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April 19, 2026 – Ghana – On the Road to Lomé
On the road to Lomé, I have to stop at a gas station. I end up staying there for quite a while.
I have to admit that the past few days have been tough. Getting back into it is hard. It has always been hard at the beginning of my journeys. My sedentary life is simply too… sedentary. So restarting has always been difficult. But never this much.
To be fair, I’m dealing with several things at once. First, I jumped straight onto dirt tracks, some sections of which were, let’s say… rather challenging. And as if that weren’t enough, I’ve been hit by one mechanical problem after another, all while riding in intense, heavy heat.
My body has to readjust, and I’m asking a lot from it all at once. My usual blood pressure medication hasn’t helped either: it caused significant drops in blood pressure that left me completely drained.
I decided to stop taking it. It’s not the first time I’ve done so, but whereas I normally reduce the dosage gradually until I find the right balance, this time I had to quit abruptly because my blood pressure had become too low.
The result? My blood pressure is now perfectly normal. Completely normal. But my heart, on the other hand, has gone into overdrive.
So here I am, stuck in this damned gas station, waiting for more than an hour, hoping my heart rate will drop below 100 beats per minute. It was at 120 when I arrived. And yet, this is just an ordinary paved road.
Chi va piano, va sano.
That’s my motto for now. Besides, I don’t really have much choice.
April 19, 2026 – Togo
The border crossing went smoothly. Friendly customs officers, relaxed atmosphere.
After that, I decided to head to a hotel.
Mainly to find air conditioning.
Mainly to cool my body down.
And lower my heart rate.
I end up at what can only be described as some sort of hotel. There’s a large enclosed courtyard, perfect for the bike—it’ll be safe there.
Inside, there’s a huge corridor that strongly reminds me of a prison wing.
The price? 3,000 CFA francs… per hour.
Per hour?
At least, that’s what the woman who seems to run the place tells me. But actually, she’s not the manager. She’s only there to keep an eye on things. The place looks empty… Ah, right—it rents rooms by the hour. She doesn’t know the price for a full night. The manager is supposed to arrive later.
Meanwhile, she gives me a room.
There’s a bed. Air conditioning. It smells a bit musty, but that’s fairly common in this kind of place. I tell myself my tent is more comfortable. More hygienic too. But I can feel that my body desperately needs rest.
The manager arrives shortly afterward. He’s friendly. I ask him where I can eat. There’s nothing nearby, and I really don’t feel like getting back on the bike. So he goes out and brings me dinner along with two Cokes. Fish. Excellent, despite all the bones.
That’s that.
I slept well.
April 20, 2026 – Lomé
Today’s figures: 30 km.
Today’s ride will be short: barely 30 kilometers.
In Lomé, I’m supposed to meet Cynthia, the sister of an old friend of mine, Fredo. I’ve ordered an inductive charging head for my Quad Lock mount. Fredo found someone to bring it over, and his sister is going to hand it to me.
The same Fredo who helped me twenty-three years ago. Thanks to him, back then, we managed to get spare parts for our motorcycles… and even a helmet for me.
As for the bike itself, it’s running like clockwork.
In Lomé, I rent what is basically a small apartment at the “Manoir Péniel.” Once again, my priority in the city is finding a secure place for the motorcycle.
And once again, air conditioning for myself.
Don’t think this is one of my usual habits. Quite the opposite: when I travel, I generally avoid air conditioning. But this time, I genuinely feel that I need it.
The staff are lovely, as is so often the case in Africa.
That evening, I wander through the unpaved streets. Life seems peaceful. Here, I’m anonymous. And that suits me perfectly.
I have a plate of spaghetti with meat: 1,500 CFA francs (€2.30). Excellent, but seriously spicy.
Cynthia tells me to stop by her office tomorrow morning to collect the part.
April 21, 2026 – Still in Lomé!
Today’s figures:
- Distance: 9.5 km
- And an invitation to a fantastic seaside restaurant.
I take my time getting ready in the morning. It’s only 9 kilometers to Cynthia’s office. Then about 50 kilometers to the border. Then another 10 to Grand-Popo, where I plan to spend the night.
But as soon as I climb onto the bike, my T-shirt is already soaked with sweat. I arrive at Cynthia’s workplace around noon.
She suggests we have lunch together. She has a favorite restaurant nearby, right on the beach. And on top of that, she’s inviting me.
You simply don’t refuse that.
And as if that weren’t enough, she also invites me to dinner at her home that evening…
Well then, Benin will have to wait another day!
That afternoon, I meet Sébastien, a French motorcyclist. Or rather, he approaches me after spotting my bike. He rode all the way from France to attend his brother-in-law’s wedding, which is due to take place in the next few days. Quite a character. While we’re talking, I decide he’ll be the subject of my next article for Globe Rider Magazine.
April 22, 2026 – Grand-Popo – Benin
I have no choice anymore: I have to leave, as my Togolese visa expires today.
Once again, I’m only planning a short ride. I know a nice place in Grand-Popo, and I quite fancy spending a day just chilling by the sea.
I stop at Awalé. I know the manager, Thierry, a Belgian.
That evening, I meet a young couple: Yoni and Laurie. He’s originally from French Guiana. He and his girlfriend—or rather, his best friend, since they’re not officially a couple—have embarked on a hitchhiking trip around the world. They’re waiting for a cargo ship that’s supposed to take them from Togo to Cameroon. Because of visa issues, they’ve decided to wait on the Beninese side, not far from the border.
We hit it off immediately, and I decide to stay a little longer to enjoy their company. I’ve got time anyway—my DRC visa is valid until the end of June.
While waiting, I take the opportunity to fill out the new online application for a Nigerian e-visa.
April 30, 2026 – Cotonou
I could kick myself.
I used the wrong website for my Nigerian visa application. Instead of applying through the e-visa portal, I accidentally submitted my request through the traditional embassy visa website.
To be fair, the difference is incredibly subtle. The forms are identical, and the web addresses differ by just a single letter: the “e” in “eVisa.”
So now I have to go to the Nigerian Embassy in Cotonou, which has a reputation for being one of the most corrupt in Africa.
Yoni and Laurie join me in Cotonou.
In just a few days, we’ve become inseparable.
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