Nick Hewer's North African road trip The start of the journey was straightforward, through France, over the Pyrenees and on to Barcelona and the 24-hour ferry service to Tangier. En route I met up with my cousin, Stephen, who, hearing of my wider plans, was concerned. I assured him I would be fine and that people everywhere are generally decent, but I left Europe with his cautionary words ringing in my ears: "I agree they can be nice, after they have cut your tongue out." I had a feeling of excitement mixed with trepidation about the stretch ahead. I knew Africa pretty well but wondered if I had done enough planning. Would the roads be passable? What about security? I'd been given a new £50,000 Toyota Land Cruiser to deliver - which, along with my cargo, would be rich pickings for robbers. I slept little on the ferry as I considered the prospects of success and failure. Tangier to Agadir As the ferry docked in Tangier, Morocco's tatty port city, I realised this was it. I was in Africa. The next stage, through baking desert, steaming jungle and, later, the red dirt roads of Guinea, would test my mettle. On a previous journey, the Mongol Rally My spirits were lifted by an overnight stay in Morocco's second city, Fez. I slept in the heart of the medina in a traditional-style hotel owned by Mark Willenbrock, a Dutch-born Briton married to a beautiful Arab girl. Their two babies chuckled away beneath the arches. I continued to Essaouira, Morocco's "windy city," which counts Jimi Hendrix and Orson Welles among its previous guests. I loved it for its medina, the smell of sardines and the sails of windsurfers dotting the bay with splashes of colour. So far, so easy. But at Agadir, the realities of travelling in this part of Africa hit home. I had been looking forward to heading south along the scorched desert roads that skirt the ocean through the disputed territory of Western Sahara, but in the event the threat of robbery and kidnap there was deemed too great. With film crew in tow, I was refused permission to carry on. My dream of driving all the way had been thwarted, but we arranged to have the vehicles and equipment shipped about 1,500 miles from Agadir to Dakar, the capital of Senegal, from where the journey would resume. Lord Sugar, I was sure, would have approved. Dakar to Freetown Dakar is an amazingly cosmopolitan city, with an intoxicating cocktail of cultures. I ate at the Lagon Restaurant, on a pier in the harbour, where the diplomatic types - French, British and American - have tables and spend their evenings looking daggers at each other. It's fabulous stuff, like being plonked in the middle of a Graham Greene novel. Soon we were making for the border with Guinea, where the tracks were rutted and sometimes treacherous. Occasionally we drove alongside the River Gambia which, I was assured, was absolutely not infested with crocodiles. Everywhere had a distinctly West African feel: people waved and children clapped and sang as our 30ft monster covered them with red dust. Luckily I had packed plenty of energy bars, as the bush food we were offered along the way looked less than enticing. Just over the Guinean border, a woman tried to tempt us with a monkey that had been nailed to a palm tree to dry in the sun. James, the carpenter for whom Nick Hewer travelled to deliver tools After the miracle of our broken trailer rescue soon afterwards, it was a relief finally to reach Freetown, the chaotic capital of Sierra Leone. The electricity supply was intermittent and I arrived in almost complete darkness. There were no road signs; it felt scary and exposed. I was blundering through one of the world's poorest places in a vehicle worth more than most locals would earn in a lifetime. Somehow I reached the recommended Barmoi Hotel, where David Beckham was a recent guest. Over the next five days there, I got very used to fried chicken and cold beer, venturing out just once to the legendary Paddy's Bar, which remained in business throughout the 10 years of civil war and serves everyone from the local hookers to the High Commissioner. I had time to reflect on a journey that in many ways had been even more challenging than those I had undertaken in the past in South America and to Mongolia. Selfishly, I admit I had the adventure of my life, and I was elated to have achieved my target. The problems of security and transport were overcome and in Africa, I met people with nothing who had the ingenuity and kindness to offer me so much. It had been moving, and I learnt a lot from them. For an old man (I am now 69), this was indeed an epic adventure, and possibly the last of its kind. But for James, the enterprising young man for whom I had also undertaken the journey, the gift of a giant saw, the 4x4 car and a raft of essential equipment provided his fledgling carpentry business with the kick-start it needed. I wish him every success in his journey in life. More information You can watch Nick Hewer's journey to Freetown on Four On Demand