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Photo Album of the Wreckage

Check out the photo album Wrecked, click Slideshow and er put the sound on..............

Worthing Beach Gets A Patio

We woke to find Worthing as headline news this morning when the seafront took a direct hit from the timber slick which has been floating along the channel this week. It originated from a cargo wreck off the Dorset coast last week.

Needless to say Worthing beach was full of sightseers when we joined them this afternoon. The timber stretched as far as the eye could see heading Westwards, and made quite a site as the tide had arranged it into unnatural shapes as it washed ashore. The clearance teams were already piling the timber into great stacks to await removal, which looked even more spectacular. Maybe they should leave them. It made the usually devoid of character seafront look really interesting for once.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/7198735.stm 

Sculpture on the beach 

Here Kitty* Fetch! 

 

*Kitty is the name of the pub dog!! 

 

In the Lap of the Gods

 

Its 06.00am on the Sunday before Christmas and the Easyjet queue is heading back out towards the door of the terminal, for me the good news is I am not on Easyjet, the bad news is that this means climbing over the Easyjet passengers as not one of them will make enough space for passengers of any other airline to get through. Luton Airport needs some redesign here.

Meanwhile I am heading to Lapland, Enontekio (Pronounce: Eon Tok Yo!) to be precise, courtesy of Canterbury Travel on a day trip to Lapland for the Santa Spectacular daytrip. I took a night last night at the Hilton Express, a short five minute walk away, having stopped in St Albans on route for a pint or two, arriving just in time to miss the restaurant, a problem helpfully resolved by front desk who provided a take away menu. Thus I watched Match of the Day in my room with a take away curry and a bottle of Becks. No problem here. 

Despite the embarrassment of being the only solo traveller on the flight, it was fun, and I soon got into the spirit of things. The three hour flight was punctuated by a good cooked breakfast, and a film (suitably The Polar Express.) On arrival we were escorted to a changing area and provided with suitable clothing for the -9C climate, an over suit, boots, balaclava, hat. It was all there.

 

We were then taken half way to the town of Hetta by bus, and onwards by skidoo and sleigh to a local hotel, where a full buffet lunch was served throughout the day. (Average, but the vegetarian soups were filling and good.) A list of activities was provided and then I was on my own to explore.
Activities included a Horse Sleigh Ride, Reindeer Rides, Husky Rides, Kick Sledging, an Ice Castle to explore, and for the adults Snowmobiles on the lake. Being a non driver I was surprised I was allowed to use them, but the guide explained, Right hand go, Left hand stop, Red Button engine. She then thumped the Crash Helmet onto my head with one distinct slap, and pointed me to my machine. It was really a motor bike on ice, and I loved it, totally exhilarating.

With a couple of hours left in the Village I was taken aside by an Elf, (Yes Really) and explained in no uncertain terms Santa was waiting for me, and I was going whether I liked it or not. (Surreal: A menacing elf!!). It was the best bit of the day, another ride into the wilderness for 5 minutes and then left in the middle of nowhere beside a fire pit and another couple of elves. I was slowly losing contact with reality.

 

Eventually I met the man himself, and we had a long chat about climate change, and its effects on the local area. We are 20 degrees warmer than usual, and the last snow was 10 days ago. It is the warmest winter since 72, but this makes his job easier as the kids struggle with the climate at -30, even fully protected in their suits, and usually arrive in some distress. I have to say Santa had a suspiciously English accent.   

Finally Souvenir time. What could be better than a full sized Reindeer pelt? A bargain at 60 Euros, a perfect Christmas present. Thus after around four and a half hours in the village it was time to head back to the airport. I was met there but one of the directors of Canterbury Travel, a charming man with a long following white beard, and allowed onto the plane early to meet and chat with some of the crew. Clearly one of the advantages of possession of a dead Reindeer, and managed to lock it away before the kids got onboard.

Another three hour flight back into Luton, (Film:Elf, running on a theme here!) A comfortable flight with a Belgian crew on a Thomas Cook A320. Fair legroom. The only complaint I heard all day was lack of Veggie food on the flight. We missed the Northern Lights due to cloud cover, which was a shame, but otherwise a truly lovely day, which will stay in the memory for Christmases to come. Ros and I will be looking to do a four day adventure safari in the future. 

A night back at Luton and straight back to the office for my final shift before Christmas, with Rudolf still in tow. (John whats in the bag? Rudolf? Oh my God!!!!!!!!)

(The guy on the right seemed familar)

 

(When I applied to be a Lap dancer, this isn't what I had in mind.)

 

Life on the Backyard: Encore

A faster than expected trip back to Kokrobite by another private taxi, and after a week on the road I was back at Big Millys. I was soon sitting in my room without either electric or water supply but very happy to be back This would have bothered me enormously two weeks ago, but now it is just one of those things that happen in Africa. Not to worry, it will be alright tomorrow. A large bucket is promptly delivered to wash from.

There are still a number of the regulars here from last week so it didn't take long to catch up. Sadly things came to a head with my Ghanaian friend and the kids. We had lunch at hers, a take away we bought in the village and settled round to eat.  She lives in a very Spartan couple of rooms with no furniture save a mat on the floor. A case has arrived since last week, apparently from a local charity, full of clothes. Pots and pans lay in the other corner. (There are no cooking facilities.) It is in other words grinding poverty. She has told me she has considered trying to get to Europe by boat. It is little wonder she is desperate for money to have a chance to set up a business.

I do not have funding available to help her, though the thought of somehow sponsoring one of the kids is in my head. However after showing me the dress she is going to wear to the airport to say farewell, I am aware the children are now calling me Daddy, at her encouragement. It is a hard decision but that leaves me with no other choice than to again make it clear again I am not offering direct assistance, and that I really did have to leave. With the level of attachment the kids are being encouraged to make  I decide against offering to help and head for the door. I walk up the street with the eldest child screaming for me to come back, arms extended. It is painful in the extreme. 

On a lighter note Puppy Dog Eyes was back at the bar last night and delighted to see me. (You have come back for me!) After all the stress with Ghanaian Friend I was pleased to see her too,  and she joined me and some Irish friends for the evening. It turns out she is one of the local hairdressers, there are many in Ghana, she has a solid job and a skill. Essential here.

I shop for last minute souvenirs from Olivier the artist on the beach, and buy a few beads, some of which end up in my hair courtesy of Puppy Dog Eyes. I try on a shirt but it is too small. An hour later there is a knock on my door, without asking another larger version has been made, I feel obliged to buy.

 

And thus it became time to leave Kokrobite for now. No sign of my Ghanaian former friend or her lovely kids, but I went to the beach to say farewell to the traders. Puppy Dog Eyes was of course present for the grand farewell, and we swapped farewell gifts and it wasn't long before I had another weeping Ghanaian in my arms. It wasn't this difficult last week. Fortunately the taxi back to the airport had some uplifting music or I think I would have been gubbing too. 

I had imagined the airport in Accra to be a mass of humanity, it was tidy, well organized, and the customs people felt obliged to knock out a tune of my tiny souvenir drum. It has been an immense experience, and I look forward to coming back.  

Paradise and Solitude

I managed to secure a Taxi forward to Axim. A real cheat but at $60 for a direct lift rather than have to do battle with the limited public transport seemed a very good deal to me. I did have some company most of the way with Vodka Shots and her friends, we made up a full car load. They are are staying in Busua 30 miles short of Axim.

Without doubt Axim Beach Resort was the nicest place I have stayed on the journey, along with a TV and Air Con. A very comfortable chalet just two minutes from a spectacular deserted beach. Add a very good restaurant and it was a good place to be for a few days, but the property was practiaclly desarted and I missed the company of the Yard.

 

I did find my best meal of the trip, Palaver Sauce, a spinach type of vegatable cooked with nuts in Palm Oil. The lovely chef came out of the kitchen to write down the recipe for me, (busy huh?) sadly I have been receiving an increasing amount of rather desperate calls from my local friend back at the Yard. I may need to go back and resolve a couple of issues which are arrising.

A day trip to the Nzulezo Slilt Village was supposed to be the highlight of the excursion West. It was really overrated, consisting of a pleasent enough canoe ride through Lake Amansuri, and a visit to a village built on stilts above the lake. There was not a great deal there to capture the imagination, and add the two boatmen having a serious arguement in the local language all the way there, it was not the best of days. It all ended in demands for extra money for this that and the other. Not the best of ways to sell the 'attraction'.

More interestingly I was by now just 50kms east of the Ivory Coast border and the town of Elubo, and the infamous Hotel Cocoville, where according to local legend visitors are known to have been murdered and their body parts used for local witchcraft rituals.  

My last night there ended in a three way conversation about local religious beliefs with myself and two of the waiters. We also had a group from Explore overland travel in, but they just gathered themselves together on a table and didn't really mix.

I went into Axim town to explore, but it seemed a very depressed town indeed, the further from Accra you travel the poorer the people seem to be.

With just one night left I rescheduled my itinerary and headed back to the Yard. 

Friday Night on the Coast

After the Backyard I guess anywhere else is liable to be a disappointment. None more so than here, very few travellers are here, and the traders are getting desperate. The entertainment consists of a juggler, warm beer, as they had run out of cold Star, and the same rap album playing on repeat at the bar.

Some of the locals wanted to take me into town and introduce me to a few girls, when Vodka Shots and the rest of the Aussie group turned up. So it didn't turn into such a loss of the evening after all. Will and I took a few beers to the beach and caught up while Shots caught up on the local gossip from the traders.

I was woken at 06.00am with some of the local kids knocking on the doors, and security noticeably absent. I left my hut to be greeted by a local having a pee against the wall opposite my flat. I was pleased to be leaving and with the Aussies in tow hired a taxi West towards Axim.

 My Place!

 

Ghosts on the Coast

Cape Coast is a powerful place. This was one of the centers of the slave trade, and Cape Coast Castle (a UNESCO World Heritage Site) is where some of the main the dungeons were, and the seized slaves thus exported to Brazil, the Caribbean and the Southern US in unthinkable conditions. 

 

 

The Castle also has a very good museum, and is truly haunting place. Even more so when passing it last night with a group of six returnees (as the decedents call themselves) in traditional dress gathered singing mournful songs of departure, rather like a Portuguese Fado. Or were they there at all? I walked through the streets the only European looking at some of the old historic buildings that have survived. I eventually found a nice local bar which had some atmosphere.

I am staying at the Oasis, another backpacker special, but without the atmosphere of Millys. I have a nice clay hut on the beach, which despite its fan is still boiling hot. There are not many travellers here, and a considerable number of beach traders at the bar. This was allowed at Millys, but these guys are much pushier.

Still I had a good nights sleep and woke to the sound of the sea just outside my front door.

Of Tros Tros and Fords

Chris the owner of the Four Villages Inn was up at 04.50am to cook me breakfast, service beyond the norm I think. No wonder this place wins awards. The Canadian High Commissioner is booked in tonight. Recent guests have included the Khadafy entourage, though the man himself was elsewhere.

Arrived at the bus station in plenty of time to be advised by my cabbie that the bus was cancelled, and next thing I knew I was unceremoniously dumped at the Tro Tro station, where my goods were seized and loaded onto a vehicle which, and I am being polite here, looked a little unroadworthy.Doubts creped in about this whole procedure. Was my cabbie in the pay of the Tro Tros? I hauled my way back to the bus station to check the story. Of course he was 100% correct. Bus broken down! Next bus to Takoradi (via Cape Coast) at midday.

 

Great. I then thought about chartering a taxi, but the best deal I was offered was $120.00 to Cape Coast. I was stuck. I called Chris back at the Lodging and he suggested taking a Ford Transit. After another tear across town I managed to locate a nice, new, roadworthy air con Ford Transit minibus for $10.00. Only problem was I was the only person there, and these transits do not leave until they are full. Another two hour delay, but eventually we got on our way, and I bagged the seat next to the driver. Three hours in probably the most comfortable journey of the trip so far and I was back on the Coast.

A little story then if you will about the wonderful people here. At the Ford bus station, which doubled as yet another local market, I asked a trader where the nearest toilet was. He explained that not even he would use the local facility, and to follow him. He took me on a five minute hike to the back of the main market area where there was a spotless toilet, far cleaner than anything you would find in the UK. Only problem was I did not have change to enter, a local came forward and paid the attendant and waived me on with a smile.      

Nanna Wa!

Away then into the back villages in hot pursuit of the local fetish priest. (The local Ju Ju man) and curiously local council member. Interesting chat with a detailed explanation of his belief structure and what he sees on the other side. He liked having his photo taken and insisted I take as many as I could. His name was Nanna Wa! Bit of a change from his given name of,,,wait for it....George Best. Still if it got him out of playing for the Reds it was a superior career move. It is a tradition to take a bottle of Schnapps with you when visiting, but Hey Ho they are usually likely to settle for the cash equivalent from tourists.  

Counteracting the traditional beliefs, you notice a large number of businesses are named with a Biblical reference. The Blood of Jesus Laundry, the Thank You Christ Furniture Repair Shop, etc. Remembering our girl in the Chinese with her bible last night, I wonder if these constant Christian references are some sort of protection against the traditionalists. On the beach a painting sold to me was said to represent the division between the two belief structures. Described to me by the artist as the division of good and evil. An assumption therefore the village priest is by his very nature evil.

Back to base then, and as I was aiming for the 6am bus to Cape Coast I stayed in and enjoyed a very fine African home cooked meal courtesy of my hostess here. Anyone for Rice balls and Beef in a poppy seed sauce.

 

Kumasi

The Four Villages Inn has been nice and pleasant though very quiet after the madness of the backyard. It is situated a lot further from the centre of town than I had originally thought, and again the only way of getting around is by taxi. Fine going into town, but few if any know of the hotel, and seemingly fewer can read maps. It adds substantially to the daily cost of living here. (Add approx £1.50 per ride)

The main draw in Kumasi is the market, the largest in West Africa, a sprawling vision of enterprise. It is truly another world, looking down on it you could be in a dominion from Imagica (Clive Barker), totally alien. Inside it’s an ant’s nest. Once you enter you have to move purposely or be knocked to one side as everyone else knows exactly where they are going and there is no time to hesitate.

 

Here I do draw attention, some cry out ‘Hey White Man’ (I resist the temptation to reply ‘Hows it hanging Tituba’) An occasional child screams. (Has she never seen a white face?) I reach for a camera to shoot a distance shot and have a hatchet pulled on me by a woman convinced she is the subject of my attention. I calm her and show her my picture, she is not in it. She laughs. I hire a guide to take me in deeper, we find the fetish market. Magical charms, skins, animal skulls, everything the local priest requires. I buy some pieces myself.

Back in Kumasi itself the town has some interesting old buildings, a little green space, and despite having the frenzy of Accra seems more user friendly. Lucky Dube plays from all directions, (Rasta shot dead last month in Jo burg) Some of the old buildings are three stories, with a bar or a restaurant on the top floor, very cooling in the evening. It’s been worth coming.

Found a bar with the football on for the Schalke v Chelsea return game (0-0) Very interesting as I was the only European in there, and I don't think anyone even noticed, such is the attitude here in Ghana. By the time I come to move on I am hungry, I pick up a Chinese to sneak back to the accommodation. The girl serving sits behind the counter. She is reading the bible.