25/10/2014
5/11/2014 Nickerie to New Amsterdam, Guyana
D92, T8, Av15.92, Max43, 34,531/8,919
Mild and humid, side to tail winds
I was up at 0500, packed and whilst rolling the bike out the door, it was noticed the front tyre was flat.
This was patched, though by the time finished it was just too much of a rush to make the ferry, which was over two hours away. It was decided to ride to the markets and see if I could find a ride from there.
Once in the car park there was no shortage of people wanting to give me a ride.
A guy in a car offered, but fitting the bike in his boot was a recipe for disaster.
Anyway another man said he could do it for 80SRD in a van, his offer was accepted.
This was so much better than trying to race out there.
On arrival, it was found that the gates did not open till 0800. Whilst waiting, two other cyclists turned up, it was so nice to see some other riders. Peter and Isabel were from Poland and together they had travelled and ridden in many countries.
They too were heading to Georgetown. The formalities at immigration were slow, they took our passports and we had to wait till our number was called. There were two other couples I had seen in Nickerie taking the ferry as well.
It was a bottleneck for the few tourists travelling by land here.
It was a roll on roll off set up and the journey across the ochre brown river took about 40 minutes.
Once in Guyana, passing through immigration was a little faster. I declared that foodstuffs were in my panniers, they were not concerned and let the three of us pass without dramas.
Money was exchanged outside with privateers.
Once on the ride it was almost strange, but so good to be riding with other cyclists after 8 months of riding alone.
Peter and I talked at length as we rode along. The road was dead flat with a side wind slightly aiding us. The northeast trades.
Most of the road was urbanised to some extent with small towns and rural properties along the way.
Coconuts palms were the most conspicuous large plants along the way. Most notable was the age difference in the vehicles here. Many were of bad repair and many were 1990’s vintage.
Motos were few, bicycles were common and some horse drawn carts were encountered.
Most people appeared to be of African, or Indian descent. Hindu churches were common.
Riding here too is on the left side of the road.
Most of the 735,000 people that live here in Guyana live along this fertile strip.
Here, rice and sugar are the main crops.
Every second home and property had a tractor in the front yard or a Bedford truck outside. Many had old harvesters parked in their driveways. Almost all the machinery was of British origin, with Massey Ferguson tractors and harvesters.
Scattered all along the roadsides were items of machinery that had been parked up to just rust away.
Stopping at one small shop, I asked the woman talking to her friend what language she was speaking, she replied English. It was the Guyanese Creole an English based creole with slight African and East Indian influence, as their native tongue. Ref: wikipedia
Things are slightly cheaper here than in Suriname. There are open drains in front of all properties near the road, so consequently, everyone needs a small bridge.
The Dutch implemented this as much of the coastal land is below sea level at high tide.
The lady at the shop told me all their grey water goes into these drains.
Crossing a new concrete bridge, a stop was made to talk to fishermen who head to sea in large open wooden boats with high bows. They are powered by outboards of around 45 to 70 HP.
They told me they fish out in the clear waters. One common species they catch is Barracuda.
Passing one sports field it was such a change to see teenagers playing cricket. They were no slouches either.
Once in new Amsterdam, I had been told about a hotel, we checked it out, it had a stair to access the rooms so we dismissed staying there.
Peter and Isabell, on a few week holiday opted for a lavish $70 a night hotel in the main street.
They understood my situation when I said I am going to hunt something else out. We agreed to meet in the morning.
I ended up staying in a lovely old rustic hotel, The Astor, next to the police station. It was 130 years old and must have been a busy place in its time as the ferry crossing just nearby was the only way to get across the river Berbice before the new floating bridge was built.
Bicycles are not allowed on the bridge.
That night, little did I know it, troubles were about to begin for me, following a visit to a seemingly modern well equipped Chinese restaurant. The food was delicious. Soup and a chow mein were enjoyed.
Back in my room, it was difficult to sleep.
I knew it was because the food had obviously been loaded with MSG, it stops me from sleeping properly .
The bed had a mosquito net over it. The mosquitos here were relentless.
I had to put repellent on just to take things to the room. It too was upstairs but very comfortable and like a step back in time.
Luckily the owners son, a huge guy, helped me with things upstairs, he was a weight lifter and carried three panniers like they were shopping bags.
Though the owner and I agreed it was a tinder box. The power was out so a hurricane lamp lit the room for the hour before it came on. I filled this time in having a beer in the rustic bar under the building.
The owner told me the mosquitoes were so bad a couple of weeks ago that spraying was carried out by the government.
6/11/2014 New Amsterdam to Content, Guyana
D72, T10, Av17.52, Max44, 34,603/8,991
Mild and humid, great tail with from the NE
After a restless night, we met up as arranged at 0800 and headed off for Georgetown, with plans to get there by evening, some 110km away. Though, with a flat road and the trade winds squarely on our backs it was easily achievable.
Some 4km into the ride, the road started to deteriorate, I asked someone, they said we were on the wrong road. We turned around. Soon we found it was best to take the ferry that crossed the Berbice river as we were not allowed on the lengthy pontoon bridge. Luckily, for us the ferry was just leaving.
The bikes were wheeled on the old vessel.
The docking facilities on both sides of the river were probably as old as the Astor Hotel. Maintenance had been kept to a minimum. Luckily, they were constructed from the best timbers back then.
Whilst waiting for the ferry to leave, on wandering around the dock area, it was noticed, just how much mud is along the shores of the Guyanas.
All three of these countries have muddy sea lapping their coasts due to the rivers that flow from their hinterlands. Coupled with mangrove destruction this problem is only exaggerated. The mud here was so thick, it had filled old boats on the shore, one would not even begin to guess how deep it was on the banks.
For this reason, these countries do not attract huge numbers of tourists, the forests and rivers are their greatest tourist assets.
In some ways, this is good as life seems to have pretty much proceeded as normal for the people here.
Guyana is well aware of this coastal degradation and is now embarking on a wide ranging programme of Mangrove reafforestation along its coastline. A photo I saw of one project showed volunteers planting mangroves in waist deep mud. The coast was once bordered by dense Mangrove forests.
Crossing the river, downstream we could see the large floating bridge that vehicles use.
Once ashore, the riding was more of the same, with old machinery piled up everywhere along the roadside.
Tractors were even more common in front yards and Bedford trucks were alive and dead along the length of the road.
There were shoulders at times along the busy road, but often not. The edge of the road contained all manner of debris from litter to nuts, bolts and shredded tyres. It really was a lucky dip as to whether or not a puncture would eventuate. Anyway, Peter and Isabell were riding on thinner tyres than myself, Peter had problems with a tyre and had to replace it in Cayenne. The replacement was less than required to handle this debris. He soon got a puncture. We pulled in at a gas station, out of the sun and repaired this. Some 10km up the road the same happened.
Here we pulled in at a grocery store.
Isabel and I had drinks whilst we waited.
It was here my troubles began. The urge to use the toilet overcame me. The shop owner could not oblige.
I needed a loo fast. I was repeatedly saying to myself hang on Nige, hang on. A hardware shop down the road had an outhouse out the back of their big yard.
By this this time I was performing a closed thighs kind of walk.
I got the key and walked as controlled as I could, across all manner of debris in the long grass to the wooden hut in the far corner.
Without going into any detail, I never made it.
It was akin to dropping my bladder in the grey water the other day. Luckily, my navy tee shirt extends below my groin, as I had to walk back to the woman in the shop to ask for a bucket. No one noticed I was wearing nothing but a tee shirt. My skin is tanned along way up my thighs since wearing short running shorts as my older ones have worn out.
Thankfully, there was an open water reservoir in the yard, here things, including me were given a good dousing.
Nothing was said on my return to Peter and Isabell who had only just finished the repair.
My stomach was still not settled. Though riding was not a huge discomfort.
All along the roadside, the amount of litter was staggering. It rivals that of the litter along the roads on the urban fringes in Nicaragua.
The small drains on both sides of the road were choked with plastic in many places.
Our societies and councils go to great lengths to recycle and collect this waste.
In my mind, they are wasting time and valuable resources. We need to go to the source of the problem.
It is the manufacturers who supply their products in all this plastic that are the sole cause of this blight on every society in the world. The multi nationals put drinks in plastic because it is easy for them and we have payed for the packaging, they could not care less what happens to it after the point of sale and we have drunk the contents.
This goes for all manufactured consumer goods Take, for example, the size and extravagance of the packaging that Apple products come in. One almost feels guilty throwing out these sturdy glossy boxes that could hold three or four of the single product within them .
If governments said to all drink manufacturers for example, “You can’t sell your products in our country unless you put them in refillable glass”. They each would oblige, firstly because their greed would not allow them to lose market share and secondly, sales growth would go backwards.
They may cry, “there are health issues”, the moon is also a long way from earth!
Just this measure alone would vastly decrease the amount of plastic in our environment.
With a high deposit for return paid at point of sale, immediately, drink containers seen as litter would disappear. Those that were discarded, would provide an income for some people.
They could then arrange to collect them for refilling.
If they priced their products to high, people would not buy them. Seems to me like a great idea.
That’s how simple I feel things are. An iphone sold in a brown paper bag, with an instruction leaflet enclosed, is no lesser a product.
Our local bodies spend millions of taxpayers’ dollars recycling all this plastic that these manufacturers put their products in.
They must sit back and laugh at all the bales of crushed bottles that cost so much to accumulate at one facility at no cost to them. Just so they can make more.
Unfortunately, these kind of companies have too much power within political circles. Their environmental conscience is really nil compared to their desire for profits.
Back to the road, other more bio degradable litter on the roadside was seen. That of a dead horse and a dead caiman, the latter in the middle stages of decomposition.
There were blue signs up every kilometre or so marking another village, all with great names like Content and Airy Hall.
One area had coconut palms that looked like someone had poisoned them. Asking a man on the roadside, he told me there is a palm beetle here that defoliates the fronds.
They recover however.
Pete got another puncture about 1500 hrs, by this time we knew we were not going to make it to Georgetown. Though, we didn’t need to make plans yet.
This took some time to fix as he put his original front tyre on the rear rim that was carrying all the weight, as they were travelling without front panniers.
Riding on, at one point a lady was herding a flock of goats across the road, holding up traffic, no one minded.
This is all part of life here on this coastal strip where 90% of the population live. Most others live along the banks of the rivers.
Coming around one sweeping bend at about 1600, there were trucks tooting us to move over. The debris on the shoulder was thick, in amongst it we had to ride. Sure enough, 50m on my back tyre went down.
We pulled over into a grassed driveway, a 50mm long nail had found its way into my rear tyre.
I was not feeling too well by now. Peter and Isabel had pre booked a hotel from Poland in Georgetown, we decided that they ride on and get a lift in a truck when they need.
I would just ask someone to camp on their property. My replacement tube somehow had a split in it, so I was going nowhere anyway.
We said bye until tomorrow. I wandered across the road to see the owner who was at the gate. He said I could sling my hammock in his yard.
Dhard, then offered to drive down the road to buy a tube from a nearby shop.
I set my hammock up under their house, he and his wife were so hospitable, offering me dinner and a drink. I also had use of a downstairs shower and toilet. By now, I felt lousy.
I was in the hammock by 2030. From 2200, the rest of the night was either spent on the toilet or out in the paddock throwing up.
My thankfulness for their hospitality was beyond words I remember thinking during the middle of the night.
It would have been woeful in a bush camp without facilities or water.
At times like these, I realise just how so important my health is. I am carrying little weight and need to be in nothing less than perfect health to continue riding. So, when I get sick from something, everything just comes to a halt, there’s no wheeling the bike down the road kind of thing. It’s on or off.
That morning Dhard told me there is a problem here with lots of MSG in Chinese food and much is recycled, as he put it. That is to say, it is heated and reheated.
Obviously, not all Chinese restaurants are like this, like all restaurants, the busier they are, hopefully, the safer you are.
This practise of reheating food, saw me taken to hospital in an ambulance in Ecuador after eating chicken.
7/11/2014 Content to Georgetown, Guyana
D42, T2, Av20.52, Max44, 34,645/9,033
Mild and humid, great tail with from the NE, easy ride
The next morning Natasha, Dhards wife made me coffee and jam with bread. My appetite was that of a snake with the bulge of an animal along its length.
Dhard said to try and get a lift outside his gate. I waited here with a protruding arm and thumb for half an hour with no luck.
The breakfast soon saw the light of day again.
I felt better after this and decided to ride the last 40 odd km to Georgetown. I called into Dhards mechanic shop down the road to tell him so and thank him again.
He and his wife owned land to the sea behind the house, quite alot. He had some cows down there, as the land was saline nearer the coast. It was a relaxing place with ducks wandering about and a horse perusing about below the house with two cats and a friendly dog. There was always one cat smooching my legs, whilst on the toilet during the night. However, my letting out during paddock visits saw them prefer to stay away.
He too had an old Bedford in his yard, though it was in perfect repair.
When the rice harvest is on here, every truck is used to get it out of the fields for a few months.
The ride to Georgetown saw me drinking bought water all the way. Riding was slow and methodical. The strong tail winds were a blessing, though without apparent wind it was very sticky.
I stopped at a market and tried to find a cold water melon. None were found, so a quarter was bought and eaten with the stall holder.
Two kilometres down the road, my handlebar bag was showered in watermelon puree, such was my ability to hold food down.
Crossing a new bridge another cyclist was seen, he to, was a long distance traveller, from France. Having ridden from Peru to here via the length of the Trans Amazon.
He was on his way to Cayenne and back to France.
It was great to have a chat, we exchanged places to stay on our prospective routes. He told me of Jerrys “we jus deh” on Waterloo street.
He had to move on due to the fresh head winds he was going to have all the way .
On arrival in Georgetown, all I wanted to do was find a bed to lie on. I checked the Rema Guesthouse that the woman in French Guiana told me about, it was to cramped.
Jerrys was perfect, basic, comfortable, a bar and restaurant down stairs and no problems with the bike in the room and nice open views from the window that provided natural light.
It was a wooden building, old, best describes it. I made sure I knew how to get out fast should a fire break out. With smokers down in the bar all night this was an issue .Once settled in, all I could do was shower and fall on the bed.
Things were not good.
That night I caught up with Peter and Isabell. Throwing up between drinks in the outdoor bar here, though feeling better each time.
They were heading over to Trinidad and Tobago for a few days.
As I sit here four days after arrival, I have only been eating again for one and a half days and still have mild diahorrea.
The girls kindly gave me Lomotil, which has been a great help. One wall is lined with empty water bottles, my only intake for the first 2 days.
Georgetown marks the end of my travels here in South America. Thinking back on the last 8 months, venturing up from Buenos Aires, it was quite an ordeal for my old bod.
Days on end in Uruguay and Paraguay, of flat hot roads surrounded by farms. Then, on into Argentina and the hills of Missionies. The milestone of Iguazu.
Then the staph infection in northern Paraguay.
The vastness of the two Mato Grossos, and even greater vastness of Pará, then onto the Trans Amazon at Marabá.
Along this road, all my physical and mental resources were called upon, it was here, a hasty trip was made back to see my father in NZ before he passed away.
Then, the anticipation of leaving Brazil on the road north from Macapá. Before so, having crossed the equator.
Then, the ever changing languages of the three Guyanas.
All along this route, it was the people encountered and their friendliness and hospitality that really kept me going. The anticipation of what each new day would hold, also played a huge role in completing the journey.
All the while riding, I feel at this point in my life, I really feel I am stealing time.
This is the motivation behind my travels. Along with the desire to spend time with ordinary people along the way, and see these countries in a more intimate way than other forms of travel. Not to mention it is affordable.
From here, I fly to Trinidad and Tobago for a relaxing month and then to Nicaragua.
All things being equal, it is then a flight to Egypt in early January to ride from Cairo to Cape Town.
If you are looking for budget accommodation with a bar and food below here in Georgetown Try Jerrys Red Hostal on Waterloo St
5/11/2014 Nickerie to New Amsterdam, Guyana
D92, T8, Av15.92, Max43, 34,531/8,919
Mild and humid, side to tail winds
I was up at 0500, packed and whilst rolling the bike out the door, it was noticed the front tyre was flat.
This was patched, though by the time finished it was just too much of a rush to make the ferry, which was over two hours away. It was decided to ride to the markets and see if I could find a ride from there.
Once in the car park there was no shortage of people wanting to give me a ride.
A guy in a car offered, but fitting the bike in his boot was a recipe for disaster.
Anyway another man said he could do it for 80SRD in a van, his offer was accepted.
This was so much better than trying to race out there.
On arrival, it was found that the gates did not open till 0800. Whilst waiting, two other cyclists turned up, it was so nice to see some other riders. Peter and Isabel were from Poland and together they had travelled and ridden in many countries.
They too were heading to Georgetown. The formalities at immigration were slow, they took our passports and we had to wait till our number was called. There were two other couples I had seen in Nickerie taking the ferry as well.
It was a bottleneck for the few tourists travelling by land here.
It was a roll on roll off set up and the journey across the ochre brown river took about 40 minutes.
Once in Guyana, passing through immigration was a little faster. I declared that foodstuffs were in my panniers, they were not concerned and let the three of us pass without dramas.
Money was exchanged outside with privateers.
Once on the ride it was almost strange, but so good to be riding with other cyclists after 8 months of riding alone.
Peter and I talked at length as we rode along. The road was dead flat with a side wind slightly aiding us. The northeast trades.
Most of the road was urbanised to some extent with small towns and rural properties along the way.
Coconuts palms were the most conspicuous large plants along the way. Most notable was the age difference in the vehicles here. Many were of bad repair and many were 1990’s vintage.
Motos were few, bicycles were common and some horse drawn carts were encountered.
Most people appeared to be of African, or Indian descent. Hindu churches were common.
Riding here too is on the left side of the road.
Most of the 735,000 people that live here in Guyana live along this fertile strip.
Here, rice and sugar are the main crops.
Every second home and property had a tractor in the front yard or a Bedford truck outside. Many had old harvesters parked in their driveways. Almost all the machinery was of British origin, with Massey Ferguson tractors and harvesters.
Scattered all along the roadsides were items of machinery that had been parked up to just rust away.
Stopping at one small shop, I asked the woman talking to her friend what language she was speaking, she replied English. It was the Guyanese Creole an English based creole with slight African and East Indian influence, as their native tongue. Ref: wikipedia
Things are slightly cheaper here than in Suriname. There are open drains in front of all properties near the road, so consequently, everyone needs a small bridge.
The Dutch implemented this as much of the coastal land is below sea level at high tide.
The lady at the shop told me all their grey water goes into these drains.
Crossing a new concrete bridge, a stop was made to talk to fishermen who head to sea in large open wooden boats with high bows. They are powered by outboards of around 45 to 70 HP.
They told me they fish out in the clear waters. One common species they catch is Barracuda.
Passing one sports field it was such a change to see teenagers playing cricket. They were no slouches either.
Once in new Amsterdam, I had been told about a hotel, we checked it out, it had a stair to access the rooms so we dismissed staying there.
Peter and Isabell, on a few week holiday opted for a lavish $70 a night hotel in the main street.
They understood my situation when I said I am going to hunt something else out. We agreed to meet in the morning.
I ended up staying in a lovely old rustic hotel, The Astor, next to the police station. It was 130 years old and must have been a busy place in its time as the ferry crossing just nearby was the only way to get across the river Berbice before the new floating bridge was built.
Bicycles are not allowed on the bridge.
That night, little did I know it, troubles were about to begin for me, following a visit to a seemingly modern well equipped Chinese restaurant. The food was delicious. Soup and a chow mein were enjoyed.
Back in my room, it was difficult to sleep.
I knew it was because the food had obviously been loaded with MSG, it stops me from sleeping properly .
The bed had a mosquito net over it. The mosquitos here were relentless.
I had to put repellent on just to take things to the room. It too was upstairs but very comfortable and like a step back in time.
Luckily the owners son, a huge guy, helped me with things upstairs, he was a weight lifter and carried three panniers like they were shopping bags.
Though the owner and I agreed it was a tinder box. The power was out so a hurricane lamp lit the room for the hour before it came on. I filled this time in having a beer in the rustic bar under the building.
The owner told me the mosquitoes were so bad a couple of weeks ago that spraying was carried out by the government.
6/11/2014 New Amsterdam to Content, Guyana
D72, T10, Av17.52, Max44, 34,603/8,991
Mild and humid, great tail with from the NE
After a restless night, we met up as arranged at 0800 and headed off for Georgetown, with plans to get there by evening, some 110km away. Though, with a flat road and the trade winds squarely on our backs it was easily achievable.
Some 4km into the ride, the road started to deteriorate, I asked someone, they said we were on the wrong road. We turned around. Soon we found it was best to take the ferry that crossed the Berbice river as we were not allowed on the lengthy pontoon bridge. Luckily, for us the ferry was just leaving.
The bikes were wheeled on the old vessel.
The docking facilities on both sides of the river were probably as old as the Astor Hotel. Maintenance had been kept to a minimum. Luckily, they were constructed from the best timbers back then.
Whilst waiting for the ferry to leave, on wandering around the dock area, it was noticed, just how much mud is along the shores of the Guyanas.
All three of these countries have muddy sea lapping their coasts due to the rivers that flow from their hinterlands. Coupled with mangrove destruction this problem is only exaggerated. The mud here was so thick, it had filled old boats on the shore, one would not even begin to guess how deep it was on the banks.
For this reason, these countries do not attract huge numbers of tourists, the forests and rivers are their greatest tourist assets.
In some ways, this is good as life seems to have pretty much proceeded as normal for the people here.
Guyana is well aware of this coastal degradation and is now embarking on a wide ranging programme of Mangrove reafforestation along its coastline. A photo I saw of one project showed volunteers planting mangroves in waist deep mud. The coast was once bordered by dense Mangrove forests.
Crossing the river, downstream we could see the large floating bridge that vehicles use.
Once ashore, the riding was more of the same, with old machinery piled up everywhere along the roadside.
Tractors were even more common in front yards and Bedford trucks were alive and dead along the length of the road.
There were shoulders at times along the busy road, but often not. The edge of the road contained all manner of debris from litter to nuts, bolts and shredded tyres. It really was a lucky dip as to whether or not a puncture would eventuate. Anyway, Peter and Isabell were riding on thinner tyres than myself, Peter had problems with a tyre and had to replace it in Cayenne. The replacement was less than required to handle this debris. He soon got a puncture. We pulled in at a gas station, out of the sun and repaired this. Some 10km up the road the same happened.
Here we pulled in at a grocery store.
Isabel and I had drinks whilst we waited.
It was here my troubles began. The urge to use the toilet overcame me. The shop owner could not oblige.
I needed a loo fast. I was repeatedly saying to myself hang on Nige, hang on. A hardware shop down the road had an outhouse out the back of their big yard.
By this this time I was performing a closed thighs kind of walk.
I got the key and walked as controlled as I could, across all manner of debris in the long grass to the wooden hut in the far corner.
Without going into any detail, I never made it.
It was akin to dropping my bladder in the grey water the other day. Luckily, my navy tee shirt extends below my groin, as I had to walk back to the woman in the shop to ask for a bucket. No one noticed I was wearing nothing but a tee shirt. My skin is tanned along way up my thighs since wearing short running shorts as my older ones have worn out.
Thankfully, there was an open water reservoir in the yard, here things, including me were given a good dousing.
Nothing was said on my return to Peter and Isabell who had only just finished the repair.
My stomach was still not settled. Though riding was not a huge discomfort.
All along the roadside, the amount of litter was staggering. It rivals that of the litter along the roads on the urban fringes in Nicaragua.
The small drains on both sides of the road were choked with plastic in many places.
Our societies and councils go to great lengths to recycle and collect this waste.
In my mind, they are wasting time and valuable resources. We need to go to the source of the problem.
It is the manufacturers who supply their products in all this plastic that are the sole cause of this blight on every society in the world. The multi nationals put drinks in plastic because it is easy for them and we have payed for the packaging, they could not care less what happens to it after the point of sale and we have drunk the contents.
This goes for all manufactured consumer goods Take, for example, the size and extravagance of the packaging that Apple products come in. One almost feels guilty throwing out these sturdy glossy boxes that could hold three or four of the single product within them .
If governments said to all drink manufacturers for example, “You can’t sell your products in our country unless you put them in refillable glass”. They each would oblige, firstly because their greed would not allow them to lose market share and secondly, sales growth would go backwards.
They may cry, “there are health issues”, the moon is also a long way from earth!
Just this measure alone would vastly decrease the amount of plastic in our environment.
With a high deposit for return paid at point of sale, immediately, drink containers seen as litter would disappear. Those that were discarded, would provide an income for some people.
They could then arrange to collect them for refilling.
If they priced their products to high, people would not buy them. Seems to me like a great idea.
That’s how simple I feel things are. An iphone sold in a brown paper bag, with an instruction leaflet enclosed, is no lesser a product.
Our local bodies spend millions of taxpayers’ dollars recycling all this plastic that these manufacturers put their products in.
They must sit back and laugh at all the bales of crushed bottles that cost so much to accumulate at one facility at no cost to them. Just so they can make more.
Unfortunately, these kind of companies have too much power within political circles. Their environmental conscience is really nil compared to their desire for profits.
Back to the road, other more bio degradable litter on the roadside was seen. That of a dead horse and a dead caiman, the latter in the middle stages of decomposition.
There were blue signs up every kilometre or so marking another village, all with great names like Content and Airy Hall.
One area had coconut palms that looked like someone had poisoned them. Asking a man on the roadside, he told me there is a palm beetle here that defoliates the fronds.
They recover however.
Pete got another puncture about 1500 hrs, by this time we knew we were not going to make it to Georgetown. Though, we didn’t need to make plans yet.
This took some time to fix as he put his original front tyre on the rear rim that was carrying all the weight, as they were travelling without front panniers.
Riding on, at one point a lady was herding a flock of goats across the road, holding up traffic, no one minded.
This is all part of life here on this coastal strip where 90% of the population live. Most others live along the banks of the rivers.
Coming around one sweeping bend at about 1600, there were trucks tooting us to move over. The debris on the shoulder was thick, in amongst it we had to ride. Sure enough, 50m on my back tyre went down.
We pulled over into a grassed driveway, a 50mm long nail had found its way into my rear tyre.
I was not feeling too well by now. Peter and Isabel had pre booked a hotel from Poland in Georgetown, we decided that they ride on and get a lift in a truck when they need.
I would just ask someone to camp on their property. My replacement tube somehow had a split in it, so I was going nowhere anyway.
We said bye until tomorrow. I wandered across the road to see the owner who was at the gate. He said I could sling my hammock in his yard.
Dhard, then offered to drive down the road to buy a tube from a nearby shop.
I set my hammock up under their house, he and his wife were so hospitable, offering me dinner and a drink. I also had use of a downstairs shower and toilet. By now, I felt lousy.
I was in the hammock by 2030. From 2200, the rest of the night was either spent on the toilet or out in the paddock throwing up.
My thankfulness for their hospitality was beyond words I remember thinking during the middle of the night.
It would have been woeful in a bush camp without facilities or water.
At times like these, I realise just how so important my health is. I am carrying little weight and need to be in nothing less than perfect health to continue riding. So, when I get sick from something, everything just comes to a halt, there’s no wheeling the bike down the road kind of thing. It’s on or off.
That morning Dhard told me there is a problem here with lots of MSG in Chinese food and much is recycled, as he put it. That is to say, it is heated and reheated.
Obviously, not all Chinese restaurants are like this, like all restaurants, the busier they are, hopefully, the safer you are.
This practise of reheating food, saw me taken to hospital in an ambulance in Ecuador after eating chicken.
7/11/2014 Content to Georgetown, Guyana
D42, T2, Av20.52, Max44, 34,645/9,033
Mild and humid, great tail with from the NE, easy ride
The next morning Natasha, Dhards wife made me coffee and jam with bread. My appetite was that of a snake with the bulge of an animal along its length.
Dhard said to try and get a lift outside his gate. I waited here with a protruding arm and thumb for half an hour with no luck.
The breakfast soon saw the light of day again.
I felt better after this and decided to ride the last 40 odd km to Georgetown. I called into Dhards mechanic shop down the road to tell him so and thank him again.
He and his wife owned land to the sea behind the house, quite alot. He had some cows down there, as the land was saline nearer the coast. It was a relaxing place with ducks wandering about and a horse perusing about below the house with two cats and a friendly dog. There was always one cat smooching my legs, whilst on the toilet during the night. However, my letting out during paddock visits saw them prefer to stay away.
He too had an old Bedford in his yard, though it was in perfect repair.
When the rice harvest is on here, every truck is used to get it out of the fields for a few months.
The ride to Georgetown saw me drinking bought water all the way. Riding was slow and methodical. The strong tail winds were a blessing, though without apparent wind it was very sticky.
I stopped at a market and tried to find a cold water melon. None were found, so a quarter was bought and eaten with the stall holder.
Two kilometres down the road, my handlebar bag was showered in watermelon puree, such was my ability to hold food down.
Crossing a new bridge another cyclist was seen, he to, was a long distance traveller, from France. Having ridden from Peru to here via the length of the Trans Amazon.
He was on his way to Cayenne and back to France.
It was great to have a chat, we exchanged places to stay on our prospective routes. He told me of Jerrys “we jus deh” on Waterloo street.
He had to move on due to the fresh head winds he was going to have all the way .
On arrival in Georgetown, all I wanted to do was find a bed to lie on. I checked the Rema Guesthouse that the woman in French Guiana told me about, it was to cramped.
Jerrys was perfect, basic, comfortable, a bar and restaurant down stairs and no problems with the bike in the room and nice open views from the window that provided natural light.
It was a wooden building, old, best describes it. I made sure I knew how to get out fast should a fire break out. With smokers down in the bar all night this was an issue .Once settled in, all I could do was shower and fall on the bed.
Things were not good.
That night I caught up with Peter and Isabell. Throwing up between drinks in the outdoor bar here, though feeling better each time.
They were heading over to Trinidad and Tobago for a few days.
As I sit here four days after arrival, I have only been eating again for one and a half days and still have mild diahorrea.
The girls kindly gave me Lomotil, which has been a great help. One wall is lined with empty water bottles, my only intake for the first 2 days.
Georgetown marks the end of my travels here in South America. Thinking back on the last 8 months, venturing up from Buenos Aires, it was quite an ordeal for my old bod.
Days on end in Uruguay and Paraguay, of flat hot roads surrounded by farms. Then, on into Argentina and the hills of Missionies. The milestone of Iguazu.
Then the staph infection in northern Paraguay.
The vastness of the two Mato Grossos, and even greater vastness of Pará, then onto the Trans Amazon at Marabá.
Along this road, all my physical and mental resources were called upon, it was here, a hasty trip was made back to see my father in NZ before he passed away.
Then, the anticipation of leaving Brazil on the road north from Macapá. Before so, having crossed the equator.
Then, the ever changing languages of the three Guyanas.
All along this route, it was the people encountered and their friendliness and hospitality that really kept me going. The anticipation of what each new day would hold, also played a huge role in completing the journey.
All the while riding, I feel at this point in my life, I really feel I am stealing time.
This is the motivation behind my travels. Along with the desire to spend time with ordinary people along the way, and see these countries in a more intimate way than other forms of travel. Not to mention it is affordable.
From here, I fly to Trinidad and Tobago for a relaxing month and then to Nicaragua.
All things being equal, it is then a flight to Egypt in early January to ride from Cairo to Cape Town.
If you are looking for budget accommodation with a bar and food below here in Georgetown Try Jerrys Red Hostal on Waterloo St
Tibiti river
Pickles, such a shame they weigh so much
First nights camp, well away from the road.
My little hut in the forestry camp for the night. I was very spoilt.
Preparing a Laba for the nights meal.
I finally took time out to replace this tensioner on the Brooks seat. The old one was seized with sweat.
Just before the ticks took hold. The river camp where the guys were searching for animals late at night.
Filtering water from the dark waters
Life inside the Hennesey Hammock.
Brilliant campsite at Mozes creek.
Sunset over Guyana on the far side of the Courantyne river. As seen from Davids riverside property.
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Cas and Sheetal, great company during the first day of the ride to Apoera
Lunch at the deserted forestry camp.
Tibiti township, not much.
Around the camp that has been there for 3 years.
Great example of how tall trees support themselves in the sand jungle soils.
The Lucas Mill. From Australia, all the way out here, they have a great name in SA
The best the Katydan filter could do, it was still very drinkable without producing a "hangover"
Sometimes a good spot for lunch just can't be found before fatigue and hunger become to much
Many palm species are protecting themselves with these, care has to be taken in the thicker vegetation around camps.
Doing our best to catch a fish, David, Sergio and Armand
The kids enjoying the late part of the day.
Common sight along the way.
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25/10/2014
Paramaribo to a bush camp
D83, T6, Av17.31, Max29, 34,118/8,437
Fine and 30
I had gone to bed looking forward to a few days ride in the forest. Time enough had been spend on asphalt main roads. My confidence about the trip was as it should be. Beo,on saying the locals were friendly was all the inspiration needed. On the road about 0830, it was urban riding for about 25 kilometers.
Almost every 600m therewould be a big Chinese trading house. Selling everything from groceries to stuffed toys. Almost every product was from China. Many were in brand new buildings. They are doing well, the mark up on the goods must be enormous.
Once about 40 km was covered, the traffic thinned out and housing lightened up. The trading houses became more like small corner stores and less frequent.
The drains alongside the ride continued however.
Arriving at the turnoff to the Johan Adolf Pengel international airport in the village of Zanderij, a stop was made at the little cafe on the left before the turnoff. Here a great meal of wild meat,(laba) fresh beans and rice was enjoyed, the meat was delicious.
Here I happened to meet the governor of Apoera and his wife. They were lovely people and said they would arrange a place for me to stay at whilst I was Apoera. I told them about the Tropical Hotel, they had not heard about it. I had the phone number, it will be interesting to see if they styed there.
I spent about an hour or more here.
It was my last chance to use the internet.
It was only a kilometre from here the gravel commenced , it was a red aggregate, that of bauxite from the Aluminium mines here.
Though, now due to low world prices they are only refining it to the first stage then shipping it elsewhere to be finally smelted into the metal.
The surface was hard and good riding. Roadworks were in progress.
It was pleasant riding though at times a little dusty.
This road is mainly used by loggers, hunters and anglers.
Up ahead a black Rav 4 had stopped, the occupants, a young enthusiastic couple got out to have a chat to me. They were a great couple, we talked at length. They provided me with an icy cold orange juice, it was just the best out here. Cas and Sheetal had been at a reunion and were just going for a drive this way to have a look around.
Stopping at one village a family had a pet macaw sitting with them under a mango tree. It was great to have a good close look at one of the huge parrots. I dared not let my fingers get neat his menacing beak.
The thought of one of them being clasped by it, almost brings pain.
From here, a drink was bought at the local store.
Chinese of course, here I got water from a tap at the back of the house.
Also, here the unthinkable happened. Below the tap was a kitchen waste water trap.
I was talking to the people sitting under a tree whilst filling the bladder.
Not holding it firmly, upon being half full it fell squarely in the sickly rice laden grey waste water.
My legs were splashed.
The psychological discomfort was the bigger problem. I quickly retrived it and rinsed it out a couple of times before filling it. Yuk.
From here the river Saramacca was crossed by way of a substantial concrete bridge, there were fishermen in boats below and people swimming in the brown waters.
Coming around the bend, Cas and Sheetal were heading my way they stopped and we chatted further.
Cas worked for a company here that imports cars and food products, he is of Dutch descent and Sheetal, an attractive woman was of Indian descent.
They had all this stuff in their car in an esky, it was like a mobile goodies van.
Here we topped my bottles up with ice and a tub of chocolate icecream was enjoyed.
They offered me chocolate bars, unfortunately they would have been liquid before I felt like eating them .
It was great to chat with them, about Suriname and our respective lives.
I jokingly asked them where they are going driving tomorrow, possibly I will be nearby!!
The road again came close to the river. No good campsites were found. Some 3km down the road, a track was seen going into the forest.
This was taken, it was an old logging track.
It led for miles into the open canopied forest, a forest that had been witness to the sound of chainsaws.
I went in about 500m then took a sidetrack for further privacy, here an open site was found.
It was a great campsite, the light could be used freely. There were no tracks either human or animal about.
The tent was used on a nice little slope in the semi vegetated track.
The forest had been logged hard, the remaining trees were either twisted, deformed or still too young to yield any usable timber.
Broad leaf pioneer plants occupied the places where light could reach the forest floor.
There were piles of empty 1l oil containers lying around. The loggers must have been using some old equipment for the log recovery operations. Logging trucks were seen on the road today. The soil all through this area is a white sandy loam. Any houses are surrounded by beach like scenes.
Most remaining trees had branch damage in their crowns. In this respect, care was taken not to camp near one of these damaged trees.
Just on dark an Armadillo wandered into my camp. They are characters, possibly their sight is not good, he got a real surprise when he saw me move.
The mosquitoes, though out and about were not attacking me like an unbridled storm, it was bearable, after long pants and a long sleeved shirt were adorned along with a touch of repellent on my feet.
The forest around me was comfortingly still and peaceful, the odd bird was calling along with some insects.
It was a fitting place to have ended another enjoyable day here in Suriname.
After dinner and in the tent, sure enough the pains in my stomach started. I knew the procedure, it was that water.
Within half an hour, I was out in the bush with a roll of toilet paper purging my dinner.
Luckily, once this was done I felt better.
I had no other visitors to camp that night.
The temperature though very humid was pleasant for sleeping without the aid of bed clothing.
26/10/2014
Bush camp to forestry camp with Robin
D89, T7, Av15.31, Max41, 34,207/8,526
Fine and 30
The night was uneventful. Early, just as light hit the camp, the sound of a hummingbird was heard hovering outside the tent, they really are inquisitive little creatures.
Once breakfast was enjoyed, I was on the road about 0830. There were patches in the road now that were quite sandy, so extra care had to be taken.
There were tracks every few hundred metres that were logging trails, many had piles of tagged freshly cut logs at the entrances waiting to be hauled to a mill.
There were quite a few vehicles headed back to “Parbo” with boats on their roofs, people had been fishing for the weekend.
I was getting low on water when a large cleared area was encountered. Here were crops of pineapples and cassava, further up the road were three guys, a Dutch man and two local guys were aloft working.
They were building a ranch style entrance to the newly developed property. I pulled in to see if they had water.
They didn’t, however we started chatting.
Kevin was a great guy, a pioneer of sorts, he had cleared the 150 acres and was developing an orchard of citrus and pineapples he hoped to export.
We had a lot in common, I had been involved in breaking in land near Coffs Harbour. We both agreed on the arduous task of stick picking. He said the clearing process was almost as expensive as the land.
He sent one of the guys to his house to get a chilled melon which we all shared.
Kevin was about 40, he had come from Holland to get away from all the laws, taxes and red tape associated with governments that often can’t afford to administer their rules and regulations.
This is one of the reasons I am traveling in this manner. It is a great way to take time out from that kind of lifestyle. Though, I am too old to be breaking in land!
These countries in South America are where Australia and New Zealand were in the late 70’sand early 80’s Life is good and free. People still have to be responsible for themselves. Trip on something owned by someone and you can’t sue them here for an easy dollar.
Time when people had proper jobs, not those who only existence is due to legislation.
Even in my last few years working as an Arboricultural consultant many reports were due to government legislation and peoples fear of being sued should someone get hurt by falling limb or similar event due to a tree. It was nice to receive a commission from someone who really had a concern for a tree.
Though I have to say, the legislative work payed the bills.
The police here have better things to do than revenue raise. As Kevin said, you come here, do your own thing and no one bothers you. Live and let live.
The police officer pulling alongside me the other day and welcoming me to Suriname, is testimony to this. Police in OZ and NZ, will often say, have a good day after they have issued you with a fine.
What a mixed up gesture on their part.
I told Kevin in the end, I just shut my arboricultural contracting business down due to red tape and inpracticalities involved with safety and other ridiculous costs associated with operating a small business. Having to wear dangerously hot clothing and chaps on summer days for example and collecting taxes for the government in the form of GST.
From there I took up consultancy full time to ease some of these restrictions and streamline costs.
Everyone seems to be charging each other as much as they think they can get away with, such is the burden of costs and services in our consumer orientated societies.
He had a restaurant in Holland and knew just what I was talking about.
Successive governments in Australia have foolishly allowed a duopoly to exist with the main conumerables.
There are not too many places left in many NSW towns and cities where you can buy petrol, hardware, food or alcohol without going to a business owned by Coles or Woolworths.
It really is a sad state of affairs. Though a similar situation probably exists in other developed nations.
These guys run the ultimate consumer feedlot, where there are troughs in only two paddocks and to survive consumers nearly always have to feed from one of the two troughs.
Peoples choices are becoming less and less. Shopping at proper markets is such an enjoyable way to purchase fresh foods.
Though, on the plus side, these two supermarkets are a good place to bump into acquaintances and friends you may not have seen for a while, and they are awfully convenient for busy people. There are not too many other places to go!!
The supermarkets advertise all the rubbish food as having special prices, but when it come to green veges, fruit, meat and other healthy food, you pay as much as they can extract from you, as they have earlier done with their suppliers.
I will not even go into the way they treat these suppliers, especially those on the land. I feel so sorry for their predicament. Who in Australia could buy 500 acres of carrots, once a farmer is committed, if he then decides to part from one of these profit driven companies.
Reading between the lines, it may not be to long before you can buy your food on interest free terms using their finance company, from one of these two duopolists.
Kevin, like myself, had embraced change, and the challenge of the unknown.
I gave him my card and wished him every success, and said one day I would like to visit when the dream has borne fruit, so to say.
As I ride along these peaceful roads, having made this decision and a few others, life right now for me, could not be much better. Maybe the right traveling companion!?
For me, the predictable boredom of having to make money to support a lifestyle that seemed to get more costly by the month, is gone.
For now anyway.
Maybe, again one day, I will be subject to this way of life. With my own adjustments to it.
Presently, life is full of surprises.
Riding on, my water supplies were getting low, coming around one bend a compound was seen in the bush, riding in here, I asked for water. The guy took me under the shelter where he had a freezer from here he gave me two coke bottles full of frozen water. He then poured me a few glasses of chilled water.
To say this was great, is only part of how good it was, the written word is not the place to try and describe how good it was. My face and gestures could only do that.
I headed off loaded with chilled water, this was a luxury out here.
Some 10km on down the end of a straight two guys, were seen carrying machetes, walking along the red gravelled road.
I pulled up for a chat. They were local people and were wandering to the next logging site, where they worked.
They told me like others to be careful in Guyana, especially Boxton.
I gave them iced water and a couple of lozenges. It was their lucky day, bumping into a cyclist with iced water on this little used road.
They were walking in knee high gumboots, things must have been anaerobically very hot inside.
By now, hunger was playing a role amongst my thoughts.
All the creeks were almost dry and stagnant. Already, 70km were clocked. The decision was made, to try to find another logging camp to eat in.
Luckily, a deserted such place was soon arrived upon. Here were all sorts of shelters.
The place had been vacated in a hurry, it looked. There were clothes and other items needed to maintain machinery and man everywhere.
Milo was enjoyed here, with sardines and mackerel from cans.
Some hosing with the correct inside diameter was found, to place on the racks to support the panniers.
An hour or more was spent here wandering in the forest, here a colony of tiny black monkeys were seen skilfully and almost silently swinging through the middle canopy of the surrounding forest.
Once out of here, I felt well fed, though it always takes a while to get going again after a good break and food.
It was 1530 by now, soon a small Indio community was arrived at. I stopped here to ask the ladies if they had water.
They topped up my bladder and bottles with the sweetest well water that had been drunk for some time.
From here I crossed the Tibiti creek, a guy and a woman were paddling a wooden canoe in the dark waters. I yelled greetings from the bridge, they said there were Piranha in the river.
I asked them if I could take a photo, which they didn’t mind. A small village was up ahead.
I choose not to stop as I had sufficient water for the night and was looking to camp away from settlements.
Outside the village on the right a huge area of trees was dead, fire had been the cause, the smallish sun bleached skeletonised trees had blackened trunks.
Riding on, two guys came out of the bush wielding shotguns, we chatted for awhile.
Robin and Burra were from a logging camp down the road. They had just missed a deer.
They invited me to stay at their camp for the night, which was a few km on.
They were two really friendly guys, in the camp there was a group of buildings. Their boss, a Japanese man was in Paramaribo. They had a spare hut.
This was a great set up in the jungle, it was like arriving at a 4 star hotel in the middle of nowhere.
The Hotel California so to speak. I showered in the little wooden shower hut and set my tent up on the deck of my elevated hut.
I wandered over to see the guys at their group of buildings. Though before doing so I put 3 batteries in my unwanted headlight to give to Robin.
Over at their hut they were plucking a Meme, a game bird of the jungle.
They invited me to eat with them, this was a meal of the bird cooked in a delicious spicy sauce and a fried Indian type of bread.
They were working here felling trees and had been here for three years and had two to go.
They showed me a sheet of paper, where in their concession, the trees are marked by government people that can be felled.
This land was last logged 15 years ago. In this respect it was well managed and sustainable logging.
We had lots to talk about as during my Arboriculture days I too operated Stihl chainsaws. I had also lived in the forest with a group of guys, whilst possum trapping many years ago in NZ, and dead wooding trees in the New England National Parks in NSW.
They were a great bunch of hard working guys. It was the most unexpected ending to the day.
My hut even had power whilst the generator was going till 2200 and clean tap water.
Once I left the guys, I was soon in the tent and sound asleep. Though a shot momentarily awakened me later in the evening.
27/10/2014
Forestry camp with Robin to Rio Amazoona
D58, T5, Av16.45, Max43, 34,207/8,584
Fine and 30, very humid
The big difference between here and the Hotel California was I didn’t have to check out and I could leave whenever I chose. That happened to be at 1200.
I wandered over to see the guys as arranged at 0730 with my coffee and bowl of porridge. They were dressing a dead animal which explains the shot I heard last night. Robin had shot a Laba.
A nocturnal animal that is eaten a lot here. In the small cafe near the airport this is what I had eaten. The skin is a bit like pork, though it is a large rodent .
They were pouring boiling water on its skin to make the bristles come out. Robin had neck shot it with his 12 gauge using pellets about 3mm diameter. Possible similar to buckshot.
The animal had a lot of meat on its carcass especially the hindquarters.
When asked if monkeys were eaten, they said no, as they were too much like humans.
Further enquiry also revealed that they never see dead monkeys during felling operations, they move to fast.
For some time now the bolt that adjusts my Brooks seat has needed replacing as the sweat has seized the nut on the thread. Even with vice grips and a spanner it has been impossible to turn the nut.
So, this morning I took the risk and used an angle grinder to cut it in half. One slip onto the leather would have rendered the seat useless.
It was a delicate but successful operation. The new one bought in NZ a couple of months ago was well greased and slid into place and adjusted. I can finally tension the leather as it stretches. What a difference.
The rest of the morning was spent just pottering , having a shave and writing yesterdays blog entry.
Speaking with Kevin from Holland inspired me to make a few comments about the big picture.
I said bye to Robin, who was heading out to gather some logs in the skidder. The other guys were working doing some repairs on the Lucas mill, incidentally, an Australian invention
Once on the road, it was easy riding again with a good solid surface for the most part.
Some 15km on, a roadside stall come cafe was stopped at and a large bottle of Fanta bought, not being able to drink it all, some was left for the kids, all of African descent and sporting the cutest of piccaninny type hairdos.
The country was again heavy jungle. With tracks leading to forestry concessions passed regularly. Come 1530 and not having eaten a place for that purpose was sought. The first track led to a guys shack, so I departed there before he spotted me.
The next track was a fresh one. The destruction in the forest when first entering it with gear to log is just a mess of crushed palms and small trees.
This was not a nice place and to hot.
A gel was taken, as I was fast running out of energy and was very hungry.
I checked my phone GPS, it showed a watercourse not far ahead. I made it here and following a look around it was found to be a perfect campsite. A swim was had in the almost black waters.
The bike was wheeled further into the bush until a great little clearing was found above the almost motionless creek.
Water was filtered into the bladder. Even the filter could not take all the colour form the waters. It tasted ok though.
Dinner was rice, the lady had given me at the cafe and curry with salmon, it was a nice change from pasta. Coffee and tea were drunk to try to re hydrate, water also helped.
Sitting above the creek bank just enjoying the last of the light. Three hummingbirds were putting on a display infront of me around a dead branch overhanging the creek. These birds fascinate me, they are experts at hovering, then rapidly moving to another little air space and hover again.
As the light faded, small bats were also out and about, flying around the hummingbirds, the frogs began to call a little later. Many sounded like they were calling from inside a pipe, such was the echo in their calls.
Baboons could be heard in the distance, howling in the evening.
They have been a common sound for the last few nights.
My seat had been a lot more comfortable during the day. This pleases me.
I slung my hammock tonight, as the ground was covered in dead leaves and it just felt better to be off the ground this close to a river. A spotlight for Jacaré was made before going to bed, none were seen .
28/10/2014
River camp to picnic area Rio Mozes
D63, T6, Av14, Max49, 34,328/8,647
Fine and 34, very humid
Today was always going to be a hard ride. Little sleep was had over night. Whilst taking my bike through the grass to get away from the road, a bunch of grass ticks lodged themselves on me. Consequently, I was scratching myself almost all night, they were relentless in their search for a mouth hold.
Trees were not in plentiful supply around my chosen campsite, so a branch was used as a support for the hammock, this had bent in the night, consequently my bum was, unknown to me almost on the ground. During the night a small animal was nudging me.
A loud shhh!! Made him scurry off.
Then at 0200, some guys started beaming a spot light up and down the creek from the road bridge. My presence was not revealed.
There were too many species of frog to count. Their callings were an unorchestrated racket. Some sounded like they were calling from inside a pipe. There was all manner of splashing in the creek as fish were targeting their prey.
The baboons were howling every couple of hours, just to add a bit of base to the nocturnal bush festival, that most definitely did not have a conductor guiding its noisy participants.
All told, about 2-3 hours sleep may have been had, even that was light.
Once on the road about 0800, the hills were in plentiful supply. Traffic was almost no existent. The road was borderd by heavy jungle on both sides.
As always the larger lizards always made a noise in the dead leaves as they ran off.
Before leaving camp I filtered 6 litres for the road, I did not want to be caught short without water. Good creeks for this necessary item were few and far between.
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The day was rapidly heating up, before the air started moving the humidity as always was claustaphobic in its intensity.
Coming down one hill, a new bridge had just been completed, near here was the work site and accommodation. There was a water tank on one building. This was so timely, here I drank as much of the sweet water as I could, topped up all my bottles and washed myself and my clothes.
It was a big help.
I was doing it tough by now and needed to stop to eat. A dual cab Hilux went passed and pulled up. The guys got out for a chat. They were hunters and fisherman. Their two dogs had GPS tied to their collars so they could track them once they got onto a pig.
They gave me ice and a coke to drink. They were heading down a sidetrack to fish and hunt for a week.
Shotguns appear to be the gun of choice for most hunters. In the heavy vegetation, one of the pellets would most likely find its target, I thought.
All through here is a paradise for those two pursuits. It seems every animal roaming through this jungle is edible. Monkeys aside.
Riding on, the need to stop was now urgent,. The best I could find was just some shade on the roadside. There were now no forestry trails.
Here a can a mackerel was demolished as quick as I could unpack it and rip the lid. Two coffees were enjoyed, along with biscuits and the left over rice and curry which saved the day really.
In the hour here only 3 cars passed.
I still was not 100%, and not overly motivated. I still hadn’t got my full energy back.
Some guys pulled up, they were the men who mark the trees that can be felled on the concessions.
They informed me of a river and camp area up ahead.
Once at this spot.
The bike was propped up and my weary body was submerged in the warm light brownish flowing waters of an idyllic stream in this equally as idyllic site. I definitely was going no further today. This was such a good campsite.
The hammock was hung. A bloke on a moto pulled in, we had a good yarn, he gave me bread to use for bait. Alex was on his way to Apoera on his Suzuki 50.
I told him I used to do long distances on a Suzuki fifty back in NZ. It was a case of chest on the fuel tank, feet on the pillion footrests and a wide open throttle.
All this and an awkwardly tilted neck, it always got me there.
It was so relaxing sitting in the waters below a small waterfall.
Some other guys turned up, they were entomologists from Holland who had permission to collect bugs etc to take back to Europe. They stopped awhile and we talked distances among other things. They were heading into the jungle to set up a bright light in the hope of attracting insects.
A Mitsibushi van turned up, in it was a guide and two Dutch tourists a bit older than I.
Dustin the guide was a very informed guy as expected. He said many accidents happen here with hunters and alcohol. He warned me to be careful with a low light around any camps. Many hunters will shoot thinking they are animal eyes.
Hang any light high and bright, he said.
The weekends are the most dangerous, luckily I should be in Apoera before Saturday.
The woman later came over and invited me to join them for dinner. Dustin was cooking spag bolognaise. This was like a bush restaurant for me.
They ate very little, so, on being asked if I would like to finish the food in the wok.
My hesitation was negligible. This is what I needed to pick me up after a day where the lack of sleep had impacted it in many ways.
I wandered over for a night fish on the rocks with no luck. There were large tree frogs sitting on the rocks amongst the shallow broken waters weaving amongst them.
Dustin and his two guests headed off to camp in a building 20km up the road. They were one day into a 5 day trip.
He told me nearly all his clients are Dutch and that he is busy all year.
The couple were straight from Amsterdam, they were very excited to see a firefly. For them this world must be so different from that of the city.
This road here in Suriname, is little used except by sports people and loggers. It is a pleasure to ride. People using it are very friendly.
I had the hammock well set up with the fly in place, as it looked like it could rain.
There was the sound of a very close Baboon colony roaring with such loudness, it was almost intimidating, not unlike that of the Maori Haka. The dominant male could be heard leading each round of roaring. He had the deepest slightly rasped roar.
He also called the end of the session.
Once their 5 to 10 minute build up was completed it was back to a much more pleasant sound of frogs tonight.
Once inside the hammock, it did not take long to fall asleep.
29/10/2014
Rio Mozes to Caroline and Davids place, Mora Bush, Apoera
D69, T5, Av16.30, Max52, 34,397/8,785
Fine and 34, very humid, dusty
Awake early, some bread was taken down to the creek and attached to a hook on the end of a piece of nyon attached to a wooden pole. The first haphazard launch of the hook into the waters secyred a small meal in one fish, I was lucky. After this only tiny fish were caught.
A good wash and shampoo was enjoyed in the warm river waters. It felt good to be clean.
Time was spent just pottering around, cooking and organising gear. Some more hunters turned up. We had a yarn, they gave me a cup for of petrol for the stove and the leftovers from a half cold bottle of coke.
They were from Paramaribo. No wonder there are accidents with guns. Each of the four guys had his shotgun at his side in the old dual cab.
Though they were probably in good company as one of them was a doctor.
Finally and not too enthusiastically, I got away about 1130. No sooner had I crossed the river bridge on the road near the camp a steady 3 km climb commenced.
By the time I was at the top, my clothes were soaked.
It was hot and humid. Forest again, bordered both sides of the road. Monkeys were seen calling from trees. As soon as I stopped it was remarkable how quick the just disappeared into the canopy.
My first on the road flat tyre since BA was experienced today. A shady tree saw me repair this, a small stone had found its way through the front tyre.
From here the road levelled out, became very wide and dusty due to trucks carting large rocks and gravel.
They all gave me a big honk. I had to stop one guy for more water. He poured some from what looked like an oil container. I was not about to question its origin and drank it rapidly.
I had thought there were 75km to Apoera and had planned another night camping. Everyone spoke to gave me differing distances to the village
I bumped into the two entomologists after 1630, they said it was only 7km to the village. This was great news. Though I was worn out, dry and very dusted. It was decided to just keep going.
They too gave me some water.
Closer to town on the banks of the river Courantyne that borders Guyana. A huge mill was seen. It was the mill of Greenheart, a Hong Kong based company with a 322,000 ha timber concession here.
Prior to this, an Indonesian company had the mill. They had problems with the government in the 1990’s and lost their rights to harvest logs. Tragically, they set fire to one million logs stacked at the mill. David said it two months to burn out.
What a waste.
It is by far the source of almost all work here. Along with the rock quarry and barge.
Nearby was the final destination for all this granite like rock that gets put on barges and run down the river to be exported or used in Suriname.
On arrival in town, which at this point was just small houses along the road. A stop was made at a little wooded kiosk on the side of the road. A woman was behind the counter and her husband was sitting in a chair chatting on my side of the counter.
A freezing bottle of Sprite was bought as was a fresh watermelon and a bottle of Fanta.
We started chatting. They were great people. David asked me where I was staying, I said the governor had a place for me to stay. They informed me he was still in Paramaribo.
He replied, I could camp near his house down by the river. He took me down to the riverside house. The property had at least 8 houses on it, the occupants were all related.
I was introduced to his two sons Arman and Sergio. My tent was set up and we just chatted.
A swim was enjoyed in the huge Courantyne River before going to bed.
The sun sets on the other side of the river over Guyana. Unusually the border of the two countries places the whole river in Suriname.
The Guyana fishermen use it at their leisure.
Sergio had just two weeks ago been bitten by a large Piranha whilst fishing upstream. He was just washing his hands over the side of the boat when one took a huge chunk from his finger.
A doctor wanted to do a skin graft from his bum, but with the help of a medicine from the bark of a local tree, within two weeks the flesh is already nearly all grown back.
Interestingly, the young pup around here, Milk, does not like me, he is quite aggressive. Arman told me that when dogs eat Piranha they get aggressive, especially after eating the heads of these fish. Classic stuff.
I love hearing these little titbits of the local ways.
He thinks some people might be feeding little Milk some Piranha frames somewhere in town.
To be sleeping in the tent in a totally safe spot, saw me sleep like a log.
The next morning we took the boat and went up stream fishing with no luck but lots of relaxation.
There were river otters swimming in the river ahead of us and Amerindians fishing from wooden canoes.
They have a community just out of town here. Apoera consists of three small villages on the river.
The afternoon was spent in the hammock and just relaxing.
I have to wait here till Sunday to catch the ferry back up to Niew Nickerie on the coast at the mouth of the Courantyne.
Here with David and his extended family, is about as relaxing as you could get it.
I eat lunch with them and cook my own dinner and breakfast.
I bought a live chicken today which Carolines mother cleaned and cooked for lunch .
She is 84, so she must have seen some changes here. There are more to come with a bank setting up and more housing projects. The new bridges I crossed were very solid well built concrete structures that can take large trucks.
During the civil war the bridges were blown up to deny access to the guerrilla areas.
There was talk of dredging the river to take ocean going vessels to load Bauxite. The locals were not happy. Wisely, the Suriname government listened and the road will be used to cart the ore.
This area is going to be big in the tourism future of Suriname I feel.
David and his sons are going to put cabins down by the river at some stage.
David and I went to his land plot and planted corn, picked watermelon and harvested peppers for the morning.
It was a pleasure dropping the corn kernels into the tiny holes he made with a pointed pole.
Two seeds were put in each hole and covered. We both agreed it is always a pleasure seeing things grow.
I jokingly told him will have his best ever crop this year.
We then went to the huge shed that once was part of a bold Bauxite mining operation here. The shed was now home to thousands of small bats and old train engines.
People from Guyana had stripped it bare of anything or metal of value.
This happened about 1989 during the civil war here in Suriname when the American mining company abandoned the project.
Today, a visit to the little local market was made. Here people sold a limited array of vegetables, local jewelry and wild bush meat among other things.
I bought a bottle of homemade ginger juice with cloves added, it was strong but the real deal.
Dave was in his little shop today as Greenheart pay all their workers once a month, though they are all on differing salaries the pay is about 400US a month. Yesterday was payday, so people were paying their debts.
I took a ride with him on the moto to do a bit of debt collecting around the village.. I used to have to do this, it is not a nice way to spend the little free time you have when working for yourself .
The mill employs people from Brazil, Guyana, Suriname and lots of Asians. The management are mostly Europeans. The staff do not communicate amongst each other very well.
Tonight a decent size crew of people congregate at the local house come bar here to get on the grog while they are cashed up. They also hang outside the Chinese grocery sucking on longnecks of Parbo, the local popular beer.
The 3 villages are powered by one of four large diesel generators that use about 400L in 24 hours. They run 24/7.
The mill are very generous in the prices of timber for the locals who can build a good basic home of about 80 sq m, on high piles with parking underneath for about 10,000US. All timber except for the Zinc roof.
Yesterday whilst resting a few shots were heard. The owner of the house across the paddock had shot an Iguana, this was hung from a tree by the neck and dressed. Sergio cooked it in Indian spices and we sat down and ate it an hour later.
The strength of the chilli disguised the flavour somewhat. Though, it was like chicken with a slightly more courser texture.
Sunday before leaving all my clothes were hand washed. I went round to thank the governor who had arrived back from Paramaribo, he was there but must have been asleep so a text was sent.
In the afternoon we got a heavy tropical down pour for half an hour.
It was just what the corn needed, Dave was very happy, so was I.
The small ferry left at 1000, by 1800 everyone had their hammocks already hung amidships for the trip. They were almost touching, such was the limited space.
David, Caroline and I went down at 2130 and loaded things, luckily the tide was in and I could just wheel the bike onto the top deck and just lay it down.
I chose to just sleep up top with other guys.
Though at one or two in the morning the rain started. I retreated down below and crawled under the hammocks and sleep there.
At some ridiculous hour we pulled in at the wharf in Orealla in Guyana.
There was a major commotion going on the dock as people were boarding, a guy was arguing with a woman in broken English, they were having a real berny.
Anyway he got onboard and was yelling at her as the captain pulled away slowly and never throttled up as the argument continued, the easiest recognisable word was fuck in every sentence. After awhile the captain throttled the old vessel up.
The guy up on the roof just dived into the river nearly mid stream some 200 m from the shore, nothing was said and the journey continued.
I soon feel back to sleep.
Come 0500 were arrived at the little wharf at South Drain. We waited here till the sun rose and then started to disembark.
3/11/2014
South drain wharf to Nickerie
D42, T2.3, Av17.92, Max26, 34,439/8,827
Mild and humid
The others wandered across the fields catch the bus to Nickerie. I said goodbye to Caroline and slowly packed the bike.
Whilst in Apoera, my bike fell on the Clic Stand and broke it, here there was nothing to lean the bike against, so it had to be loaded with some difficulty.
Once on the road it was an easy ride along the dead flat smooth surface. Both sides of the road had canals.
Closer to Nikerie intensive agriculture commenced, that of wet rice farms and bananas.
All the land was broken into blocks surrounded by drains.
Nearer town large rice processing plants were encountered. Some husk dumping grounds were seen, many were set on fire and smouldering.
Once on the outskirts of town, the hunt was on for an engineering shop to sleeve the broken stand. Once directed to the right place a bolt was slid inside the tubes this sufficed perfectly. The owner kindly lent me a hacksaw and hammer to perform the task.
Tom from Clic-Stand.com is sending me a replacement.
These simple four piece aluminium bike supports make life so easy, no other stand is able to safely support the weight I carry.
Once in town, the hunt was on for a hotel, finally the Concord was found with good wifi and comfy basic rooms.
I had no SRD’s so had to find an ATM, three were tried with no success.
So a few US dollars were cashed. I was starving.
Things were getting a bit desperate as I had to pay the hotel. No Atm would accept my card. One took a second card I use.
Later that night I tried again, if oyu are ever here with a foreign card, use the RCB ATM by the police station, it was the only one that worked for me and another British couple who had the same problem.
A great Chinese meal was enjoyed for a few dollars and a huge pomelo was bought, called pompelmoes here.
Peeling it is half the enjoyment to expose the pink capsules inside each segment, they are so delicately flavoured when a good one is purchased, they coast about 10SRD or 3USD.
Life is quite easy here, as most people speak English, many are from Guyana where English is the chosen language.
Nieuw Nickerie (pronounced 'Niekérie') is the third largest city in Suriname with a population estimated at 12,818. It is the capital city of the Nickerie district, and the terminus of the East-West Link.
Nieuw Nickerie lies on the mouth of the Nickerie river on the Atlantic coast, opposite the mouth of the Corantijn river (Courantyne) and the Guyanese town of Corriverton (Springlands), to which a ferry service operates.
The main industries are bananas and rice. The town contains a market and several hotels, including the Hotel Ameerali, Hotel de President, Hotel Tropical, Hotel de Vesting and Residence Inn.
Nieuw Nickerie was built after the former center of the district, Nieuw Rotterdam was destroyed by floods.The city's Majoor Henry Fernandes Airport also known as Nieuw Nickerie Airport, is located near Nieuw Nickerie, the capital city of the Nickerie district in Suriname.
Ref: Wikipedia
Paramaribo to a bush camp
D83, T6, Av17.31, Max29, 34,118/8,437
Fine and 30
I had gone to bed looking forward to a few days ride in the forest. Time enough had been spend on asphalt main roads. My confidence about the trip was as it should be. Beo,on saying the locals were friendly was all the inspiration needed. On the road about 0830, it was urban riding for about 25 kilometers.
Almost every 600m therewould be a big Chinese trading house. Selling everything from groceries to stuffed toys. Almost every product was from China. Many were in brand new buildings. They are doing well, the mark up on the goods must be enormous.
Once about 40 km was covered, the traffic thinned out and housing lightened up. The trading houses became more like small corner stores and less frequent.
The drains alongside the ride continued however.
Arriving at the turnoff to the Johan Adolf Pengel international airport in the village of Zanderij, a stop was made at the little cafe on the left before the turnoff. Here a great meal of wild meat,(laba) fresh beans and rice was enjoyed, the meat was delicious.
Here I happened to meet the governor of Apoera and his wife. They were lovely people and said they would arrange a place for me to stay at whilst I was Apoera. I told them about the Tropical Hotel, they had not heard about it. I had the phone number, it will be interesting to see if they styed there.
I spent about an hour or more here.
It was my last chance to use the internet.
It was only a kilometre from here the gravel commenced , it was a red aggregate, that of bauxite from the Aluminium mines here.
Though, now due to low world prices they are only refining it to the first stage then shipping it elsewhere to be finally smelted into the metal.
The surface was hard and good riding. Roadworks were in progress.
It was pleasant riding though at times a little dusty.
This road is mainly used by loggers, hunters and anglers.
Up ahead a black Rav 4 had stopped, the occupants, a young enthusiastic couple got out to have a chat to me. They were a great couple, we talked at length. They provided me with an icy cold orange juice, it was just the best out here. Cas and Sheetal had been at a reunion and were just going for a drive this way to have a look around.
Stopping at one village a family had a pet macaw sitting with them under a mango tree. It was great to have a good close look at one of the huge parrots. I dared not let my fingers get neat his menacing beak.
The thought of one of them being clasped by it, almost brings pain.
From here, a drink was bought at the local store.
Chinese of course, here I got water from a tap at the back of the house.
Also, here the unthinkable happened. Below the tap was a kitchen waste water trap.
I was talking to the people sitting under a tree whilst filling the bladder.
Not holding it firmly, upon being half full it fell squarely in the sickly rice laden grey waste water.
My legs were splashed.
The psychological discomfort was the bigger problem. I quickly retrived it and rinsed it out a couple of times before filling it. Yuk.
From here the river Saramacca was crossed by way of a substantial concrete bridge, there were fishermen in boats below and people swimming in the brown waters.
Coming around the bend, Cas and Sheetal were heading my way they stopped and we chatted further.
Cas worked for a company here that imports cars and food products, he is of Dutch descent and Sheetal, an attractive woman was of Indian descent.
They had all this stuff in their car in an esky, it was like a mobile goodies van.
Here we topped my bottles up with ice and a tub of chocolate icecream was enjoyed.
They offered me chocolate bars, unfortunately they would have been liquid before I felt like eating them .
It was great to chat with them, about Suriname and our respective lives.
I jokingly asked them where they are going driving tomorrow, possibly I will be nearby!!
The road again came close to the river. No good campsites were found. Some 3km down the road, a track was seen going into the forest.
This was taken, it was an old logging track.
It led for miles into the open canopied forest, a forest that had been witness to the sound of chainsaws.
I went in about 500m then took a sidetrack for further privacy, here an open site was found.
It was a great campsite, the light could be used freely. There were no tracks either human or animal about.
The tent was used on a nice little slope in the semi vegetated track.
The forest had been logged hard, the remaining trees were either twisted, deformed or still too young to yield any usable timber.
Broad leaf pioneer plants occupied the places where light could reach the forest floor.
There were piles of empty 1l oil containers lying around. The loggers must have been using some old equipment for the log recovery operations. Logging trucks were seen on the road today. The soil all through this area is a white sandy loam. Any houses are surrounded by beach like scenes.
Most remaining trees had branch damage in their crowns. In this respect, care was taken not to camp near one of these damaged trees.
Just on dark an Armadillo wandered into my camp. They are characters, possibly their sight is not good, he got a real surprise when he saw me move.
The mosquitoes, though out and about were not attacking me like an unbridled storm, it was bearable, after long pants and a long sleeved shirt were adorned along with a touch of repellent on my feet.
The forest around me was comfortingly still and peaceful, the odd bird was calling along with some insects.
It was a fitting place to have ended another enjoyable day here in Suriname.
After dinner and in the tent, sure enough the pains in my stomach started. I knew the procedure, it was that water.
Within half an hour, I was out in the bush with a roll of toilet paper purging my dinner.
Luckily, once this was done I felt better.
I had no other visitors to camp that night.
The temperature though very humid was pleasant for sleeping without the aid of bed clothing.
26/10/2014
Bush camp to forestry camp with Robin
D89, T7, Av15.31, Max41, 34,207/8,526
Fine and 30
The night was uneventful. Early, just as light hit the camp, the sound of a hummingbird was heard hovering outside the tent, they really are inquisitive little creatures.
Once breakfast was enjoyed, I was on the road about 0830. There were patches in the road now that were quite sandy, so extra care had to be taken.
There were tracks every few hundred metres that were logging trails, many had piles of tagged freshly cut logs at the entrances waiting to be hauled to a mill.
There were quite a few vehicles headed back to “Parbo” with boats on their roofs, people had been fishing for the weekend.
I was getting low on water when a large cleared area was encountered. Here were crops of pineapples and cassava, further up the road were three guys, a Dutch man and two local guys were aloft working.
They were building a ranch style entrance to the newly developed property. I pulled in to see if they had water.
They didn’t, however we started chatting.
Kevin was a great guy, a pioneer of sorts, he had cleared the 150 acres and was developing an orchard of citrus and pineapples he hoped to export.
We had a lot in common, I had been involved in breaking in land near Coffs Harbour. We both agreed on the arduous task of stick picking. He said the clearing process was almost as expensive as the land.
He sent one of the guys to his house to get a chilled melon which we all shared.
Kevin was about 40, he had come from Holland to get away from all the laws, taxes and red tape associated with governments that often can’t afford to administer their rules and regulations.
This is one of the reasons I am traveling in this manner. It is a great way to take time out from that kind of lifestyle. Though, I am too old to be breaking in land!
These countries in South America are where Australia and New Zealand were in the late 70’sand early 80’s Life is good and free. People still have to be responsible for themselves. Trip on something owned by someone and you can’t sue them here for an easy dollar.
Time when people had proper jobs, not those who only existence is due to legislation.
Even in my last few years working as an Arboricultural consultant many reports were due to government legislation and peoples fear of being sued should someone get hurt by falling limb or similar event due to a tree. It was nice to receive a commission from someone who really had a concern for a tree.
Though I have to say, the legislative work payed the bills.
The police here have better things to do than revenue raise. As Kevin said, you come here, do your own thing and no one bothers you. Live and let live.
The police officer pulling alongside me the other day and welcoming me to Suriname, is testimony to this. Police in OZ and NZ, will often say, have a good day after they have issued you with a fine.
What a mixed up gesture on their part.
I told Kevin in the end, I just shut my arboricultural contracting business down due to red tape and inpracticalities involved with safety and other ridiculous costs associated with operating a small business. Having to wear dangerously hot clothing and chaps on summer days for example and collecting taxes for the government in the form of GST.
From there I took up consultancy full time to ease some of these restrictions and streamline costs.
Everyone seems to be charging each other as much as they think they can get away with, such is the burden of costs and services in our consumer orientated societies.
He had a restaurant in Holland and knew just what I was talking about.
Successive governments in Australia have foolishly allowed a duopoly to exist with the main conumerables.
There are not too many places left in many NSW towns and cities where you can buy petrol, hardware, food or alcohol without going to a business owned by Coles or Woolworths.
It really is a sad state of affairs. Though a similar situation probably exists in other developed nations.
These guys run the ultimate consumer feedlot, where there are troughs in only two paddocks and to survive consumers nearly always have to feed from one of the two troughs.
Peoples choices are becoming less and less. Shopping at proper markets is such an enjoyable way to purchase fresh foods.
Though, on the plus side, these two supermarkets are a good place to bump into acquaintances and friends you may not have seen for a while, and they are awfully convenient for busy people. There are not too many other places to go!!
The supermarkets advertise all the rubbish food as having special prices, but when it come to green veges, fruit, meat and other healthy food, you pay as much as they can extract from you, as they have earlier done with their suppliers.
I will not even go into the way they treat these suppliers, especially those on the land. I feel so sorry for their predicament. Who in Australia could buy 500 acres of carrots, once a farmer is committed, if he then decides to part from one of these profit driven companies.
Reading between the lines, it may not be to long before you can buy your food on interest free terms using their finance company, from one of these two duopolists.
Kevin, like myself, had embraced change, and the challenge of the unknown.
I gave him my card and wished him every success, and said one day I would like to visit when the dream has borne fruit, so to say.
As I ride along these peaceful roads, having made this decision and a few others, life right now for me, could not be much better. Maybe the right traveling companion!?
For me, the predictable boredom of having to make money to support a lifestyle that seemed to get more costly by the month, is gone.
For now anyway.
Maybe, again one day, I will be subject to this way of life. With my own adjustments to it.
Presently, life is full of surprises.
Riding on, my water supplies were getting low, coming around one bend a compound was seen in the bush, riding in here, I asked for water. The guy took me under the shelter where he had a freezer from here he gave me two coke bottles full of frozen water. He then poured me a few glasses of chilled water.
To say this was great, is only part of how good it was, the written word is not the place to try and describe how good it was. My face and gestures could only do that.
I headed off loaded with chilled water, this was a luxury out here.
Some 10km on down the end of a straight two guys, were seen carrying machetes, walking along the red gravelled road.
I pulled up for a chat. They were local people and were wandering to the next logging site, where they worked.
They told me like others to be careful in Guyana, especially Boxton.
I gave them iced water and a couple of lozenges. It was their lucky day, bumping into a cyclist with iced water on this little used road.
They were walking in knee high gumboots, things must have been anaerobically very hot inside.
By now, hunger was playing a role amongst my thoughts.
All the creeks were almost dry and stagnant. Already, 70km were clocked. The decision was made, to try to find another logging camp to eat in.
Luckily, a deserted such place was soon arrived upon. Here were all sorts of shelters.
The place had been vacated in a hurry, it looked. There were clothes and other items needed to maintain machinery and man everywhere.
Milo was enjoyed here, with sardines and mackerel from cans.
Some hosing with the correct inside diameter was found, to place on the racks to support the panniers.
An hour or more was spent here wandering in the forest, here a colony of tiny black monkeys were seen skilfully and almost silently swinging through the middle canopy of the surrounding forest.
Once out of here, I felt well fed, though it always takes a while to get going again after a good break and food.
It was 1530 by now, soon a small Indio community was arrived at. I stopped here to ask the ladies if they had water.
They topped up my bladder and bottles with the sweetest well water that had been drunk for some time.
From here I crossed the Tibiti creek, a guy and a woman were paddling a wooden canoe in the dark waters. I yelled greetings from the bridge, they said there were Piranha in the river.
I asked them if I could take a photo, which they didn’t mind. A small village was up ahead.
I choose not to stop as I had sufficient water for the night and was looking to camp away from settlements.
Outside the village on the right a huge area of trees was dead, fire had been the cause, the smallish sun bleached skeletonised trees had blackened trunks.
Riding on, two guys came out of the bush wielding shotguns, we chatted for awhile.
Robin and Burra were from a logging camp down the road. They had just missed a deer.
They invited me to stay at their camp for the night, which was a few km on.
They were two really friendly guys, in the camp there was a group of buildings. Their boss, a Japanese man was in Paramaribo. They had a spare hut.
This was a great set up in the jungle, it was like arriving at a 4 star hotel in the middle of nowhere.
The Hotel California so to speak. I showered in the little wooden shower hut and set my tent up on the deck of my elevated hut.
I wandered over to see the guys at their group of buildings. Though before doing so I put 3 batteries in my unwanted headlight to give to Robin.
Over at their hut they were plucking a Meme, a game bird of the jungle.
They invited me to eat with them, this was a meal of the bird cooked in a delicious spicy sauce and a fried Indian type of bread.
They were working here felling trees and had been here for three years and had two to go.
They showed me a sheet of paper, where in their concession, the trees are marked by government people that can be felled.
This land was last logged 15 years ago. In this respect it was well managed and sustainable logging.
We had lots to talk about as during my Arboriculture days I too operated Stihl chainsaws. I had also lived in the forest with a group of guys, whilst possum trapping many years ago in NZ, and dead wooding trees in the New England National Parks in NSW.
They were a great bunch of hard working guys. It was the most unexpected ending to the day.
My hut even had power whilst the generator was going till 2200 and clean tap water.
Once I left the guys, I was soon in the tent and sound asleep. Though a shot momentarily awakened me later in the evening.
27/10/2014
Forestry camp with Robin to Rio Amazoona
D58, T5, Av16.45, Max43, 34,207/8,584
Fine and 30, very humid
The big difference between here and the Hotel California was I didn’t have to check out and I could leave whenever I chose. That happened to be at 1200.
I wandered over to see the guys as arranged at 0730 with my coffee and bowl of porridge. They were dressing a dead animal which explains the shot I heard last night. Robin had shot a Laba.
A nocturnal animal that is eaten a lot here. In the small cafe near the airport this is what I had eaten. The skin is a bit like pork, though it is a large rodent .
They were pouring boiling water on its skin to make the bristles come out. Robin had neck shot it with his 12 gauge using pellets about 3mm diameter. Possible similar to buckshot.
The animal had a lot of meat on its carcass especially the hindquarters.
When asked if monkeys were eaten, they said no, as they were too much like humans.
Further enquiry also revealed that they never see dead monkeys during felling operations, they move to fast.
For some time now the bolt that adjusts my Brooks seat has needed replacing as the sweat has seized the nut on the thread. Even with vice grips and a spanner it has been impossible to turn the nut.
So, this morning I took the risk and used an angle grinder to cut it in half. One slip onto the leather would have rendered the seat useless.
It was a delicate but successful operation. The new one bought in NZ a couple of months ago was well greased and slid into place and adjusted. I can finally tension the leather as it stretches. What a difference.
The rest of the morning was spent just pottering , having a shave and writing yesterdays blog entry.
Speaking with Kevin from Holland inspired me to make a few comments about the big picture.
I said bye to Robin, who was heading out to gather some logs in the skidder. The other guys were working doing some repairs on the Lucas mill, incidentally, an Australian invention
Once on the road, it was easy riding again with a good solid surface for the most part.
Some 15km on, a roadside stall come cafe was stopped at and a large bottle of Fanta bought, not being able to drink it all, some was left for the kids, all of African descent and sporting the cutest of piccaninny type hairdos.
The country was again heavy jungle. With tracks leading to forestry concessions passed regularly. Come 1530 and not having eaten a place for that purpose was sought. The first track led to a guys shack, so I departed there before he spotted me.
The next track was a fresh one. The destruction in the forest when first entering it with gear to log is just a mess of crushed palms and small trees.
This was not a nice place and to hot.
A gel was taken, as I was fast running out of energy and was very hungry.
I checked my phone GPS, it showed a watercourse not far ahead. I made it here and following a look around it was found to be a perfect campsite. A swim was had in the almost black waters.
The bike was wheeled further into the bush until a great little clearing was found above the almost motionless creek.
Water was filtered into the bladder. Even the filter could not take all the colour form the waters. It tasted ok though.
Dinner was rice, the lady had given me at the cafe and curry with salmon, it was a nice change from pasta. Coffee and tea were drunk to try to re hydrate, water also helped.
Sitting above the creek bank just enjoying the last of the light. Three hummingbirds were putting on a display infront of me around a dead branch overhanging the creek. These birds fascinate me, they are experts at hovering, then rapidly moving to another little air space and hover again.
As the light faded, small bats were also out and about, flying around the hummingbirds, the frogs began to call a little later. Many sounded like they were calling from inside a pipe, such was the echo in their calls.
Baboons could be heard in the distance, howling in the evening.
They have been a common sound for the last few nights.
My seat had been a lot more comfortable during the day. This pleases me.
I slung my hammock tonight, as the ground was covered in dead leaves and it just felt better to be off the ground this close to a river. A spotlight for Jacaré was made before going to bed, none were seen .
28/10/2014
River camp to picnic area Rio Mozes
D63, T6, Av14, Max49, 34,328/8,647
Fine and 34, very humid
Today was always going to be a hard ride. Little sleep was had over night. Whilst taking my bike through the grass to get away from the road, a bunch of grass ticks lodged themselves on me. Consequently, I was scratching myself almost all night, they were relentless in their search for a mouth hold.
Trees were not in plentiful supply around my chosen campsite, so a branch was used as a support for the hammock, this had bent in the night, consequently my bum was, unknown to me almost on the ground. During the night a small animal was nudging me.
A loud shhh!! Made him scurry off.
Then at 0200, some guys started beaming a spot light up and down the creek from the road bridge. My presence was not revealed.
There were too many species of frog to count. Their callings were an unorchestrated racket. Some sounded like they were calling from inside a pipe. There was all manner of splashing in the creek as fish were targeting their prey.
The baboons were howling every couple of hours, just to add a bit of base to the nocturnal bush festival, that most definitely did not have a conductor guiding its noisy participants.
All told, about 2-3 hours sleep may have been had, even that was light.
Once on the road about 0800, the hills were in plentiful supply. Traffic was almost no existent. The road was borderd by heavy jungle on both sides.
As always the larger lizards always made a noise in the dead leaves as they ran off.
Before leaving camp I filtered 6 litres for the road, I did not want to be caught short without water. Good creeks for this necessary item were few and far between.
.
The day was rapidly heating up, before the air started moving the humidity as always was claustaphobic in its intensity.
Coming down one hill, a new bridge had just been completed, near here was the work site and accommodation. There was a water tank on one building. This was so timely, here I drank as much of the sweet water as I could, topped up all my bottles and washed myself and my clothes.
It was a big help.
I was doing it tough by now and needed to stop to eat. A dual cab Hilux went passed and pulled up. The guys got out for a chat. They were hunters and fisherman. Their two dogs had GPS tied to their collars so they could track them once they got onto a pig.
They gave me ice and a coke to drink. They were heading down a sidetrack to fish and hunt for a week.
Shotguns appear to be the gun of choice for most hunters. In the heavy vegetation, one of the pellets would most likely find its target, I thought.
All through here is a paradise for those two pursuits. It seems every animal roaming through this jungle is edible. Monkeys aside.
Riding on, the need to stop was now urgent,. The best I could find was just some shade on the roadside. There were now no forestry trails.
Here a can a mackerel was demolished as quick as I could unpack it and rip the lid. Two coffees were enjoyed, along with biscuits and the left over rice and curry which saved the day really.
In the hour here only 3 cars passed.
I still was not 100%, and not overly motivated. I still hadn’t got my full energy back.
Some guys pulled up, they were the men who mark the trees that can be felled on the concessions.
They informed me of a river and camp area up ahead.
Once at this spot.
The bike was propped up and my weary body was submerged in the warm light brownish flowing waters of an idyllic stream in this equally as idyllic site. I definitely was going no further today. This was such a good campsite.
The hammock was hung. A bloke on a moto pulled in, we had a good yarn, he gave me bread to use for bait. Alex was on his way to Apoera on his Suzuki 50.
I told him I used to do long distances on a Suzuki fifty back in NZ. It was a case of chest on the fuel tank, feet on the pillion footrests and a wide open throttle.
All this and an awkwardly tilted neck, it always got me there.
It was so relaxing sitting in the waters below a small waterfall.
Some other guys turned up, they were entomologists from Holland who had permission to collect bugs etc to take back to Europe. They stopped awhile and we talked distances among other things. They were heading into the jungle to set up a bright light in the hope of attracting insects.
A Mitsibushi van turned up, in it was a guide and two Dutch tourists a bit older than I.
Dustin the guide was a very informed guy as expected. He said many accidents happen here with hunters and alcohol. He warned me to be careful with a low light around any camps. Many hunters will shoot thinking they are animal eyes.
Hang any light high and bright, he said.
The weekends are the most dangerous, luckily I should be in Apoera before Saturday.
The woman later came over and invited me to join them for dinner. Dustin was cooking spag bolognaise. This was like a bush restaurant for me.
They ate very little, so, on being asked if I would like to finish the food in the wok.
My hesitation was negligible. This is what I needed to pick me up after a day where the lack of sleep had impacted it in many ways.
I wandered over for a night fish on the rocks with no luck. There were large tree frogs sitting on the rocks amongst the shallow broken waters weaving amongst them.
Dustin and his two guests headed off to camp in a building 20km up the road. They were one day into a 5 day trip.
He told me nearly all his clients are Dutch and that he is busy all year.
The couple were straight from Amsterdam, they were very excited to see a firefly. For them this world must be so different from that of the city.
This road here in Suriname, is little used except by sports people and loggers. It is a pleasure to ride. People using it are very friendly.
I had the hammock well set up with the fly in place, as it looked like it could rain.
There was the sound of a very close Baboon colony roaring with such loudness, it was almost intimidating, not unlike that of the Maori Haka. The dominant male could be heard leading each round of roaring. He had the deepest slightly rasped roar.
He also called the end of the session.
Once their 5 to 10 minute build up was completed it was back to a much more pleasant sound of frogs tonight.
Once inside the hammock, it did not take long to fall asleep.
29/10/2014
Rio Mozes to Caroline and Davids place, Mora Bush, Apoera
D69, T5, Av16.30, Max52, 34,397/8,785
Fine and 34, very humid, dusty
Awake early, some bread was taken down to the creek and attached to a hook on the end of a piece of nyon attached to a wooden pole. The first haphazard launch of the hook into the waters secyred a small meal in one fish, I was lucky. After this only tiny fish were caught.
A good wash and shampoo was enjoyed in the warm river waters. It felt good to be clean.
Time was spent just pottering around, cooking and organising gear. Some more hunters turned up. We had a yarn, they gave me a cup for of petrol for the stove and the leftovers from a half cold bottle of coke.
They were from Paramaribo. No wonder there are accidents with guns. Each of the four guys had his shotgun at his side in the old dual cab.
Though they were probably in good company as one of them was a doctor.
Finally and not too enthusiastically, I got away about 1130. No sooner had I crossed the river bridge on the road near the camp a steady 3 km climb commenced.
By the time I was at the top, my clothes were soaked.
It was hot and humid. Forest again, bordered both sides of the road. Monkeys were seen calling from trees. As soon as I stopped it was remarkable how quick the just disappeared into the canopy.
My first on the road flat tyre since BA was experienced today. A shady tree saw me repair this, a small stone had found its way through the front tyre.
From here the road levelled out, became very wide and dusty due to trucks carting large rocks and gravel.
They all gave me a big honk. I had to stop one guy for more water. He poured some from what looked like an oil container. I was not about to question its origin and drank it rapidly.
I had thought there were 75km to Apoera and had planned another night camping. Everyone spoke to gave me differing distances to the village
I bumped into the two entomologists after 1630, they said it was only 7km to the village. This was great news. Though I was worn out, dry and very dusted. It was decided to just keep going.
They too gave me some water.
Closer to town on the banks of the river Courantyne that borders Guyana. A huge mill was seen. It was the mill of Greenheart, a Hong Kong based company with a 322,000 ha timber concession here.
Prior to this, an Indonesian company had the mill. They had problems with the government in the 1990’s and lost their rights to harvest logs. Tragically, they set fire to one million logs stacked at the mill. David said it two months to burn out.
What a waste.
It is by far the source of almost all work here. Along with the rock quarry and barge.
Nearby was the final destination for all this granite like rock that gets put on barges and run down the river to be exported or used in Suriname.
On arrival in town, which at this point was just small houses along the road. A stop was made at a little wooded kiosk on the side of the road. A woman was behind the counter and her husband was sitting in a chair chatting on my side of the counter.
A freezing bottle of Sprite was bought as was a fresh watermelon and a bottle of Fanta.
We started chatting. They were great people. David asked me where I was staying, I said the governor had a place for me to stay. They informed me he was still in Paramaribo.
He replied, I could camp near his house down by the river. He took me down to the riverside house. The property had at least 8 houses on it, the occupants were all related.
I was introduced to his two sons Arman and Sergio. My tent was set up and we just chatted.
A swim was enjoyed in the huge Courantyne River before going to bed.
The sun sets on the other side of the river over Guyana. Unusually the border of the two countries places the whole river in Suriname.
The Guyana fishermen use it at their leisure.
Sergio had just two weeks ago been bitten by a large Piranha whilst fishing upstream. He was just washing his hands over the side of the boat when one took a huge chunk from his finger.
A doctor wanted to do a skin graft from his bum, but with the help of a medicine from the bark of a local tree, within two weeks the flesh is already nearly all grown back.
Interestingly, the young pup around here, Milk, does not like me, he is quite aggressive. Arman told me that when dogs eat Piranha they get aggressive, especially after eating the heads of these fish. Classic stuff.
I love hearing these little titbits of the local ways.
He thinks some people might be feeding little Milk some Piranha frames somewhere in town.
To be sleeping in the tent in a totally safe spot, saw me sleep like a log.
The next morning we took the boat and went up stream fishing with no luck but lots of relaxation.
There were river otters swimming in the river ahead of us and Amerindians fishing from wooden canoes.
They have a community just out of town here. Apoera consists of three small villages on the river.
The afternoon was spent in the hammock and just relaxing.
I have to wait here till Sunday to catch the ferry back up to Niew Nickerie on the coast at the mouth of the Courantyne.
Here with David and his extended family, is about as relaxing as you could get it.
I eat lunch with them and cook my own dinner and breakfast.
I bought a live chicken today which Carolines mother cleaned and cooked for lunch .
She is 84, so she must have seen some changes here. There are more to come with a bank setting up and more housing projects. The new bridges I crossed were very solid well built concrete structures that can take large trucks.
During the civil war the bridges were blown up to deny access to the guerrilla areas.
There was talk of dredging the river to take ocean going vessels to load Bauxite. The locals were not happy. Wisely, the Suriname government listened and the road will be used to cart the ore.
This area is going to be big in the tourism future of Suriname I feel.
David and his sons are going to put cabins down by the river at some stage.
David and I went to his land plot and planted corn, picked watermelon and harvested peppers for the morning.
It was a pleasure dropping the corn kernels into the tiny holes he made with a pointed pole.
Two seeds were put in each hole and covered. We both agreed it is always a pleasure seeing things grow.
I jokingly told him will have his best ever crop this year.
We then went to the huge shed that once was part of a bold Bauxite mining operation here. The shed was now home to thousands of small bats and old train engines.
People from Guyana had stripped it bare of anything or metal of value.
This happened about 1989 during the civil war here in Suriname when the American mining company abandoned the project.
Today, a visit to the little local market was made. Here people sold a limited array of vegetables, local jewelry and wild bush meat among other things.
I bought a bottle of homemade ginger juice with cloves added, it was strong but the real deal.
Dave was in his little shop today as Greenheart pay all their workers once a month, though they are all on differing salaries the pay is about 400US a month. Yesterday was payday, so people were paying their debts.
I took a ride with him on the moto to do a bit of debt collecting around the village.. I used to have to do this, it is not a nice way to spend the little free time you have when working for yourself .
The mill employs people from Brazil, Guyana, Suriname and lots of Asians. The management are mostly Europeans. The staff do not communicate amongst each other very well.
Tonight a decent size crew of people congregate at the local house come bar here to get on the grog while they are cashed up. They also hang outside the Chinese grocery sucking on longnecks of Parbo, the local popular beer.
The 3 villages are powered by one of four large diesel generators that use about 400L in 24 hours. They run 24/7.
The mill are very generous in the prices of timber for the locals who can build a good basic home of about 80 sq m, on high piles with parking underneath for about 10,000US. All timber except for the Zinc roof.
Yesterday whilst resting a few shots were heard. The owner of the house across the paddock had shot an Iguana, this was hung from a tree by the neck and dressed. Sergio cooked it in Indian spices and we sat down and ate it an hour later.
The strength of the chilli disguised the flavour somewhat. Though, it was like chicken with a slightly more courser texture.
Sunday before leaving all my clothes were hand washed. I went round to thank the governor who had arrived back from Paramaribo, he was there but must have been asleep so a text was sent.
In the afternoon we got a heavy tropical down pour for half an hour.
It was just what the corn needed, Dave was very happy, so was I.
The small ferry left at 1000, by 1800 everyone had their hammocks already hung amidships for the trip. They were almost touching, such was the limited space.
David, Caroline and I went down at 2130 and loaded things, luckily the tide was in and I could just wheel the bike onto the top deck and just lay it down.
I chose to just sleep up top with other guys.
Though at one or two in the morning the rain started. I retreated down below and crawled under the hammocks and sleep there.
At some ridiculous hour we pulled in at the wharf in Orealla in Guyana.
There was a major commotion going on the dock as people were boarding, a guy was arguing with a woman in broken English, they were having a real berny.
Anyway he got onboard and was yelling at her as the captain pulled away slowly and never throttled up as the argument continued, the easiest recognisable word was fuck in every sentence. After awhile the captain throttled the old vessel up.
The guy up on the roof just dived into the river nearly mid stream some 200 m from the shore, nothing was said and the journey continued.
I soon feel back to sleep.
Come 0500 were arrived at the little wharf at South Drain. We waited here till the sun rose and then started to disembark.
3/11/2014
South drain wharf to Nickerie
D42, T2.3, Av17.92, Max26, 34,439/8,827
Mild and humid
The others wandered across the fields catch the bus to Nickerie. I said goodbye to Caroline and slowly packed the bike.
Whilst in Apoera, my bike fell on the Clic Stand and broke it, here there was nothing to lean the bike against, so it had to be loaded with some difficulty.
Once on the road it was an easy ride along the dead flat smooth surface. Both sides of the road had canals.
Closer to Nikerie intensive agriculture commenced, that of wet rice farms and bananas.
All the land was broken into blocks surrounded by drains.
Nearer town large rice processing plants were encountered. Some husk dumping grounds were seen, many were set on fire and smouldering.
Once on the outskirts of town, the hunt was on for an engineering shop to sleeve the broken stand. Once directed to the right place a bolt was slid inside the tubes this sufficed perfectly. The owner kindly lent me a hacksaw and hammer to perform the task.
Tom from Clic-Stand.com is sending me a replacement.
These simple four piece aluminium bike supports make life so easy, no other stand is able to safely support the weight I carry.
Once in town, the hunt was on for a hotel, finally the Concord was found with good wifi and comfy basic rooms.
I had no SRD’s so had to find an ATM, three were tried with no success.
So a few US dollars were cashed. I was starving.
Things were getting a bit desperate as I had to pay the hotel. No Atm would accept my card. One took a second card I use.
Later that night I tried again, if oyu are ever here with a foreign card, use the RCB ATM by the police station, it was the only one that worked for me and another British couple who had the same problem.
A great Chinese meal was enjoyed for a few dollars and a huge pomelo was bought, called pompelmoes here.
Peeling it is half the enjoyment to expose the pink capsules inside each segment, they are so delicately flavoured when a good one is purchased, they coast about 10SRD or 3USD.
Life is quite easy here, as most people speak English, many are from Guyana where English is the chosen language.
Nieuw Nickerie (pronounced 'Niekérie') is the third largest city in Suriname with a population estimated at 12,818. It is the capital city of the Nickerie district, and the terminus of the East-West Link.
Nieuw Nickerie lies on the mouth of the Nickerie river on the Atlantic coast, opposite the mouth of the Corantijn river (Courantyne) and the Guyanese town of Corriverton (Springlands), to which a ferry service operates.
The main industries are bananas and rice. The town contains a market and several hotels, including the Hotel Ameerali, Hotel de President, Hotel Tropical, Hotel de Vesting and Residence Inn.
Nieuw Nickerie was built after the former center of the district, Nieuw Rotterdam was destroyed by floods.The city's Majoor Henry Fernandes Airport also known as Nieuw Nickerie Airport, is located near Nieuw Nickerie, the capital city of the Nickerie district in Suriname.
Ref: Wikipedia
A humorous 3 days was spent with Emeric who was doing forestry studies for two months from France.
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River Maroni looking downstream
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Early morning mist.
21/10/2014 St Laurent-du-Maroni, FG to a house 10km past the
River Commewijne,Suriname
D97, T7, Av19.26, max52, 33,903/8,380
Fine, 30, dead calm, light evening shower
I had collected my visa yesterday and had wandered down to the immigration at the ferry. Here the police said I could not get stamped out of FG till the day I was leaving. They informed me the 4 euro ferry ride would depart at 0700 in the morning.
It was a small roll on roll of vessel capable of carrying 2 semis at most.
Back at the lodgings, (Amazonie Accueil, ph. 0594 34 36 12) , a great place to hang a hammock for a few days.
The owner tried to talk me into just taking one of the wooden boats across the river. The thought of having to unload the bike or try to man handle it onboard one of these river boats did not appeal to me.
Crossing from Brazil, in a similar boat almost caused damage to the bike trying to man handle it ashore.
Emeric arrived back from work, I had bought fresh cut beans in town, he had some canned corn, so we shared this for dinner, blanched and bathed in butter with cracked pepper.
After 4 nights in my hammock, I am now getting totally used to sleeping in this position.
Though, each night a pedestal fan was set up very close to me. It’s amazing how the mosquito screen almost stops the air movement into the hammock. The fly can be removed.
My time in French Guiana was definitely highlighted staying with Gene, Bertrand and their two sons. The roads were a pleasure to ride, camping was especially enjoyable north of Kourou in the two picnic areas.
The time, though brief with Lydie and her parents in Awala was a welcome visit to the coast and some beaches.
The native French people encountered were so much more tolerable of the lack of French, than those encountered in France on a couple of occasions.
Life here in the tropics is nowhere near as refined as that in Europe. Those working and living here, have got to have a little sense of adventure in their soul. With it comes this tolerance of many things, ranging from bad French speakers, torrential rains, at times unbearable humidity, an array of sometimes unwelcome insects and animals, making these people very interesting to be in the company of.
Many had some command of English. There is still a small independence movement here, but the reality of their situation is that of idealism, without the financial support from France, life would be extremely different.
A welfare system exists here. The people of African descent were the friendliest of people, always trying to help when asked for directions. Not once did I feel unsafe, even camping around gun slinging hunters near Kourou in full view of the main road.
Almost all the tourists I encountered were from France. I got the impression many French, either travel within their own country or to another country using their language.
On the last night, the man that helped interpret, at the space centre stayed the night.
It is indeed a small country.
Up early in the morning and stamped out of the country by 0645, a misty morning greeted us on the river Maroni, though Suriname could be seen across the river, the mist was thickest up the river.
The ferry trip was about 20 minutes across the river. At times the ferry was almost heading upstream to counteract the current to ensure arrival on the other side at the ramp.
On arrival At Albina, with only 10 euro, I changed it to Suriname dollars and got 4.4 to the Euro. One $A buys about 2.88 Suriname dollars.
It was only a two day ride to Paramaribo, the capital, I had food, this money would be used to buy drinks.
There are no banks or ATM,s in Albina. Immigration was no problems. Another reason to take the ferry, is that immigration of both countries is dockside here.
On both occasions in the Suriname consulate and here, I was asked to take my peak hat off, fair enough.
Once out of the gate and venturing into the town, a guy in a four wheel drive yelled to me to use the left side of the road, I had forgotten. After 33,000km here in the Americas, this is the first time back on the left side of the road, it felt weird at first .
In town along the foreshores, the Euro were changed at a Chinese owned market. The locals were unbelievably friendly, stopping here to chat for awhile. Many were from Brazil, Guyana and French Guianna. It was a bit of a melting pot .
Prices here are inflated due to people visiting from FG.
Once out of town the riding was on smooth light coloured asphalt, a few small hills greeted me, then it levelled out.
This country had a lovely relaxed feel about it. Little shacks were spread out along the roadside. Traffic like FG was light.
Unfortunately the creeks were not swimmable, they were almost non flowing or displaying a dark uninviting colour often associated with near stagnant water.
It now occurred to me the beauty of the rivers in Brazil, almost everyday was spent bathing through the Amazon, in cool clean tannin stained waters.
The flat road, required constant pedalling, traffic was courteous and the kilometres were passing by with seemingly little effort.
Drinks were bought at the occasional store. It was so nice to be paying a fair price for refreshments again.
Many people were seen on the side of the road cutting plants, fishing in drains or collecting plants.
There is only a welfare system here for the elderly. The young don’t have the cash to hang around bottle shops drinking, as was often the case in FG.
Arriving at the Commewijne river and police check point, some 80km into the trip and about 1330, I was physically drained, two delicious drinks of locally made ginger juice ware enjoyed, they were strong!
I sat myself under the awning, grabbed the bar bag, sat on an old bus seat and promptly feel asleep.
My mind took me back to all the pedalling done. For me, gentle hill country is easier riding than flat terrain, at least my legs are not working the whole way.
It was an interesting stop. One of contrasts. A small mini bus pulled up with some 20 odd Dutch tourists onboard. I have never seen such a collection of differing body shapes in such a small group of people.
Some men were very tall, some as wide as tall, woman as tall, some with legs as broad as my waist, some solid as men, some attractive, it was certainly an interesting mix. Some had skin that may have never seen the sun.
In contrast to this, there were 4 African teenagers sitting across the table from me. They were the most strikingly unique people I have seen. Their skin was as dark as a moonless night.
They were tall and lean, and had Nike caps on complimented by other fashionable items of consumer clothing.
In their own way they were uniquely handsome young guys who seemed well educated, well groomed and most definitely had good senses of humour, one wore glasses.
They possessed an aura not rarely seen in fair skinned people. I had to do my best not to let my gaze linger.
Though they were easy going and friendly .
Leaving here, a full load of water was taken for the nights camping.
The history of Suriname dates from 3000 BC when Native Americans first inhabited the area. Present-day Suriname was the home to many distinct indigenous cultures. The largest tribes were the Arawaks, a nomadic coastal tribe that lived from hunting and fishing, and the Caribs. The Arawaks were the first inhabitants of Suriname; later, the Caribs arrived, and conquered the Arawaks using their sailing ships.[1][2] They settled in Galibi (Kupali Yumï, meaning "tree of the forefathers") on the mouth of the Marowijne river. While the larger Arawak and Carib tribes lived off the coast and savanna, smaller groups of indigenous peoples lived in the rainforest inland, such as the Akurio, Trió, Warrau, and Wayana.
Dutch colonization
The first Europeans who came to Suriname were Dutch traders who visited the area along with other parts of South America's 'Wild Coast.' The first attempts to settle the area by Europeans was in 1630, when English settlers led by Captain Marshall attempted to found a colony.[3] They cultivated crops of tobacco, but the venture failed financially.
In 1650 Lord Willoughby, the governor of Barbados, furnished out a vessel to settle a colony in Suriname. At his own cost he equipped a ship of 20 guns, and two smaller vessels with things necessary for the support of the plantation.[4] Major Anthony Rowse settled there in his name. Two years later, for the better settling of the colony, he went in person, fortified and furnished it with things requisite for defence and trade. 'Willoughbyland' consisted of around 30,000 acres (120 km2) and a fort. In 1663 most of the work on the ca. 50 plantations was done by native Indians and 3,000 African slaves.[5] There were around 1,000 whites there, joined by Brazilian Jews, attracted by religious freedom which was granted to all the settlers by the English.
The settlement was invaded by seven Dutch ships (from the Zeeland region), led by Abraham Crijnssen, on 26 February 1667. Fort Willoughby was captured the next day after a three-hour fight[6] and renamed Fort Zeelandia. On 31 July 1667, the English and Dutch signed the Treaty of Breda, in which for the time being the status quo was respected: the Dutch could keep occupying Suriname and the British the formerly Dutch colony New Amsterdam (modern-day New York). Willoughbyland was renamed Suriname. This arrangement was made official in the Treaty of Westminster of 1674, after the British had regained and again lost Suriname in 1667 and the Dutch regained the colony in 1668. In 1683 the Society of Suriname was set up, modelled on the ideas of Jean-Baptiste Colbert to profit from the management and defence of the Dutch Republic's colony. It had three participants, with equal shares in the society's responsibilities and profits—the city of Amsterdam, the family Van Aerssen van Sommelsdijck, and the Dutch West India Company. The Van Aerssen family only managed to sell its share in 1770. The Society came to an end in 1795 when this kind of trade and business was no longer seen as acceptable.
Slavery and emancipation
In South America, slavery was the norm. The native people proved to be in limited supply and consequently people from Africa were imported as slaves to work on the plantations. The plantations were producing sugar, coffee, cocoa, cotton which were exported for the Amsterdam market. In 1713 for instance most of the work on the 200 plantations was done by 13,000 African slaves. Their treatment was bad, and slaves periodically escaped to the jungle from the start.[7][8] These Maroons (also known as "Djukas" or "Bakabusi Nengre") attacked the plantations in order to acquire goods that were in short supply and to acquire women. Notable leaders of the Surinam Maroons were Alabi, Boni, Joli-coeur and Broos (Captain Broos). In the 18th century, three of the Maroon people signed a peace treaty, similar to the peace treaty in Jamaica whereby these people were recognised as free people and where they received a yearly tribute that provided them with the goods they used to "liberate" from the plantations. A contemporary description of the war between the Maroons and the plantation owners in Suriname can be found in Narrative of a Five Years Expedition Against the Revolted Negroes of Surinam by John Gabriel Stedman.
Suriname was occupied by the British in 1799, after the Netherlands were incorporated by France, and was returned to the Dutch in 1816, after the defeat of Napoleon. The Dutch abolished slavery only in 1863, although the British had already abolished it during their short rule. The slaves were, however, not released until 1873; up to that date they conducted obligatory but paid work at the plantations. In the meantime, many more workers had been imported from the Dutch East Indies, mostly Chinese inhabitants of that colony. After 1873, many Indian laborers were imported from India. This emigration was ended by Mohandas Gandhi in 1916. After that date, many laborers were again imported from the Dutch East Indies, especially Java.
Twentieth century
In the 20th century, the natural resources of Suriname, rubber, gold and bauxite, were exploited. The US company Alcoa had a claim on a large area in Suriname where bauxite, from which aluminum can be made, was found. Given that the peace treaties with the Maroon people granted them title to the lands, there have been international court cases that negated the right of the Surinam government to grant these claims. On November 23, 1941, under an agreement with the Netherlands government-in-exile, the United States occupied Dutch Guiana to protect the bauxite mines
Decolonization
In 1945, the first full election was held, with the Netherlands providing aid in health matters.
In 1954, Suriname gained self-government, with the Netherlands retaining control of defence and foreign affairs.
Independence
In 1973 the Dutch government started independence negotiations with the local government, led by the NPK (a largely Creole party), which was granted on November 25, 1975. The Dutch instituted an aid programme worth US$1.5 billion to last till 1985. The first President of the country was Johan Ferrier, with Henck Arron (leader of the Surinam National Party) as Prime Minister. Roughly a third of the population emigrated to the Netherlands, fearing that the new country would not be able to survive.
In 1980, the government of Henck Arron was overthrown in a military coup led by Sergeant-Major Desi Bouterse. President Ferrier refused to recognise the new government, appointing Henk Chin A Sen (of the Nationalist Republican Party). Another coup followed five months later, with the army replacing Ferrier with Chin A Sen. These developments were largely welcomed by a population that expected the new army-installed government to put an end to corruption and improve the standard of living. This was despite the fact that the new regime banned opposition parties and became increasingly dictatorial. The Dutch initially accepted the new government; however, relations between Suriname and the Netherlands collapsed when 15 members of the political opposition were killed by the army on December 8, 1982, in Fort Zeelandia. This event is also known as the December killings (Decembermoorden in Dutch). The Dutch and Americans cut off their aid in protest at the move.
In 1985, the ban on opposition parties was lifted, and work began on devising a new constitution. The following year saw the start of an anti-government rebellion of the Maroons in the interior, calling themselves the Jungle Commando and led by Ronnie Brunswijk. The Bouterse government violently tried to suppress the insurgency by burning villages and other similar means. Many Maroons fled to French Guiana. Then to New Amsterdam
Ref: Wikipedia
Some 10km up the road, a cemetery was seen, here also was a covered shelter. Pulling in here, and having a wander around the grave stones, it was interesting to see the earliest legible headstones dated back to people born in the late 1800’s.
Having said this, my grandmother who was born in the very late 1800’s and died in 2001, lived to witness life in 3 centuries.
Any of my friends who have children born in the late 1990’s maybe lucky enough to experience a similar time line. Though, my grandmother lived a pretty pure life!
Starting to unpack, glancing a few houses down, a family group was seen, relaxing under a huge mango tree in their yard. Sauntering over, I asked if I could camp there the night.
They said it would be better if I camped in their father inlaws place, next to them.
They then offered to have me in their house, they had a hammock. I politely declined, saying I was happy next door.
One of the girls could speak English, like many people encountered here so far. We filled a bucket of water from the well in their front yard. The water was clear and sweet.
She said the mosquitoes will get bad around 1900hrs.
I hung the hammock under the big tin roofed area with the raked sand floor. Cooked pasta and settled in a bit with a flannel wash.
I might have had humble pasta for dinner, but the tiny little mosquitoes had a banquet on my legs and head. My long sleeved shirt went on, as did my longs, still they bit through these. Repellent had been applied, they found places that were missed. Places like my scrotum that was pierced through my stretch pants. Leaving the need to itch hard and urgently.
These mosquitos leave a painful reminder wherever they bite.
I couldn’t get into the hammock fast enough. Prior to this it had rained lightly, the place was overrun with small toads.
By the time the zip on the hammock was closed, a lather of sweat had moistened my whole body. Life inside the screen kept it flowing.
Once settled in, some music was allowed to gently put me to sleep. It fulfilled its purpose very quick.
22/10/2014 camping at house to Paramaribo
D57, T4, Av18.76, max 33,959/8,437
Fine, 30, dead calm and unbelievably humid
The place had been illuminated by a light in the big mango tree nearby all night.
Baboons very roaring in the nearby jungle during the night and early morning.
This did not stop me from sleeping, luckily a well place branch filtered some light in my direction.
Up early and over to see Elen and Rosa, she introduced her husband to me who worked as a mechanic in Paramaribo.
I thanked them and eagerly headed off for the capital city. All along the road now there were people and houses.
People were waving, others were motioning me to come into their houses.
Cruising along with these kind of gestures made the riding beyond a pleasure. It was great just greeting the people.
Cars would toot from behind to let me know they were coming.
The road was smooth and dead flat. The sun was not out, the rain last night had left the humidity at a level similar to that of the Trans Amazon. I was swimming in sweat within 20km.
Stopping at a shop to get a drink, the local coke delivery guys were interrupted for a chat. I told them how friendly the people in their country were.
They said that’s because we love each other. It was an emotional moment, in response to a totally unexpected reply to my comment.
They also told me the Creole words for hello, goodbye and thankyou.
From here as the road took me closer to Paramaribo, small towns were ridden through, one had a cycle track.
Fruit and vege stalls were now in abundance.
Stopping at the first one that had watermelons, the lady gave me a half from her freezer. On taking the first bite, it tasted to be old. I told her and gave it all back, no request was made for my money, though I let her know I was not happy.
She sat there expressionless.
The next stall looked more like a busy kind of operation. Here there were 4 enthusiastic guys, I told them of proceedings down the road, they immediately gave me cut melon and said I didn’t have to pay. They were great guys.
Beo, who was in charge told me his great grandfather came here from India to work in the cane and rice fields, the other guy of Indonesian heritage had a great grandfather from Java who came here to Suriname for the same reason.
I bought a huge pomelo from the guys.
We spoke about the roads here. I told them I wanted to take the inland road to Apoera on the Corentyne River.
Other people had said it was dangerous. Beo said, he bought produce down there and that the Indios were great people.
He gave me his phone number and said if I have problems on the way to ring him.
He was that kind of guy, we talked about things for some time.
Riding on with a stomach full of fresh watermelon and a pomelo the size of a large coconut, secured with difficulty.
Some distance on, a huge concrete bridge with a sizeable climb to its apex was seen. This massive structure spanned the Suriname River.
Just reaching its high point was one of the biggest hills encountered for a few days.
The view from the top offered great vistas up and down the light brown vast body of water, along with a commanding vantage point over the city of Paramaribo.
A stop for photos was made at the point.
One the way over, a woman police officer on a brand new large capacity motor bike pulled up alongside and asked where I was going. Paramaribo was my reply.
My first thoughts were, what have I done wrong.
Riding alongside, quite close now she said, “Well, welcome to our country”. She then twisted the throttle on the powerful machine and moved away.
What a fantastic gesture, especially in the moderate traffic. So far, so typical of the warmth and friendliness of the people here in Suriname.
A pleasant free wheel down the other side into town was enjoyed.
Once in the city, three hours just orientating myself with its layout was made. Lunch was had in a basic Chinese cafe, an ATM was visited and a prepaid sim card offering internet for a month was bought from Digicell at a very cheap rate.
Everything about the city had a Dutch feel to it, cyclists on bikes similar to those seen around Amsterdam were common. Timber colonial buildings were the norm, as were narrow one-way streets.
What a beautiful place, was one thought pondered .
The Asian presence was everywhere. A huge mosque was seen with a synagogue right next door.
My next move was to find the tropical Hotel, I had been told about. Once located, and settled in, a cold shower was enjoyed. Sometime later, the pomelo was enjoyed having been chilled in the fridge alongside my bed in the room.
Today is a public holiday here, The festivities were not today as explained below.
Diwali also known as Deepavali and the "festival of lights", is an ancient Hindu festival celebrated in autumn every year. The festival spiritually signifies the victory of light over darkness, knowledge over ignorance, good over evil, and hope over despair. The festival preparations and rituals typically extend over a five day period, but the main festival night of Diwali coincides with the darkest, new moon night of the Hindu Lunisolar month Kartika. In the Gregorian calendar, Diwali night falls between mid-October and mid-November.
Ref:Wikipedia.
The city centre was almost deserted, an enjoyable 40km ride was taken around the local environs. Another Pomelo was bought. All shops were closed except those owned by the Chinese.
Around Paramaribo
D76, 34,035/8512
My time here in Paramaribo was mainly spent just taking in the sights and taking advantage of the availability of being able to replace a few items needed.
A new Petzel headlight was bought. A new rear hub has been carried since BA, incase the rear wheel failed. With a new one, this was no longer needed, it weighed quite a bit.
If you ever need bike parts here, go to Ron at Cycle World at:Hofstraat/ Anto de Komstraat #62. Ph(597) 426434
The hub was left with Ron, as I carrying it any further is not an option.
This weekend, they have the inter Guyanese junior games happening, sports like, tennis, cycling and table tennis are among those contested.
The Tropical Hotel where i have been staying comes highly recommended.
It is affordable, clean and comfortable. Their phone number is 85 20 341.
River Commewijne,Suriname
D97, T7, Av19.26, max52, 33,903/8,380
Fine, 30, dead calm, light evening shower
I had collected my visa yesterday and had wandered down to the immigration at the ferry. Here the police said I could not get stamped out of FG till the day I was leaving. They informed me the 4 euro ferry ride would depart at 0700 in the morning.
It was a small roll on roll of vessel capable of carrying 2 semis at most.
Back at the lodgings, (Amazonie Accueil, ph. 0594 34 36 12) , a great place to hang a hammock for a few days.
The owner tried to talk me into just taking one of the wooden boats across the river. The thought of having to unload the bike or try to man handle it onboard one of these river boats did not appeal to me.
Crossing from Brazil, in a similar boat almost caused damage to the bike trying to man handle it ashore.
Emeric arrived back from work, I had bought fresh cut beans in town, he had some canned corn, so we shared this for dinner, blanched and bathed in butter with cracked pepper.
After 4 nights in my hammock, I am now getting totally used to sleeping in this position.
Though, each night a pedestal fan was set up very close to me. It’s amazing how the mosquito screen almost stops the air movement into the hammock. The fly can be removed.
My time in French Guiana was definitely highlighted staying with Gene, Bertrand and their two sons. The roads were a pleasure to ride, camping was especially enjoyable north of Kourou in the two picnic areas.
The time, though brief with Lydie and her parents in Awala was a welcome visit to the coast and some beaches.
The native French people encountered were so much more tolerable of the lack of French, than those encountered in France on a couple of occasions.
Life here in the tropics is nowhere near as refined as that in Europe. Those working and living here, have got to have a little sense of adventure in their soul. With it comes this tolerance of many things, ranging from bad French speakers, torrential rains, at times unbearable humidity, an array of sometimes unwelcome insects and animals, making these people very interesting to be in the company of.
Many had some command of English. There is still a small independence movement here, but the reality of their situation is that of idealism, without the financial support from France, life would be extremely different.
A welfare system exists here. The people of African descent were the friendliest of people, always trying to help when asked for directions. Not once did I feel unsafe, even camping around gun slinging hunters near Kourou in full view of the main road.
Almost all the tourists I encountered were from France. I got the impression many French, either travel within their own country or to another country using their language.
On the last night, the man that helped interpret, at the space centre stayed the night.
It is indeed a small country.
Up early in the morning and stamped out of the country by 0645, a misty morning greeted us on the river Maroni, though Suriname could be seen across the river, the mist was thickest up the river.
The ferry trip was about 20 minutes across the river. At times the ferry was almost heading upstream to counteract the current to ensure arrival on the other side at the ramp.
On arrival At Albina, with only 10 euro, I changed it to Suriname dollars and got 4.4 to the Euro. One $A buys about 2.88 Suriname dollars.
It was only a two day ride to Paramaribo, the capital, I had food, this money would be used to buy drinks.
There are no banks or ATM,s in Albina. Immigration was no problems. Another reason to take the ferry, is that immigration of both countries is dockside here.
On both occasions in the Suriname consulate and here, I was asked to take my peak hat off, fair enough.
Once out of the gate and venturing into the town, a guy in a four wheel drive yelled to me to use the left side of the road, I had forgotten. After 33,000km here in the Americas, this is the first time back on the left side of the road, it felt weird at first .
In town along the foreshores, the Euro were changed at a Chinese owned market. The locals were unbelievably friendly, stopping here to chat for awhile. Many were from Brazil, Guyana and French Guianna. It was a bit of a melting pot .
Prices here are inflated due to people visiting from FG.
Once out of town the riding was on smooth light coloured asphalt, a few small hills greeted me, then it levelled out.
This country had a lovely relaxed feel about it. Little shacks were spread out along the roadside. Traffic like FG was light.
Unfortunately the creeks were not swimmable, they were almost non flowing or displaying a dark uninviting colour often associated with near stagnant water.
It now occurred to me the beauty of the rivers in Brazil, almost everyday was spent bathing through the Amazon, in cool clean tannin stained waters.
The flat road, required constant pedalling, traffic was courteous and the kilometres were passing by with seemingly little effort.
Drinks were bought at the occasional store. It was so nice to be paying a fair price for refreshments again.
Many people were seen on the side of the road cutting plants, fishing in drains or collecting plants.
There is only a welfare system here for the elderly. The young don’t have the cash to hang around bottle shops drinking, as was often the case in FG.
Arriving at the Commewijne river and police check point, some 80km into the trip and about 1330, I was physically drained, two delicious drinks of locally made ginger juice ware enjoyed, they were strong!
I sat myself under the awning, grabbed the bar bag, sat on an old bus seat and promptly feel asleep.
My mind took me back to all the pedalling done. For me, gentle hill country is easier riding than flat terrain, at least my legs are not working the whole way.
It was an interesting stop. One of contrasts. A small mini bus pulled up with some 20 odd Dutch tourists onboard. I have never seen such a collection of differing body shapes in such a small group of people.
Some men were very tall, some as wide as tall, woman as tall, some with legs as broad as my waist, some solid as men, some attractive, it was certainly an interesting mix. Some had skin that may have never seen the sun.
In contrast to this, there were 4 African teenagers sitting across the table from me. They were the most strikingly unique people I have seen. Their skin was as dark as a moonless night.
They were tall and lean, and had Nike caps on complimented by other fashionable items of consumer clothing.
In their own way they were uniquely handsome young guys who seemed well educated, well groomed and most definitely had good senses of humour, one wore glasses.
They possessed an aura not rarely seen in fair skinned people. I had to do my best not to let my gaze linger.
Though they were easy going and friendly .
Leaving here, a full load of water was taken for the nights camping.
The history of Suriname dates from 3000 BC when Native Americans first inhabited the area. Present-day Suriname was the home to many distinct indigenous cultures. The largest tribes were the Arawaks, a nomadic coastal tribe that lived from hunting and fishing, and the Caribs. The Arawaks were the first inhabitants of Suriname; later, the Caribs arrived, and conquered the Arawaks using their sailing ships.[1][2] They settled in Galibi (Kupali Yumï, meaning "tree of the forefathers") on the mouth of the Marowijne river. While the larger Arawak and Carib tribes lived off the coast and savanna, smaller groups of indigenous peoples lived in the rainforest inland, such as the Akurio, Trió, Warrau, and Wayana.
Dutch colonization
The first Europeans who came to Suriname were Dutch traders who visited the area along with other parts of South America's 'Wild Coast.' The first attempts to settle the area by Europeans was in 1630, when English settlers led by Captain Marshall attempted to found a colony.[3] They cultivated crops of tobacco, but the venture failed financially.
In 1650 Lord Willoughby, the governor of Barbados, furnished out a vessel to settle a colony in Suriname. At his own cost he equipped a ship of 20 guns, and two smaller vessels with things necessary for the support of the plantation.[4] Major Anthony Rowse settled there in his name. Two years later, for the better settling of the colony, he went in person, fortified and furnished it with things requisite for defence and trade. 'Willoughbyland' consisted of around 30,000 acres (120 km2) and a fort. In 1663 most of the work on the ca. 50 plantations was done by native Indians and 3,000 African slaves.[5] There were around 1,000 whites there, joined by Brazilian Jews, attracted by religious freedom which was granted to all the settlers by the English.
The settlement was invaded by seven Dutch ships (from the Zeeland region), led by Abraham Crijnssen, on 26 February 1667. Fort Willoughby was captured the next day after a three-hour fight[6] and renamed Fort Zeelandia. On 31 July 1667, the English and Dutch signed the Treaty of Breda, in which for the time being the status quo was respected: the Dutch could keep occupying Suriname and the British the formerly Dutch colony New Amsterdam (modern-day New York). Willoughbyland was renamed Suriname. This arrangement was made official in the Treaty of Westminster of 1674, after the British had regained and again lost Suriname in 1667 and the Dutch regained the colony in 1668. In 1683 the Society of Suriname was set up, modelled on the ideas of Jean-Baptiste Colbert to profit from the management and defence of the Dutch Republic's colony. It had three participants, with equal shares in the society's responsibilities and profits—the city of Amsterdam, the family Van Aerssen van Sommelsdijck, and the Dutch West India Company. The Van Aerssen family only managed to sell its share in 1770. The Society came to an end in 1795 when this kind of trade and business was no longer seen as acceptable.
Slavery and emancipation
In South America, slavery was the norm. The native people proved to be in limited supply and consequently people from Africa were imported as slaves to work on the plantations. The plantations were producing sugar, coffee, cocoa, cotton which were exported for the Amsterdam market. In 1713 for instance most of the work on the 200 plantations was done by 13,000 African slaves. Their treatment was bad, and slaves periodically escaped to the jungle from the start.[7][8] These Maroons (also known as "Djukas" or "Bakabusi Nengre") attacked the plantations in order to acquire goods that were in short supply and to acquire women. Notable leaders of the Surinam Maroons were Alabi, Boni, Joli-coeur and Broos (Captain Broos). In the 18th century, three of the Maroon people signed a peace treaty, similar to the peace treaty in Jamaica whereby these people were recognised as free people and where they received a yearly tribute that provided them with the goods they used to "liberate" from the plantations. A contemporary description of the war between the Maroons and the plantation owners in Suriname can be found in Narrative of a Five Years Expedition Against the Revolted Negroes of Surinam by John Gabriel Stedman.
Suriname was occupied by the British in 1799, after the Netherlands were incorporated by France, and was returned to the Dutch in 1816, after the defeat of Napoleon. The Dutch abolished slavery only in 1863, although the British had already abolished it during their short rule. The slaves were, however, not released until 1873; up to that date they conducted obligatory but paid work at the plantations. In the meantime, many more workers had been imported from the Dutch East Indies, mostly Chinese inhabitants of that colony. After 1873, many Indian laborers were imported from India. This emigration was ended by Mohandas Gandhi in 1916. After that date, many laborers were again imported from the Dutch East Indies, especially Java.
Twentieth century
In the 20th century, the natural resources of Suriname, rubber, gold and bauxite, were exploited. The US company Alcoa had a claim on a large area in Suriname where bauxite, from which aluminum can be made, was found. Given that the peace treaties with the Maroon people granted them title to the lands, there have been international court cases that negated the right of the Surinam government to grant these claims. On November 23, 1941, under an agreement with the Netherlands government-in-exile, the United States occupied Dutch Guiana to protect the bauxite mines
Decolonization
In 1945, the first full election was held, with the Netherlands providing aid in health matters.
In 1954, Suriname gained self-government, with the Netherlands retaining control of defence and foreign affairs.
Independence
In 1973 the Dutch government started independence negotiations with the local government, led by the NPK (a largely Creole party), which was granted on November 25, 1975. The Dutch instituted an aid programme worth US$1.5 billion to last till 1985. The first President of the country was Johan Ferrier, with Henck Arron (leader of the Surinam National Party) as Prime Minister. Roughly a third of the population emigrated to the Netherlands, fearing that the new country would not be able to survive.
In 1980, the government of Henck Arron was overthrown in a military coup led by Sergeant-Major Desi Bouterse. President Ferrier refused to recognise the new government, appointing Henk Chin A Sen (of the Nationalist Republican Party). Another coup followed five months later, with the army replacing Ferrier with Chin A Sen. These developments were largely welcomed by a population that expected the new army-installed government to put an end to corruption and improve the standard of living. This was despite the fact that the new regime banned opposition parties and became increasingly dictatorial. The Dutch initially accepted the new government; however, relations between Suriname and the Netherlands collapsed when 15 members of the political opposition were killed by the army on December 8, 1982, in Fort Zeelandia. This event is also known as the December killings (Decembermoorden in Dutch). The Dutch and Americans cut off their aid in protest at the move.
In 1985, the ban on opposition parties was lifted, and work began on devising a new constitution. The following year saw the start of an anti-government rebellion of the Maroons in the interior, calling themselves the Jungle Commando and led by Ronnie Brunswijk. The Bouterse government violently tried to suppress the insurgency by burning villages and other similar means. Many Maroons fled to French Guiana. Then to New Amsterdam
Ref: Wikipedia
Some 10km up the road, a cemetery was seen, here also was a covered shelter. Pulling in here, and having a wander around the grave stones, it was interesting to see the earliest legible headstones dated back to people born in the late 1800’s.
Having said this, my grandmother who was born in the very late 1800’s and died in 2001, lived to witness life in 3 centuries.
Any of my friends who have children born in the late 1990’s maybe lucky enough to experience a similar time line. Though, my grandmother lived a pretty pure life!
Starting to unpack, glancing a few houses down, a family group was seen, relaxing under a huge mango tree in their yard. Sauntering over, I asked if I could camp there the night.
They said it would be better if I camped in their father inlaws place, next to them.
They then offered to have me in their house, they had a hammock. I politely declined, saying I was happy next door.
One of the girls could speak English, like many people encountered here so far. We filled a bucket of water from the well in their front yard. The water was clear and sweet.
She said the mosquitoes will get bad around 1900hrs.
I hung the hammock under the big tin roofed area with the raked sand floor. Cooked pasta and settled in a bit with a flannel wash.
I might have had humble pasta for dinner, but the tiny little mosquitoes had a banquet on my legs and head. My long sleeved shirt went on, as did my longs, still they bit through these. Repellent had been applied, they found places that were missed. Places like my scrotum that was pierced through my stretch pants. Leaving the need to itch hard and urgently.
These mosquitos leave a painful reminder wherever they bite.
I couldn’t get into the hammock fast enough. Prior to this it had rained lightly, the place was overrun with small toads.
By the time the zip on the hammock was closed, a lather of sweat had moistened my whole body. Life inside the screen kept it flowing.
Once settled in, some music was allowed to gently put me to sleep. It fulfilled its purpose very quick.
22/10/2014 camping at house to Paramaribo
D57, T4, Av18.76, max 33,959/8,437
Fine, 30, dead calm and unbelievably humid
The place had been illuminated by a light in the big mango tree nearby all night.
Baboons very roaring in the nearby jungle during the night and early morning.
This did not stop me from sleeping, luckily a well place branch filtered some light in my direction.
Up early and over to see Elen and Rosa, she introduced her husband to me who worked as a mechanic in Paramaribo.
I thanked them and eagerly headed off for the capital city. All along the road now there were people and houses.
People were waving, others were motioning me to come into their houses.
Cruising along with these kind of gestures made the riding beyond a pleasure. It was great just greeting the people.
Cars would toot from behind to let me know they were coming.
The road was smooth and dead flat. The sun was not out, the rain last night had left the humidity at a level similar to that of the Trans Amazon. I was swimming in sweat within 20km.
Stopping at a shop to get a drink, the local coke delivery guys were interrupted for a chat. I told them how friendly the people in their country were.
They said that’s because we love each other. It was an emotional moment, in response to a totally unexpected reply to my comment.
They also told me the Creole words for hello, goodbye and thankyou.
From here as the road took me closer to Paramaribo, small towns were ridden through, one had a cycle track.
Fruit and vege stalls were now in abundance.
Stopping at the first one that had watermelons, the lady gave me a half from her freezer. On taking the first bite, it tasted to be old. I told her and gave it all back, no request was made for my money, though I let her know I was not happy.
She sat there expressionless.
The next stall looked more like a busy kind of operation. Here there were 4 enthusiastic guys, I told them of proceedings down the road, they immediately gave me cut melon and said I didn’t have to pay. They were great guys.
Beo, who was in charge told me his great grandfather came here from India to work in the cane and rice fields, the other guy of Indonesian heritage had a great grandfather from Java who came here to Suriname for the same reason.
I bought a huge pomelo from the guys.
We spoke about the roads here. I told them I wanted to take the inland road to Apoera on the Corentyne River.
Other people had said it was dangerous. Beo said, he bought produce down there and that the Indios were great people.
He gave me his phone number and said if I have problems on the way to ring him.
He was that kind of guy, we talked about things for some time.
Riding on with a stomach full of fresh watermelon and a pomelo the size of a large coconut, secured with difficulty.
Some distance on, a huge concrete bridge with a sizeable climb to its apex was seen. This massive structure spanned the Suriname River.
Just reaching its high point was one of the biggest hills encountered for a few days.
The view from the top offered great vistas up and down the light brown vast body of water, along with a commanding vantage point over the city of Paramaribo.
A stop for photos was made at the point.
One the way over, a woman police officer on a brand new large capacity motor bike pulled up alongside and asked where I was going. Paramaribo was my reply.
My first thoughts were, what have I done wrong.
Riding alongside, quite close now she said, “Well, welcome to our country”. She then twisted the throttle on the powerful machine and moved away.
What a fantastic gesture, especially in the moderate traffic. So far, so typical of the warmth and friendliness of the people here in Suriname.
A pleasant free wheel down the other side into town was enjoyed.
Once in the city, three hours just orientating myself with its layout was made. Lunch was had in a basic Chinese cafe, an ATM was visited and a prepaid sim card offering internet for a month was bought from Digicell at a very cheap rate.
Everything about the city had a Dutch feel to it, cyclists on bikes similar to those seen around Amsterdam were common. Timber colonial buildings were the norm, as were narrow one-way streets.
What a beautiful place, was one thought pondered .
The Asian presence was everywhere. A huge mosque was seen with a synagogue right next door.
My next move was to find the tropical Hotel, I had been told about. Once located, and settled in, a cold shower was enjoyed. Sometime later, the pomelo was enjoyed having been chilled in the fridge alongside my bed in the room.
Today is a public holiday here, The festivities were not today as explained below.
Diwali also known as Deepavali and the "festival of lights", is an ancient Hindu festival celebrated in autumn every year. The festival spiritually signifies the victory of light over darkness, knowledge over ignorance, good over evil, and hope over despair. The festival preparations and rituals typically extend over a five day period, but the main festival night of Diwali coincides with the darkest, new moon night of the Hindu Lunisolar month Kartika. In the Gregorian calendar, Diwali night falls between mid-October and mid-November.
Ref:Wikipedia.
The city centre was almost deserted, an enjoyable 40km ride was taken around the local environs. Another Pomelo was bought. All shops were closed except those owned by the Chinese.
Around Paramaribo
D76, 34,035/8512
My time here in Paramaribo was mainly spent just taking in the sights and taking advantage of the availability of being able to replace a few items needed.
A new Petzel headlight was bought. A new rear hub has been carried since BA, incase the rear wheel failed. With a new one, this was no longer needed, it weighed quite a bit.
If you ever need bike parts here, go to Ron at Cycle World at:Hofstraat/ Anto de Komstraat #62. Ph(597) 426434
The hub was left with Ron, as I carrying it any further is not an option.
This weekend, they have the inter Guyanese junior games happening, sports like, tennis, cycling and table tennis are among those contested.
The Tropical Hotel where i have been staying comes highly recommended.
It is affordable, clean and comfortable. Their phone number is 85 20 341.
without a doubt, not the first pic taken here.
Left hand side of the road and dutch signage
Typical scenery.
Unfortunately, this is often the final outcome of the slash and burn practice. The soils lose their fertility after a couple of years.
The leaves that fell from the trees provided the nutrient in the poor soils when vegetated.
A good safe spot for the night.
Lemon Grass is always somewhere in the gardens, here in the tropics.
Shelter and water, a home.
Dockyard upstream.
Suriname. An independent nation since 1975
Catholic church
Many people were fishing in the canals not far from the city centre and with good results!
Small net fishing fleet.
Having not been to Vegas, I have never seen so many casinos concentrated in one small city.
Beo, hopefully his assistance wont be needed on the way south.
The Pomelos are so nice though it takes time to peel each segment, it is all worth it.
Petshop boys.
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second stage of slash and burn agriculture.
burning the stumps.
In the small tidy cemetery
Fruit & vege stalls are commonplace again
New practical housing
Dutch influence, canals and drains bordered most roads.
Paramaribo.
So much wood and so Dutch. The architecture and narrow streets in the city a created a soothing, friendly kind of atmosphere.
Pretty much just facades of early architecture .
Around town. Note the large weight distributing feet.
Near the waterfront.
You can't do this in a car!!
Stopping to take some pics.
The Jules Wijdenbosch Bridge (Dutch: Jules Wijdenboschbrug), also called Suriname bridge, is a bridge over the Suriname river between the capital city Paramaribo and Meerzorg in the Commewijne District. The bridge is part of the East-West Link, and is named after former president Jules Wijdenbosch. Constructed by Dutch constructor Ballast-Nedam, the bridge has two lanes, is 1504 metres long, and was opened on 20 May 2000.
The guys were of Indian and Javan descent.
They had the best watermelons. I might add!
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Fond memories of French Guiana.
The road to Apoera (gravel)
