We broke camp and headed into Nguigmi pretty early. We checked in with customs to get our carnet stamped and to get an idea of which way to head to the border. Witt had been in contact with Vicky from another overland party ahead of us on the road who said that navigation into Chad and around the lake wasn't too difficult but wasn't easy either. She told us to "Turn right at the cow with the big horns!"

We headed out of town in what we thought was the correct direction. Nguigmi is on what was once the shore of Lake Chad. As we got out of town the road degraded into a series of tracks in the sand. The going got harder and harder as the sand got softer, in may cases chewed up by the big transport trucks. At one point we passed crew of oil rig trucks heading the other way. Navigating by GPS we eventually reached a series of small huts out of a dusty and desolate section of lake bed. This turned out to be the last Niger military police check point and not the actual border. The men checked out passports and even had a cursory look through the trucks.

Then it was back out into the sand. The Chad border post was a small village in the middle of nowhere. We were shuffeled from one hut to another and all the officials claimes some malady, maybe thinking we had medicine. Not being doctors we stuck with handing out bottled water which they seemed happy with. The border formalities didn't take very long and soon we were into Chad and looking for a campsite. Unfortunaely we didn't get a customs check, and were told to go to Bol for that.

Back in Niamey we had been told to keep a low profile whicle in Chad, so we found a stand of trees of the track and made camp there. Graham took a walk and saw a small deer. Connie set up a kitchen and when to work cooking. At several points during the evening we heard vehicles off on the track, and saw lights in the distance, but no one approached us.

The roads (tracks) in Chad got no better as we rounded the north end of the ancient lake. They were great fun to drive on, but slow going. At a small village called Baga Sola we found what seemed to be the remains of a pretty major road. It was wide and straight and had all the trappings of an interstate highway, except that it had been made from lake mud and was now ripped to shreds and marred by huge pot holes and sinks of fesh fesh or bull dust.

We followed this road into Baga Sola, until we realized that it was going the wrong way to get to Bol, so we about-faced and looked for tracks heading in the correct direction. Following the new road would probably have been wise, but we took a small track off the road and it ended in a military encampment! The soldiers were as surprised as we were, and we made a hasty retreat after they misstook our claim of "tourist" as "terrorist"!!

So back on the road from hell towards Bol. When we reached Bol there was no obvious evidence of a customs office. We asked a local man, and he promised to show us, jumping on a motorcycle and motioning for us to follow. We did follow, and he led us down to the shore of the lake to a small building that was customs. The traffic from Nigera was pretty heaviy, consisting mainly of long canoes filled with goods. It became obvious why customs was situated so close to the lake. The customs officer in charge obviously had a lot of power in town and was used to weilding it. He asked us for magazines and "souveniers" in exchange for stamping our carnets. We have his some Readers Digests and dollar bills, and he was satisfied, if not really pleased. As sson as we got the stamps, Witt offered our guide some compensation. The man huffed a little, then became appoplectic and threw the money on the ground, demanding more! Things were deteriorating fast. A crowd was forming and there were ugly looks. We appealed to the customs officer, and he simply stated that what we were offering seemed fair. We left, and the 'guide' got on his motorcycle and passed us as we went down the main street. He stopped near a large group of people, and stood in the middle of the road. Graham, in front, decided it was not the end of the road. He just kept driving, and the man jumped out of the way at the last moment!

We wanted to put some distance between ourselves and Bol before we made camp, so we hurried on. Passing a group of nomads on camels, we were releived by their friendly waves and smiles.

We made camp off the road well before sunset and no one bothered us.

Morning brought more of the road from hell, but eventually we made it to Massakori and tarmac. We turned towards N'Djamena. Not far down the road, Connie and Graham had a flat. We pulled off the road to fix it only to find that both of the spares were flat as well! Graham aired the tire up so it would get into town and we carried on.

We found accomodation at Camping Caravelle in town, a place that was also a bar and local hangout, and had the neighborhood water well. We found the Cameroon embassy, but they were closed, it being Friday and wouldn't open until Monday morning!

Being stuck in N'Djamena for the weekend, we made the best of it by doing repairs and getting ready for the onward journey. Graham repaired 4 tires and rotated them. We did what shopping we could, though being the weekend not all that much was open.

Camping Caravelle proved to be pretty relaxing. We camped inder some large trees close to the bar, so refreshments were always handy! By evening, Graham had come down with dysentary (or travelling runs), so he went to bed early. Witt, Jen and Connie stayed up to watch a group of musicians and dancers put on a traditional show in the camp ground!

More relaxing at Camping Caravelle. Not really as relaxing as it sounds as we are all anxious to carry on.

Monday at last!! We headed into town to go to the Cameroon embassy. We discovered that they required us to leave our passports with them to get the visas. We were told to pick our passports up in the morning.

We went to the US embassy to check in and deliver the message from Richard, the vice-consul in Niamey.

Then we had to go shopping (now that the stores were open), and by the time we were done it was getting late.