Danone to Mann – Cote d’Ivoire

I was going to start by complimenting how wonderfully welcoming the people of Cote d’Ivoire are, but then I remembered how miserable the immigration officer was. It took some time to get out of Guinea and even more time to get through the Cote d’Ivoire side despite us being the only people at the border. Our passports were taken away and in pairs we were called into an office where a man who clearly hated his life, or job, or us, or all three, took answers down on a blank piece of A4 paper on the back of questions he asked us. Questions like occupation, home address, phone number and the likes. Besides the random A4 paper, what was strange was the questions weren’t consistent between us all and he took random mug shots with his mobile phone. I was one of the last to be processed and as we sat patiently in his office, the officer asked a colleague how many of us remained, to which the reply was four. The officer responded with an outpouring of misery, disgust, and annoyance that was beyond all reason; it took all I had to not burst out laughing. When we finally got on the move we were immediately greeted with brand-new roads, and electricity appeared to flow into every village in contrast with the Guinean side of the border. What is common between all the countries we have visited so far is that none of the villages have featured a single pane of glass, but then who needs windows when the temperature is consistently warm and muggy. It wasn’t long before we were pulled over at a police roadblock, the engine was turned off, and our leader had to go and present the book of paperwork. As we waited in the truck, someone offered me a beer which I happily accepted. Soon enough the majority of us were cracking open beers right outside the checkpoint in full view of the police officers. As far as I’m aware there is nothing illegal about this but perhaps still not one of our wisest moments, yet when everyone is feeling the same vibe it’s hard to not go along with it. It was therefore probably no coincidence that it was one of the longest checkpoint stops to date, and one that ended with all of us ordered off the truck by the police for a group photo, apparently for official reasons. 

The region of Guinea we had to skip through was famous for its traditional vine bridges but thankfully there was an opportunity to see one in Cote d’Ivoire. After a few failed attempts and a little too much time guiding low-lying power cables over the truck with brooms, we finally arrived at the correct village. We received quite the reception, warmly greeted by the adults, and playfully harassed by the persistently happy children. Down at the river we found what we had come to see. I believe vine bridges can be either dead or alive. This one was three years old and dead, made from vines recovered from the forest and bound together to form a sturdy footbridge. Vine bridges are usually replaced annually but the even sturdier concrete bridge alongside this one would suggest that it’s used for little else other than the amusement of a few passing tourists. And it was amusing. Hardly the remote jungle river crossings I was hoping for but then I feel those days simply don’t exist any longer and so I should be content with what I did see. 

The drive to Man was quite the experience. The quality roads continued, there were traffic lights that worked and were largely obeyed, there were actual police cars and modern ambulances, small patches of earth flourished with fresh fruit and vegetables, and big juicy tomatoes began to appear on street stalls once again after an absence in Liberia and Guinea. The surrounding hills of Man are begging for you to go and walk in them. Covered in tropical bush and trees, it’s a little how I imagine the Welsh hills looked before being permanently abused by sheep (albeit more temperate than tropical). There was plenty to go and see and we had time, or so we thought. Man isn’t usually on the itinerary and became so because of the time we had carried over from Guinea. We therefore had to find a campsite which turned into a group undertaking lasting over two hours and letting the best part of the day slip away as a search for luxury accommodation played out. Why people join tours and then try and lead it themselves through Google and Google Maps is beyond my comprehension. Put the bloody phone away. We shall arrive when we arrive. If you can do it better, travel independently. My latest lifesaving device while out on the road are my AirPods. They’ve been a godsend as I’ve made full use of the noise cancellation allowing me to sit on the truck with a big-ass stupid grin on my face as I listen to EDM in blissful ignorance of whoever has a bee in their bonnet or a statement to make that I don’t want to hear. In this instance we did eventually turn up to a half decent place that offered dorms or private rooms which rendered the majority happy however, it took a bottle of warm red wine with the Blonde Squad before I could get over the disappointment of missing out on my hike. 

24^th December 2023