It was a stifling night, the temperature was off the scale and the airflow non existent. We stayed with Hamman another friend of the Rev, he was a really jolly chap and bought some oranges for my onward journey.

John was odd this morning, he started off well but then his mood changed, I didn’t feel very comfortable.

This is the day we part, he’s been helping me for the last week and we have got on well but today he’s different.

We leave to try and find transport to Liberia, I get a front seat in a 4x4 and we have to go and get my bag. I did want to take it in the first place but he was having none of that, so we had to take a Moto taxi there, a Moto taxi back and guess what after picking up my bag we are doing the journey yet again. I don’t understand why they do this here, it’s not how I work as it just seems stupid but later today I will be back on my own and I’m looking forward to that.

We arrive back at the transport station and the seat I booked has been allocated to a fat man, the 4x4 is full so we have to find another option. As always there is another 4x4 so I book a seat on that. It’s at this point that I discover that John had me paying double for a seat on my own so it was costing me twice as much. He never asked me this and I’m a bit annoyed.

John asks if we can have breakfast, I don’t want any but buy some for him, he then says it’s for me, this is so frustrating, I don’t eat much and he eats like a horse, in the end I leave the breakfast to a beggar, at least he will have a full stomach today. John isn’t happy but I don’t care, I want to be on my own again, I’m fed up of being ‘looked after’. I know it’s the African culture but I’m still longing to be alone again.

Earlier John advises me to change a further 50$, I now find out that I don’t need this, I am really annoyed as I now have much more than I need and will have to deal with that problem at the Liberian border. He is also saying that he has helped me for the last week and he’s now not considering keeping in touch!

I’m not sure what he’s getting at and I say well if that’s what you want then fine. I have paid him well for helping me but he’s not happy with that either, I gave him the money in dollars but he wants bigger bills.

You just can’t please some folks can you.

In the end I shake his hand and get in the truck, I really don’t know why he was like this and it’s very disappointing but hey, the adventure continues and I move on.

Im sharing the front seat with a woman, it’s tight! There are 11 people in a 7 seater Isuzu Trooper that’s seen better days but I’m back on my own and happy to just have some head space.

About an hour down the road we pull over the Isuzu has developed a fault and we are at the side of the road with the rear wheel off and they are trying to fix the issue. I really don’t care, this is what it’s all about here and at least I’m now back on my own.

The truck can’t be fixed, I think the half shaft has broken. The women are not happy and give the driver loads of grief but he can’t do anything. He calls and another car is dispatched from the depot 20 miles away. We backtrack slowly until the complaints reach a crescendo that the driver can’t handle anymore, he pulls over under a tree and we wait for the replacement car.

We have a good conversation about life and travel and again the participants can’t believe I rode my bike to Sierra Leone.

The driver said that he noticed when we broke down that my emotion didn’t change, everyone was losing their head and I just sat in the shade entertaining the local kids. for me there was a degree of inevitability about the whole situation, he likened it to me on my bike, he said you didn’t expect a problem to occur either.

He was very respectful of the fact that I hadn’t made a fuss and said I was ‘no ordinary white man’, many people have said this to me on this journey, I expect it’s because I try not to make a fuss and don’t demand special attention.

He was a lovely man and decided that he was going to rest today when he gets back and drink palm wine! From God to Man I exclaimed, he was surprised that I knew about this drink. He told me that there was a village up ahead where you can buy the good stuff, not watered down he told me. When the next car arrived he instructed the driver where to buy the palm wine for me!

So we are now back on the road in another vehicle, this one seats 14! Well in Africa it does!

This is some sort of Toyota minivan and as usual it’s loaded to the gunnels and frequently bottoms out on the rough roads. It’s very hot but there’s a little more space than before so I’m happy.

As we progress the road gets worse, the tarmac ends and we are on jungle roads again. There’s been a some rain and in parts the road is completely flooded with bright orange puddles and deep mud. I expect the fact that the van is so heavy that it improves the traction somewhat as apart from a couple is times it doesn’t struggle for grip, we do scrape the cills on numerous occasions but we keep going which is a relief. I don’t suppose I would have minded if we had got stuck, I’m ready for anything at the moment.

We pull over for a customs check and the passengers all have to file through a mud hit to check passports and ID cards. I discover that the group of women are trainers from Liberia, they have been working in Freetown and do this journey regularly. They ask about my family and want to see photos, they question why I’m here and who’s looking after things at home...

The road now is pretty bad and we make slow but sure progress. The vehicle here do have a hard time that’s for sure.

Eventually we arrive at the border for Liberia, it’s late and I’m advised to get a move on, if we don’t get through we have to sleep at the border, that doesn’t look very comfy, so I’m on a mission and charge through as fast as I can. I hit one hurdle, I can’t find my papers for my Yellow Fever vaccination but remember that I have a picture on my phone, luckily this works and I’m through.

I can’t find the women who were going to other cargo and some chickens travel into Monrovia with me so I jump on a local bus and hope for the best.

This is probably the cheapest form of travel in Africa apart from walking and I share the bus with twice as many passengers as there should be, plus some extra cargo and of course the inevitable chickens. It makes for an interesting smell, temperature is off the scale and each time we stop the heat and humidity hits you like a brick wall, it smelt like a well stocked Turkey shed nearing Christmas. I was really pleased when we were on the move, all windows open, the bus bellowing through the night and a warm refreshing breeze passing though the bus clearing the air.

The journey was long and cramped and I was loving the whole experience, this is life in Africa, this is someone’s reality and I have the pleasure of experiencing it, something I will never forget.

The breakdown and other delays mean I’m arriving in Monrovia late at night, I have nowhere to stay and this city is really dangerous at night. As we near the end of the journey the passengers get concerned and allocate a helper who stays with me and guides me to my final destination for the night, he even pays for the taxi!!

So I arrive at St Theresa’s Convent and find it challenging to get in, it’s the usual, steel gates, razor wire and broken glass topped walls. Finally they let me in and I’m given a room. I thank my helper and enter into the compound they tell me it’s usual to book but that falls on deaf ears, I’m here now, next time I will remember that!

It’s safe and comfortable and has a shower which dribbles Water above my head, I wash myself and my clothes which are filthy and drop straight into bed.

The generator is switched off at midnight and the fan stops. I have a good nights sleep nonetheless.

Waking in the morning I venture out to get phone credit, I’m followed and don’t feel comfortable about this so I confront the young guy. It makes no difference everywhere I go he’s there begging me constantly for money. I got really annoyed and confronted him several times telling him to go away but it’s no use.

I have credit now and call a local friend to discover that he’s was waiting for me at a village near the border and he’s still there, he didn’t find me! We arrange to meet in a couple of days and I head back to the Convent. The chap follows me and I dive back through the gate as he continued to plague me for cash. I’m pretty sure he was on drugs, he had the look in his eyes.

A little later I venture out to the beach which is just a few hundred meters up the road. The sea looks inviting and the sand is clean but it’s a big break, it reminds me of Chesil Beach near Portland back home, it doesn’t look safe to swim. As usual I get mobbed by kids, one youngster approaches me and I notice he’s flying a kite way above the town as he walks along the beach, he offers me the kite, I gave the string a little tug but decline full control. I’m approached by a chap with one leg, he’s remarkably agile on his crutches and he greets me with a smile, I expect him to beg but he just wants to talk. Another small child holds my hand and I feel him rubbing my fingers, I’m not overly comfortable so I move on, I then notice that my hand is black, the kid was rubbing engine oil into my skin, there’s a rubbish tip nearby and many people are filtering through the trash. I surmise that he was one of those so decide to go back and wash my hands. As I pass a man is making charcoal stoves from discarded cans on the dump, most of the street sellers use these to cook your food by the roadside.

The generator at the convent runs from 6.00pm till midnight, that’s about all I get on the power stakes. I had picked up some Euro food at a local supermarket so I was set for the evening, it’s been a long time since I had food like this, beer, red wine, chorizo, cheese and bread. I have been eating local food, mainly fish and rice or it’s derivatives. The food is nice and I ate the lot, my system isn’t used to it and complains a little! The red wine was lovely and I retired early to relax and prepare for the next day.

Today is Sunday and the town is pretty quiet. I had a lie in until 8.00am then dozed around for a while until I needed to go out and find food. The problem with me travelling in Africa is that wherever I go I attract a lot of attention. Yesterday I decided to cut my beard short, the long blonde beard and white skin was a magnet and I hoped this would tone things down a little but no luck, it didn’t work.

I have been warned about the dangers of walking around here but I can’t stay in the convent all the time, I need food and water and now I’m not on the bike hauling it through difficult roads I also need some exercise. So I venture beyond the razor wire and glass topped walls once more.

I head off in a different direction this time in the hope of finding something new but I find more of the same. Walking past a group of men they shout over to me, they want to talk but I’m not in the mood so I tell them I have to be somewhere. I would never get anywhere if I spoke to all that have this request.

Eventually I found another shop which was open and find my travelling food of sardines, I gave my last batch away so I buy a few cans for later. Venturing further into town I bought more food from a young girl on the street. There’s not much to do and I wander further until I walk straight into a group of young men who basically surround me. Alerts are going off in my head and I stay alert. They ask me for money as they have now work for the day, they wash cars but today there are no takers, people like this live from day to day and no work means no food.

I explain that I have very little money on me and express concerns about security they reassure me and say they are not like that, they don’t take from people. When I left I put a small amount of money in one pocket, I show them this is all I have and give it to them. It is less than £1 but they thank me anyway, I decide to leave as the appearance of money causes a conflict in the group, I move on quickly but I’m followed by one of the group, he wants my sardines but I refuse and walk away.

It really is an issue travelling here, now I don’t have my bike whenever I am anywhere there’s no quick way out. I do wish my bike had been fixed, I wouldn’t be here right now. I feel trapped but I expect all will be well and I will settle into my journey again when I sort out my onward travel tomorrow.

I get back to the convent again and relax in the security of its walls. Sardines and bread, not fancy I admit, but good travel food for me. I’m thinking back on all the different local foods I have tried, the strangest for me was eating crab here. The African way is to literally eat the crab, they are about the size of your hand and you bite them in half and chew the whole thing to pieces, shell, legs and claws leaving only the pincers, the whole lot goes down, they are tasty but it did feel odd crunching the whole thing. The crab was lovely and I was surprised how easily they went down!!

When the Africans eat fish they also eat the head, the only thing left is the main bone in the middle and the tail, the rest is crunched up and eaten, that’s another experience to reflect upon. I came here to experience other cultures and that’s precisely what I’m doing!

The road to the Liberian border were challenging. Wish I had the bike!

Miami Beach was vibrant and showed a different side to life in Monrovia.

They carry everything in their head in West Africa.

Bo to the Liberian border and Monrovia

Traveldri Plus