Here they speak English, Creole and Makushi.
They drive on the left side of the road.
Their skin is brown and black, and they pay with their local dollar that nobody wants.

The savanna is green, the track is red.
The bridges are made of wood, the mosquitoes are everywhere.

I am in Guyana.

This is where the serious stuff begins. Before me are 500 km of track, dust, rickety bridges and other pitfalls of any kind.

It's very wild and beautiful, I love it.

After a rather cautious start, I quickly realized that the only way to survive 500 km of corrugated trail without finishing totally stupid, it's speeding. Quickly the speedometer of my bike climbed to 80, 100 and 120 km/h. Dragging a huge cloud of red dust behind me, I flew over potholes, most of them at least. The ones I could not avoid did not cause much damage; I was just too fast for hitting hard.


But there were also the wooden bridges, quite narrow and often in poor condition, always good for a full braking, high heart rate and cold sweat, I have to confess.

After 200km, I stopped at the  Rock View Lodge at Annai, a small hamlet, and a piece of heaven on earth. It is so beautiful that I decided to stay here one more day.