Labé definitely pulled me in a bit. I enjoyed the decadence of drinking coffee, eating mangos, and writing all morning in the leafy shade at my $15 hotel. I also felt like I was overcoming a bug of some kind, but after these days of rest feel great.

There is a tension I have had, and continue to have on this trip, between wanting to cover distance, and get to farther flung cities in Guinea, out to the south and east; and the desire to explore the functionally endless natural beauty of the Fouta Jallon mountains. Today I opted more for the latter. Instead of shooting down the paved road to Pita, I wandered, on very, very bad roads into the mountains southeast of Labé.

I had one destination here, a promontory called Oré Gali. It’s said to be one of the most prominent spots in this area. I can’t remember where or when I read about it, but it has been pinned in my Google maps. The mountains here don’t have the conical peaks one might find in the cascades or alps. They are too old and eroded for that. So the major promontories tend to be cliffs on the edge of a plateau. This is what I found with Oré Gali. The views did not disappoint, except for the smog. Though there is a bit of change in the air, with windy, cloudy weather hinting at the rainy season, which is a month or two away. It would still be extremely unlikely to get anything other than a light drizzle before the end of April.

After Oré Gali I continued south. Much or the landscape here are these broad, rocky plains. Very thin topsoil, no trees, and the grass has been burnt off to expose rocks scattered everywhere. It’s bleak from a certain perspective, which I am certainly capable of embodying, but beautiful from another, especially when, during the rainy season, abundant grass sprouts up on these plains for your cows. The roads are almost as rocky as the surrounding plains. I have to ride quite slowly on these roads. My new tire is working great.

Ended up in a little pulaar village along a creek called Tianguel. Tianguel or Tianguey means creek in Pulaar. It is an exceedingly common village name. This Tianguel is just large enough to have a boutique, where I came and sat, and chatted a little bit. Soon I was offered a delicious place of “latcherie é khosam,” corn coos coos and sour milk. I have a bit of a hard time communicating here— more motivation to learn more pulaar— but have had no trouble finding a host for the night.