Trip Report #10 (24-26 July 2009): Road to Chuande (via Metangula)… on to Cobue

After a not so memorable breakfast the next morning we headed out for Chuande, just north of Metangula.  The road there was excellent and we even found cell phone reception (something to do with the local politician having a house there). 

 

 

Anyway, after the previous day’s horror drive we were very happy to do a short distance (132 km) on good tar road.  After driving through some beautiful but hilly countryside you are suddenly confronted with this vista (Metangula in bottom right hand corner).

If I did not know it, I would never have believed I was looking at a lake.  It is difficult to explain how I felt whilst looking at this.  The lake at this point is in excess of 60km wide.

Stopping briefly in the larger Metangula, we wasted no time heading for Chuande (8 Km north).

Adri driving on the connecting road.  Chuande beach in the background

 

 

We found the “Beach Hotel” with some difficulty as there are no road signs, but here we are having our first beer.

 

 

 

 

Our appointed spot was right on the water…

 

 

 

Hennie and Nerina Joins us!

At this point Hennie and Nerina caught up with us and we were all looking forward to staying at this sight for two nights to give them a chance to relax after their long drive from SA.

Campsite just after Hennie and Nerina settled in (on the right)

 

 

Night of the singing dead:

That night we were kept up by the locals who, in preparation for their independence party the following day, made lots of noise by means of a music box.  This was right next to us.  I managed to sneak into the power room behind us and perform a “disconnection”.  This plan backfired as they simply started singing!  The same one liner over and over again.  It was a long night and none of slept properly.

Morning of the walking dead:

The next morning the site was infested by midges.  It was horrible.

Mari-Louise trying to catch up on her sleep after night of hell, whilst being tortured by the midges.

At some point we could not take the pain any longer and when Adri suggested that we head north a day early to Cobue, nobody argued. We realised, as many more people arrived, that the previous night was just the preparation party which the women organised to to food prep etc.

Thing was that Mari-Louise and I had unpacked our whole bus and had to make a huge effort to get everything in within an hour.  We managed it though.

As we left the hotel grounds Mari-Louise and I had a slow getaway taking some wrong turns etc.  As we got to the crossing we were faced with two roads:  the first to the south via Metangula the other north directly towards Cobue.

We looked for Adri and Hennie but could neither see them or raise them on the two way radio.  In the rush we realised we never communicated with them on the exact route and they did not realise we were not behind them.

At this point we consulted the GPS which duly showed us the road north, the direct road which does not go via Metangula.  What we did not realise at that point is that this road was not on Adri’s map so they opted to take the southern loop via Metangula.

Anyway, so north we went in a hurry to catch up with them.  By the time we figured out what happened their was no point in going back.  Of course we should have stayed exactly where we lost them, but hindsight…

Meantime they drove back and forth trying not to panic.  Then Hennie switched on the Tracks4Adfrica map on his GPS and for the first time realised that the north bound road exists.  They figured out that we must have taken this road and followed us about an hour behind.

The road to Cobue:

This stretch of road is truly beautiful, but requires a 4X4.

 

View down the pass to Metangula.  Very steep and requires low range.

 

 

 

 

Cobue is an historic Portugese settlement as is evident by the remains of this church in the centre of the little town.

We soon met up with a man called "James Bond” (no lies), who took us down the the little harbour where he was joint owner in the beach front chalets, which were basically reed huts built directly onto the sand.

Mari-Louise and I proceeded to wait, in the hope that Adri and co will soon follow. 

 

The sunset was just about done when the rest arrived and the confusion was decoded.

We decided to stay in Cobue for two nights, since our plans in Chuande did not work out.  Adri and Anita camped right between the two chalets which the rest of us inhabited.

After some deliberation we decided to spend the next day on the neighbouring island of Likoma, which is actually Malawian territory.  Another border crossing in the offing…

We chartered a boat ride for the next day.

26 July 2009:

We got up after a long night.  Somebody’s baby could not stop crying and nobody slept well.

Here we are ambling down to our chartered dow for the trip across the lake (5.5 km).

 

 

 

View of our camp spot from the dow as we leave.

The trip across was windless and the poor operator had to row us across.  We gave a lady with a sick baby a lift across to go see the doctor (mystery solved).

Arriving on the other side we got of at the local fish drying plant.

The local dry the Kapenta fish which is a stock food in these parts.

 

 

Mari-Louise  taking a rest against a Baobab, after a motion sickness plagued trip.

 

 

 

Carl-Hein waiting for Adri and Anita to catch up before taking in the walk into town.

 

 

It took as a while to realise that we were dropped short of the main town centre by some 5km.   We had to walk all the way in to have our passports stamped.

After establishing that the little blue and white building on the top of the hill is in fact the police office and not immigration, we headed back down the hill and accidently bumped into the immigration officer on his way to lunch.

 

At this point we were all starving and frankly so was the immigration officer.  After some deliberation he gave us the little cards to fill out and sent us off to a place called the “Hunger Clinic” where he would personally come and stamp our passports.  Of course we would repay his kindness and helpfulness by offering him a beer.

The way to the Hunger Clinic:

The way to the Hunger clinic was strewn with interesting little shops which made one realise you are far from home.

On Lokoma Island battery charging and barberry is apparently a linked industry.

The wWay to the Hunger Clinic

 

 

Anita having lunch with immigration officer in background, hard at work.  (Note beer on table)

 

 

 

The way back to the boat.  Women with now healthy baby showing the way.

Luckily the trip back was graced with wind which quartered the travelling time.

That night we ate pasta because Julies (the manager) forgot to source fish for us.

ciao Carl-Hein

Trip Report # 9 (23 July 2009): The LONG way to Linchinga!

We got up the next morning and rushed through breakfast before our audience returned. 

After getting back to the main gravel road I had to re-inflate my tyres which took some time and again drew a crowd.

Mari-Louise picked out some individuals in the crown and this little boy was our favourite. 

 

We headed north up the lake after receiving confirmation, the previous day, from a police control point that there is in fact a border crossing in the north.

Highly excited and impressed with ourselves for making such a discovery we headed north. 

We required the services of these two youngsters to find the actual border.

Getting there introduced some minor obstacles, but in general the road was fine and very beautiful.

 

 

Arriving at the border we found two officials who dutifully told us that they do not have a stamp and that we must travel back to Mangochi in the south, after which we were more than welcome to cross the border here.  mmmmm

So back we went, but not after having two breakdown stops to try and find the cause of Adri’s Syncro stutter. We ended up crossing the border at Chiponde (east of Mangochi) and took on the road north.

 

 

Just more than halfway up to Lichinga we stopped for a rest and toilet facilities (bush).

Traffic was hell and we had to rush to avoid this cyclist.

The view from here was…

…well you make up your own mind.

The last stretch of the trip was done in darkness and on poor roads.  Right near the end I pushed my luck a little too far and went and stood without petrol.  After emptying a jerry can into the fuel tank we were of to Lichinga, hopeful to find a camp site.

We all ended up in the one and only hotel in town where everyone stays.  Hotel Girasol.  I am convinced that the building was converted from an asylum.  The rooms were very clinical, but they were clean and had hot water.

We had dinner in the hotel restaurant where I wanted wine, but could not accept having to pay R200 for a bottle of Nederburg lyric.  The beer was cold and reasonably priced.

This was a very, very long day, and the decision to book into the hotel was probably for the best.

ciao, Carl-Hein.

Trip Report #8 (22 July 2009): Malawi Lake East Coast

We woke up at the Zomba campsite (part of the local trout farm) to the sound of the river flowing past.  It was still cold but the campsite was green and my spirit improved when I tasted Anita’s coffee.

 

 

We visited the hotel on top of Zomba mountain for breakfast.

 

 

 

We stopped at the Liwonde market where we bought more Africa stoves (local version of the Weber).

We decided not to cross the border and head for Lichinga just yet, in an effort not too drive another marathon stretch.

We decided to to drive up the eastern border of Malawi lake and bush camp wherever we found a suitable spot.  We were hoping to find a quit spot.  hehe 

After some distance Adri found an uncharted road which went towards the lake.  We took it and finally had to ask for direction to get through the thicket and get to the water side.  By this time the local village people was so excited that virtually everyone came to watch the spectacle.

Anita was the first to take out an camera and the response was … immediate.

Meanwhile I had some difficulty to get onto the loose sand, but after deflating my tyres… no problem.

 

 

 

We had to negotiate with the locals for access to the site. 

Here is Adri with his interpreter and local elder with whom the negotiation was conducted.

 

Meanwhile the crowd was thickening and eventually Adri introduced a clause into the negotiations whereby we could declare a border. 

The latter was enforced by erecting our clothing line around the site.

 

 

It took some time for our audience to dissipate, but they finally did and we ended up having a wonderful setting, which I doubt will soon be beaten.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This was our view across the lake.  Monkey Bay is clearly visible on the other side, as the lake is still quite narrow here.

ciao, Carl-Hein

Trip Report #7 (21 July 2009): The way to Zomba

This was to be a day of driving. 

We stopped on the way out of Cahorra Bassa to get a better view of the dam wall. 

We pushed on to Tete where we filled up with petrol.  The local garage owners were suitable unfriendly and could not seem to understand why each one of the 4 of us wanted to use their bathrooms whilst filling up our tanks.  Frankly after using the bathroom, neither could we.

Tete is a gateway into central southern Africa with an impressive bridge spanning the breath of the Zambezi.

 

Tete bridge across the Zambezi.

 

 

Viodacom seems to have a footprint in Mozambique in the apparently form of tudobom.

Immediately after crossing the bridge we got pulled of by customs whom extorted some beer and a lift for a colleague out of us.  This was fine until the guy proceeded to start drinking on our back seat and eventually pass out.   

Everyone speaks Portugese in this place and virtually no English. 

 

 

Beer is large…

… and motor cycles even more so…

The border crossing into Malawi was uneventful.  The most memorable part was when our passenger woke from his “slumber” and realised that he missed his turnoff some 40 km back.

The road to Zomba was long and presented a difficult drive for Mari-Louise who took over from me for the last stretch.  Blantyre was extremely busy and presented many driving challenges.

We arrived at Zomba mountain in the dark and cold.

We made good ground this day, but it was hard going.

Regards,  Carl-Hein