer instructs Jane that the investigation will occur back at the local sub-station, and that in fact that is where the other truck would be found (doubtful). Well, why didn't he say that 20 minutes ago? Of course, they need to hitch a ride back to the sub-station in a passing pick-up truck. Throughout the mini-drama, the street vendors continued to try to sell belts, dog leashes, plantains and other miscellaneous items to the cops and Jane .

As if the gecko, Achimoto and the police were not enough, I almost tripped over a sleeping night guard while taking out the garbage -- it must have been a friend of our guard, who was dutifully awake. That is enough for one day.

Business was kinda slow for Madam Gifty until...

2006-10-24T12:39:00.000Z

GSS Ltd. moved in next door.

Inaugural Ghana Aluminum Man Triathlon - Akosombo, Ghana

2006-10-23T16:28:00.000Z

Here we are with the Directeur Sportif of the inaugural Ghana Aluminum Man Triathlon.

Simon Hankinson explains the format of the event.

Run 2.8 miles,
Swim 500m across Lake Volta
Bike 16.5 miles
1800' of elevation gain

Simon - "We'll run to this point right over here."
Dylan - "Hmm...okay. I've seen worse."
David - "Looks kinda steep."
Brian - "I can't even see the water from where I'm standing."
Simon - "Look just beyond the weeds."

Simon - "Perhaps we can just hack through the weeds and throw a rope down the slope. No problem."

Simon - "At this point, you'll enter the Volta River and swim 500m to the other side. We'll give this guy a few cedis to pluck any stragglers from the water.

Brian -"What was that about bilharzia?'

Simon - "Anyone not swimming can add another mile to the run by going over the bridge to the bike segment."

Actual race recap to follow...

Months 1-4 condensed

2006-10-17T17:32:00.000Z

Okay. Here is a quick photo recap of the four month prior to arriving in Ghana.

Here we have the lucky bride an even luckier groom with some of the happy family.

A day trip to Chicago for another architecture boat tour. Here, SJD catches the bean reflecting lower Michigan Avenue.

Location: Millennium Park, Chicago

SJD pauses momentarily to scratch her head and consider which way is down.

Location: Mt. Dickerman, North Cascades, Washington State.

I wonder if SJD is thinking the same as me. High enough yet?

Location: Mt. Rainier, Washington State

Me foraging for SJD's dinner.

Location: Kitts Beach, Vancouver, British Columbia

Go Team City Bikes! My next to last mountain bike race for 2006 in the US.

Location: Quantico Marine Base, Virginia

Remembering grandpa.

Location: Corey Lake, Michigan

An afternoon at the beach with my sister and niece.

Location: Indiana Dunes National Park

Moving day in DC. I guess this means we're really going to Ghana.

Location: Washington, DC

This American Life podcast

2006-10-16T09:47:00.000Z

Now available via Podcasts for free apparently.