Sunday, July 24, 2005
the bush (somewhere near Sandare), Mali
We headed off early after hearing word that the northern route to the capital had become once again passable for vehicles. A number of veteran volunteers warned us that it would be a long drive on washboard roads. To further complicate matters, due to high levels of banditry, the road closed at dusk and was enforced by military checkpoints in most towns. While we didn't expect this to affect our travel, as we are trying to avoid nighttime driving which is extremely risky in almost all areas of Africa, none of us relished the idea that of finding ourselves stuck camping in the bush in an area that was prominent for the armed robbery of vehicles.
As we left Kayes, the potholed road almost immediately gave way to near unusable washboard, forcing us to take donkey and horse cart paths just off the main thoroughfare which was now being utilized solely by large trucks and buses better able to take the beating. On these side paths, we patiently navigated around muddy pools of unknown depths and darted back and forth between boulders and fallen trees. The villages were growing more and more scattered and large expanses of bush lay on both sides. We passed the washed out bridge which had been temporarily fixed with a makeshift dirt path. However, it was clear that a sizable rain would once again shut down the road.
After almost 10 hours of driving, we were still hours away from Bamako and the roof-rack had starting disengaging itself from the car. The rusty contact points had unhinged themselves and most of the upper supports had snapped, leaving only three places to bear the majority of the burden. After shifting weight around, dumping out excess water and reducing our driving speed to a near crawl, we pulled off the road near a cluster of hills with an hour's worth of sunlight left. We managed to get the car a distance from the road and out of site from all prying eyes.
After setting up camp (and killing a scorpion in the process), the evening progressed uneventfully until a large storm quickly swept in from the north east. Heavy winds sprang from the growing darkness, bringing with it stinging dust and the promise of rain. While we were securing our possessions and putting up tarps, the downpour began. Tuuli disappeared into her tent, resting under a tarp next to the car while Nate and I quickly retreated to our own near the edge of the site. However, before we could congradulate ourselves, a high pitched yell eminated fom Tuuli's tent. It increased in magnitute until it was obvious that Nate and I would have to once again brave the darkness for reasons yet unknown.
With Tuuli still in the possession of our only flashlight, we brashly ran into the brewing storm in our underwear. A quick strike of lighting nearby showed that the tarp support posts had fallen on Tuuli's tent and that we would need to improvise a quick solution. As Nate untangled Tuuli, I unbolted the spare tires from the roof of the car and, with the tarp secured to the roof rack, made an A-frame that would withstand the heavy winds and keep Tuuli dry. Back in our own tent, wet and dirty, we fell asleep to the sound of animals howling.
We headed off early after hearing word that the northern route to the capital had become once again passable for vehicles. A number of veteran volunteers warned us that it would be a long drive on washboard roads. To further complicate matters, due to high levels of banditry, the road closed at dusk and was enforced by military checkpoints in most towns. While we didn't expect this to affect our travel, as we are trying to avoid nighttime driving which is extremely risky in almost all areas of Africa, none of us relished the idea that of finding ourselves stuck camping in the bush in an area that was prominent for the armed robbery of vehicles.
As we left Kayes, the potholed road almost immediately gave way to near unusable washboard, forcing us to take donkey and horse cart paths just off the main thoroughfare which was now being utilized solely by large trucks and buses better able to take the beating. On these side paths, we patiently navigated around muddy pools of unknown depths and darted back and forth between boulders and fallen trees. The villages were growing more and more scattered and large expanses of bush lay on both sides. We passed the washed out bridge which had been temporarily fixed with a makeshift dirt path. However, it was clear that a sizable rain would once again shut down the road.
After almost 10 hours of driving, we were still hours away from Bamako and the roof-rack had starting disengaging itself from the car. The rusty contact points had unhinged themselves and most of the upper supports had snapped, leaving only three places to bear the majority of the burden. After shifting weight around, dumping out excess water and reducing our driving speed to a near crawl, we pulled off the road near a cluster of hills with an hour's worth of sunlight left. We managed to get the car a distance from the road and out of site from all prying eyes.
After setting up camp (and killing a scorpion in the process), the evening progressed uneventfully until a large storm quickly swept in from the north east. Heavy winds sprang from the growing darkness, bringing with it stinging dust and the promise of rain. While we were securing our possessions and putting up tarps, the downpour began. Tuuli disappeared into her tent, resting under a tarp next to the car while Nate and I quickly retreated to our own near the edge of the site. However, before we could congradulate ourselves, a high pitched yell eminated fom Tuuli's tent. It increased in magnitute until it was obvious that Nate and I would have to once again brave the darkness for reasons yet unknown.
With Tuuli still in the possession of our only flashlight, we brashly ran into the brewing storm in our underwear. A quick strike of lighting nearby showed that the tarp support posts had fallen on Tuuli's tent and that we would need to improvise a quick solution. As Nate untangled Tuuli, I unbolted the spare tires from the roof of the car and, with the tarp secured to the roof rack, made an A-frame that would withstand the heavy winds and keep Tuuli dry. Back in our own tent, wet and dirty, we fell asleep to the sound of animals howling.
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