From Nosy Be to Ambilobe via Ambanja: Gasy Stories, a Street Photography Project.

As I explained in that story, because of the weather conditions we had to cut our route in half, with entire regions becoming inaccessible after the cyclone. A few months after returning to France, one question naturally came up: where should I go on my next trip? I considered several options, but Madagascar kept lingering in the back of my mind. As soon as I got home, I already knew I had fallen in love with this incredible country, but it was only several months later that the memory turned into something I genuinely missed, as though the experience had needed time to settle within me before I could fully grasp just how extraordinary that journey had been.

There was a lingering sense of unfinished business after all the insurmountable obstacles that had forced us to abandon so much of our original plan. So I decided to go back, this time during a season that was supposed to be far kinder, and much better suited to a long ride on a little motorbike. I didn't think it was worth learning any lessons from the first trip. I think anyone who had spent days dragging a motorcycle with slick tyres through deep mud would have come back determined to use one fitted with proper knobby tyres.

But my budget didn't necessarily allow me to buy a more expensive motorcycle. I needed a luggage rack to carry my gear, which you don't get on a motocross bike, and I wasn't allowed to ride anything bigger than 125cc anyway. I'd already proved it could be done in apocalyptic conditions, so during the dry season it should be (almost) a walk in the park. Since, just like the first time, my plan was to sell the bike before flying home, the cheaper it was, the better my chances of finding a buyer, because not everyone in Madagascar can afford an expensive machine.

I quickly realised that if I wanted to do another road trip across Madagascar, I'd have to do it alone. I wondered if I might get a little bored travelling by myself, and since I'd thrown myself back into photography in the meantime, the idea of building a photographic project quickly became obvious. I no longer had just an itinerary—I had a purpose.

The itinerary: Nosy Be–Ambanja, Ambanja–Ambilobe, Ambilobe–Vohémar, Vohémar–Sambava, Sambava–Antalaha, Antalaha–Vohémar, Vohémar–Ambilobe, Ambilobe–Antsiranana (Diego-Suarez). Then 15 days off in Diego, followed by Diego–Ambilobe, Ambilobe–Ambanja and Ambanja–Nosy Be to finish the trip. Finally, 10 days in Nosy Be to give myself enough time to sell the motorcycle before flying home.

I also managed to get in touch with an old acquaintance who lent me some money until I could get my withdrawal methods up and running, which meant I was actually able to eat on my first day! Of course, you can exchange cash at the airport or elsewhere, but it's definitely not the most cost-effective option.

It wasn't until the morning after I arrived that I was able to set up this payment method, which turned out to be incredibly useful throughout the entire trip. I still had to make one large cash withdrawal from the bank to avoid hitting my payment limits (with Orange Money, a cash withdrawal counts as a card payment), because just like the first time, I'd decided to buy a brand-new motorcycle instead of renting one.

After those few little adventures, I was finally able to buy the motorcycle as planned. I went for exactly the same model as last time: a Bajaj Boxer 125HD, a small Indian-built motorcycle renowned for its toughness and reliability, which cost me €980 brand new. There's quite a bit of paperwork to get through if you want everything to be in order, but it's when you come to sell the bike that the administrative burden really makes itself felt. I'll talk about that another time, otherwise this article is going to become unbearably boring. Just remember one thing from this little introduction: allow yourself three days before setting off on your adventure, because something always comes up.

On my first road trip in 2024, I was completely winging it. This time, I was only mostly winging it. I'd swapped my elastic bungee cords for proper straps, and I'd bought a pair of waterproof saddlebags that mounted on either side of the motorcycle, giving me a decent amount of storage space. On the other hand, I still didn't own a motorcycle suit or even a proper pair of hiking boots. I was riding in jeans and my Vans.

Saturday, 2 August 2025, 6:30 a.m. The village of Madirokely is slowly waking up, my luggage is strapped to the bike, and I'm ready to go! First stop: the port of Hell-Ville, about half an hour away if you take it easy. It's surprisingly difficult to get reliable information about ferry departure times. If you've read the first article, you'll know that the schedule can change completely from one moment to the next! Everyone will tell you the same thing: get there as early as possible if you want to make sure you get on board.

On the ferry, I met Nicolas and Dominique, two Frenchmen who have been living in Nosy Be for the past twenty years and who organise dugout canoe expeditions well away from the beaten track. Their concept is truly unique, and they absolutely live and breathe it. We hit it off straight away and promised to meet again that very evening in Ambanja, the town we were both heading to.

I unloaded the bike and went for a walk through the town. Ambanja has a reputation for being permanently blanketed in dust, but with almost no wind that day, I didn't really get that impression. Part of the town is genuinely charming, with lovely little cobbled streets that are a pleasure to wander through.

After that little stroll, I climbed back onto my faithful steed and headed south of the town, through the cocoa plantations. The region produces exceptionally high-quality cocoa, and there are probably plenty of official tours you can take, but I'd much rather wander around on my own and let chance decide my route, even if it means missing a few things along the way. It's that feeling of freedom that makes me happy, far more than ticking boxes on a tourist itinerary.

I stopped near a plantation that looked completely deserted. Scattered across the ground were dozens of small sacks filled with a brown powder, and my incredible powers of deduction told me it probably had something to do with cocoa. I walked over to satisfy my curiosity when two guys with distinctly suspicious expressions suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Judging by the look on their faces, they seemed convinced I'd come to steal their future Nesquik. Me, I only drink coffee. Then they took one look at me and my little motorbike and quickly decided I wasn't much of a threat. They confirmed that the sacks were indeed full of cocoa.

The Ambanja region really is beautiful. Later on, I would meet a Franco-Malagasy man of Vietnamese descent who organises cycling tours there. That evening, Nico and Dom got in touch and asked me to join them on the other side of the bridge, south of Ambanja, at a little bar where we had a few drinks before dinner and carried on getting to know each other.

It was just before meeting up with them that I took one of the photographs from the Gasy Stories series. If you ever find yourself in Ambanja, I've got two places to recommend for a good meal: the restaurant at Hôtel Patricia and the one at Palma Nova Hotel. I also met two young guys, both former soldiers, who were now working for Colas, the large French construction company, providing security for building sites. Every time I met someone, I mentioned that my brand-new motorcycle would be for sale in about a month's time at 25% below its purchase price, and after just two days on the road I already had two or three potential buyers. So, to be honest, selling the bike again wasn't something I was particularly worried about.

The very next morning, I got back on the road, heading for Ambilobe. If you've read the story of my first trip, when I travelled through the aftermath of the cyclone, you might remember that the Ambanja–Ambilobe stage had been absolute hell. It had taken me seven hours to cover the distance between the two towns. Once bitten, twice shy, so I got up very early, not really knowing what to expect.

I was fairly sure it would be much easier this time, but I was genuinely surprised by just how effortless the journey turned out to be. It took me less than two hours! I was almost disappointed that it had become so easy, but at the same time I was happy for the Malagasy people to see their road network improving. The road between Ambanja and Ambilobe was brand new—smooth as a billiard table.

The motorcycle was still being broken in, so I had to be careful not to push it too hard. On the other hand, the two collapsed bridges—Ifasy and Mahavavy—still hadn't been rebuilt, fifteen months after the cyclone. Temporary river crossings had been put in place, which work perfectly well during the dry season, but I imagine they become completely unusable once the rivers are in flood.

I arrived in Ambilobe so early that I couldn't even check into my room yet. Just as I'd done in Ambanja, I left my luggage at the hotel reception and headed out to explore the town on foot. I really have a soft spot for Ambilobe. There's something special about the place. To me, it has this unmistakable Wild West atmosphere. I already mentioned it in my first travel story.

The people are incredibly welcoming. It's probably in this town that I took my best photographs. That afternoon, I rode aimlessly through the streets and the surrounding countryside. No destination, no familiar faces, no landmarks. I had a small Bluetooth speaker strapped to the handlebars, which attracted plenty of curious looks and smiles, especially since I was usually riding along with Malagasy music playing.

From what I experienced while travelling through the region, modern Afro-trap and Afro-pop don't seem to have taken hold there yet. People mostly listen to their own local music, such as salegy, whose biggest current star is Wawa Salegy. Apart from that, raggamuffin and dancehall are hugely popular. Later in the trip, when I passed through Ambilobe again, I was lucky enough to see Basta Lion perform live, one of the best-known figures in Malagasy dancehall.

I also got to see Ngiah Tax Olo Fotsy perform live—I really like what he does! Among the artists on today's Malagasy scene, you could also check out Rim-Ka, Shyn, Lion Hill, Annicette and Madmax. I'm also a big fan of GaEi. Have a listen to his EP Na Lingi—it's a blend of several different styles with a very mellow, love-oriented vibe. He switches effortlessly between Malagasy, French and English, and the production is genuinely excellent.

Beyond local music, I got the feeling that Madagascar's very young population is really into modern rap, especially UK drill—artists like Central Cee, for example. They also know a few names from the French scene, such as Ninho and Theodora. Every now and then I'd blast Dolce Camara from my little speaker while riding through town: hardly any reaction. Booba, who's roughly my age, is apparently music for old people now! On the other hand, I got a few thumbs-up whenever I played roots reggae classics like One Step Forward by Max Romeo. Anyway, enough of this musical digression. If you want to get a feel for the atmosphere of Ambilobe, go and listen to the song Ambilobe by the local artist Rival.

I really enjoyed going out alone in the evenings to the few bars around Ambilobe. Most of the tourists passing through on their way to visit Ankarana National Park tend to stay tucked away in their hotels. One place I'd recommend is the Nana Bar, opposite the Jovena petrol station. There are actually two bars right next to each other, and everyone there is genuinely friendly. One of them serves dishes made with wild game, including flying fox. They offered me a taste, but I politely declined when I found out it was bat. I'll try it one day, but the next morning I was planning to visit Ankarana, so I didn't want to risk my fragile vazaha stomach reacting badly to something completely new.

I also stopped by a bar called Le Métis, on the road to Vohémar, and really liked the atmosphere. Just don't go too late in the evening, because once people start getting drunk, things can potentially get a little lively. A few guys were already completely wasted by the time I got there.

As for places to eat, I already mentioned Ke-Ka-Sha in my first travel story—it's a safe bet. I can also warmly recommend Le Passage, where I received an exceptionally warm welcome. The food is excellent. Le Passage is on the RN6: if you're walking from the Kozobe Hôtel towards the town centre, you'll find it about five minutes away on the right-hand side. Most vazahas will tell you never to eat raw meat in Madagascar, but I love anything raw, so I ordered a zebu tartare—and had absolutely no problems whatsoever.

Throughout the trip, I happily worked my way through fish and zebu carpaccios without ever getting sick. In Diego-Suarez, I even ate oysters—absolutely perfect. I never came across a sushi restaurant in any of the towns I visited, but then again, that's not exactly why you come to Madagascar.

The morning after my grand tour of the local nightlife, I woke up a little later than planned, especially since I'd barely slept in Ambanja because of the heat and the power cuts. I set off on the motorcycle towards Ankarana, where I was planning to visit the national park, but this time part of the road turned out to be fairly rough, and I didn't arrive until around 11:30 a.m.

The guides who greeted me told me the walk through the park would take about four hours, which meant I'd be back at the motorcycle around 4 p.m. Since it had already taken me two hours to get there, I decided it was cutting things a bit fine if I wanted to be certain of getting back before nightfall, so I postponed the visit until later in the trip. Ambilobe sits at a strategic crossroads, and I already knew I'd be passing through several more times. Ankarana could wait!