What I like most about coming home from vacation is
I hate going on vacation. I really do. Generally, what I love most about vacation is getting home. I also love the moment when I get on my already assembled bike, my suitcase is waiting at some hotel, my bike bags contain exactly what they're supposed to, and I can forget about everything and set off in peace. At least until I realize that anywhere is good, but home is best. Because of the bakery, because of safety, because of cleanliness, because of the lack of weather disasters, and because there are Żabka and Biedronka stores everywhere, and getting there usually doesn't require battling extreme weather conditions. Unfortunately, the time between buying tickets and getting back on the saddle is often very long. Therefore, even if I buy tickets well in advance (which doesn't happen often), I postpone the planning as much as I can, and it usually accumulates in the last week before departure.
Generally, I think the ride itself is the easiest part of it all, because it's actually happening. The worst part is the speculation and planning in front of the computer, which you usually laugh about later. The Maciek from the past, fighting the wind and seeing "140km left" on the odometer, has often greeted the Maciek from the past – the one who planned the route while sitting comfortably at his desk with a cup of coffee. That's why I'm writing this post, because I did all the worst, and the easiest part simply passed me by. It would be unfair if I couldn't acknowledge it on the blog.
Maybe it's not Gambia, but Masovia. Maybe it's not Robert, but Sylwia – my wife. Maybe we're not doing bikepacking, just a 60-kilometer loop 30 minutes from home by car, but Masovia is also the end of the world. And the road is red, so it must be Africa. I may have colored it in Photoshop, but that doesn't matter.
You probably know this, but the whole world is waiting for your vacation. People all over the world have their Gmail, Teams, Outlook meetings, and every other channel they can reach, and a few hours before they finally shut down their computers, they'll click "SEND." You'll only have time to see the introductory message: "I hope my email finds you well." The point is to make sure it doesn't find you in the final hours. For years, I've been trying to master the pre-trip mentality. reisefieber And I'm getting better at it. Mainly because I try to go to places that are impossible to prepare for. And when I can, I either don't know how or don't want to – I don't know.
I'm writing this to justify the surprising (mostly to me) plot twists that will follow.
In October 2025, Robert and I exchanged about 5 sentences. In the year leading up to that day, we probably exchanged about 10. In those 5 sentences, we agreed that we would fly somewhere together in the spring and buy ourselves new bikes – whoever reads this? report from Lesotho, he knows why – optimally, the same ones. Since each of us knows only a little about bicycle repair, to put it mildly – there's a chance that everyone will be able to fix "that other part of the defect on their bike," so having the same ones will cover everything. On New Year's Eve, in two sentences, we agreed that it would be April.
At the beginning of January, we decided in 10 sentences that we were buying Specialized bikes – a Diverge or a Crux. Why? They're the only "expensive" bikes that are simple and popular. After my Factor, which is probably still on OLX even if you're reading this 10 years from now, I dreamed of something simple. A regular seatpost clamp, regular seatpost, regular handlebars, external cables, and about 45mm tire clearance. And it had to be ugly, boring, and unobtrusive. You can be conspicuous on a Gass bike; in an African village, my skin is enough to attract attention; the bike had to be as invisible as possible. And that's not possible at all, although my black Factor makes it a bit easier. To put it bluntly, we didn't quite get it right with these colors:
I came up with Ghana, and the internet said it was a bad idea weather-wise. In general, most of the world is a bad idea in April, because it's either hot or humid everywhere. So if you ask me which African country (which I haven't been to) is safe to visit in April, the answer is: Gambia. Or rather, The Gambia. Someone decided it had to have "THE" in front of it, otherwise it would be confused with Zambia. True story.
Finding flights and planning my adventure took me about half a day. I usually have one criterion: a maximum of 10 days of vacation, ideally 7. I found Turkish Airlines, which departs on Wednesday after work and returns on Sunday evening (a week later), ideally. It's not to Gambia, but to Dakar, but that's even better. Gambia is a ridiculously small country, divided by a river, with only one road going around it, and it's located in the middle of Senegal. The whole plan looked like this:
We bought bikes, and it almost worked out for us, because Robert bought a Crux, and I bought a Diverga. Both are so blue you'll be able to see us from the horizon in the desert. They're also different years, so even the derailleur hanger is different. And if that wasn't enough, my "simplest, most expensive bike in the world" also has a Futureshock on the front. That way, when I go to any service center in Dakar, every mechanic will be amazed.
Before going to a new, unfamiliar place, I do three things:
1. On the gov.pl website (by typing, for example, "Gambia entry" in Google), I check the required documents and whether I'll have to send my passport to Berlin by courier for a thousand złoty. You can enter Gambia and Senegal with a passport, which isn't obvious in this area. I also check the recommendation there. Since insurance companies often refuse to provide assistance in countries marked "do not travel" or "we advise against non-essential travel," I don't travel to such countries. One should maintain at least a semblance of responsibility in life. To increase the level of hypocrisy, I don't trust this website to link recommendations with the actual safety situation. To check this, I go to
2. The American equivalent is: https://travelmaps.state.gov/TSGMapIt's a color-coded map. Fun fact: Senegal is safer than France or Germany, according to the map. The Gambia is just as safe. I have a feeling it's all a hoax, but it fits me perfectly.
3. I'm looking for cycling trip reports. I found two.
A woman who used to ride a bike and now walks around the world with her dog:
pushbikegirl.com
And the guy who was kidnapped and robbed near Dakar:
granfondo-cycling.com
Both are very good and I wholeheartedly recommend them. The second one could be mine. She convinced me with her statement, and I quote: “Well, let me tell you, Dakar is the biggest hell hole I have ever been to and what followed was the worst 260 km of cycling in my life."I'm one of those people who, if you say 'don't touch it, it's hot,' I'll touch it and get burned, and then I'll find out it's actually hot."
Decision: we're going
On January 15th I buy tickets and a moment later I remember your entry from Rwanda. There was a buzz about the Turkish airline's massive scam on the Pole. Just as Mr. Turek failed to cheat Widzew Łódź in their match against Brøndby on August 21st, 1996, Mr. Turek has already cheated me twice. Turkish is the only airline that charges me for my bicycle on EVERY FLIGHT. Since we have a connecting flight in Istanbul (not Constantinople—why they changed it, I can't say)*, the ticket price is over 1500 złoty per person. Adding this to the already expensive tickets, the total cost of the flights for two people is over ten złoty.
*every time I hear the word Istanbul, this song comes to my mind: They Might Be Giants – Istanbul (Not Constantinople). From today on, it will be the same for you. I'm sorry.
So I was recently concerned that Rainbow was offering direct, return charter flights to Banjul for less than a thousand złoty. But that's fair, as the flight takes almost three times longer, so we pay five times more.
I forgot about the topic for almost 3 months.
This plan had no flaws.
Two weeks until departure. I hit the internet to search for interesting facts, inspiration, and basic logistics. I drew some pictures, jotted down some ferries and possibilities, and made some assumptions I couldn't find anywhere to back up my plan. Most importantly, I bought a thousand new things. Sunscreen, bottle holders, a long-sleeved shirt, and so on. Of course, all this bikepacking, bushcrafting, and all the other fancy names are just excuses for buying small, cool things. I can't go to Africa without a small Victorinox pocket knife, which I can use to sharpen a crocodile-fighting stick. I imagine jabbing a crocodile with one of these sticks, and it's surprised because it's never seen a stick so sharp before—it'll know right away it's a Victorinox.
Interestingly, I didn't find a single place along the entire route that I wanted to see. Seriously, nothing. Except perhaps the John Paul II Roundabout in Ziguinchor. This only made me even more excited to go.
Here, Sylwia is making her way through African bamboos. While the bamboos come primarily from the Sichuan province in China, and this is happening right here in our garden, you might not be able to read the caption.
I don't like over-preparing. I don't like reading about a country before I go—I prefer to do it after the fact. This way, I avoid stereotypes and see the country for what it is. Or perhaps for what I imagine it to be. After all, a single, unlucky event can completely change the perception of the entire trip. Like, for example, when they "kidnapped" us in Marrakesh in 2019They took me to the bank and told me to withdraw money. If I had read "Dolls on Fire" before my visit to India last month, I would have looked at this country completely differently for the entire two weeks. As if I were burying newborn daughters alive because they were hoping for a son. And yet, it's a billion people, thousands of kilometers away. Would I want a Gambian tourist to read about Polish history before arriving and assume from the start that I don't like Germans because of World War II? I don't know. It's amazing how someone's opinion can influence a visit... You read a guidebook and it says the Japanese don't like tourists, and then you land in Shikoku and have no idea what's going on. So I usually travel as a complete ignoramus, and I educate myself later, usually before writing a post.
This plan had one flaw.
This flaw was slightly hidden, so I stumbled upon it somewhat by accident. I was trying to locate the Pope's Roundabout on the map so I could mark it as a star and visit it. I clicked on the town of Ziguinchor on Google Maps, which then also displays the current weather. So I looked, and it was 39°C, even though it was already evening. So I clicked on a few towns our route could pass through, and in each of them, the temperature exceeded 40°C for at least a few hours each day. Young people (those in the past) would have described my expression as: BURNED.
The Gambia is very small. Apparently, three months ago, I decided that typing "April weather in the Gambia" into Google was sufficient.research"And indeed, it is right now. If you type "Senegal weather" or "Gambia weather" into Google, you'll get a message that it's between 20 and 30 degrees. However, if you choose ANY town that, unlike the capitals of these countries, isn't on the coast, the results will be slightly different. Even if it's 30 km away, the results will be half as high. It happened. I remember what it was like in March when it was 36°C in Goa."
But
stupidignorant, you're lucky after all.
I discovered this a few years ago in Uganda, on the equator. The heat is a bit different when you know there's nowhere to hide. When there's no cold drink shop, when the nearest air-conditioned building is dozens of kilometers away, when you simply have no escape route and no backup plan. It's NOT PLEASANT, to put it mildly.
And now that moment when you read the blog and say, "Well, this guy must have been born with a suppository" (though it was probably about the shower cap). I remembered that when I was stranded in Mumbai and being spammed with canceled flights, I got a notification that one of my return flights had been postponed by an hour. This meant that instead of 2 a.m., we were leaving Dakar at 1 a.m., and instead of a 5-hour layover in Istanbul, we had 4. I ignored it, of course. And now, at check-in, it turned out that because of this change, I could cancel my ticket free of charge, even a week before departure. Iks de. We're tied with the Turkish thief. I called Robert; we're young, responsible people—we cancel flights. From this day forward, for the rest of my life, I'll tell this story whenever someone accuses me of irresponsibility. I'll say I canceled my vacation because it was too warm to ride a bike.
SO I INVITE YOU TO REPORT ON THE THINGS I DIDN'T DO, AND WHICH I DID INSTEAD
The plan was to take some great photos over the course of a week and a half and complete 150 points: "What I'm doing and what I'd be doing in Gambia." It was a great plan, but I forgot that when I'm not on vacation, I spend about 10 hours a day like this:
More specifically, I'm having conversations over my headphones, which take place in an atmosphere of respect and mutual misunderstanding. The parties agree on fundamental issues and announce further discussions in the unforeseeable future. And when I'm finished, I stare at the wall, wondering if my inner life, within Maciek, has completely died. To prevent this, I eat yogurt. Then I know that at least bacteria live in my intestines. Lactobacillus delbrueckii subsp. bulgaricus andStreptococcus thermophilus.
With all this work and cycling, I don't know. When I'm on the road, by day four I'd rather be sitting at my desk with a cookie from the local bakery. When I'm at my desk, I look at the stories of people living their lives, and I want to live life. Maybe the neighbor's grass is always greener? That's a metaphor, of course; my neighbor's grass will never be greener. Radical Gardening! Hop, hop, hop!
But for example, on Wednesday, at 5:00 PM, I was supposed to be at Okęcie Airport with my suitcase. Instead, I'm at the parcel locker outside my house. At 3:30 PM, the courier left a package with sunscreen (a stick from Decathlon, the best) and 5 liters of tire milk, because there was a sale on Amazon. I was supposed to change the tires before leaving and fill them with milk – how I planned to do that, with about 3.5 hours until departure – I don't know. The dog doesn't know either.
Instead of landing in Dakar at 5 a.m. and wondering what to do next, I'm out for a walk with my dog. 5 a.m. there is 7 a.m. here. There doesn't seem to be a hotel near the Dakar airport; we'd have to take a taxi with the bikes anyway, then fold them up, arrange for the suitcase to be stored for 10 days, and hit the road. It's also worth noting that the Dakar airport is, as is usually the case, 60 km from Dakar. I was actually looking forward to seeing the city, as the text mentioned above refers to it as:Dakar, the biggest hell hole I've ever been to„.
Then we planned to head to the city center, where a ferry was supposed to leave that evening—it would have passed all of Gamabia and reached Ziguinchor the next day. Well, it should have, because it didn't arrive once, and almost 2,000 people drowned—the world's second-worst non-military maritime disaster. The ferry, of course, was designed for 500 people. I don't know if it would have even left on Thursday, because online versions of the operating days don't agree. If it hadn't, we probably would have taken a taxi and headed in the opposite direction. We were hoping that when we reached our destination, it would be the day the ferry returned. If it hadn't, there would have been a problem. Instead, I'm raking the lawn.
What would happen next, I have no idea. There are very few accommodations on Google, and in Gambia itself, Google Street View doesn't exist outside the capital. There are maybe 10 photos showing that the country has a single, paved road. This road goes right around the Gambia, right next to the border, with a river running through the middle. If Mr. Piko were organizing the Race Through Gambia there, we'd all have a much easier time.
We'd probably be crossing the Senegal-Gambia border this weekend. Even Wikipedia mentions that if you're white and have a European passport, you might face additional, unsolicited fees at the border. That same weekend, the Bike Expo is taking place at the National Stadium in Warsaw. I mention this completely by accident, and the two pieces of information have nothing to do with each other. Cheers to the haters.
Because what would have happened next, I have no idea, and that was what I was most happy about. To console myself, since I'd already bought the Specialized, which I'd always laughed at (though less than the Trek), I went to the Specialized Soho event organized by Endless Gravel. I came back with legs like I'd come back from vacation with...
Oh, and in the header photo I also changed the road color to a more red one, because all roads in Africa are off-road and slightly red.
I guess I'm getting old.
