Excerpts from my Travelpod diary......... Day 4 This is less a holiday and more an exercise in sleep deprivation. Spent the night on the hotel roof in what felt like sub-zero temperatures (actually it was about 8 degrees). I had no sleeping bag or blanket and my silk sleep sheet and mosquito net weren’t really up to the job! Using my wet towel, a sarong and 2 t-shirts, I put up a reasonable fight, but it did cross my mind I might freeze to death in the Sahara ! However, I make it through to 6am and only 25mins late (bang on, Mali time) Boubakar (Bouba for short) shows up and we head off to Dogon country. Talk about beaming down to a different planet! Forget about there not being any electricity - the landscape, the vegetation, the architecture, the people, even the air makes this place other-worldly, as sand storms gust past. Manage to rattle off three films straight away and have to force myself to stop. We trek to Teli village through sand and Baobab trees and explore the ancient pygmy cliff village (above) and surrounding plain (below), before ending the day at Ende-Toro, Bouba’s home village. I’m now writing this as dusk approaches, in a tent on Bouba’s mud hut roof. Camp fires are being lit and paraffin lamps come out as bare-breasted women return from the fields with bowls on heads and babies slung round backs. And in the background chatter, bongo drums have begun to pound as a local wedding dance starts to kick-off. It doesn’t get much more African than that. And tonight, I’ve got a blanket! Day 5: Kids Presents Woken this morning by a gunshot: not at me, fortunately. Had a great night’s sleep in the tent after I stopped staring at the stars – unbelievable panorama and I can finally understand what the Greeks thought they could see up there. A quick breakfast of coffee and doughnut-like patties and we are on the move. Having just about accepted the landscape, I thought today I should take some ‘people shots’. There are two approaches to this I know – bribery and being friendly. I take the easy route first. Saw a cute little girl and offered her a Drivers Jonas red bracelet in exchange for a photo. Hope to see her at next year’s Rugby 7’s! I’ll also be looking for a DJ prize for most far-flung marketing initiative. At the next village, Yabatalou, I bump into a boy of about 8 or 9 called Amat. He doesn’t ask for a ‘cadeau’ – he simply wants a game of ball. He’s a great kid and a phenomenal ball thrower – incredible strength and hand/eye coordination. Eventually 6 or 7 kids join in and I show them some tactics, which they start to use. The team photo duly follows at the end of the game and Amat talks down anyone looking for money. Before I leave I give him a bracelet I got in Kerala. He races off immediately in shock – I think he thought the copper was gold! Top kid. Day 6 Morning on the cliff-top village of Begnimato , where we spent the previous night with a bunch of Dutch trekkers, begins well: two strong coffees, then my first visit in a number of years to a long drop ‘facility’. Textbook. Clean as a whistle, and I admit to a little pride in my job. We head off at 8am through a rocky world of mini-oases and patches of shocking blonde scrubland. The wind is strong but refreshing up here and after some good photo-ops we come upon Dourou. This is the one Dogon village connected to the world by a road (just!) and the urban contamination is evident in some of the children. It also seems dirtier than the other villages. However, I have a chill-out afternoon in the campement and even venture shower and shave, although the water direction is largely determined by the wind! The toilet facilities are probably worth a mention at this point. While the locals are generally happy to squat in the open, provided they’re more than 6yds from the nearest bystander (bizarrely, men go down on one knee to pee!), the sensibilities of the Toubab (foreigner) are catered for with roofless mud hut toilettes, complete with sack-cloth door, a packed-earth floor and, occasionally, a shiny white porcelain Shanks toilet bowl, plumbed straight into a hole in the ground. No seat obviously, but not bad for the middle of nowhere! On the flip-side, one can also be faced with the hole-in-the-floor approach, the acceptability of which is directly proportional to the height of the inevitable ‘shit-cone’ rising from below; apologies for that image! I happen upon three Londoners in Dourou Campement and it turns out they finish their trek and head back to Mopti same day as me. They are also looking for people for a boat trip and the possibility of us taking my boat to TMBK2 is on the cards. They are heading in the opposite direction but we agree to meet for beers on Thursday at Ya Pas de Probleme. Late afternoon and we head off for the cliff descent. Bouba has a good habit of not giving away any surprises. The photo ops on the gorge descent are great, but the first peep of the pink sand dunes and immense sandstone cliffs are fantastic – a camera-fumbling moment. When we get down into Nombori at the foot of the cliff, the village displays some of the Dogon traits I’m starting to become familiar with: beds of onions growing near any available water source and the sweet smell of their aroma as many are pounded and dried in the sun; some sort of World Bank project, usually a school and this time a couple of deep wells; and the all pervading chatter of people – without the modern day intrusion of traffic, TV and loud shouty people, it’s like walking into a school playground, not that I’ve much recent experience of that, you understand. Day 7 Having broken the ice with four American students the evening before in Nombori, I sit round a morning fire with Bouba, his fellow guide, Potassium - you just can’t make this stuff up - and one of the Yanks. He is keen for the group to join the TMBK2 ranks. At this rate we might need two boats! We head off north again and it’s becoming noticeably more commercial. In Tirelli, the children instantly demand bonbons and the elders, kola nuts, whether they’re the big chief or not. There’s also the usual high profile World Bank project and this time, without even checking out the steel plaque next to the well, I can tell it was a Chinese development team and was constructed circa 1998 – you only need to look at the number of black Chinese kids running around to work that one out! Looking back at Pays Dogon (excluding the visual marvels), I also have to mention I’ve had three seriously square meals a day (cubic even) and my constitution has handled all local produce: millet cream, monkey bread, weird doughnuts, guavas, mangoes, papaya, pig from the market and millet beer. Everything except chicken head – I drew the line there! But I think I’ve probably experienced the best of the Dogon and I’m now starting to get itchy feet. I want to head to the internet, download, then head downriver to TMBK2 (assuming the troops haven’t deserted). I think I should also put in a word at this stage for my outstandingly performing pants. Over the last few days my action shorts have come into their own. They now resemble batman’s utility belt, with every pocket stuffed with my essentials: penknife, torch, sunstick, money, passport, camera, spare film. So long as I don’t lose my shorts, I can go on without too much trouble. Tomorrow, 14km morning hike to taxi brouche! Day 8 7.45am start. Kick the arse out of 14km yomp in 3hrs, then wait 3hrs for taxi no-show in Dourou. However, it’s all cool. I play ball again with the kids and give a bracelet to a cheeky princess called Sama. She’s 6 going on 16 and flirts and acts her way to winning my attention and precisely calls me Pierre with an exaggerated roll of the r’s, essentially taking the piss out of my accent. Earlier, pre-yomp, Bouba gave me his end of trip spiel and surprised me with a present of a small Dogon mask. I really liked it and, as I had intended, I give him my binoculars, which I say could help his father hunt monkeys - his Dad is the guy who ‘shot’ Michael Palin. Both presents go down well. To replace the taxi, Bouba gets his mate, complete with beat-up Merc and massive boom-box, to ferry us, bumpily, to Bandiagara. From there, we hitch in a Toyota pick-up to Sevare. I then cram into a clapped-out Peugot estate for a 20mph crawl to Mopti - and head straight to the shower. You could grow tomatoes in the dirt that washes out of my hair. But all in all it’s been a quality, boy-scout adventure!

A trek through Dogon Country is definately a once in a lifetime experience. You will hike along the escarpment from village to village and sleep in typical mud homes (or you can camp on the roofs). There is no electricity or running water in the villages. It is a very peaceful and enlightening journey. The people are very nice and welcoming. I recommend a local guide (not that expensive to hire one around Mopti) who will explain the history, culture, etc. and can even help plan your route, accomodations and meals.

The scenery around Pays Dogon was spectacular- in particular the places where we climbed up the cliff face and could see down over the valley.  I highly recommend a hike through Dogon Country to anybody in West Africa!