On the following day I still had 80 km left to Toliara, the city where my Malagasy cycling escapade was to end. Unaware of some adventures that were awaiting me, I was admiring lonely baobabs. 20 km before Toliara I got a flat tyre, and it wasn't a minor issue! I must have run into opuntia spines – this plant is common in the south of the island. Thus I had not just one hole but ten! I put a spare tube in, and started praying that nothing like that would happen again – it was my last spare tube.

However, later that evening, in Toliara I noticed that the other tyre was losing air as well. On closer inspection – with the wheel out – I found more spines. I had a few patches left, but there were fifteen holes, some of them microscopic. As a result, I had to split the patches into two or even three parts.

Next day I packed my bag and – this time without the bicycle – headed for Ifaty, which is considered the most beautiful diving sites.

In front of the hotel I hired a pousse-pousse, which is a type of rickshaw pulled by a 'marathon runner'. I wanted to give him a chance to earn some money, also wishing to get to the taxi-brousse 'station' as fast as possible. The station was in fact a place where all those vehicles gathered – nothing more. No additional facilities, save for hundreds of stands and stalls offering food and other goods. Enticed by a tout, I took a seat in a taxi-brousse. It was a mistake, because the vehicle – sized like a truck with a roofed back, and equipped with benches – was practically empty. And it would not leave until more passengers turned up. The taxi was cruising around the city, looking for people who wanted to travel to Ifaty. It lasted for an hour and a half! When we finally set off, I discovered that the road was all buried in sand. I only prayed that we wouldn't have to get out and push the truck. In fact I had heard such stories! The fact that the vehicle was packed full of people only made the trip more unforgettable. I had to look for free space to set my feet on, among hens and bags of rice. Dust was getting into my eyes and ears, and in this babel of voices around me I could hear shouting Malagasy and crying children.

After 45 minutes I got off in a small village. I walked to the ocean, stumbling across a restaurant run by French people. Obviously, the prices were steep, but at least I could photograph an egg of the Aepornis – the legendary extinct giant bird. The egg was enormous indeed. Almost twice the size of my head!

As I was strolling along the beach, a Malagasy asked me if I wanted to dive. Sure I did! This was why I had been carrying along a diving mask for the whole month. I asked him to find me flippers. He was back in no time with the flippers and with another Malagasy man. They began to prepare a canoe-catamaran – when the mast was up we sailed away at neck breaking speed. The wind was pushing us forward so fast that we were jumping over the waves. Soon we got to the reef. The Malagasy drove a long pole into the bottom – water was 2.5 m deep in that place. The pole served as our anchor. I jumped into the water – what a delight! Although it was just the foretaste of the things hidden deeper below, I was really impressed. Unfortunately I couldn't dive for a long time, because the Malagasy insisted that we come back. I took a taxi-brousse from Ifaty to Toliara, and this time I had to ride outside, standing on the last step of the truck! There was no reliable thing I could hold on to, especially that several people were squeezed in front of me. Somehow I took hold of something, at the same time embracing a plump Malagasy woman. My heavy backpack was pulling me back, so I was in fact hanging in a quite uncomfortable position. On top of it all, the nasty dust was getting everywhere. When the truck arrived in Toliara, I was white from head to toes. Luckily, the shower was waiting for me at the hotel.