Waking early after a restless sleep I rise and welcome the day. I wasn’t feeling well last night and my sniffles haven’t improved. I’m way too early for breakfast here at the pastoral centre so I busy myself loading my gear and enjoying the newish smell of my bike gear. It was worth the effort yesterday fining it all a good wash. Still I turn my nose up at my helmet, I didn’t clean that and wish that I had.

There are a few NGO’s readying themselves for a days work in the yard outside, I’m a little embarrassed at the state of my bike as the driver of one of the Toyotas cleans his sponsored pickup, it appears that he does this everyday!

I went to the canteen half An hour early to be turned away by the cook, ‘I’m not ready yet, breakfast is at 8.00am’ I didn’t argue and returned to my room.

Just before eight I return and sit in the dining room, there’s no one there but the cook brings out my simple breakfast of a one egg omelette filled with chillis and a piece of French bread. Coffee is also on the table and I sit alone and eat.

Soon after a group of four men arrive, two Americans and two Leonians. From what I picked up from their conversations I think they are out looking at villages for one reason or another. I hope they are doing good work? I finish my food and leave.

The bike is ready and I find the man to pay my bill. He wished me safe travels and I gently leave the centre. There’s about half a mile of track to the main road, I had read that it’s worth filling up before ‘attempting’ this road so I go straight to the petrol station and top up the tank. I’m fed and ready for the day, I start the bike and it immediately cuts out, damn I thought and try again, the same thing happens!

I start the bike again and take off down the road, immediately it’s a track and I’m ready for the challenge, I get about 300mtrs and the bike stops, it would not start. I look around and see a motorcycle workshop just up the road. Walking over I’m hoping they are good and helpful.

I explain my predicament and three boys are sent to help me push the bike up the hill to the workshop.

Reading about the area I had heard of a mechanic called Cissis, by a stroke of pure luck this was his workshop.

I was there for the whole day, first we cleaned out the fuel tank, then the fuel pump and so it went on, I won’t bore you with the details as we checked just about everything.

During the day an unfamiliar but freindly face appeared he introduced himself as Reverend John from the Catholic Mission. He was very helpful, sent out for water for me, which never arrived, and took charge of the situation. He was a busy man who’s brother was having an appendix operation that day so one minute he was there and the next he had to go off on his other duties.

The work continued....

Reverend John came back and leant me a bike, I was to follow him to his home, to see my accommodation for the night!, riding a local bike made me really appreciate my little Honda, the ride was harsh, the gears were odd and everything was bent but it ran and rode, that’s all that matters.

I was introduced to most his family and he showed me a room where I will be sleeping tonight, I didn’t ask, it was just provided.

Back at the workshop the bike is still not well, they have started cutting into the wiring loom as there appears to be an earthing fault and I’m not overly happy about that, but I really do need the bike running so I just sit back and intervene when necessary.

In the end Cissis went and bought another expert, he certainly bought something else to the table and finally they had the bike running. Much cutting and twisting of wires continued and I thought then that the trusty CRF is now fast becoming my ‘Africa Bike’!

Everything’s loaded back onto the bike and they both ride off to check it’s all OK, the bike stopped within sight of the workshop.

By now it’s getting dark and a torrential rainstorm has hit the town, we can’t continue today so I agree to leave the bike there and come back in the morning.

I leave with Rev John on the pillion of his own bike and he took me back to his family house where I’m fed and watered and he even dialled Sally in England on his own phone so I could let my family know I’m safe, I have been very much off grid for the last five days or so and I was concerned that they hadn’t heard from me.

Reverend John has asked his sister to make food and she brings a ‘simple meal’ of plantains, potatoes, fish, bulgar wheat and onions. She loads my plate and I have to stop her as it looks way too much. Reverend John has one piece of fish and bulgar wheat, I’m a little embarrassed to be honest.

When they leave I return some of the fish to the pot, it really was too much.

The Rev decides to go to town to get food for breakfast and I give him the last of my money, it’s not a massive amount and he gracefully accepts, I don’t think they have a lot so giving them all I have is the best I can do for now.

I have money but none of it Leonian, I had planned to be in Liberia now and had enough for the days ride, I never imagined I would end the day in the company of the kind, thoughtful and selfless Reverend John.

So I’m sat alone in a lit porch, it’s pitch black outside and I feel a little on display, I catch glimpses of faces walking by taking sneaky peeks at the Pima, the white man.

Reverend John returns with a beer rah and food for breakfast and we talk long into the night both putting the world to rights in our own separate ways, what an interesting day.

But you do meet some lovely people when you’re stuck! The white guy attracts a lot of attention!

Keneema, Reverend John and the bike dies.

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