Overview

            Early morning on December 18, 2011, four adventurous youths eagerly departed their university dorm abode. They had a vague idea of where they were going, a blurry image of what they hoped to find, and no clue what they were doing.

Mid semester, after time had permitted joyous unions between strangers, one man proposed an idea. The idea was grand, marvelous, and terribly unpredictable. Its magnitude alone was enough to dwarf any experience held by its creator, and that of his companions. With careful scrutiny, the idea was planted in the minds of those deemed worthy, where it germinated and grew into possibility. With the aid of local enthusiasts, the essential supplies were meticulously gathered. Despite the relaxed, painfully slow nature of the environment, the four young explorers acquired everything they believed they would need to survive for five weeks on their own, four grains of sand in a vast, dark ocean. They carried no tent, no backpack, no stove, no compass, one map (picked out of a handy tourism pamphlet), and an extra helping of will power. With only the essentials, like medical supplies, repair tools, flash lights, and appropriate clothing (including one pretty red dress) the four team members embarked on possibly the most extensive exploratory journey of its kind.

A 35 day, 2500 kilometer circumnavigation of one of Africa’s greatest nations, Ghana, all from the unimaginably painful seat of a bicycle. The four: Frazer Tear, Frog, self proclaimed instigator and leader, sleep hater, 6’ 5”, 175 lbs, ginger. Armando Jesus Vargas Estrella, C-Rane, mediator, morale bringer, FanMilk supporter, 5’9”, 140lbs, Mexican. Margarita Gonzalez Gonzalez, E.T., accommodation expert, gesturist, photographer, 5’ 5”, 120lbs, also Mexican. Evelyn Masoner, Lee Jew Ha, laugher, eater, wilderness first responder, 5’6”, 130lbs, Jew.

Together they rode, wind at their backs (almost never), into the great unknown. Tears and sad goodbyes, classes and lecture halls, beds and fans, all left behind for the lure of adventure, and the inescapable attraction of discovery. 

ROUTE

Day 1 - Winneba                           

Day 2 - Cape Coast                                      

Day 3 - Takoradi                                       

Day 4 - Busua                                                

Day 5 - Green Turtle Lodge                            

Day 6 - Tarkwa                                      

Day 7 - Gyapa                                              

Day 8 - Kumasi                                        

Day 9 - Nkenkaasu                                

Day 10 - Wenchi   

Day 11 - Kwame Kwasi 

Day 12 - Bole    

Day 13 - Nyoli                              

Day 14 - Wa 

Day 15 - Wa 

Day 16 - Wahabu  

Day 17 - Tumu

Day 18 - Nakong 

Day 19 - Navrongo

Day 20 - Bolgatanga

Day 21- Tamale

Day 22 - Tamale

Day 23 - Yendi

Day 24 - Bimbila

Day 25 - Nkwanta

Day 26 - Kadjebi

Day 27 - Hohoe

Day 28 - Peki

Day 29 - Akosombo

Day 30 - Lake Volta

Day 31 - Yeji

Day 32 - Atebubu

Day 33 - Mampong

Day 34 - Nkawkaw

Day 35 - Accra

DAY 1

I had, and still have, no knowledge of how to change a flat tire. I knew little of bike maintenance, I had determination to do something I did not believe I could actually do: ride my bike for 80 kilometers a day for 10 days straight. In fact, once we were eating our first meal after our first day of riding, energetic Margarita boldly and confidently recounted our kilometers and time for the day. With my panic and lack of confidence, doing circles in my head, I gave a smile and agreeing nod to her statement that we could average 100 kilometers a day, at least, if we biked for a few more hours. Margarita was a driving force on the trip: constantly happy, constantly ready to go, constantly ready to explore and experience; a consistently wonderful planner with beautiful energy to encourage.

Our first day on the trip, we set the standard of leaving later than our desired departure time. We finally rode away from the International Student Hostel at 6:30 am towards Circle to meet up with some fellow Ghanaian cyclists. Friends we had met during the semester who lived in ISH, and the guards waved us goodbye. I remember feeling free as we rode down a neighborhood behind campus before intersecting with the main road. When we made it to circle, I quickly became fond of this group of cyclists that I had never met before. Not only were they well equipped and prepared but they kindly taught me how to efficiently use gears up and down hills. The greatest part of their send off though, for me, was the siren sounding howl from one of the bikers that got us safely through the traffic and road construction.

I remember the road to Winneba being flat except for the few hills at the end of the ride. The hills felt HUGE, and I lagged behind. Frazer patiently and warmly kept me in a good pace with the group. He never let me lag too far behind or bike too much alone and helped me draft, a valuable skill to learn.  He was the leader who led from the back on the rides and directed the routes and plans as though he was always in front. It was a warm, dry, sunny Ghanaian day that seemed to smile on us. My lungs breathed the air of life and freedom. We rode into Winneba at about 10:30 am. We must have taken a few stops.  One stop was for saying goodbye to our cyclist friends about a third of our way to our destination. And then we probably stopped for water and snacks because I was hungry and concerned that we needed to eat.  Armando set a strong pace and led the way.  His dependable endurance and speed felt like an odometer throughout my time on the trip.  I appreciated his positive, carefree and laid back acceptance of adversity and adventure.

The ride into Winneba was sweet. Once we turned off the main road from the roundabout, it was a downhill ride towards the coast.  We rode past some houses in the process of being built, mentally scouted them for shelter for the night and bee- lined it for a chop bar. I clearly remember the omotuo being so filling and so good.  I, also, remember the energy at lunch seemed to be one of ‘Sweet! We are doing this and that was an awesome start!”

 We finished lunch and easily made our way into town, doing circles, trying to find the beach. We rode through the market, listening to the type of calls that would come numerously throughout each day in the coming future: “Oburoni! White Man! Woo ko he? Where are you going?”  Margarita finally asked for directions from Amma, our first host and friend of the trip.  Amma is a young Ghanaian woman who works as a seamstress. She lived with only her mother and has recently moved to Accra to continue working. She walked us to a beach resort where we ended up camping and took advantage of the unlocked bathrooms.  Amma had led Margarita and Frazer into town on our night of arrival to get us breakfast, snacks and water for the next day.  We swam in the ocean, rested, talked and nervously slept out under the stars. None of us slept well or for long either because of the bugs or serious concern of being ambushed or robbed.  When Armando and I were left to watch camp, three boys with a cutlass came over and sat too close. They eyed our stuff, but left after we shooed them away.  We ended up being safe the whole night under the clear stars next to the sound of ocean waves breaking.

By

Evelyn Masoner

DAY 4

Riding from Takoradi on December 21^st to Busua (Green Turtle Lodge) was by far one of the most memorable and challenging days for me.  As I was running through the 5am morning drill of strategically strapping down my bag onto the rack with budgie cords, while scarfing down a banana, bread and preparing my 3-series water concoctions (1^st- water with chia seeds, 2^nd-water with Moringa powder and 3^rd-water with Grapefruit Seed Extract (GSE) for preventative care), I took the time to jot down a few notes on Takoradi in my journal.  Closing statement of the journal entry was: “Off to Busua, it is supposed to be gorgeous and only about 40-45km, so it should take no more than two and a half hours, practically an off day.”

I could not have been more mistaken!  Sure it was only a 50 km ride, but the last 10-15 km were along an extremely rough road.  According to Frazer it was intermediate level mountain biking.  I mention this as an intro to the next statement, which is that I fell twice. Yes, twice.  I’m really clumsy when it comes to intense out-doors activities, such as snowboarding, skating, or any other activity involving going down a hill at a really fast pace.  Frazer, Evelyn, and Armando on the other hand, were flying down and back up the hills, having the time of their lives strategically “picking lines” to trek through, while I couldn’t help and think to myself “what in the world have I gotten myself into?!”

Although I hadn’t expected us to bike through such rugged terrain when committing to the bike tour, I quickly had to remind myself that in a sense, that was exactly what I had signed up for.  I had committed to an adventure full of circumstances where I’d be forced to take on the unexpected and push my limits in all ways.  These thoughts gave me a burst of energy and next thing you know, I’m zipping right down the hill feeling fearless, when suddenly I was defeated by an unexpected rock, large enough to throw me off balance and into the dirt, with my bike following closely behind and toppling right over me.  The fall managed to pop my tire and gash up my right knee pretty bad, but luckily we had Evelyn on board to quickly mobilize the group and do some quick damage control.  Within an hour we were all checked into the Green Turtle Lodge, where we decided to stay for two nights and recover from the mayhem.

Despite the fall, it was one of the most amazing rides we had. The terrain was extremely rugged and surrounded by lush palm trees, fields of cassava and other tropical vegetation.  The air was crisp; hardly any cars in sight and for the first 30 km, the smoothly paved roads were winding through the thick of the forest.  Although we had technically crossed into the Western Region the previous day, when riding from Cape Coast (Central Region) to Takoradi, it was not until the ride to Busua that I was able to experience the change in terrain and capture the tropical beauty of the Western Region.

The Green Turtle Lodge is located 5-10 km West of Busua beach and is by far the nicest beach I have been to in Ghana.  Given its distant location, there were only about 10-15 other people (tourist) there, making it possible to keep the beach-front in pristine shape. They have bungalows, but we stayed in the tents on the beach front, which actually had mattresses inside and cost only 5 cedis a night.  There was also a restaurant/bar, a ping-pong table, an uneven pool table, and boogie boards, all of which we took full advantage of during our stay, knowing it would be the last of such extreme relaxation.

By

Margarita Gonzalez

DAY 5

Not having to wake up to Frazer, the sleep hater's, 4:30am alarm at Green Turtle was absolutely delightful! I slept in until 7am (never before would I have considered that sleeping in), ate breakfast and enjoyed a delicious cup of French press coffee.  By 9am everyone was up and we were out on the beach playing Frisbee.  By 12pm we were all starting to feel hungry and refused to pay 7-12 cedis for a meal, so Evelyn and I ventured out to the next town (about a mile away) for food.  The town’s name was Akwade and it was truly special.  I can’t quiet put my finger on it, but the energy was extremely positive and touching, I felt almost overwhelmed.  It is one of the most remote towns I have ever been in, to the point where it was difficult to find food to buy.  We had to walk through the front and back areas of small homes made out of clay, bamboo and grass roofs.  Although the town was clearly impoverished, the people looked happy, hard working, and healthy.  It was bustling with life. 

We finally found a hut where at least four women were working on the preparation of fufu, by peeling and pounding the plantains and cassava as well as stirring up a really aromatic fish stew.  Once inside, we were warmly welcomed and given a bench to sit on.  For the next 15 minutes I just sat there looking out the small 4 ft entrance door, watching life happen.  A four year old girl was carrying cassava on her head, and then passed a three year old drumming along with his wood stick and empty plastic bottle.  Kids with button-up collar shirts were walking in and out of the fufu kitchen and then passed a teenage boy blasting hip-life (Ghanaian pop music) on his small boom box.  The men were on the canoes fishing and there was a bridge (rickety, but high and about 30 ft long) which the people use to cross over the stream that meets the ocean.  The Women crossing the bridge were all carrying something or other on their heads: water, cassava, pots, wood, bamboo, etc.  We also walked past women sifting through the Cassava in order to make Gari. 

There was so much activity; it was almost difficult to process.  It left me with lingering questions about poverty alleviation and “development.”  Never had it been more clear to me how dynamic poverty is and how difficult and at times unnecessary it is for outsiders to come in and try to re-structure peoples way of life in order to speed them through what would be a more localized and sustainable development process.  Is development actually “for” the people? Or do many organizations simply try to bring them up to life standards that developed countries find agreeable, regardless of what actually makes sense to the community?  Surely it is not so black and white, and there are some truly successful and inspirational development projects throughout Ghana, but this experience (along with others that have followed) has made me significantly more skeptical of development work.   

By
Margarita Gonzalez

DAY 6

We awoke to a beautiful morning on the beach at Green Turtle Lodge, to make our first journey north. As we leave the comfort of this tropical paradise, we are eager to see what will come as we travel further and further from home. First we must take the same dirt roads we took to get to our beach resort, which means about 7km of rough riding up and down mountainous and rocky hills. Margarita, being cautious this time, is taking it slow. We continue our journey with our humble new friend, Alex, as we make our way to the main road. As we ride, the clouds overhead are beginning to rumble, with flashes of lightning appearing and thunder striking our bones. Is it really going to start raining heavily just as we begin to ride? We’ll see... It actually was quite beautiful, riding through on this winding road, surrounded by thick vegetation of palm trees and other tropical variety, the sound of waves crashing from the beach alongside us was calming. It ended up only raining throughout this section of road, and by the time we hit the pavement, it was smooth sailing until our next destination. We were glad to meet nicely paved roads, after traversing the treacherous roads until then, and we were granted with just enough room on the shoulder to avoid vehicles as they sped by. We kept a pretty tight formation for the most part, and the ride was pleasantly refreshing, as the rain had cleared out the air and dirt. It was brisk, and we maintained a great pace, going up and down hills as we passed some of the most beautiful landscape on our trip. Riding was a breeze until we reached our destination, the mining town known as Tarkwa.


Immediately upon reaching this town, we were greeted by the chaos of hawkers and pedestrians left and right, and an endless stream of traffic that was almost at a stand-still for miles: angry drivers and shouting, along with the noise and exhaust from trucks and vans, we were definitely back in the city. Not really having any accommodation in mind, we continued our way to find a quiet place in hopes of meeting some people who could help us out. After taking some twisting roads along hillsides, we came upon a dirt road, which would be our next route towards Kumasi. Figuring we should stay along this road, we take a few moments to rest and hopefully strike up a conversation with someone. No one really cared to talk to us. Amidst this hectic scene of an endless wave of cars passing by us, kicking up dirt into the air, making it seem like we were in a sandstorm, everything surrounding us was covered by this red dirt. Sounds of construction sites and drilling filled our ears. Our initial plan was to see if we could maybe stay in an uncompleted building, where the workers of this project would stay throughout its construction. All seemed likely, until Margarita insisted (“Guys, just trust me on this one…”) that we follow her and this man who she had just met, named Simon, who promised to help us find accommodation. Tired and on the edge of frustration, all we could say was, “we’re not really looking for a guest house or hotel, we can’t afford to stay somewhere expensive. Maybe we can stay with you, or someone you know?”. “Don’t worry, just come,” is what he replied. We follow Simon for a few minutes and lo-and-behold! We stumble upon an oasis! This couldn't be a more accurate term to describe our accommodation for the night. Here we are, passing through this loud and chaotic town, dirt is sweeping through the air, along with car exhaust suffocating our every breath, and out of nowhere, we come upon this beautiful lake surrounded by green vegetation on all sides, with lush mountains encircling the area and a clean atmosphere with a feeling of peace and tranquility. A true oasis indeed we have found, Onyame Adom! 


It happened to be that this place was some sort of guest house, terribly out of place. As if this weren't enough of a relief, Simon then proceeds to pay for two rooms for us to stay the night! It turns out that this man is the son of the chief in that area, and wanted to ensure that we have an excellent experience during our stay in Tarkwa. We couldn’t deny, as he insisted on this being the case, and then asked us if we each wanted a beer, took care of that, and then dropped an additional 12 cedis on the table for whatever other items we wanted, and then dipped out and said he’d be back later in the evening to see how we were doing (!). What a nice guy, very generous. How did we get so fortunate? This was just one example of how truly blessed we were during our entire trip. We then finally took to relaxing and spent some time washing our bikes of all the dirt and grime that had accumulated from our first off-road experience, getting them oiled and ready for the days to come. The rest of the evening goes swell, enjoying the sight of this beautiful scene, hearing the story of Hanuka from Evelyn on this 23^rd day of December, 2011, the eve of Armando’s twenty-first birthday. We rest up early tonight, as we have to get up early again the next day and do it all over. Where are we going? North.

Editor’s note: Onyame Adom means “By the Grace of God”, in Akan (Twi).

By

Armando Vargas

DAY 7

            Our ride from Tarkwa to Gyapa was unbelievably fun for me. The road was broken. It verged between dirt and pavement with patches of pavement on the dirt sections and vice versa, along with the occasional car, tro tro, and truck that needed maneuvering around. You had to swerve to miss the potholes, it was all about finding the line. I am an addicted skier who could spend the whole day on the slopes skiing moguls and between trees, doing nothing but looking at lines as they quickly come to you.

            This day started out misty on a dirt road.  The feeling of cold was in my bones on this warm December day.  We put bandanas over our faces to prevent breathing in the dirt, generously kicked up from the mining tucks, not just to bike on, but seemingly, through as well.  The trucks’ loud horns and beaming headlights created obstacles for adrenaline as I watched the bumps and lines of the road appear like a game before me.  At one point, when the dust had settled in the day’s dampness, Frazer, Armando and I almost got run off the road by a big truck. I was following Frazer, Armando following me, all of us very close when the truck angled in such a way that it was apparent we needed to either stop moving, jump into the bush or under the truck. I lost my balance behind Frazer, suddenly stopping and Armando got an image of horror as my bike fell sideways and my back hit the side of the truck.  I remember seeing the tire roll behind me while the truck moved along my camel back as I was leaned against it. I used the momentum of my fall and the truck to jump forward into the clear. 

When we arrived in Gyapa, I was so excited about the terrain; this was a day that I wanted to keep biking. The road had been mostly through dense green forest with some hills that beckoned speed on the incline and decline. I led the ride for a good portion of this day.  The rest of the group had mixed feelings about the road and did not get the same thrill that I did.

Gyapa was a small town on hills.  As we rolled in and stopped for a quick snack I remember talking with some locals about the mining of the area, the Chinese illegal mining. We went up a hill for food and found the usual rice stand on the side of the road.  I left the group and went searching for shelter for the night.  Margarita was always stellar at finding us a place to stay.  Still, I figured I would search. I wandered into a church that had a football field and housing for workers. It was peaceful but not adequate because the minister was not around. After waiting for a long time, I left and asked the woman selling something in front of her store if we could stay at her place.  The excitement and fame of the cycling Obruni’s made it easy for her to accept my request. I walked back to the group to find that they had eaten, found shelter and watched some young kids create delicious food. The story goes something along the lines of… this little boy gathered the kids together and then started directing them: “you get this and you get that”. I came upon the kids jumping and screaming and running. Their energy and strength is something you could only find in little boys.  Meanwhile, my cohorts had found shelter from Joe.  The bond was over the fact that he has siblings studying in the U.S., and had invited us into his home.  He had two rooms for us to stay in and a wife that cooked delicious food for us.  She made us rice in the evening for dinner and red-red with fried plantains in the morning, upon Frazer’s request. We bathed in the local showers that we each had to pay 50 pesewas for, the outhouse being a few houses away. Each time we found shelter, we were encouraged to bathe, and I found it always crucial to know where I could go to the bathroom.

The most significant thing about this day was that it was December 24^th, Armando’s Birthday!  At a local bar, we drank a few beers and celebrated the way any good college student should enjoy a birthday. It was great! Especially, riding around town in the back of Joe’s moto-trike, leading the Oburoni Parade!

That night was hot! And the house was directly next to a place that sold beer and played music loud enough for a Jimmy Buffet concert. 4 am came way too early, but the breakfast beans were worth it.

By

Evelyn Masoner

The state of our team after the road from Tarkwa to Gyapa...one of the dirtiest days.

Morning beans and plantain to fuel the day ahead.

DAY 8

Christmas Day in Ghana seemed just as long and bustling as any other day.  We ended up biking into Kumasi and managed picked the road that has the most hills into Kumasi as well.  110 kilometers after Gyapa (or longest day yet), we thought were in Kumasi, or at least a few kilometers away, but we were standing on top of the hill that actually had a sign that said 20 kilometers to Kumasi and all I could see was the next HUGE, I mean HUGE like MASSIVE hill in front of me.  Forget mileage, I had to get over that hill to get to Kumasi. Unfortunately, after that MASSIVE hill was another MASSIVE hill which hid the next 5 MASSIVE hills on the other side of it that separated me from Kumasi.  What do I know about biking? Not much because Armando, Margarita and Frazer all told me about the torture of hills in San Francisco and biking up mountains. I rolled my eyes.

 The ride, I honestly, don’t really remember because of my exhaustion of reaching Kumasi. I do remember the traffic being bad and nerve wrecking the closer we go to Kumasi. Also, being in Kumasi the traffic was bad. I remember leading the group and not seeing a wide and deep pothole in front of me, a good sign of tiredness.  I slammed on the breaks and almost caused a pile up within the group.

When we reached Kumasi, the plan was to head into town towards our shelter because if we went to find food we could end up on the opposite side of town. We would of then had to bike through Kumasi, an obnoxious thought. However, hunger took over and we stopped at the first sign of food.  It was a nice food stand that gave us each a free egg roll for Christmas.

 Margarita hooked it up for us by reconnecting with a good friend. We staid with Kwesi and his awesome Dad who built their house and helps out in the villages with his engineering back ground.  Their home was elegant and warm.  They fed us full for dinner and breakfast with chocolate bars, marmalade and all around, good, good food. It was a unique Christmas for this band of adventurers

By

Evelyn Masoner