School yard.

Well. Perfect except for when my front tire blew out with an explosive POW as I was speeding down a hill. Surprisingly (or luckily) I was able to get to a stop without falling or otherwise horribly maiming myself. As it turned out the sidewall of the tire was shredded in one section. (Memories of Cameroon, where the tire had been last ridden. In Cameroon, my rear tire's sidewall had actually suffered the same fate. Must be a bad batch of tires.) Fortunately, David had been both behind me (for a change) and also carrying one of his old, bald tires from past trips as a spare. So, with Lena's moral support I replaced the tire and tube by the roadside. (It was still challenging to change due to the front rack being in the way and small tire size but it was far, far easier than if it had been been my rear tire, which requires removing all the panniers, protecting the saddle, turning the bicycle upside down, using a wrench instead of a quick-release, removing the click-box for the internal hub, etc.)

The winding road before us.

Fishing ... for seaweed?

The distance to the junction where David had found us a breakfast table went quickly after that incident—even at my more cautious, downhill pace. We had the usual omelets-in-a-baguette (Il had two as a precaution from bonking, and continued the habit for the rest of the trip) with teas and coffees. Since Jorgen had cycled with Annie that morning they arrived quite a bit later—so I used the opportunity to patch my tube which had a hole that was alarmingly large.

Annie, it would seem, had never actually ridden a bicycle before, as was evidenced by both her slow cycling speed and the fact that her helmet was on backwards. She was already finished for the day and decided to find a taxi to Kanté (sometimes spelled Kandé) which was another 60 kms away. Happily, this meant I could foist her pannier back upon her, which I still carried from the day before. (It really is a conundrum in a sense. I pack extremely light so I don't have any excess weight to lug around—but it also makes me the ideal candidate to carry it. I am happy help others, but at the same time I'm a paying client like everyone else. But it hadn't been hard cycling thus far, and it doesn't hurt to build up some good karma.)

Pile o bicycles.

Il buying Fulani cheese.

Although the remaining distance was long, the road was paved and the climbs were short. I rode with Il, Jorgen and Lena for the most part and they kept a slow, steady pace.Il bought some Fulani cheese by the road and I stuffed it in my trunk bag for her. Mmmmm... cheese sweating in the hot sun.

We stopped at the Codhani Handicap Cooperative in Niamtougou, which has been operating since 1977. They make fabrics such as clothing, cloth, etc. with a variety of colourful patterns. There are 55 people working there and all have disabilities to varying degrees. The director, along with a Peace Corps Volunteer, gave us a tour. I bought a small dress for my God-daughter, Ava—largely to support their initiative and yet not carry anything big! We stayed quite a while but by the time we left the Germans, who always trailed us, had not yet appeared.

A gendarme showing us a detour.

Seamstresses at the coop.

A bit further into town we stopped for lunch by the road (rice with hot sauce) and ended up spending about two hours there to rest during the hottest part of the day—it was 32C in the shade. Plus, we all needed more water: I had already downed the 3.5L that I carried. The rest wasn't supposed to be quite so long but Il had went walking in the village. We were ready to leave without her but she turned up in the nick of time. She had gotten lost in her wandering.

By that point I was sore, bored and tired of waiting and was glad to be finishing our day's ride.

The last stretch, as we entered the Tambera region, was gorgeous in a more rugged way than the South: scrub, grass, baobab trees, rocks, and craggy mountains dominated the landscape. It is very much what most of us likely imagine when we think of "Africa", but unlike the lushness I was generally used to seeing in previous trips.

By Ralph Lauren.

Northern landscape.

We climbed a bit in the last few klicks leading to Kanté but the other side was a fun, winding drop into the valley. It was tempting to blast down but I was still mindful of my exploding tire from the morning—I might not get so lucky twice and I'm running low on spare tires!

Making the grade.

Descending into the valley.

At the other end of Kanté David had us wait while he investigated one of the two hotels in town. Some of the townspeople (and many of the kids) made conversation with us as we waited... and waited... and waited again by the side of the road—this time for David to come back.

I was tired of waiting.

Hot, sweaty, dirty, grumpy and tired. Eventually we just rode to the hotel and waited there for David to show us since the townspeople told us that Annie was already there. Once we arrived, Il and Annie and Jorgen and Lena got rooms with showers but David, myself and the Germans got rooms with just a mattress and a bare light-bulb. I don't mind simple living conditions but when the one person who doesn't cycle gets a room with a shower and air conditioning (while understanding it wasn't her fault)... well... let's just say that only once I was able to have a shower and crack open a beer did my peevishness dissipate.

Chef and proprietor.

All my worldly possessions.

After nightfall, guided by the light of the moon and stars, we meandered our way through the dirt paths of the village to the main road and found a roadside table for dinner. By the time we got back to the hotel the rest of my evening was spent with filtering water, doing laundry, and journaling outside with the mosquitoes since the room was too sweltering to be in.

Okay... so still a bit peevish.

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