Two years ago this November I set out to bicycle across Mali with LG, who is one of my best friends. We were standing in front of our hotel in Bamako when H pulled up in a small dilapidated car, West African music blasting out the windows, a drum in her lap, and full of stories about visiting the surrounding villages with a wayward guide named Bubba. The three of us spent our days cycling across the desert and our nights in small tents pitched in front yards and on roofs. When I crashed my bike on an escarpment outside of Bandiagara, LG and H were there to pick me up and put me back together.
One year ago this November, LG, H, and I met just outside of Freetown and bicycled across Sierra Leone. There were a few unexpected mishaps along the way, but we eventually ended up in a spot where the river crosses the mountain to meet the ocean in a swirl of deep blue. We ate oysters during the day and stepped on fire ants at night and didn’t ever want to leave.
LG and H – this November I miss you both and am looking forward to our next adventure. This wonderful continent is not the same without you.