West Africa on an Yamaha XJ900S Diversion Now, when being middle aged, I decided it was about time to see and experience some of the Sahara on a motorbike. The only problem was that I wanted an inexpensive and reliable offroad bike, with shaft drive and preferably four cylinders. As there is no such offroad bike available, I had to do it myself and the Yamaha XJ900S Diversion was perfect.
Modifications made on a second hand -96 was; extended suspension to 150 mm both front and rear with Ohlins, increased ground clearance, removal of fairings and clocks etc, motocross handle and hand protections, motocross mudguard, a scrapped fuel tank increased to 45 liters, engine protections, a comfortable home made seat, a rear tubeless offroad tire 130/80 mounted backwards on the front 17" rim and 150/70 offroad tire on the rear rim. Two 36 liter alu-boxes and a small video box on the handle, was special made including holder for lying extra offroad tires with a lockable cover. This resulted in a top box for tent, sleeping bag etc inside. The bike was named TRUhilda, from the registration no and because ships are given female name. And, she is not good at anything, so it has to be a she.?! But, after passing the Sahara, why not see what's beyond? -Savanna and rain forest. So, the planned trip was to be from Sweden to Morocco beginning of September, with street tires. Then onto, Mauritania, Mali, Burkina Faso and Ghana. From there northwards back home via Ivory Coast, Guinea and Senegal.
Visas and Carnet etc, was arranged before departure, except for Ivory Coast and Guinea, as these countries was a bit uncertain due to security reasons. Passing the RIF Mountains in Morocco was exciting with its drug traffic, especially as a black Mercedes was following us for a long distance, with flashing lights. We were me and Jef Imans from Belgium on a BMW Funduro. But, the scenery with forested mountains was beautiful and the roads were fun. The Atlas scenery was very different, more like a heavily wrinkled desert. We took small back roads from north down to the Gorge du Todra, and there were very remarkable rocks and formations. In the Gorge there were a lot of tourists, coming on the roads from south. Driving through south of Morocco and the West Sahara alone, was very monotonously. The only excitement was a strong variable side wind from the Atlantic. The sand was blowing sideways over the road, just like a snow storm.
I was lucky to meet an experienced French group in jeeps and we traveled together from here. Entering Mauritania was the start of the desert adventure, but first we had to pass the no-man's-land from Morocco, through a mine field. Driving on the old Spanish road, which is in a terrible state, is highly recommended. A French jeep with two persons did not and was blown into pieces, we stopped and took some photos of the wreck. With 45+5 liter of fuel, 20 liter of water, a 300 kg bike and an air pressure of 3 bars in both tires, we sat foot and tire on soft sand for the first time. It ended 3 dm down into the sand. After emptying almost all of the air and with a helping push, we reached the surface again and started to have a lot of fun. This was after all what I had planned and worked for, during the last year.
When the very nice French group took care of my entire luggage, I could really enjoy being in the desert with a 900 cc bike, fitted with offroad tires and good suspension. Without these modifications, it would not have been possible to pass the Sahara. There is also about 530 km between fuel stations on sandy pists so, enough fuel has to be carried. We camped one week at the Atlantic coast in the Banc d arguin, with fishing for daily food. The first nights, we experienced lightning and thunder storms, with strong wind and heavy rain. I had to hold on to my tent for hours, from the darkness of the night to broad daylight, to prevent it from being blown off to America. I also made a day trip into the desert alone and it was almost too much for my cold Swedish mind, to be in the hot desert with all the various sand, colors, dunes, ravines, rocks, etc. It felt like I was in heaven, and it's made of hot sand, not white clouds!
The French group stayed for two more weeks so I had to leave them to continue my journey. Drove south to Nouakchott, capital of Mauritania, and made some service, emailing and posting souvenirs home. This had been an exceptional year with a lot of rain, according to the locals, and the desert surface had a green shimmer, of grass. It also made some southern sand pist almost impassable due to all water and mud, for example between Ayoun in Mauritania and Nioro in Mali. The first headache was to find the police and customs in Ayoun though, to get all the necessary stamps. I even had to visit the customs chief in his home, guided by an assistant sitting on the top box. But, the real challenge was to drive on the muddy trails, with a fully loaded TRUhilda and being alone. The only alternative was most often to drive off into the bush, around all the flooded areas. This was an unexpected desert and savanna adventure. As I didn't want to camp in a flooded bush, there was no time to lose for eating or resting, as the average speed was a lot lower than planned. A totally flooded old stone bridge had to be crossed, after reconnaissance by foot. It ended sideways all the same and we were both nicely cooled off. The rest of the passing was made without problem. More willpower and a higher speed.
The last 20 km took about 2 hours and we arrived on the wrong side of the Nioro air port, at twilight on one of several donkey tracks. I was very happy and relieved to see civilization, even if there was no streetlamps. Though I disturbed in the middle of a soap opera on TV, placed in the middle of the garden for all police men to watch, the police chief was very helpful. He called for his younger brother to guide me to a hotel in the dark, riding on the top box. TRUhilda was even washed without being asked for, but nothing is for free, so I was later politely asked to pay. He also helped me with changing money, buy fuel and fresh water. I drank about 10 liters of water each day. There was nothing to eat at the hotel, not even a simple breakfast, so I had to start with an empty stomach. I was now hoping that it was going to be an easy ride to the capital Bamako but, after some km there were again muddy tracks all over the flooded area. This day I meet the only vehicle, with a Swiss owner and an Irish passenger. The Irish couple had had a breakdown on the pist with their VW-bus and received help from the Swiss to find new bearings. First they had gone back north to Ayoun in Mauritania, then south to Diema in Mali, but got wrong bearings both times. They were now on their way back from Bamako to the bus with some new bearings. It had taken more than one week and the Irish girlfriend didn't want to return to the mud, so she stayed at a hotel in Bamako. They gave me a sandwich, which was like a complete Nobel Prize dinner, after two days without food. They also convinced me that the gravel road would improve ahead, and so it did. As I traveled south on to the savanna of Mali, there was accordingly more grass. But, the traffic in Bamako, the capital of Mali, was more like a jungle. All drivers seem to think that the next life can't be any worse.
Stayed in a central hotel and there was no problem to find cash machines or internet cafe's. I draw money for about 2 weeks and hided the excess in the pocket for the knee protection. To get on to the ferry and over the river Bani to Djenne with the worlds largest mud building, a mosque, I had to drive through water. After arriving I relaxed the rest of the day and with a guided tour the day after. When I the next day arrived in Mopti, the answer was that it was not possible to go north over the river Niger, to Timbuktu due to all the water. This was of course a big disappointment, being only some 300 km away from the great city of myth. The first European explorer to arrive was killed. ..
Turned the front wheel towards south and drove of to the Dogon country instead. The escarpment and villages are supposed to be something very special, but I was happy to see them from a distance. All the guides made me in a bad mood, so I told them that I neither needed nor wanted a guide and drove of. Burkina Faso was said to be easier and more relaxed, and so it was. I spent a couple of days in Ouagadougou, the capital, and had a nice dinner with a teacher in mechanics, we had of course a lot to discuss. We ate a special local dish with chicken and chips from one plate, with our right hand and I had my first beer for weeks. As dessert we had a special fish with fruit salad, very tasty. The next day I meet a very friendly Rasta group and they helped me to buy local cloths and souvenirs. The leader and singer wanted to have a ride with TRUhilda, but had to accept being a passenger on the top box. I didn't want to risk any damage on the 300 kg bike, or on him. The traffic was also very intense. The bike got a lot of attention and I was asked for the price several times.
Entered Ghana and was happy to be able to communicate with the locals in English. But, long time no adventure, so I planned to take gravel roads east of Volta, down south to the coast and Accra. This was where the rain forest started, and consequently also the rain. It meant that the roads become rough, muddy and slippery. The route took one day more than planned, but it was great even if there were a lot of police checkpoints. I was told that the reason for this was an uprising in 1994, with some killing between different tribes. The Ghana coast was great and a nice place to relax on, so I lay down in the sand of Winneba. After about two deadly slow hours, both my mind and body screamed for some action. So, I made a trip back to Accra and a museum with a lot of history and also the first presidents black Cadillac -56 outside. It was a sad sight as it had been damaged but yet beautiful, as it also had aged naturally, i.e. a lot of rust. On my way north to an old English garden, I was passed by a KTM950. The riders name was Paul, from Holland but lived and worked in Accra as a bank manager. He invited me to camp with him and his friends, with a barbecue in the evening and a mountain bike ride the next morning. Everything was absolutely great and I really enjoyed the company but, I also wanted to continue my adventure. Drove westward along the coast to Cape Coast and El Mina, to visit the old slave fortress and to learn more about the sad history. To get into a better mood again, I visited the Kakum Park and walked on the rope bridges in the tree tops, some 30 meter above the ground. When I asked people about the safety in Ivory Coast, they advised strongly against any traveling, especially from south to north. As I didn't want to challenge my good fortune unnecessarily, I decided to travel around Ivory Coast north via western Ghana. This was when the rain started again, but it isn't called rain forest without a reason. Driving with a motocross style helmet, means a lot of wind and rain in the face, so I did catch a cold. Despite the rain, I decided again to drive on a gravel road to the Boabeng village, where people and monkeys live in harmony. After some 20 km on the muddy road, the bike and I wasn't in harmony. We slid sideways and finally horizontally. With a stream of mud around the feet, it was like a mud wrestling to get the 300 kg TRUhilda vertically again. My body was now really exhausted and it didn't want to take any more punishment that day, so we turned back towards the main road, after a rest. I stopped at an empty tourist center, to ask the staff if there was any transport, going to the village. The answer was straight and simple; "No, no! The road is impassable when it's raining like this!"
Happy with the acknowledgement, I continued my retreat and had one more fall down and looked like a clay statue. At a fuel station on the main road, were they had a high-pressure wash, we were carefully flushed by a surprised and happy boy. He had probably never flushed any person before, certainly not a white man and his motorbike. There was some water falls was only 100 meter away from the main road, so I did stop and took some photos, like a Japanese tourist in a hurry. To see some of the real animal wild life in West Africa, I drove further north to the Mole national park in the northwestern Ghana. The road was again gravel but it had stopped raining, so it was passable but bumpy. Joined a safari trekking both in the evening and in the morning the day after. Saw a lot of different animals but, the most exciting moment was when I got to close to an annoyed elephant. We followed his tracks and finally he had enough of this game. He waited for us behind a bush and when I was approximately 20 meter away, he made an intimidating attack. Passed the border to the south of Burkina Faso, still on gravel roads. In these parts there were not many tourists passing, at least not on a four cylinder bike and with helmet and special bike cloths. So, arriving to small villages was a big event. People found it funny that there were protections in my bike cloths, and everybody had to touch my shoulders, elbow, back and knees. Stayed in Bobo Dioulasso for a couple of days and made some excursions. One was to a lake with hippos southwest of Banfora and another to a nice waterfall. There was a scale at the pharmacy and I had lost 12 kg so far. That equals to about 20 year and I had become correspondingly more adventurous and spontaneous. Continued west to Mali and Sikasso on good roads and then to Bamako.
Wanted to try the planned new road via Kita to Kayes, according to the Lonely Planet. It was supposed to be built 1999-2000 but I didn't find anything new in the area. The road turned into a pist, which turned into paths and then tracks of donkeys. Finally I had to realize that the track was not going to improve, into the "Grande Route" all the locals confirmed to be ahead, when being asked. It was still 200 km to Kayes according to the Silva GPS, when a flooded swamp finally stopped my naive attempt. I had to turn back as I didn't want to camp in the outback marsh. But, back in Bamako there was good news on TV for me, president Girac was visiting Tombouctou. It should therefore be possible to drive on the pists, even if the president himself travels by air. So I started early the next morning to drive the almost 1000 km, and passed a jeep with a lot of sponsor stickers. I slowed down and they were from the organization of the Paris-Dakar rally, doing some reconnaissance with waypoints and a roadbook for the service teams. We traveled together to Mopti, where we by mistake entered the same road as the president's cortŠge. This gave the security personal panic and we were chased of the road like dogs. From Mopti I drove towards Tombouctou alone, but meet a motorbike half way on the main road to Douentza. I waved my arms to stop them, as I was sure they were coming from the desert city. But they didn't, he wanted but she didn't want to be a passenger on the sandy pist. So, she took the bus to Mopti to wait one night at a hotel. Robert on his modified Honda Dominator and I went off together, from Douentza for the approx 210 km. First on a good gravel road for about 130 km. Then the sandy pist started and we had to drive off the track and let the air out. When we arrived to the river Niger, there was no ferry. A French family in a big cross-country camper, had waited for hours. They made evening meal and borrowed us a tent for the night, to sleep next to their 12 ton truck. The ferry arrived early and everybody was revving their engines, to get a good start on to it. On the other side of the river Niger, we drove the last approx 15 km on a good road to Tombouctou and had a shower before the guided tour, which also gave us access into the Mosque. It was too late to return to Mopti the same day, so we slept in the guide's home. We wanted to take some nice pictures at the sunset outside of the city but, there was garbage a long way out. And where there is garbage, there are also insects and bugs, a lot. On the way back on the pist, we only had to follow our own tracks and waypoints. Robert's girlfriend was really happy to see him again, one day late. The next day they went south to the Dogon country. The only fun episode for me on the main road back to Bamako, was that I managed to run out of fuel, despite the 45 liter tank. Again I was lucky as the first car stopped and got me some liters of fuel, from the last passed village. Back in Bamako again, I tried to get a train ticket for TRUhilda and me to Kayes in western Mali, on the way to Senegal. But this was easier to be said than done. I got really confused about how it was organized with different people in different places. When I was told that I didn't understand the simple (stupid) formalities, I gave up. Instead I drove the road north to Diema and then west to Kayes.
I didn't pay attention when leaving Mali, so I got the Senegalese entry stamps before the Mali departure stamps. When I got back to the Mali side, to get the departure stamps, there were some problems to explain that I was going in the other direction. They got finally tired of me and stamped both the passport and the Carnet in disillusionment and frustration. Maybe they had expected to get some payment or a "cadeau". I drove all the way from Kayes to Yoff, north of Dakar, despite a lot of road work and detours. This day I had to show both the vaccination and insurance card to the police. I had forgotten to pay insurance for the bike in western Africa, so I showed my green card from Sweden and it worked. Booked transport by vessel for the bike to Le Havre and a flight to Paris for myself, two weeks later. During this vacation, I tested some diving and graduated a PADI certificate. The travel north from France to Belgium, Holland, Germany to Sweden at the end of November, was not as nice as driving in Africa. But I got home thanks to the excellent Yoko bike cloths, with some 17.000 km added and 12 kg reduced body weight.
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