Travel is the only context in which some people ever look around. If we spent half the energy looking at our own neighborhoods, we'd probably learn twice as much. - Lucy R. Lippard

29 December 2019, Freetown to Port Loko, 87km (plus ferry)
Wepo Wepo Guest House 80,000LLE (R118)

We had to be at the ferry, around 14km from our Airbnb, before 08:00…
We had had a noisome night, a doof-doof disco into the early hours putting paid to restful sleep. It was a really long day, therefore, that began with coffee and yoghurt at 05:15, putting us on the road an hour later while it was dark still. We said our farewells to the security guard who released us from the Airbnb, and pushed our bikes up the short, steep, bedrock section of Sherriff Drive that links to Regent. Down Regent in the dark, and right at the intersection, and left at the second circle into Wilkinson. By the time we turned there, it was beginning to grow light, making cycling less dangerous. Essentially we retraced our steps through the city as far as the Cotton Tree, a large and ancient tree, honoured still as being the tree under which returning freed slaves gave thanks.* From the tree, we followed an unknown and narrower route through a market where vendors were still unpacking and arranging their wares for sale. And down a side street to the Kissy ferry wharf.
The ride through the city had taken us longer than we had hoped, so the ferry was already packed with vehicles and passengers by the time we arrived. A young man took us immediately in hand, hustling us passed others to the ticket office (8,000 each plus 8,000 for each bike), then down to the ferry, where we got our feet wet wheeling the bikes up the partially-submerged vehicle ramp. Then he and one other found a space for the bikes on a section of raised deck near the ramp. Between them and Charl, they managed to lift the bikes, panniers and all, the two or three metres up and over the railing, while I pushed my way through the crowd to the ladder so could join the bikes. Those passengers who had chosen to make the short journey from this vantage point, made room for Charl and I to sit, Charl on a large tyre, me on a raised section of deck. And we were on. We did not have long to wait before departure time, our wait enlivened by late-arrivals, the women paying young men to carry them across the watery ramp, the usual narrow passenger ramp having already been removed and stowed. The ferry backed out of its slot and turned toward Tagrin, crossing the Sierra Leone River estuary, the largest natural harbour in Africa.
*In 1792, former African American slaves, rewarded with their freedom for fighting for the British during the American War of Independence, settled in what was to become Freetown. They had initially settled in Nova Scotia, but not liking it there, had opted to return to Africa.
From Tagrin to Port Loko was a long ride, around 73km, but on a good road. We were tired by the time we reached town and disappointed that the first hotel we found was well out of our price range. We paid an auto-cycle taxi driver to lead us to another option, also too expensive. Luckily the proprietor there asked one of her staff members to walk us a couple of dirt-road blocks through modest homes and huts to the much more affordable Wepo Wepo.
We shared an autocycle taxi to a restaurant for a dinner of chicken and couscous and noodles, and back again. At least ten flies occupied our table at any given moment, and five mangy dogs scratched themselves, lolling on the paving near us.
Many kids today called out “Ching chong”. We assumed they assumed we were Chinese, and had no way to tell them this was a rude way to greet the Chinese.

For today's route see below photos
For overview route, click on ROUTE tab above…