From the "lower your expectations II" dept.

As long-time readers of Roadspill know, the entire Freedom Flame project in honour of Ghana's 50th anniversary -- or at least my participation in it -- has been a bit of a pooch screw. Things have changed daily, sometimes hourly. It has been somewhat frustrating, but at the end of the day, the chance to visit the furthest reaches of Ghana is certainly worth a little aggravation.

By Thursday things seemed to have come together, but we were unable to hit the road as planned due to... problems. Nothing major, but there were a few little things that had to be inked first.

By the end of the day we had the green light. Everyone was on the same page. And the plan was to take the bus or possibly fly to Accra. By air force jet, the flight is a scant 45 minutes. By bus, about 4 hours.

Lower your expectations.

However, by dinnertime Thursday it was apparent that we would have to take the bus. Trouble was, we weren't able to buy an advance ticket as the STC bus office closed at 6.

Asamoah, bless him, offered to hit the STC office on his way to work in the morning. At around 6 he secured two tickets for the 11:30 a.m. air conditioned comfo-rama coach to Accra. It was coming together.

I spent the morning packing things and charging batteries. I was unable to do that overnight as we were again subjected to yet another rotating power outage. It's more than just no lights. It means a night of sweating and not sleeping due to the lack of a ceiling fan. The 12-hour power outages aren't that common, but when they hit, well, it sucks.

Thank God I bought one of those Petzl coal miner's type lamps. When I dropped $35 on one at Mountain Equipment Co-op, I thought it was something I would never use. Ha! It is the one thing I would highly recommend to anyone travelling anywhere. It's so nice to be able to walk around with your forehead lighting the way. It's even nicer to be able to read as you swelter in the unbearably humid and still night air. And the batteries last forever, despite the sweat induced shorts.

I had a traditional breakfast of Corn Flakes and UHT milk and a bodum full of fine coffee before heading into work around 10 a.m.

I wanted to use the interNOT one last time before leaving. I managed to download all 52 new emails. 48 were spam, junk or CNN Breaking News Alerts (Face of Jesus found on Teen Burger).

At 10:30, Asamoah and I hopped into the Skyy vehicle and Kojo drove us to my place to pick up all the gear. After that we headed to the STC bus station in plenty of time to catch the 11:30 to Accra.

Lower your expectations.

At 11:40 a.m. we were informed that there were problems with our air-conditioned pimped out bus-a-topia. It was, in fact, not working. A back up would be brought into service and because it was a lower class of bus (broken air con, non-functioning toilet) we had to get new tickets issued so we could get a refund of a few thousand cedis.

Upon hearing the refund announcement, everyone raced to the only ticket window. Luckily, Asamoah is small and nimble and was able to break through the crowds and secure our refund.

At 12:30 p.m. the replacement bus chugged up, belching a black death that enveloped anyone unfortunate enough to be outside. Ten minutes later we were crammed on the lower class bus and heading east to Accra.

About an hour later we pulled into STC depot the seaside town of Cape Coast. The oil company GOIL (I always chuckle when I say that... I like GOILs) shares a large lot with the bus station, a restaurant and a bar where the music is cranked to "over modulate."

As the bus came to a stop, the driver informed us that there were problems with our second-class chariot, though he would endeavour to fix them. Asamoah and I headed into the restaurant for a plate of rice and chicken and a bottle of Star lager.

After about half an hour, Asamoah wandered outside to see how McGyver was coming along with his stick of gum and rubber band repairs. He wasn't.

We were told that another bus -- the third -- would be dispatched from Takoradi to collect us in about an hour. Luckily the Over Modulation Bar was open for business. I grabbed the Daily Graphic newspaper, headed for a big umbrella and ordered another Star. There's always a silver lining.

After two Stars, our replacement bus arrived. It appeared to be a Soviet model from the mid-60's. We were lucky to have legroom and padded seats.

Despite the large flashing red light on the dash, the bus seemed to work. And it was fast. We passed everything in sight. Trucks on blind curves. Tro-tros on hills. We even passed other STC buses to the surprise of the on coming big-rigs.

We flew along until we hit the outskirts of Accra, where traffic seems to stop for no apparent reason. Perhaps it was because there was a power cut, meaning the oft-ignored traffic lights weren't functioning. Hell, neither were our headlights. Maybe that was the reason for the flashing red light on the dash. Or maybe it was a sobriety meter.

It was around 7 p.m. and dark. Asamoah and I were knackered. I called Esi, the JHR person in Accra, to let her know we had arrived. She told us to take a cab from the STC bus station to our hotel, the Kingdom International Hostel conveniently located in the middle of nowhere. She said the cab fare should be no more than 35,000 cedis (about $4).

Surprisingly, the hacks of Accra didn't see it that way. Five of the six that we asked scoffed at us and would accept no less than 60,000. Driver number six relented and agreed to accept 50,000. In a shocking coincidence, he also had no headlights.

Traffic was brutal as we inched from wherever we were to wherever we were going. More parts of town were without power and it was difficult to see anything -- less so with no headlights. I noticed that the roadside hawkers, who sell everything from toilet paper to gum along the "express" way, seem to have an uncanny ability to jump out of the way at exactly the right time.

A few minutes later we saw our Holy Grail: the gaudy sign of the Kingdom International Hostel. Home! It was 8 p.m., roughly 8.5 hours after we should have left Takoradi on what should have been a 4-hour journey.

Lower your expectations.

We were under the impression that we were getting a good rate at the Kingdom: two rooms for one night for 250,000 (about $30). We were left with gaping mouths when we were told to double that.

It's impossible to take out more than 800,000 cedis per transaction at the bank machine, and the wad I thought would last several weeks has suffered a severe case of shrinkage. I had to pay for Asamoah's room, but I should be able to expense most of that.

By 8:30 p.m. we had left our stuff in our cramped rooms and were chowing down on a plate of chicken and rice, washed down with an ever-present Star lager.

We called the organizers of the Freedom Flame and were told that they may not be able to pick us up at 6 a.m. Saturday as no one has a clue as to where we are. We're to call first thing in the morning to see if we have more details on the location of our secret lair.

A few quick notes:

- Now that there is light, I can see how much dirt I collected today. My off white pants are now really off white. And somehow I managed to get pen ink down one leg.

- My room at the Kingdom has a window on the hallway and no air conditioning. I can hear everyone, including the many students who live here, run up and down the hall, screaming and laughing.

- The way the toilet is positioned in the micro-bathroom, I have to put my feet up on the shower enclosure to use it -- meaning I look like I am giving birth when I use it. Sorry for that image.

- Still no sign of my point and shoot camera. Looks like it was nicked from the newsroom. Sigh. I have officially placed a curse on the thief and five generations of his/her children.

That's it for now. The big adventure begins in less than 8 hours with a two-day drive to Wa. I can't wait to break out the good camera and lenses and start shooting!

Cheers!