'Early Morning Run in... Conakry'

First light: 0657 hrs
Time start: 0642 hrs
Time finish: 0724 hrs
Weather: 24C
Circumstances: Friday, slowest business day of working week

Post number 7 in the 'An Early Morning Run In...' blog series. Yesterday travelled Freetown to Conakry. 314 kms by road. A journey of 6.5 hours.

A few other numbers;

- checkpoints to negotiate crossing border: 7

- dash (bribes) requested: 7

- cars driving wrong side of main carriageway into Conakry: 48

- car accidents involved in first hour Conakry: 2

- traffic lights working Conakry: 1

A country where I'm older than the average male life expectancy. But, below female. Just.

Many enquired about the recent fire engine wahala. It was repaired. Arrived Freetown on schedule. Sierra Leone apparently deployed its equivalent of the Green Goddess (UK 1950's auxiliary fire engine painted green). Could well have been 2 fellows with a ladder and 2 metal buckets. Painted red, British Army style with 'FIRE' stenciled on the side.

First deployment as a young private soldier 1977 was Edinburgh during the fireman's strike. I was in the Duke of Edinburgh's Royal Regiment. We were sent north to rescue cats from trees and run over them in the Green Goddess on the way back to barracks.

My recent excursion to London (post 5) was working with lawyers. A funny story came to mind from 2005. After spending a busy month in Nairobi, with a group of mostly North American lawyers, there was downtime at the end. We ventured upcountry. Aberdare National Park. We stayed at 'The Ark'.

At The Ark two people a room. The lead lawyer (Lawyer X), my  Canadian roomy, asked what I was doing. My leatherman was out disconnecting the buzzer. Each room had a sign. The buzzer rang once if water buffalo came to the watering hole, twice for elephant, and so on. Big one was 5 rings. A lion. I told Lawyer X we needed a good nights sleep. I'd seen plenty of wildlife in its natural environment. He was disappointed. Understandable really. One time opportunity. Following 10 seconds consideration I finished disconnecting the buzzer.

Lawyers worry about everything. They love to have stuff to worry about. It's their DNA. Earlier Lawyer X expressed concerns about malaria profolaxis. I told Lawyer X not to worry. Nairobbery is 5,500 ft above sea level. Had he seen mosquitos wearing oxygen masks? No, of course not. Another (Lawyer Y) had worries about worms. Should he wear a shower cap in Kenya? Lawyer Y was bald as a Greek monk.

I informed Lawyer X he should sit outside on the decking observing the watering hole. Salted to attract wildlife. The Ark provided chairs, blankets and served soup. Artificial I know. Surely not bad as sleeping and a buzzer sounds, you charge out to see Larry Lion or Eddie Elephant. Lawyer X reluctantly trooped upstairs with his blanket. I reminded him not to wake me on return.

Two weeks later skiing together in the Rockies. Lawyer X began to tire struggling through the afternoon. Going downhill fast, excuse the pun. Lawyer X is fit. He arrived home feeling worse. He was hospitalised. He had malaria. Big time. Lawyer X was convinced my fault. Typical lawyers. Always quick to apportion blame. Firmly believed he was bitten the night on the decking because someone disconnected the buzzer. He went further. Again jumping to conclusions, he blamed me for stating Nairobi was so high above sea level, that precautions for Africa's biggest killer were not necessary. Oxygen masks. It all came out. Lawyers eh? Always something to worry about... Oh, if you're worried about Lawyer Y, don't be. He wore a purple polka dot shower cap. No worms. His polished dome remained intact.

Time to run. Feeling good this morning. This is Guinea. Not to be confused with Guinea-Bissau, Equatorial Guinea, or Papua New Guinea. Formerly known as French Guinea. That's a lot of Guinea's. Independence from France 1958. Guinea is approx the land size of UK. Population 10 million. Conakry 1.5 million.

My schoolboy French is getting an airing. Put a French joke in? Bien Sur. Difference between a smart fragrant Frenchman and a unicorn? We all know the answer to this one. Nothing, both fictional characters.

Today I have a special guest runner. A friend (not when he's read this). A Canadian. Codename Escargot. 0620 hrs. We meet outside Residence Schaka. Excellent guest house. Highly recommended. Thanks to Kai & Hawa for taking great care of us. Start stretching. Warming up. Mosquito's everywhere. YB (local Guinean driver) picks up as arranged. Short drive to the start point. 15 mins. Traffic heavy.

Not every run starts next to a life size statue of a grey elephant. Especially with a foot raised on a football. It's still dark. It's hazy. Smog. Busy streets. Headlights still on. Opposite is a Presidential Lodge. Belle-Vue Roundabout.

On left the Sierra Leone Embassy. Nice to see it, warm memories of 'home'. Outside a bus marked Freetown. Goes twice a week for about $20. Takes a day. All you backpackers wanting to explore real Africa on a budget? It can be done. Brace yourself for the border experience. Learn negotiating skills for life.

Conakry is stretched out. People get to work early. Might be due to the fact this is 'Protest City'. In Guinea people protest about anything and everything. They protest in Conakry most days. Many protests morph into riots. Way of life. Book a fortnights holiday here, you won't be disappointed if riots are your thing. Could be about power cuts. In fact, mostly power cuts. Could be water shortages. Could be price increases to staples (rice etc). Could be students. Could be political. Could be anything. People here have plenty of spirit and don't accept status quo. However, a serious point. Around 60 people killed in these protests since the country's first ever democratic elections in 2011. Alpha Conde became the first elected President.

Arrive at a meeting in Freetown late, you smile and say traffic. Here, smile and say protests. If none that day, smile and say traffic.

Escargot and I set off a brisk pace. We head north on Prince Highway. On left Rio Tinto office. A huge mining company. Largest sector in the country. Another country rich in natural resources, but overwhelmingly poor. Rio Tinto has been in-country 16 years spending a fortune. They await return on investment.

Mosques aplenty in this predominantly Islamic country (85%). Some good looking churches too. Secular. No issues.

10 minutes in. Going to be great run. Can feel it. Escargot must have wind. Or something. I catch the guy ahead. His name is Ali. Speak some schoolboy French. We jog side by side for 10 minutes uttering the odd bonjour & ca va. He points to the floodlights ahead at the National Stadium. Beckons to follow him. Escargot must have a stitch. Shout back to follow.

Circle the National stadium where the Elephants play. Plenty of pitches (one astroturf with floodlights), about 100 young players playing, being coached. Just notice Escargot has come out this morning dressed as a footballer. Ali peels off. Say our au reviors. Circle the playing fields. These kids are talented.

Smog. It's bad. Takes a while to notice the main cause is amount of fires in the streets. People are burning rubbish. Conakry is the dirtiest city I've visited. Rubbish and filth everywhere. Must be an issue with garbage collection. Maybe Escargot is suffering with the smog. Whatever, he's going backwards faster than a French tank commander.

After a detour time to head back south. Back to YB. Push all the way back. YB has water. 42 mins. Where's Escargot? He'll be fine...

Guinea is a tough place. It's difficult. Have a feeling Guinea will grow on me. Guinea has character. Guinea has spirit. Like it. People are friendly and open. Great bread. Decent coffee. Good restaurants. French wine. All in all, as with most places - some good things, some bad.

Bon journee. No new posts for a while. Maybe photos added to existing posts. Thinking of outtakes / extras - things left out over various posts.

In closing, I'd like to dedicate this to my Auntie Violet. She was a roofer. Raise your glasses. Auntie V, .... if you're up there...

P.S. To my one French friend in the world - of course, only joking...

P.P.S. I need to find Escargot

'Early Morning Run in... Hesket Newmarket'

First light: 0640 hrs
Time start: 0635 hrs
Time finish: 0710 hrs
Weather: 1C
Circumstances: Another day in the country

Final morning in England before returning to West Africa. Following London a few days home in the Lakes. The Lake District is a national park in northwest England. About 3 and half hours north of London by train. About 4 days by camel.

Returning to Freetown tomorrow is currently uncertain. International airlines, including BA, have suspended flights to and from Sierra Leone. A United Nations aviation regulator discovered the only functioning fire engine at Lungi Airport had broken down. It's not completely without hope, the Sierra Leone Airports Authority has said, "We are working very hard to fix the faulty gearbox system of the fire engine." Seems reasonable.

Early morning run. The Hesket Newmarket to Caldbeck circuit. Hesket is a small village at the base of the Northern Fells. Village population following a recent passing is down to 249. Also known as God's Waiting Room. Average age 77.

My African friends. What would you make of this sleepy Cumbrian village? Well...everyone is ancient. People move slower. Little urgency. You'll be called 'Love' or 'Pet'. No one uses their vehicle horns. No background noise. Most people have facial hair, even some of the men. Weather is harsh, particularly the winters. Everyone has a caravan, or wants one. The similarity between blizzards and northerners going through divorce? In either case, you know someone is going to lose a caravan.

To my own family down south please remember when you next venture north. "He were a southern bugger" is a legal defence up here.

Another similarity with West Africa. Don't ask anyone for directions, particularly if they smell of manure, carrying a stick or wearing wellington boots. As on the streets of Freetown or Accra be prepared for a 20 minute conversation. Oop north it's an advantage to know the main reference points. Such as, key piles of rubble, bingo halls, sale & auction rooms, coal mines, chip shops, and where factories used to stand.

The jokes. What would the locals say if they read this post? I'm on safe ground here. No-one has mastered the Interweb yet. Anyway, I can't help it, my dad was a clown. He's left me big boots to fill...

The internet and mobile coverage isn't good in this part of Cumbria. A little like Freetown. However, NPA is good. In Sierra Leone NPA - means 'National Power Authority'. Alternatively, 'No Power Anymore', as some might put it.

Time and tide wait for no man. An overnight frost greets me. It's chilly. Let's start running. Head east through Hesket. On my right the village Chapel. Full every week with singing on par with the sounds of Freetown on a Sunday morning. However, less clapping, less hip action.

On my left the village Inn. The Old Crown. The first public house in the country owned by a co-operative. It's owned by over 100 local people and other supporters. A proper pub with real ales. Good morning Stephen & Beverley.

Hesket is in a bowl, much like Freetown. To leave the village you move uphill in any direction. I'm climbing east towards Caldbeck. 10 minutes I haven't seen a soul. With an average age pushing 80 hardly a surprise. A beautiful crisp morning. The lambing season has begun, first lambs in the fields both sides of the lane.

Ah, the first sign of life, a 50 year old Land Rover comes slowly towards me. I receive the customary Cumbrian one finger salute. Not to be confused with other versions in London or New York. Index finger only leaves the steering wheel. A sign meaning everything, including recognition.

Old Land Rovers. My mind goes back. Memories on exercise in Africa during the mid 90's. Local soldiers were taught traditional British Army voice procedure. Every clipped message on the radio ends with 'over'. Allows the other person to speak (currently teaching Mrs R. these trusted methods). One funny message went;

Hello Charlie 1, this is Bravo 1. Message. Over.

Charlie 1. Send. Over.

Bravo 1. I have accident. Over.

Charlie 1. Send details. Over.

Bravo 1. I have rolled the Land Rover over. Over.

Charlie 1 (laughing). Say again. Over.

On it went.

Over the climb a pleasant drop into Caldbeck. Past the turning to Chris Bonnington's house. A local celebrity for his climbing exploits. Into Caldbeck, another picturesque Cumbrian village. Very quiet this morning. I climb out of the village and bear left around the pond. Avoid a few ducks, some sheep poo, some cow poo, and head back towards the centre of village. A few vehicles and dog walkers in evidence. Another countryside day begins in earnest.

Right. 2 miles back to Hesket on the main road. Not exactly a startled gazelle this morning, but not too bad. Head into the sun. Push all the way back. Poo everywhere. I'm a townie at heart.

Strong finish. Back into Hesket. Past the village shop on my right. Good morning Liz, Andy & Diane. Keep up the good work. A gentle warm-down back to the house. 35 minutes. Fairly good.

First 4 runs on this blog were in Africa. The last 2 in UK as a contrast. Back to Africa. The next one scheduled for Conakry, Guinea. I wonder if the fire engine is fixed?

'Early Morning Run in... London'

First light: 0642 hrs
Time start: 0558 hrs
Time finish: 0632 hrs
Weather: 4C (ouch)
Circumstances: Monday morning, business day

This week the old switcheroo. Change Africa for Europe. The 5th in the 'Early Morning Run In...' series. Complete contrast.

I've used quotes to open previous posts. Confucius this time, "Every journey of a thousand miles begins with... some fat cabbie (his name was Sid) moaning about the economy." My experience last evening in Central London...

Feels good back in the cold air of London. Ten days special treats before heading back to West Africa. Fresh milk with my cereal. Morning newspapers. John Lewis. No mosquitoes. No net. A cool room. Fast Internet. Electricity. No generator. Pret A Manger. Not being surrounded by life insecurity. Ah, and a good nights rest. In fact, I aim to sleep soundly, just like my security guard back in Freetown.

You have to miss it. An old sage in Africa once told me, write down everything you think unusual when you first arrive. In 6 months time, it will seem completely normal. Taking breakfast in Khartoum one day, an obese driller told how the previous evening a small plane was landing the wrong way at the airport. The Lufthansa Airbus had to abort the landing, pull up, and fly over the top of the other plane. No one batted an eyelid. "Pass the sugar", was about it.

What will I miss? Fish. Beach. Sun. The people of Sierra Leone. Misfits. My SL divas. I always miss my divas. They're divas right down to their high heels, power handbags and sense of entitlement (in a nice way). As they read this, they'll be mortified. Divas - I warned you. One is hairless, West African style. In fact, bald as a badgers bum. This is Senior Diva. Codename 'Eagle'. Young, or Baby Diva, with a new hairstyle every week and sporting handbags the size of a 2 berth caravan, is climbing the Freetown 'Divadom' chart at a healthy pace. Codename 'Cobra'. Divas, stop reading this blog, off your cell phones and on with some work. We have a business to build.

It's funny. When one is in West Africa, you yearn for home. Paradoxically when the time comes to return (in 9 days time), one embraces it. What Africa gives you more than any single thing? Appreciation. Appreciation, not taking things for granted. Appreciation, small things. Appreciation, how lucky you are. Oh, and that Marvel skimmed milk powder will never replace Daisy the Cow.

I should point out I've mostly African gear with me. This doesn't mean I stroll around London dressed like a Senegalese lottery winner. It means old clothes that have been battered, look OK in Africa, but in London... This trip was hasty and unexpected.

African clothing. I wanted to write to Rohan a few years ago. A terrific UK brand. They had trousers advertised as unshrinkable. They were indestructible. You could do anything to these trousers. Rohan hadn't figured in my Sudanese maid. She turned them into a fashion statement. One embraced by most northern Brit holidaymakers every time they venture abroad, or to the local off license to pick-up a pack of Woodbines on a winters evening.

I realise how bad 'maid' reads. I worked for an oil company in Sudan at the time. Not only a maid, but a driver, gardener, cook, and cleaner. In the interests of fairness, I have all these positions in the UK. It's just that Mrs R. doesn't like it when I call her these things. Oh, and the cleaner in Khartoum. We called her the Special Forces of cleaners. Never knew if she'd been in the apartment or not.

Time and tide wait for no man. Let's start running. The distinctive sound of Big Ben. The start point is outside my hotel. Westminster Bridge. The London Eye lit up to my right. Over the Bridge past the Houses of Parliament on my left. After the misery of humidity in Accra, I now have the spring of a startled gazelle.

London is a beautiful city. In my view the best in the world. I see some appropriately dressed joggers. Thin gloves, thermal layers, running tights, fluorescent tops, hats (toques for the Canadian readership), headphones. Don't see anyone with dirty sand coloured trainers, shorts, 2 short sleeved T-shirts and a polo shirt with an upturned collar. It's a little chilly.

No entertainment. Don't need distractions this morning. Passed Number 10 on my left - all the way to Nelson's Column. Veer left. What a city. What better than running down the Mall. It's inspiring and as if by magic my pace lifts. What's even faster than a startled gazelle? Three-quarters down the Mall Buckingham Palace is coming into view. I come up behind 2 joggers wearing three-quarter length trousers from Rohan, white shoes, with black and white striped football shirts. Sounds like they're from oop north. They're smoking Woodbines. I didn't really come up behind 2 such joggers. Made that bit up.

Left at the Palace. Past Wellington Barracks. Stayed there a few times. Horsferry Road down to the River Thames. Over Lambeth Bridge and follow the river back to the London Eye. Feeling splendid. What's even faster than something quicker than a startled gazelle? Johnny Admin...eat your heart out. Past the Eye up to Greyfriars Bridge at a pretty good lick. The turnaround point. Jog back to Westminster Bridge to warm down. Into Starbucks for a takeaway coffee behind the old GLC building. Phil Collins (Mr Phil - an African icon) on the piped music. Actually, it was Ray Charles 'I Can't Stop Loving You' - been humming it all day. That was followed by Frankie Valli...

Reading the newspapers this morning took me back to Sudan. To an oil compound in Rubkona. I used to stay there. The Camp Manager was a huge fellow. A huge man with a huge heart. Maybe 300 lbs. He'd become concerned by his weight. He decided to run up the attached airstrip every morning. The airstrip was 2.2 km long. Locals called him '2-Man' because of his size. No unkindness intended. Just African humour. Everyone in the village knew 2-Man. Back then the Sudan problems were as now. Tribal conflict. 2-Man was out on the airstrip for his daily walk/jog. At the turnaround, shooting broke out from the bushes. Bored soldiers shooting at birds. 2-Man wasn't to know. He went from doing 20-minute miles to an Olympic sprinter in a heartbeat. He was on the move. As told to me with a great merriment by a chief, the locals hurriedly left their tukuls (huts) with their suitcases thinking an Antonov was landing to evacuate them. The Chief would go into convulsions retelling this story.

In closing, anyone who saw a stranger taking breakfast in a hotel near Westminster Bridge this morning and thought of similarities with a scene from 'When Harry Met Sally'. This is the effect of fresh milk and 9 weeks in Freetown. Nothing more...

See you back in Africa...

'Early Morning Run in... Accra'

Accra, Ghana - 24th Feb, 2014

First light: 0614 hrs
Time start: 0610 hrs
Time finish: 0702 hrs
Weather: 28C Humidity 89% (dry season)
Circumstances: Monday morning, business day

Captain Kirk spoke of space as the final frontier. On earth... the final frontier? Africa. Probably the last place of untapped growth. Where better to witness this than Ghana. A country with a GDP x10 of Sierra Leone, which I departed yesterday. Ghana's widely considered a regional model for political and economic reform. A stable democracy for more than 20 years.

Africa is the world's poorest continent. But, has the largest growth? This growth is uneven. You can't eat GDP. Jobs. Life Security. Electricity. Water. Internet. Schools. Hospitals. Roads. Rail. Seaports. Airports. Telecoms. That's what most Africans want. Ghana is fortunate. Sure some needs improving. The 21st century could belong to Africa.

Hemingway said always do the weather. In the words of Robin Williams, "I've just looked out the car window, it's damn hot." Hotter than a snakes bum... humidity right up there, this won't be fast or pleasurable.

Take a taxi from my accommodation in Greater Accra (Charleston Hotel in Tesano) to the start point in Independence Square. Tesano is a district. Further west is Sodom & Gomorrah the biblical cities destroyed by fire and brimstone. Taxi takes about 15 mins. Given it's not yet 0600 hrs the amount of people already on the move is staggering.

Samuel and I drive at high speed down George Bush Highway. Money for this project was donated by the US when George Bush 2 was President, hence the name. The road is solid and simple...

Taking a taxi means a fanny pack (US & Canada), or a bum bag (UK) - which is worse, bums or fannies? I have money, smartphone, room key (with an oversized slate attached) and map. Samuel was my airport shuttle last night. Samuel, happy 49th birthday.

We talk football. You can't go wrong. Africa loves it. They love the Premier League. Moreover, this is World Cup year. My opening line, "Suarez the cheating git." For those who don't follow football, Luis Suarez cheated Ghana from being the first African team to reach the semi finals in 2010. How Ghana lost that game remains a travesty.

The dying seconds of extra-time. Suarez was sent off for stopping a certain goal with his hands, goalkeeper style. He'd already cleared off the line legally with his knee. Ghana had laid siege to the Uruguayan goal. The airport lounge in Frankfurt, where I watched the game, was at fever pitch willing the Africans to win. After 120 minutes 'The Black Stars' had the resulting penalty kick to win the game. They hit the crossbar. Unbelievable. Then followed the drama of the penalty shoot-out. Uruguay won 4-2. Ghana went home.

Where was I? Oh yes, "Suarez the cheating git." Samuel laughs and believes the Lord will make it right with Ghana this time around. Drawn in a group containing Germany, Portugal & USA they might well need that divine intervention.

We arrive at Independence Square. Backdrop is the Gulf of Guinea to the southern side of this huge parade ground. There's army trucks and buses discharging Ghanian soldiers and bandsmen. They are busy rehearsing for Independence Day on 06th March. The Gold Coast achieved independence from the UK in 1957, becoming the first sub-Saharan African nation to do so from European Colonialism. Ghana (meaning Warrior King)... happy 57th Birthday.

I set off slowly and run past Independence Arch and head north towards the national stadium, where 'The Black Stars' play. It's hot and humid. I continue north up Liberia Road. The roads are wide. Neat trees either side provide a boulevard feel.

I'm running at the centre of the earth this morning. Ghana is geographically closest to the centre of the world. The notional centre, (0°, 0°) is in the Atlantic Ocean 600 kms south of Accra. Another thought goes through my mind. I'm totally surrounded by the French: Ivory Coast, Burkina Faso, and Togo. Imagine being surrounded by the French?

A general knowledge question. The capital of Burkina Faso? I once dreamt this was the final question on Millionaire. The only lifeline left is 'phone a friend'. 4 options. Pick correctly and win the million pounds. (a) Timbuktu (b) Nouakchott (c) Ouagadougou (d) Yaounde. Answer bottom of the page...

I'm seeing plenty of ministries and various departments and agencies of government. The National Theatre on my left is impressive and distinct. Across the road is the Movenpick Hotel. A big hotel with big prices at $400 a night. Move onto Independence Avenue heading northeast. Been going only 15 mins and feel drained. Pace slowing. A long slow drag up past the Nigerian Embassy. Next door the Canadian Embassy. Fortunately Team Canada won the Hockey Gold Medal yesterday so the flag isn't half mast. Congratulations Arthur. Congratulations Canada.

Southeast onto Ring Road. Just want this finished. I'm running like an eighty year old. Reminds me, how do you get a sweet little 80-year-old granny to say the F word? Get another sweet little 80-year-old lady to yell *BINGO*. This run isn't so funny. 30 mins in, think about taking a taxi back to my taxi...

Where am I? Sun behind me, keep taking roads west, or head south and hit the ocean. Never been affected by humidity like this before. I see the floodlights high above the National Stadium in the middle distance. Thankfully. No finishing kick on this run. Just survival...

Circle the stadium, back through the Arch and over the road. Soldiers are marching up and down. The band is playing. Brings back memories. Samuel is waving, probably wondering where I'd got to. 52 mins. Sweating heavily. Glad Samuel has leather seats. Samuel is pleased to see me. We drive back to the hotel.

A 10-day break in UK begins Sunday. The next run will be a complete contrast. London. The next African run will be in Conakry, Guinea.

Finish with a namecheck. You're stuck in an elevator in Accra with a Lion, a Black Mamba and a lawyer (JC - for you, see you next week). You have a gun with only 2 bullets. What do you do? We all know it's shoot the lawyer twice.

Answer (c) Ouagadougou.

'Early Morning Run in... Tokeh, Sierra Leone'

First light: 0711 hrs
Time start: 0725 hrs
Time finish: 0807 hrs
Weather: 26C Humidity 83% (dry season)
Circumstances: Sunday morning beach run

Desmond Tutu to open the third post in the series. When the missionaries came to Africa they had the Bible and we had the land. They said, 'Let us pray.' We closed our eyes. When we opened them we had the Bible and they had the land.

Sierra Leoneans own this land. Body & soul. What a piece of real estate it is.

0700 hrs. Alarm on my phone sounds. Awake to a bugle call for reveille. Today is special. As Shakespeare nearly wrote, once more onto the beach...

The trip out to Tokeh's around 30 kms. Takes just under an hour. The road is improving all the time. Some tarmac, some graded and some rough track. Probably even thirds, but it's getting better and quicker to come. The wet season, which takes hold in July is another matter. Make the most of these weekends while they last. When the rains come they don't finish until November. It can rain for a week or more.

There are a number of villages to pass through. The one that always raises a smile is 'I Don't Care'. Great name for a village. I see a fellow here on a motorbike with 4 huge barracudas' tied on the back. He doesn't care.

This area of Sierra Leone is quite staggering in its natural beauty. Some of the world’s most spectacular beaches. A well kept secret. Maybe too well kept. In 2012 the country had just 4,000 international visitors compared to 100,000 in nearby Gambia. Tourism would really help Sierra Leone. Spoil it in equal measure? What about the jobs it would bring? This country has massive youth unemployment.

I set off heading east from the 'Tokeh Beach Resort'. A shout out to Issa & Joe who run this fine establishment. It has 18 rooms, employs nearly 60 people from the local community (Tokeh) and sources nearly everything locally. Where else in the world can you have lobster dinner for Le90,000 - under $20. The fish is amazing; crab, barracuda, shrimp, marlin, grouper...straight from the sea to your plate. These lobsters are the daddies of lobster. This is lobster season.

The sunrise over the hills to the east is breathtaking. There are not many countries where the mountains meet the ocean. This is one of them. Few people moving around this time of the morning, though everyone is out of bed. This is Africa. The people I see all wave and smile and offer cheery greetings. I skirt around Tokeh village before heading south on the tarmac on an undulating road up to the telecom masts. I have the mountains on my left side and the ocean to my right.

I see mostly women and children, they are carrying stuff on their heads. Massive bowls of fruit and huge bundles of firewood mostly. There is no electricity here. The wood is for cooking. I make it up to the masts. Time to head down a few tracks heading west to the ocean. The Atlantic Ocean. I arrive at the northern end of Tokeh Beach. What a glorious sight. Mesmerising.

If I could buy any house in the world, this is the one. At the tip of Tokeh Beach. It sits beautifully on the peninsular, great views and a secluded enclave with rocky outcrops shaping what in effect is a private beach. I scramble over the rocks onto the main sands. Time to open up the pace. The tide is out. The beach is firm. There's no camber. The scenery and backdrop make you run faster. On these runs you don't even look at your watch.

Tokeh is Gold 1. This is an old habit of coding everything, giving nicknames and call-signs. A full career in Her Majesty's Army does this to one. The next beach River No 2 is Gold 2, and the one at Sussex is Gold 3. These beaches are just 3 in nearly 400 kms of unspoilt coastline. People of a certain age may remember an advert on UK television. It was the setting for a Bounty bar 'taste of paradise' advert in the 1970s. This was filmed at Gold 2.

This is a coastline without western brand names. It's unspoilt by tourism with not a Gregg's the Bakers (who are in the most ridiculous places), Costa Coffee or a Holland & Barrett in sight.

As the Canadians might say, 'who's all there?'. Expat wise, it's the classic 3 M's of Africa. Missionaries, Mercenaries & Misfits. Suffice to say only the last group are any fun. The best Misfits I’ve ever met, anywhere on my travels, are in Sierra Leone. Mercenaries are here for the money in one form or another. Missionaries want to make a difference and have personal growth & adventure, and are often young NGO's. Misfits (mostly male), are quite often running towards something, or perhaps running away from something. This could be failed relationships, a string of broken marriages, perhaps they drink too much (understatement). They can be very colourful charismatic characters who just no longer fit in at home. In the hotel this weekend it's nearly all missionaries. Just different ones to those Mr. Tutu means.

I'm up on my toes. Nothing beats running on a hard flat beach at the edge of the ocean. I count 15 local fishing boats anchored up. Numerous more on the beach. The 'Good Lord', 'Sweet Jesus' (wasn't this was a taxi in Monrovia?), 'Bessie', and 'Sea Broom' are among them. The first catch of the day is already in. The fishermen are taking care of their nets and the last of the fish divided up. People are walking away with a few fish each. Fish is hugely important to these small local communities. Around 70% Sierra Leonens get their protein from fish.

The finish is at the new jetty at Gold 1. A good burst and the run's over. Really enjoyed it. 42 mins, not bad. I have a little walk on the jetty to the helipad to cool down. I look back towards the hotel and start to think about eggs and coffee.

Back in the day, and before the war, a French investor developed a 600 room resort here, with a golf course, nightclub, ocean liner, and helicopter transport to this very helipad. Through the 80s and early 90s it became a highly regarded international tourist destination, with many dignitaries, celebrities and jet set bathing on the white sands.

The resort was a victim of being in the right place at the wrong time. War broke out in the early 90s. It became impossible to continue the resort by the middle of 1995. Everyone was evacuated. With no presence to secure the resort, slowly at first, then with ever increasing scale and organisation it was pulled apart piece by piece. It's on the way back. I wish Gold 1 well.

Looking forward, well that's Sierra Leone done for now. Hopefully more visitors will come. Please spread the word. The next run will be at the end of Feb in one of Africa's fastest growing economies. It's Accra, the capital of Ghana, formerly known as The Gold Coast. Gold 4 perhaps. See you there.

Oh, and a couple of people have asked about being guest runners. The first one will be call-sign 'Wing Woman', at some point in the future. Although Canadian she has the same name as a previous landlady in the Rovers Return a few years back. The call-sign works better. On the subject of Canadians, how do you get 43 drunk Canadians out of a swimming pool? You say, please leave the pool...

'Early Morning Run in... Freetown'

First light: 0705 hrs
Time start: 0705 hrs
Time finish: 0747 hrs
Weather: 23C Humidity 74% (dry season)
Circumstances: Downtown Tuesday morning

This run is different. I live and work in Freetown. I've lived here over 2 years. Steph, you wanted it for your morning coffee - here it is.

Arriving back from Monrovia last week was eventful. On the boat across the estuary to Freetown we struck a hidden sandbank. From 20 knots to stationary in a nano second. So sudden was the stop most pax ended up sat 3 rows further forward than their original seats. Fortunately I was tightly wedged in by a rather plump African lady. I had the joy of watching fellow passengers fly past me. The boat then tilted to one side and pandemonium ensued. Many Africans have a primal fear of water due to the fact that most can't swim. After 45 minutes of shouting and chaos we were rescued and arrived safely into Aberdeen jetty.

This is Aberdeen, Sierra Leone. Not be confused with the other, and better known Aberdeen, beloved to so many oil workers. One is a place where the people are really happy, all smiles, brightly dressed, and reasonably tall. The other is in Scotland.

I'm setting off this morning from the National Stadium. Last February I was fortunate to attend President Koroma's second term inauguration here. It's my first time back since. Whilst an honour to attend, it was also the longest day of my life. As one wag said (could have well been me), the ceremony you thought would never start, once started you thought would never end. Nine hours later, I could wring out my tie and probably my shoes. I sat all day next to a gentleman well into his 70's, his fortitude and stamina were amazing. As the ceremony drew to the close I suggested we leave, he said he'd wait for the national anthem. I was outta there...I'd rather have sat through a Celine Dion concert twice in the same night. Mr Timbo, I salute you...

Sierra Leone. This is a beautiful country. Diamonds were first discovered here in the 1930s. The country is a hidden gem in many respects. As I begin heading south away from the stadium the backdrop of the hills surrounding Freetown is truly impressive. I turn east along Saunders St which merges into Siaka Stevens St. He is a former President, not to be confused with a 1980s UK pop singer of a similar name.

Freetown is awake. The streets are already busy. There's a haze over the city. The people here are more animated than Monrovia. Plenty shouts of, "white man, well done, well done, well done." I'm running along Siaka Stevens towards the Cotton Tree. This giant tree is over 200 years old and the landmark of Freetown. It was here in the late 1700s a group of African American slaves landed on the shoreline and gathered around the tree. They prayed and sung hymns to thank God for deliverance to a free land. They were free, this place would be called Freetown.

This area is the oldest part. I do a circuit of the Cotton Tree and run past the Supreme Court, an impressive old colonial building. I glance up the hill towards State House, towards Parliament and gradually pick up the pace running past the only post office in Freetown on my left. Although around 1.5 million people live here it has the feel of a village. Everyone is connected, related, everyone knows everyone and everything. A true village, complete with its one post office.

I don't want to romanticise what I'm seeing. As in Monrovia there is plenty of poverty. Many people are scratching a living in any way they can. They are extremely resourceful. They have to be. The reality here is the lack of life security means people die sooner, work harder, eat less, get ill, essentially the shitty end of the stick. Oh, and despite everything, it's also one of the happiest places in the world...

It's already hot. I once read that Sierra Leone has never recorded a daily temperature under 19C. The run feels special this morning. I am running with a smile on my face. I'm sweating, breathing hard, but it feels good. I head west on Wilberforce St. This will be my finish point later, I want to finish at the Crowne Bakery for breakfast. It opens at 0800 hrs. I have a clean shirt tied around my waist.

The city is getting ready for another day. The well worn taxi's are busy moving people around. The okadas (bike taxi's) are active. Everyday in the city around 40 newspapers are printed. The young boys are already selling them. The fruit sellers are arranging their wares. You can buy ground nuts everywhere. Coconuts are bagged and ready to distribute. I sometimes have a 'half young' after my run. Coconut water is natures isotonic drink. The disabled & amputees are beginning to move to their usual patches.

I'm joined by a local jogger. His name is Abdul. He wants to run with me. He wants to look after me. I pat him on the shoulder in greeting. He asks, "how d body?" My Krio isn't great but I can handle this one. "I is well". He smiles. The true answer, my left knee is sore, my achilles is still playing up from time to time. I don't know the Krio for this.

It's time to head into some of the side streets that join Pademba and Siaka Stevens, the main roads into the Cotton Tree and the heart of town. I run down Henry St, Charles St, there's even a Charlotte St - that's my youngsters covered. The side streets are full of life. Fuller figured, brightly dressed Salone ladies sweeping out their front yards. Stray dogs roaming to pick up titbits. Abdul stays on my shoulder. I've had worse, I've had young kids in flip flops keep up with me. One time upcountry, going up a hill, a women in flip flops with a baby wrapped on her back went shoulder to shoulder for a mile - now that was embarrassing.

I say my farewells to Abdul (so I can slow down), who's hardly out of breath. Back at the Crowne there's a group of disabled and amputees who essentially beg outside this establishment. It's not in your face begging; they have dignity, are polite and generally well-behaved. This is a crew. This is their patch. No-one else can come here. They are democratic. They are well organised. They have a Chairman, a deputy Chairman and so on. In this crew donations are shared equally and sustain around 50 - 60 people. I like the Chairman, he's never happy and always tries for more. Who can blame him.

I provide them with a big bag of 'Uncle Joes' rice every month. It costs $30. They're pleased with the rice, but it would taste better with some sauce for the cassava. The Chairman is never happy.

Freetown is a vibrant colourful city. It's noisy, it's smelly, it's hot, sticky and humid, it drains you, you see some unpleasant things, the infra-structure is creaking, but it's real and has tremendous heart. SL is a country on the up.

Looking forward, the third in this series will be a run at Tokeh Beach. A stunning beach around 75 mins southeast out of town along the Peninsular. Another side of this hidden gem. I'm there at the weekend. It will be a different run entirely.

If you're sat at home reading this in the storms of the UK, frozen Western Canada, or elsewhere - and have the spirit of adventure, don't obsess about creature comforts, not worried about the odd sandbank, then pack your anti malarial tablets and visit Sierra Leone. If you're considering Gambia (which is Africa light), pick up a copy of 'Heart of the Matter' and book for here instead (by the way, brush over the references to 'White Man's Graveyard'). If you're not convinced wait for the beach run. In any event come, the Chairman will be pleased to see you.

P.S. Many thanks for all of the positive emails following the first blog. A namecheck for Bev in Calgary who had a tough 2013. I'm thinking of you and know that 2014 will be much better. I had to look up vicariously...

'Early Morning Run in... Monrovia'

There's a saying that every morning in Africa, a Gazelle wakes up. It knows it must run faster than the fastest lion or it will be killed. Every morning a Lion wakes up. It knows it must outrun the slowest Gazelle or it will starve to death. It doesn't matter whether you are a Lion or a Gazelle... when the sun comes up, you'd better be running. Africa gets up early, so do I when I'm here...

I set off from Mamba Point Hotel in the western part of Monrovia. A city of around one million souls is mostly up and on the move. Monrovia is named after an American President in the 1800s, it's vibrant even at 0700 hrs. It's a young city. I've read 40% of the population is under 14 years old.

Talking of President's, it's rare in Africa not to see their images everywhere. This is the only African country with an elected female President, I see no sign of her on the streets. The President's CV is impressive, elected twice and a Nobel Prize winner. I'm heading west now, but later I'll be in taxi's probably listening to public opinion on the job she's doing. After all, the people who should be running any country are taxi drivers and hairdressers. They have all the answers. No sign of Ellen....

Running north up UN Drive alongside the Atlantic Ocean as this city sparks into life, no one notices me, they're mostly ambivalent and why wouldn't they be. Traffic is pretty orderly and drives on the right side of the road, the typical mix of 1980's cars and older, interspersed with some big fancy Chelsea tractors, big 4 by 4's. Not too many though, this country is poor. Really poor. This city seems to function OK. Just like London, every other vehicle is a taxi, here they are mostly yellow and run down, with an occupancy level of more than the usual four passengers. I see no bus stops, there is little public transport. Taxies are cheap and help run this city. Some of them even have names, there's a white one full of cuddly toys, disco lights and furry dice called 'Sweet Jesus'.

When you see a black Range Rover anywhere, it makes you think. Footballer? Drug dealer? Crook? Successful businessman? In Africa, it's more....politician? Someone connected?

Continuing along UN Drive, I jog past probably the most secure building in Monrovia. A prison? No. Bank vault? No. The President's house? No. It's the US Embassy. It's vast, impressive and secure. I turn right and pass more secure buildings. Not in the same league as the US Embassy. They're all side by side; the UN, Unicef and WFP. A lot of aid remains in this country, even after the war finished 12 years ago. Most cities have a diplomatic sector - the main embassies, excellent hotels and decent infrastructure. Monrovia seems no different, this is probably the best part of the town.

The roads for an impoverished West African country are in good shape, the government has apparently done well. The distinctive hum of generators is apparent; so good roads, electricity is a work in progress. I'm on to Benson Street. Liberia is one of only two African countries never colonised. It has significant ties to the US, hence naming a street after George Benson?

Benson Street is slightly downhill, so I pick up the pace. This city is flat, and no relief, so hilly is relative. Street cleaners in smart blue coveralls are in evidence sweeping up, the town is clean for West Africa. Waste management and having 27 different coloured bins for recycling isn't the highest priority where many waking up will do so hungry.

I get onto some of the small joining streets heading north, I want to push up to the Mesurado River. There are US references everywhere but no major international brand names to be seen. Shops are preparing to open, all are grilled, and most have significant metal plates all over them, no window shopping here. There's no Starbucks, no Pret A Manger, not even a Holland and Barratt anywhere (ha, thankfully). Many of the shop owners seem Lebanese. Every other shop is an electronics shop of some kind.

These side streets have plenty of energy, it's enjoyable running down them. I get over to Water Street and need to turn back to the hotel. Time to head south. It's already hot and sticky, you don't need to do layered-up here. You don't need headphones or entertainment, the streets provide this. Moreover, you need all of your senses working overtime as it can be like a virtual video game. The storm ditch you can fall in, the rock you can trip over, the guy carrying wood on his head that you might have to duck under, the doors opening on the taxi's that you swerve to avoid, and so on...

I hit Johnson Street heading south and run past the old national football stadium. One of the most famous footballers in the world a few years back was George Weah. A great player, who is today a prominent political player in the country, even running for President in 2005.

Back on United Nations Drive heading west back to Mamba Point. There is the odd policeman around, and there's plenty of local security, means this is a decent area. I go past St. Teresa's Covent School, the kids are so smart in their green and white uniforms, big smiles and happiness everywhere. I pick up the pace... and think fleetingly of my late departed Auntie Teresa from Ireland.

I come off the Drive just to see the beach, which is called Miami Beach. This is where any similarity ends. It's not wide and has a significant camber, which means not great for running. There are stray dogs and rubbish everywhere, but always good to see the ocean. I notice a 'Golds Gym', which of course isn't what you might call a franchise operation.

As I near the hotel I hear, "Papi" shouted from over the street. It's the rental car driver from the previous day who picked me at the airport. "Papi", is a respectful greeting. I like it a lot, smile and wave back. His name is Shelton, and while he's not the world's greatest driver, he's certainly entertaining. He was yesterday when we had a policeman chasing us on a bike taxi...but that's another story...

I like the look of Monrovia, the feeling and first impression is a good one. I enjoyed this run. The next early morning run will be in Freetown, Sierra Leone...