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traveller is seen as a wallet with legs to be pulped and not even slowly . After seven hours of waiting and about five hundred euros spent , I finally get into Senegal . Arriving in the evening at Saint Louis , across the Faidherbe mobile bridge that was opened in 1897 . I ' m exhausted but luckily find and settle in an old colonial house before the rain starts .
Before leaving the following morning , I take a ride to the city that was colonised by the French . They gave the city its name in honour of King Louis IX . Colonial buildings , well preserved , the Senegal River with colourful fishing boats , trendy clubs and a great market in the streets of the city make my visit particularly pleasant .
Dakar is just 250 kilometres away , the final destination of my journey . The morning sun is shining but the rain during the night dumped an impressive amount leaving mud and debris everywhere . Riding with caution I arrive in the chaotic Senegalese capital .
Walking the roads , there are stalls on every corner selling food and miscellaneous items . Colours are always gaudy , the fabrics with which they are made for women ' s clothing are typical of this part of Africa . I leave the capital anxious to reach the famous Lac Rosa , the Pink Lake , the point of arrival of my journey .
Lake Rebta , as is its real name , is a large salt lake whose waters have a pink cast thanks to a bacteria that populates the waters and at a high rate of salinity . Unfortunately , on my arrival the water is not pink , we are in September and not the best time to observe the bright colouring .
Walking along the shores I am filled with emotion , this is where the most famous race in the world ended . A plaque in memory of Thierry Sabine , the creator of the Paris-Dakar is located on the banks of the lake . The founding father of the great rally immortalised forever in history .
The journey is resumed , this time to the north . Reluctantly it is already time to return . I quickly leave Senegal and return to Mauritania .
The bike slips in the sand and I fall , feeling a strong pain , I believe I have fractured a rib . Soldiers help me lift the bike , thankfully it didn ’ t suffer any damage . I leave in pain and reach Chami where I am able to find a hotel . The owners provide me with ice and despite stuffing me full of painkillers I fall asleep with difficulty . There is little option but to stay in the capital a couple of days .
As I return to Morocco I decide to give myself a few days in Essaouira , a seaside town whose medina is well worth a visit . My last stop on the African continent before riding through Europe and my home in Turin , an epic journey to honour the creator of Dakar … A short ride to Dakar . FM
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