A late start this morning after our driver dissapeared for a while and then we searched for a cash point in Kayes.
Eventually we headed out South skirting the river in the direction of Diouma where we hoped to find Mali’s Niagara falls. In retrospect we were totally unprepared.
At first the dusty track posed very little problem for our Cherokee. In the middle of nowhere we even encountered a couple of miles new wide highway being built. It started in the middle of the bush and ended at an unnamed village. We then hit a dilapidated Tarmac road for a short while until we spotted a rusty sunbleached sign for the falls. It directed us right, off the ‘main’ road, along a narrow sandy track.
This is where the adventure really begins. The main track, often barely identifiable, gradually deterioated as it rose over stony hills and dropped through dried up river beds. And it just kept going, mile after mile, obstacle after obstacle, hour after hour.
All along the route an array of colourful birds took flight and we even spotted one monkey. We passed village after village of round mud huts, mostly elevated on stones. At each we were greeted by children running towards us excitedly calling “Cadeaux! Cadeaux!”
The track was much tougher and longer than we had estimated from our map. Doubts about continuing started to surface. Our only provisions were four bottles of water and a packet of nuts. Our tents and camping equipment were still aboard the Grand Benin docked in Lisbon. Spending a night in the bush would be possible but by no means desirable under the circumstances. Reports of hyenas in the area didn’t do much to build confidence.
After a gruelling five hours, having covered only about 80km, we suddenly came across another aged sign for the falls. Quite impressive in their own right, the beauty of the broad waterfalls was magnified by the gargantuan effort to reach them.
After a refreshing stroll around the edges and the customary photo taking orgy, we headed back to the jeep. We had about three hours of daylight left. With a quick glance of our obviously inacurate map, we decided to press on to the next town in the hope that it was closer than marked and that the road might improve.
At least on one count we were very wrong. The road simply got worse. Much worse. I have absolutely no idea how we got over some of the boulders and hills. On at least three occasions I could have bet a hundred crates of cold beer that the jeep would have been stranded high and dry on an impossible rock.
Finally, with about an hour of daylight left, the track began to flatten out. Rocks and stones turned to sand. Tracks became more distinct and apparently more frequented. Eager to find refuge, we sped up considerably dodging between trees and pot holes, with a few sideways skids to add to the excitement.
Finally we hit a town. It wasn’t the town we had expected, but it was built up and had a “hotel”. As darkness fell, we secured rooms and a meal for the night.
All in all an adventurous day.
