Now let’s see if I can start where I left off: Getting off the beaten track of the touristy Fouta Djalon (beaten and touristy is actually a stretch, I was already off the track) and onto the remote road between Pita and Telimeli which truly is a track - at best.
After some delays getting from
Two hours waiting in Pita, an equal amount of time crammed in a Peugeot and then a quick 2km walk to Doucki – we arrived just after dusk to the great hospitality of Hassan Bah. Hassan is a character – he speaks French, Italian, Spanish, and English along with a slew of local languages – a rarity doesn’t quite cover it. About ten years back, a Peace Corps Volunteer, working in a next-door village, stumbled upon his wealth of knowledge about the surrounding area and helped him establish himself as a local guide. He has since perfected his trade and now provides a unique, if rustic, experience for those wishing to explore the surrounding hills, canyons and cliffs. The benefits of his tours – bringing foreign tourists along with their foreign cash – have been spread amongst his family who in turn spread it to the wider community. It is a great example of the community being truly invested since they see the direct and positive impact of it on their lives. Although – it has not extended so far that they didn’t start cutting down large tracts of forest to clear land to plant rice… but I will get to that later.
Chris and I got settled into our mud hut, took cold-water bucket showers, and had a nice meal of rice with manioc leave sauce. After another night of good conversation we retreated to the candle lit hut for a little reading and sleep – it was to be a big day tomorrow. We arranged to go on a large loop through the surrounding area with Abdurahim (Hassan’s brother since he was busy with family obligations after a recent death in the family). He was to take us through most of the major sites in the area – with help from that Peace Corps Volunteer – they all had been given catchy names such as “Indiana Jones” and “Hyena Rock”. This part of the Fouta Djalon is referred to as the “Grand Canyon” of Africa and rightfully so, it was by far one of the highlights of my time in
Doucki is situated on the top of one side of the quasi canyon and we set off the next morning passing “Hyena Rock,” descending past the “Bob Marley Stage” and down to the valley floor. After walking along a little stream for a while, our guide materialized an eclectic lunch of rice, avocado, tomato, maggi, and sardines – surprisingly good (at least to someone who doesn’t have access to avocados…). From there we needed to get back up to the top of the cliffs, 1000-1500 feet above, by making our way through a narrow crag in the cliffs – aptly named “Chutes & Ladders”. It was a steep climb up ‘ladders’ of bundles of bamboo poles lashed together with vines. It wasn’t quite the rainy season when we went in early May but had it been a few weeks later, they surely would have been more like “chutes” ;-) Upon reaching the top, it was a little after
Early the next morning we started our more than ambitious if not mammoth trek from Doucki to Telimeli – over 70km away. Looking back, it sounds a bit silly that we were going to try and attempt that in two days. Hassan accompanied us for almost an hour and a half for the first 7km where we caught a passing mini-van ~6km to Dongol-Touma. Having what was to be our last meal of rice (compared to our bland spaghetti) and a cold coke, we set off just after noon. The first day was pretty much all downhill and we covered a good distance going a little over 20km. Not quite as dramatically scenic as Doucki, it still merited a few photos. Unfortunately, the air was smoky from all the slash and burn going on to clear land to grow rice. We tried to reason with Hassan one night about how they were mutilating this beautiful area to make way for rice. Ultimately, however, feeding your family will always overrule almost any argument – even though they understood the value of maintaining the local environment for its tourist value – that could not compete with their basic need for food.
We persevered down the never-ending road descending all the while and even though we improvised a nice little short-cut – by sunset we were still a ways from our night’s destination of Ley-Mira. Luckily for us, someone passing (of which there may have been three all that day) offered to give us a lift the remaining 16km. In general, the people along the way turned out to be incredibly nice – we were frequently loaded up with all the oranges we could ever want, let alone carry. Using our water purification tablets to be safe, we were welcomed to fill up wherever there happened to be a pump. Pumps weren’t in every village but they were frequent enough so that 2 liters could sustain you in-between… in fact I was quite surprised by even the small number we did come across in that extremely remote area. One sign that really emphasized the degree of sophistication that existed in Guinea was how there was almost always a cement building in every family’s compound – something that is very rare outside large cities in Mali let alone tiny villages in the remote backwaters of the country. Anyhow, after our new friend Abdoulaye
Being woken before sunrise, we were almost pushed out the door by 7:00 and on our way. It was four flat kilometers to a ferry crossing where the road started its gradual ascent towards Telimeli. Of course it wasn’t that simple, there was a sign just a few yards past the river, which was a little less than clear. We decided rather than go off in the wrong direction, we would wait a little while for someone to pass and ask which way to go. However, that was a bit optimistic being as remote as we were. Finally, a car did pass and kindly answered all our questions: “Is Telimeli this way?” – “Yes.” “Is Telimeli this way?” – “Yes.” “Which way is shorter?” – “Yes.” “Where are you going?” “Yes.” Great, thanks for the help!
We tossed a coin, went straight and were rewarded a short walk later by a water pump and people that truly were helpful. Relieved we’d chosen the correct road, we continued on and by mid-morning, we were tired and just wanted to get there. Where we had originally wanted to walk the entire length, Chris and I had an unspoken understanding that if a car did pass we would take a ride. Marching on in silence up the evermore-inclining road, our feet hurt, shoulders hurt, and we drudged on. Still an unknown distance from our destination, we ran out of water and couldn’t seem to find a pump… the last two we had passed were both kaput. While stopping a short distance from one of those pumps to rest, a villager who’d seen us approach the broken pump came over with a jug of water. This was a very generous gesture as the last water source was at least two to four kilometers away. We gratefully accepted the water, filled our empty reservoirs, and added our purification tablets – the half hour wait couldn’t come soon enough. The water was probably well or river water and wouldn’t be a good idea to drink, but still not knowing when we would find the next water source, it was our only option.
About a half hour later, just as we were starting to consider drinking that water, we walked into a tiny village where we determined Gougouja, the town were we could continue onto Telimeli was not too far away. We resolved to press on and wait to get water there. By now of course, it was well into the heat of the day and we finally pulled into Gougouja about
The next morning, we were up early once again to catch transport to Kindia, about a 3.5-hour drive south. The journey passed unspectacularly – unspectacularly since nothing went wrong and there were no delays. The scenery was actually quite pretty and we had plenty of chances to appreciate it – we all frequently had to get out and walk up a hill while the car drove up to meet us at the summit. Does the fact that that seems normal and doesn’t register as a unique or special event mean something??
In Kindia, we had a short wait (two hours) before finding a car going to Madina-Oula on the Northwestern border of
To be continued…
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