We were all up by eight this morning, because the biker guys wanted to leave early. We were treated to nice crunchy Guinean baguettes again. For the rest, it was the usual French breakfast with butter and jam, with coffee or tea, accompanied by local honey.
Alex and I had some extra time to write up blogs, organise pictures and videos. The biker guys initially wanted to leave early to pass by one of the waterfalls and then make it all the way to Faranah, some 350km over pretty bad roads. But somehow they spent a long time at breakfast. When the lady of the hotel presented us with the bill, the three guys noticed, that they didn’t have enough Guinean Franc cash on them to pay. So they went out on their bikes to find a cash machine in town, eventually they did. Patrick inserted his card, then the machine stopped and he never got it back. He was in luck, as there was someone inside the agency on a Sunday and was able to help to retrieve the card. Eventually, they also got their cash and returned back to the hotel. Once the bill was settled, the discussion amongst them started, where to go today. It was too late to achieve their initial goal. After some talk with information from the lady of the hotel and me, telling them basically, that they should drop their plan, visit the waterfall and sleep in Dalaba, the decision was taken. Faranah was out of reach today. They drove off to the waterfall. We finished our business and also left for the same waterfall, the Chute de Sala.

The road out of town was still quiet on a late Sunday morning. After a few kilometres on tarmac, we took the piste, that turned out to be in a bad shape. Lots of rocks and deep struts from previous rainfalls. At crawling speed hopping down the track, we made slow progress. After an hour and a half of a free massage around the body and Alex banging his head several times at the ceiling, we reached a river with a collapsed concrete bridge that had partially been filled with rocks, so that people and maybe motorbikes can pass. For a vehicle, the size and weight of Eeyore, it was not stable enough.

The waterfall wasn’t very far, so I parked the car, we crossed the river and walked the last 350m. No sign of the bikers yet. We heard later, that they looked for a different route in the meantime. We came to an ‘old’ camp, built in 2006, and now pretty much abandoned. The gate was open and we walked through to the access of the upper part of the waterfall. A few more steps and we had reached large blocks of rock, where the river had cut its way through. Some parts of the river were shallow and calm and others fast flowing and deep. On a little peninsula, we saw a cow standing staring at us. After having taken some pictures, we went back to walk to the panoramic platform from where you can admire the waterfall in its full glory.

When we arrived at the fork of the track, we heard the unmistakable sound of the three KTMs arriving. We walked over and greeted them. Together we made our way in the midday sun to the panoramic platform. It felt a bit like exploring the access to the waterfall as there were no other people and certainly no tourists.

The thunder of the waterfall became louder with every step. Then we stood at the fence of the platform and were flabbergasted by the beauty. It was a pity that some bushes and trees were blocking the unrestricted view of the fall and the valley. But we took plenty of pictures nonetheless.
After a rest and some chatting, we walked back to the vehicles. We hobbled back to the main road and then down the National Road 5 towards Pita and Dalaba, because these about 100km are also quite degraded and have many holes in the tarmac or the asphalt was completely missing for several meters. Fortunately, the traffic was light, but the taxis were literally flying down these bad tracks like maniacs. The view over the valley, that we could see from time to time between the vegetation, was pretty.
Dalaba welcomed us with a much fresher air. The thermometer had dropped to around 27°C. We found the location of the hotel, that we had been recommended to us by the lady in Labé, easily, but which and where their entrance was was not quite clear. So, we followed my navi until it had gotten it completely wrong and we were standing in front of a very steep earth embankment, we were not prepared to crawl up. Alex had gotten out and met the bikers on top of the hill and was able to direct them to the proper entrance. I turned Eeyore around and followed them.

The hotel is the old French governor’s residence, Villa Sili (1936), which was for many years almost on the verge of collapse, has been recently been saved by someone who wants to restore it in its former glory. After check in and a first wash down beer, we visited the Case à Palabres, that shares the same compound as the hotel. It is an impressively large meeting hall that was once used by village elders. It has been recently renovated and its beautiful Fula bas-relief wall murals have been brought back to vivid life.

My hotel room is smelly as it hadn’t been aired for a few days mixed with smells from the toilet next door. The light in the bathroom is not switched with the switch at the bathroom door. The mattress is soot soft and the cupboard in the room had seen better day and would probably fall apart touching it. I did not dare touching nor opening it. And for all this we pay 10€ more than last night? But you are at a very historical site.
Dinner was later than ordered and when we finally had some food not everything came at once. Lucky, the chicken with pees and frites were just sufficient and nice. We all hadn’t had much too eat since breakfast, so we’re especially hungry.