In Ghana it now rains daily, usually as we attempt to cycle our last 10-20km of the day.
The blue sky fades away and an eerie wind sweeps over the lush green bush of Ghana’s dense forests. The sky turns dark with angry clouds and then the rain falls.
In its first few minutes the rain steals away our road and a river of muddy water floods the path ahead. Visibility is zero and we push the bikes to some kind of shelter. In a moment it all feels rather like a British summer style picnic-panic-run; madly covering our bags and throwing an ugly raincoat on.
After a while the heaviest drops have left and by now we are ready to jump on the bikes again. But then we notice the sky ahead is darker,
‘The storms all go south to the coast, just like you actually…’
Thirty minutes of pedalling pass us by and sure enough, we have caught up with the monster again. He growls at us and beats his thundery chest. He punches at the sky above with deadly forks of lightening. Time to make another swift exit...