July 8th, 1991 - I left Rotherham, England on with a tent, a bike, a puncture repair kit and a rough idea which way was south. I set off to travel around the World. I'd been planning my World tour for about 2 years, which really meant I'd created a 'wish list' of countries to visit and not much more. Planning to me meant making long lists of things to pack and places to go, not making phone calls to distant Embassies to check on visa requirements. So when the time came to leave, I was sadly unprepared and happily ignorant of the problems I would face. That was probably a good thing, because had I known how difficult some things would be, I might never have left at all.

In my mind I had a long list of places to visit, but had no real idea of how I was going to get there. Nothing had been booked in advance, no flights, no accommodation, no vaccinations or where I would be at any point in time. The route would be flexible, the method of travel unknown, the pace relaxed, and I was in no hurry to get there....wherever it might be. As a sign of my commitment not to follow a timetable, I removed my watch and swore to never wear it again. It was a pointless move, but still gratifying.

The first destination on the journey was the only one I was sure of, cycling 1,600 miles from England to Gibraltar. But from that point onwards, I had no definite idea what I would do. I knew Africa would follow, but I could sum up my plans for Africa into one sentence; I would decide what to do once I got there...






It took another 4 days to cycle from Calais to Paris, and I continued to struggle with a heavy load, driving rain and constant doubts. I really didn't think I could continue with the ride for much longer when every day was a struggle. So as I approached the outskirts of Paris, I decided to jump on a train so I could save time and avoid the traffic. Because I spoke poor French, I hadn't understood that my bike had been loaded onto a separate train and wouldn't arrive in Paris until 7pm. That turned out to be a good thing, as it gave me most of the day to explore Paris on the Metro rather than cycling, and I really needed the break.

When my bike arrived safely in Paris later that night, I had to make a choice; cycle out of Paris at night, or find a hotel. But after 11 days of cycling over endless hills in almost constant rain, I decided on another option, to take an overnight train from Paris to Bordeaux and thereby shorten the distance to Gibraltar. I don't think I could have made a better decision, because from this point forward, the weather, the roads and my mood improved dramatically.






Riding through the mountains of northern Spain was fantastic, but as the mountains disappeared and the scenery faded, the miles stretched out forever. I don't think I took a photo for several days, because there was nothing to see. I sooon reached Madrid, but just as quickly I wanted to leave.

The journey from Madrid to Toledo was simply a test of my never-ending determination to keep moving south. I never intended to visit Toledo, the only reason I went there was out of sheer frustration. Madrid, like most cities, is confusing to ride around on the first visit. But even though I had a map, asked directions and was given good answers, one thing I couldn't find were street signs to tell me where I was. After riding around Madrid for 5 hours trying to find the road to Granada, I just gave up and took the first road out of the city I could find. 15 miles from the city I discovered I was heading to Toledo instead of Grenada, but I kept on going anyway.

At 5:30pm with 35 miles to reach Toledo, I put my head down and cycled as fast as I could. To add to my frustration that day, I hit something in the road and got a puncture. I unloaded the bike and repaired it within 10 minutes and kept on going, but 5 minutes later I had another puncture. Then another. Then 7 more before I finally ran out of patches. Stuck in the middle of nowhere with a flat tire and no way of repairing it, I was faced with the choice of walking 15 miles back to Madrid or 35 miles to Toledo. I chose Toledo and started walking...






August 11th, 1991 - It had taken me 5 weeks to travel from England To Gibraltar. I'd cycled 1,402 miles (probably walking over 100 of those miles) and caught 5 trains (saving me another 500-600 miles). I'd replaced the back tire twice, the saddle once and repaired about 40 punctures. I'd slept in fields more nights than I slept on campsites, lost about 30 items of luggage and thought about selling the bike every single day. I was tired, sunburned, saddle-sore and very glad to be here.

I spent 3 weeks in Gibraltar while I rested, shipped some belongings back to England (camping gear etc.) and sold my bike. I was left with almost nothing, and realised that was all I needed.

As I planned where I would go next, I saw a truck on the street that looked like it was equipped for a long trip, so I decided to ask the driver his plans. That's how I met Dave, who worked for Encounter Overland and he was driving the truck from England to South Africa, through many of the countries I wanted to visit. The coincidence was uncanny. He told me he was leaving in 2 week and there was space for another on the trip. I jumped at the chance. That same day, I made a phone call to London and booked my place, then sent my Passport back to England to get the visas I needed for the trip. With a week to spare, my passport arrived back in Gibraltar and I jumped on the first ferry to Morocco.

September 6th, 1991 - I expected some trouble getting into Morocco, with bag searches or visa delays, but I walked straight through customs without a problem. I had a week to travel before I met up with the 'Encounter Overland' truck, so I walked to the station to catch the first train to Marrakech. Buying the ticket was easy, but getting on the train was like nothing I'd seen before. A crush of people swarmed around the doors as soon as the train pulled into the station. Everyone wanted to get on the train at the same time; there were no lines, there was no sense of order and nobody had any patience. Some passengers were trying to get off and were shouting for some space, while others were forcing their way on and standing in the door, blocking it. Women were throwing their bags over the heads of the crowd to the men on the train, then would kick and fight their way through the crowd, elbows flying. Multiply this by several hundred and it was complete chaos.






September 18th, 1991 - We spent 7 hours at the Algerian border convincing the guards that we didn't have any weapons, drugs or pornography on the truck. The guards were not convinced of our story and continued to question us.... slowly. They were not interested in making arrests for any of these offences, they wanted to confiscate these things for themselves, and so were a little dissapointed in us. We just had to be patient. When everyone on the truck had declared that they didn't have anything illegal, the guards searched everyone's bags anyway. After a long and careful search, they held up a few items; t-shirts, a flashlight, socks. A nod from Dave that it was OK to keep them and they let us through.

October 9th, 1991 - After driving two thousand miles across the Sahara, the transformation from desert to sahel was surprisingly fast. Within a short distance, just a few miles, the air changed and there was the feeling of humidity for the first time in weeks. The land turned green, villages lined the roadside and goats roamed freely between the houses. It was a welcome change.

The atmosphere in Niger was very different to that in Algeria. Everyone was friendly, kids ran along side the truck waving to us and everyone wanted to talk. The problem was that everyone wanted to talk French, and none of us spoke a word.






October 13th, 1991 - Burkina Faso is one of the poorest countries in Africa, with one of the best names for a capital city; Ouagadougou (try saying it 3 times really fast). With a couple of days to wait in the city as we waited for our Ghana visas, we spent time sat in a patisserie writing postcards back home. But outside, a protest in the street grabbed our attention. The protest started quietly, but quickly turned violent as the crowd started throwing rocks and burning cars. When the crowd started throwing bricks at the patisserie we were in, the owner rushed us into a back room and locked the door. It took over an hour for the police to disperse the crowd and it was safe to come out.

The patisserie was relatively undamaged, but the Post Office next door had been looted and destroyed. The atmosphere was tense, and we knew we had been very lucky to avoid some serious trouble.






October 16th, 1991 - On the way to Mali via the Yako Ouahigouya road there were several road blocks. Just leaving Burkina Faso there were 3 separate checks; one for the Army, one for Police and another for Customs. All were OK and we had no problems, but there was almost 50km of no-mans-land to cross before we even entered Mali. On this stretch of road we got our first taste of digging the truck out of mud instead of sand. It has only taken a couple of seconds to bury the back axle down to the ground. Washing the truck in Ouagadougou had now been a complete waste of time. We passed through 3 more border checks before we officially entered Mali.






October 31st, 1991 - We entered Ghana from the North, driving the length of the country as we headed for the coast. We stopped in towns like Tamale and Kumasi, where we were welcomed by crowds of curious, but friendly onlookers. As we set up camp each night, large groups of people would gather round and watch us, and stand there until we went to bed. Since the weather was perfect for sleeping out at night, I didn't bother to set up a tent at night, but I soon regretted that since the mosquitos in this part of the World were making it impossible to sleep.

When we reached the capital city of Accra, we spend 3 days camped at Coco beach on the outskirts of the city. The water was warm, and everyone spent their days swimming and relaxing. After 7 weeks of non-stop driving since we left Morocco, everyone enjoyed (and needed) the break.






November 8th, 1991 As we entered Togo, we were only granted visas for a 2-day stay. This was just a transit visa, forcing us to drive straight across the country, giving us no time to stop and see the sights. Since Togo is a long, narrow country, this would have been possible. But we took a chance, stopped in a few places as we crossed the country and stayed 3 days. Togo was beautiful, with palm tree lined roads, lagoons and rolling hills, it looked like a tropical island. As we left 3 days later, the border guards seemed to understand this too; we had over-stayed our visas but they smiled and waved us through into Benin without question.






November 11th, 1991 Benin is the bith place of Voodoo, and in the capital city of Cotonou, there is a voodoo market devoted to the religion. Although the market is well known, the section devoted to voodoo is hard to find, since everyone we asked was determined to send us the opposite direction or say it didn't exist. But eventually we stumbled into it by chance and it was worth the search. Dogs heads, lizards, rats, monkeys and voodoo dolls were all for sale, but they wouldn't sell anything to us. We weren't welcome here, after 5 minutes we were stopped from taking photos and asked to leave.




Ganvié (Gan-vee-ay) is a town of about 20,000 people built on the Nokoué lagoon. The town was built in the 16th century by the Tofinu people, probably built on the lake to avoid the European slave raiders. During the trip across the lagoon, we had to constantly bail out the boat to stop it from sinking. Each of us had been given a small cup as we boarded, but it's purpose wasn't explained to us until we started getting wet.





November 13th, 1991 - Crossing the border into Nigeria was was a challenge, and an education in to what corruption really was. Every guard was suggesting a new rule; the truck must be fumigated, passports were not valid, something in our bags was illegal. But the attempts at bribery were ignored, and with patience, we were allowed in. Lagos was described in several of our guide books as 'the worst city in West Africa for crime', and it certainly appeared that way. But outside the city, the people were relaxed and friendly, and the few days we spent in the mountains of Obudu Cattle Ranch were among the most memorable days of the trip.

November 23rd, 1991 - These kids had offered us the fresh catch from their boat, but it was too little to feed us all, so this fish was bought at a market further down the beach and could have fed an army!
They stayed to helped to prepare it while I did more important things...like play football.






December 6th, 1991 - It was the usual border-crossing hassle. We arrived at 3pm, but the guards kept us waiting for 2 hours for no apparent reason. Then at 5pm they closed the border and went home! There was nothing to do but return the next day. When few people drive through this part of the World, even a water stop becomes a spectator sport. Finding fresh water was never as easy as it seemed. Even as we drove through the rainforest and there was plenty of water in the rivers, it was all undrinkable. Finding a pump in a village was the only reliable fresh-water source.






December 13th, 1991 - A lot of the bridges in Zaire seem to serve a dual purpose, as both road and rail bridges. But they all suffer from the same problem; almost all of the surface boards had gone, leaving nothing more than the sleepers for the rails to rest on. The boards that once covered them had been stolen by the villagers and used as firewood, and if it wasn't for the fact that these sleepers were held down by the tracks, I'm pretty sure they would have been stolen too.

Bridging the gaps with scraps wood and sand-mats, then inching forward, was the only way to advance. Once the truck had moved a few feet,the wood could be brought forward and the truck could be moved again. Eventually, we would make it to the other side, but it could take as much as 2 hours to make it across.

January 7th, 1992 - The Royal Drummers of Burundi






January 9th, 1992 - We drove into Rwanda for one reason only, to obtain Tanzanian visas. We had planned to drive through Burundi directly into Tanzania, but we discovered at the last minute that 4 people on the truck required Tanzanian visas before they could enter. For some reason, there was a problem obtaining those visas in Burundi, so we drove into Rwanda and went straight to the Embassy in Kigali. We were able to get the visas required at very short notice and we left immediately. We were really glad to do so, as we waited outside the Embassy there was a very bad feeling in the air and we just didn't feel safe.






January 11th, 1992 - After surviving the roads in central Africa, I expected Tanzania to be a vast improvement, but the roads (and the drivers) were even worse. Since we had just switched from driving on the right-hand side of the road through most of Africa, to now driving on the left-hand side (a relic of the British empire), it seemed to have driven everyone crazy.

But some of the best memories from my trip across Africa were from Tanzania, where I visited Lake Victoria, the Serengeti National Park, Ngorongoro Crater, the Rift Valley and Mt. Kilimanjaro.





But sadly, it was in Arusha that I said goodbye to the 'Encounter Overland' truck and everyone on board, as they continued their journey to Dar Es Salaam and the end of the journey. I had traveled 13,419 miles on the truck since leaving Tangier four months earlier and it had been an incredible journey. From here, I traveled alone up to Nairobi to collect money wired from England, and then back to Tanzania to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro. After that, I headed back to Kenya for a second and final time.

KENYAJanuary-February 1992

February 18th, 1992 - I returned to Nairobi for a few days where I rested my aching legs from climbing Kilimanjaro. 5 days of hiking had left me feeling pretty sore. I had a few days to spare before I left Africa, and I did very little with my time except wash clothes, read books and sleep. All I was doing was waiting for my flight to India to leave, where the next chapter of my journey around the World would begin...