Our African Syncro Odyssey

Trip Report #32 (6 - 8 August): Home

2009-08-12T17:08:00.001+02:00

“The important thing about having lots of things to remember is that you’ve got to go somewhere afterwards where you can remember them, you see? You’ve got to stop. You haven’t really been anywhere until you’ve got back home.” – Twoflower, The Light Fantastic

With Pierre’s help (what did I tell you?) we source and install a new oil filter just to find that the starter motor is again acting up. A quick visit to the local VW confirms that the oil filter replacement was successful, but we will be run starting the Syncro all the way to Jozi.

All plans of Solitaire, Sossusvlei, Luderitz, Kolmanskop, Feral Horses and Fish River Canyon is ditched there and then. Slightly exasperated, we decide to cut our losses and head home.

Bytheway, we now know that heavily loaded Kombi’s do not run start when parked on gravel (no matter how many people are pushing) and that any road that may seem to slope downhill to the naked eye is very likely not.

It is good to see Bea and Cleo, to wash our clothes, clear out the kombi, to really wash our hands and feet (and stay clean for longer than 2,5 minutes), to food shop at Woolworths, eat sushi and laze on the couch with a good movie.

I miss the freedom of being on the road, deciding on a day to day basis where we want to sleep next, spending quality time with Carli, the simplicity of worrying only about making it through this day and the wonderful privilege of being close to nature.

Trip Report #31 (5 August): Welwitschia’s, Windhoek and Anniversary

2009-08-12T16:55:00.001+02:00

Armed with a Namibian Wildlife Resorts permit and a sidewalk special, smoked snoek we take the scenic route through the moon landscape and Welwitschia drive via Khomas Hochland to Windhoek.

The Skeleton Coast is so called for the number of boats and sea farers that have met their end along this treacherous/misty coastline. Any ‘lucky’ shipwreck survivors where sure to meet their fate on this desolate and barren expanse of seemingly nothingness.

From the vantage point of our silver bubble isolation it is all very pretty and impressive, but we can’t help agonising (and strategising) for the unfortunate sea mates stranded without food and water and only sand, odd and odd-looking plant life and mirages as far as the eye can see.

At least the lack of crowds for most of the past millennium means that the Welwitschia’s, endemic to this area, could perform their mating ritual (male and female plants exist separately and need to flirt over significant distances), generate offspring and grow their slow 8 - 15cm per year without interference.

Fortunately our breakdown (inevitable of course) only happens 75km from Windhoek and well away from the worst of the desert region. A stone punctures the oil filter and two hours of tacking, plasters, welding and all kinds of innovations proves unable to deliver even a temporary solution.

After two hours of no other vehicles and no cell phone reception, Christa, with a bakkie full of farm workers and provisions from town, stops. Phew, just as we are about to make camp for the night :-) Armed with contact details she promises to radio or call to Windhoek as soon as she has signal for either. As it works out she gets a signal within 500m of leaving us and we get to shout into a handheld wind up speakerphone to Anita.

Enter left, on cue, a few triple gins later: my varsity buddy Pierre. He rocks up (no pun intended) with a T4 Syncro diesel, loaded with oil, oil filters of almost every size and shape and loads of enthusiasm for fixing the silver bubble there and then, but is met with our semi sober insistence to head directly to Windhoek, to not pass go and to not save on towing fees. We hitch a stylish ride and exchange car keys with the passing tow truck that had been summoned to bring the Volla also to civilisation.

Now, Pierre needs special mention. With a hysterical, dry sense of humour, easy manner and without ever breaking a sweat he earned a master’s degree in engineering (right up there amongst the top three performers), he choreographs and performs extremely exclusive strip shows (hie hie sorry Pierre :-)), he coordinated a charity taxi business, refurbished their home into an architectural joy and is father to two BEAUTIful kids all before turning 33. Of course, behind every man… but actually, his incredibly stylish and stunning wife, Elmarie, is probably again testimony to Pierre’s spectacular abilities to always over achieve.

Ps: We celebrate our wedding anniversary with Pierre and Elmarie, whom we last saw at the wedding event, and Anita and Jurie (Anita’s hubby and Pierre’s co strip show performer (sorry Jurie)), over late dinner at Joe’s.

It is an incredible privilege for us and without a doubt one of our best anniversaries to date :-)

M-L

Trip Report #30 (3 - 5 August): Suave Sophisticated Swakop

2009-08-12T16:42:00.001+02:00

The Germans formally ran Namibia for only 35 years almost a hundred years ago, but throughout our trip we find it difficult to believe they have ‘left’ and never more so than in Swakopmund. We treat ourselves with cosy accommodation with the ‘best breakfast in town’ (we do concur with the sales pitch).

After our past six weeks the slick tourist trap sophistication offered by art africa, woolworths, weylandts, cinema, sushi, book/art/coffee gallery, western saloon pizza whilst the desert lurks in the background, is rather soothing to our frayed sandton sensibilities.

I iron out my hair to celebrate (and to deflect any further chirps about unnecessary baggage from Carl-Hein), shop up a storm and see Sunshine Cleaning.

If you are going to dedicate a day to touristy stuff, this is not a bad place to do it. The historic buildings, Museum, Aquarium and Kristal Gallerie are immaculate, interesting and actually worth and fun seeing. The curio shops are stocked to the brim and, as an added bonus, with the 1:1 exchange rate, there is no confusion about what we are being charged for any of these privileges.

M-L

Trip Report #27 (29 - 31 July):

2009-08-01T16:28:00.001+02:00

We have irrefutably established that the EQ of our Volla is below average. We pass more kombi’s than we can manage to keep count of and we are childishly excited, taking numerous photographs of especially funky prototypes. Oddly, the Silver Bubble does not catch on to our mood and as we begin to negotiate Tsumeb’s intersections and traffic signs, the clutch dies :-(

At least we are stuck this time round in ‘Namibia’s prettiest town’. We limp to the nearest backpackers, shunning the safe yard parking option for a sidewalk-based launch position.

Wise move as it turns out. The next morning Carl-Hein is escorted (I will have you know!), by Nico our first contact mechanic, to the local VW expert in town. It is only with the help of local brawn that the Syncro covers the last 200m into Franco’s Executive Auto Repair shop.

New master and slave cylinders had to be ordered from Windhoek and we had bought an extra day in Tsumeb.

The day spent in Tsumeb is surprisingly eventful!

1.) We meet an interesting UN project team from Luanda doing landmine clearing in Angola and have an impromptu coincidentally-shared brunch.

2.) I spend a few hours in the local FNB branch to sort out some bank stuff with incredibly friendly and helpful Namibian bank officials struggling with their not-so-helpful South African counterparts.

3.) And to top the day, dinner is a bizarre but fabulous event in a bakery, pizza cum video store run by a vivacious Italian girl (Francesca), her sullen, wheelchair-bound German hubby (Barend), their well kept Jack Russell cross breed, their aristocratic cat as well as a diverse stream of friends who pop in for a quick hi and drink. We are informed of what our pizza selection will be and I am allocated a scrumptious kudu salami pizza! and Carl-Hein an Italian Sausage and home-made chilli pizza that had even me drooling.

Regards M-L

Trip Report #26 (28- 29 July): Ngepi Camp

2009-08-01T12:00:00.001+02:00

Driving into Namibia reminds me of arriving in Amsterdam after backpacking through Europe – faintly familiar and comfortable.

We share the Protea Hotel run Zambezi Lodge Campsite with Sam Nujoma’s extensive security detail and watch from our camp chairs the formal procession and VIP guest arrive. Safe sleeping tonight.

With characteristic hospitality we are invited to a braai by Vernon, a young South African/Namibian who is working on a short term road construction project in the area and opts to camp with Ogies, the cutest Jack Russell girl, rather than pass his time in hotels (understandably). The party grows with the kameeldoring fire and include visits from police officers who exchange stories of Zambian Mokoro raids (fables of chest freezers being liberated, precariously balanced and exported on Mokoros!) on riverside properties for meat and braai broodjies.

For the first time in weeks we wake up to the sound of roosters rather than Fish Eagles. Zambia is less than 10km away and backtracking our steps is extremely tempting.

Fortunately our next stop is Ngepi Lodge which the Lonely Planet claims to be the best backpackers in Namibia. We take the gravel road less travelled via Linyanti swamps and marvel at the engineering road building excellence with the memory of our experience in Mozambique still fresh, but beginning to feel imagined/exaggerated and impossible.

Ngepi is indeed fabulous, fun, environmentally friendly and offers wake up calls by Fish Eagles. The bird life is truly impressive, helped on by a natural forest floor cover which provides lots of food for the birds.

Best toilet on trip.

Apparent split bathrooms.

The inside. Note the lock on the men’s side.

We would have liked to stay longer, but our holiday time is running out and Namibia is vast with much left to see so we push off to Tsumeb – reportedly the prettiest town in Namibia.

Regards, M-L

Trip Report #25 (26 - 27 July): Livingstone I presume…uhhh…can you help push the bus?

2009-08-01T11:43:00.001+02:00

Mvuu Lodge to Livingstone is a long but easy drive except for roughly 80km under construction just before Livingstone town. The quarterly government issue Zambia Review states in excess of 58% of roads in Zambia are now in a good condition (up from 20% when the infrastructure development programme started). I guess it was inevitable that this road should also have a 42%.

We are headed to the magical Jungle Junction Bovu Island 30km outside of Livinsgtone and on route to the Katima Mulilo border crossing, but as we drive into Livingstone the syncro stalls and …three guesses …refuses to start. The starter motor apparently. Run starting proved easy enough with help from the locals, but now we needed accommodation somewhere close to help.

For the first time on our trip we experience peak season and find Fawlty Towers, Jolly Boys Backpackers and their recommended alternatives in town jam packed. With a well coordinated and nifty run start manoeuvre we make it to Bushfront just outside of town and set up camp in a perfectly quaint camp spot. Bizarrely, we are greeted by Joost and Caroline, neighbouring campers from Mvuu Lodge! who identifies the distinct and uncommon-in-Africa sound of the VW kombi, and incredulously recognises our vehicle (rather than ourselves).

Dinner is whole bream shared with Simba the local ginger cat.

Breakfast at Rapsody’s in an all South African shopping centre opposite the very efficient and Afrikaans Bennet’s Auto Repairs Shop. This drill is becoming overly familiar. Luckily the starter motor is only dirty from dust roads and gunk and the wait here short lived.

Note the “Importing of all spares from SA” as an specialization.

We do visit the falls and the curio shops in a stubborn insistence on seeing sights other than auto repair shops.

The falls from Zambia. Water level is not as high as it gets, but the river is flowing over the full rock face, yielding an artificial rain.

It’s wet (rain from falls)

We pass the turn off for Bovu Island with disappointment and head for Namibia.

Our moods were lifted by this pink cravat wearing policeman.

Maybe our Volla will feel more welcome in a country where VW Kombis are revered and will stick with the programme.

He had better as at this point we are tempted to ditch this trip and head home for two weeks of car-problem-free holiday.

Regard M-L

Trip Report #24 (24 - 26 July): The opposite of Mana Pools

2009-08-01T10:06:00.001+02:00

On the bank of the Zambezi, opposite the legendary Mana Pools National Park in Zimbabwe, lies Zambia’s Lower Zambezi National Park (LZNP). Seeing that any Zimbabwe border crossings are right at the bottom of our wish list at present, we have been keenly investigating opportunities to visit the Zambian answer to the Mana Pools. Information about this newest of Zambia’s National Parks is scarce and that which is scrounged from the internet, books and picking the brains of hosts and their contacts seem to indicate high end lodges, exorbitant prices and poor accessibility by road. In fact, the refraining response points to canoe safari’s being the most preferred way of exploring this part of the Zambezi. We toy with this idea, but our time is running out and three days isthe shortest trip that includes this area.

But, at Pioneer Camp in Lusaka we find an enticing glossy brochure for Mvuu Lodge just 18km short of the LZNP gate offering exclusive, but affordable camping facilities, clear directions that seems doable and day canoe trips!

Elly Camp, Mvuu Lodge, LZNP is therefore where we excitedly head from Kafue.

O yes, as we have to pass through Lusaka again, Carl-Hein stubbornly insists we stop to collect the claim forms to recover our 39% import duties/taxes. He gets totally snookered by incompetence, new officials and new facts entirely inconsistent with the instructions received on Monday. When navigation of the pillars and posts of this maze leads to the Commissioner who is only ‘maybe’ available we cut our losses and head out of town.

Mvuu Lodge is everything the glossy brochure promised it would be and more.

The 18km road to the Park entrance is difficult and slow and guests from game drives return disappointed.

Ferry crossing to get to MVuu lodge.

(This is before the road gets bad)

The LZNP is also plagued with poaching (losing 40 elephant in the past year alone to poachers!) and for reasons unknown, a diminishing population of carnivores.

Elly campsite (Mvuu) right on the Zambezi.

(Private gas fired bathroom, private washing basin)

View of Zambezi from Mvuu cocktail stoep.

We opt for a canoe trip when told of elephant river crossings with trunks held high and great sightings from a river perspective. Unfortunately the day of our canoe trip is windy and overcast so wildlife sightings are few and the navigation of choppy, croc filled waters is nerve racking. We do however get front seat viewing of the numerous luxury lodges along the river bank!

Mana Pools are in fact no longer four (mana = four in the Shona language) pools since the construction of the Kariba dam. The remaining attraction is the diversity and density of wildlife on the Zimbabwe side. Crossing fingers that the newly formalised Game Management Agency on the Zambian side with the blessing of the local Chieftainess will promote responsible game management and infrastructure upgrading to rival the legend of Mana Pools.

Leaving Mvuu we had to yield to some locals.

M-L

Trip Report #23 (22 - 24 July): KKKKKold Kafue

2009-07-27T10:11:00.001+02:00

Zambia really is expensive. And this view is echoed by locals and fellow tourists alike. I can speculate about the possible reasons for this i.e. landlocked status, high custom charges/import duties as we have already discovered, high influx of international tourists and expats paid in Dollars, but whatever the reason/s, the costs are high and it is getting to our dwindling budget.

We camp in Kafue in one of the very few affordable lodges/camps North of the main road to the Western Province. We target the North as it offers more open plains and the opportunity to see Cheetah, Wild dogs and scenery that differs from what we have seen so far.

The Mayukuyuku camp comes recommended by Flatdogs and has great facilities (camping and otherwise), a glorious setting on the bank of the Kafue and is completely empty due to late cancellations (fortunate for us, less so for the camp). It is located in the National Park itself and park charges for the duration of our stay exceeds the total costs of our three night accommodation, game drive and drinks at the bar.

We are spoilt rotten with our dishes being done for us, fire made for us and laundry done at now additional charge. Most impressive though is the environmentally conscious operation of the camp. For the first time we are obliged to separate waste and see evidence of waste reclamation and renewable energy sources everywhere.

The 0600 game drive happens in blistering cold weather as we set out (again) to see wild dog and cheetah. The wild dogs, cheetah and most possibly the late cancellations are smarter than we are and stay in bed this morning. We do however see lion, elephant, chameleon warthog (they are distinctly dusted by the colourful soil of their burrows ), an African Finfoot, a corpse of a porcupine and a variety of antelope. We are also introduced to the notorious black cotton soil that makes this area so very inaccessible during the rainy season.

We do not recover from the chill in our bones till midday.

Mainly because of the weather we decide against any other activities (more morning or evening game drives, safari walks or boat rides on offer) and we spend the remainder of the day and the next lazing around our riverside campsite from sun spot to sunspot. We are in good company with a pair of crocodile on the opposite bank, a pair of Cormorants and a pair of Egyptian geese on the little island opposite us doing the exact same thing.

Pss, we are finally up to date with our blogging. If only we can get these blogs loaded. Only satellite phone reception here.

M-L

Trip Report #22 (19 - 21 July): Another Black Hole…Lusaka

2009-07-27T09:43:00.001+02:00

Black holes suck things in. They are both rare and numerous in our very vast universe, but I have found my second one… Lusaka.

Leaving Flat Dogs we stayed one night at the “Dean’s Hill View Lodge” in Chipata. Here we discarded two back-packers from Slovenia to go on their way to neighbouring Malawi and a lower cost of living.

The road from Flat Dogs to Chipata was all pretty bad corrugated gravel and I am really tired from fighting with the again deteriorating VW accelerator pedal. I fall into bed at about 1600, only waking up to find Mari-Louise going to bed at 1930. I do not budge.

We wake up early the next morning (no kidding) and set off for Lusaka. My back starts to cramp from the pedal being as wobbly as a child’s soft toy and Mari-Louise takes over for the last half.

The road from Chipata to Lusaka has no gas stations and we have to stop to utilise our emergency jerry can of 20l of petrol. We pass a completely bashed up Hyundai Getz on the other side of a gigantic pothole with four passengers surprisingly unhurt. We leave them food and water and report their mishap to the nearest police control point (for the first time pleased to see one).

We reach Lusaka starving and head straight for the Ocean Basket, which we knew, from prior intelligence (thanks Anita), existed.

We finished lunch and find our campsite on the outskirts of Lusaka…Pioneer Campsite. Pioneer is really very nice, but since we are determined to leave the next day I subconsciously do not notice it.

Here is our plan for the next day:

Get up pack
Drop Mar-Louise at Shoprite to…..shop
Pickup vehicle parts from DHL
Leave for Kafue

This is what actually happened…

0900: Leave Pioneer Camp and head for town

0915: Drop Mar-Louise at Shoprite and continue to DHL office in centre of town

0940: Arrive at DHL and enquire about package sent from South-Africa. Get told that DHL only takes packages in from clients at this address and do not distribute from here. Apparently DHL delivers and if you have no permanent address you represent an anomaly to their business process. They check and inform me that my package has been latched onto by Customs. “Where is customs?”, I ask. “Next to DHL at the airport”, comes the answer.

0950: Despite not dispensing packages the DHL does a brilliant job of finding me change for one of their confusingly large denominations of currency, in order for me to release my vehicle from the paid parking next to Shoprite.

0951: I develop a suspicion that this day might not go 100% according to plan.

10:15 –> 11:15: Meet up with Mari-Louise and supervise shopping. Leave for DHL at the airport, which is annoyingly close (5 min drive) from where we started the day.

11:15 –> 11:30: I am informed by DHL that my package has attracted customs charges and furthermore that DHL is unable to get it from customs (something about a computer hold up due to some thing or another). So they have handed my package over to local agents. Charges? 39%

1131: Now pretty sure that earlier assessment is accurate.

1155: My agents have gone to register my bill of goods which gives me time to gather my thoughts. Upon their return, I decide to challenge these huge costs and walk to the Customs building with all 4 my agents in tow. I get to speak to what seemed like the second in command. I explain to the main that I am a tourist in Zambia who is simply trying to fix his vehicle, a VW, for which there are no local agents. The man seems to have some empathy with my situation and gives the papers a once over. He informs me that I attracted these costs because my total costs exceeded $500 by $16. Basically if you stay below $500 and the import is personal in nature no duties are attracted. He goes on to indicate that this is such a small amount the whole thing should be able to be reversed if I make a formal query. “Finally some common sense, I thought”, hoping naively that he is going to override whomever made their greedy scribble of a signature on my papers dooming it to customs. “Sorry no, this was signed by the station manager and only she can override it.”

“Where is she” I ask. “Next door” comes the answer, “but will only be back by two”.

“S#$%^&t”

1200 –> 1345: Listen to our Dune audiobook and eat our lunch sandwiches, which was supposes to be eaten somewhere close to Kafue park.

1350: I arrive at the station manager’s office only to find out that she is not coming back to the office. My ever helpful agents usher me into the cubicle of one of the customs officials and I take up the argument anew. This guy (lets call him John) informs me the the regulation exempting people from customs below $500 only applies to residents and since I am not a resident there is now way he could help. I direct John’s attention to a A4 announcement scattered amongst the many on the nearby notice board publically communicating the $500 limit regulation. “It says nothing about residents only” I say. At this John pulls out his memory stick and start searching for the regulation. (Memory stick, I know, but that’s another story). Having found it he happily scrolls to the relevant section and find to my amusement and his embarrassment that he is wrong. “Great, now all we have to do is get someone to ignore the $16 with which I over declared (3%)”, I thought. John turned his embarrassment into victory when pointing out that the $500 limit is not negotiable as “its stands here in black and white”. It was at this point which I pointed out that, according to the document title, the document was in draft and how could we really be sure of anything. I was sure I could win the ensuing he-said she said contest around the authenticity of the document, but reckoned that it would only be for my own amusement and would probably not help to get my package releases. So I appealed to John’s side of what is fair and right and … He informs me that I could take out an TIP (Temporary Import Permit) for my parts which would then relieve me from paying the 39% import costs. And for only 50000 Kwacha as opposed to 1 100 000 Kwacha tax, I was so relieved, that I had nothing sarcastic to say about why this is only mentioned now. “Where can I get the form
, I say. “Head office in town”, John says.

1430: Drive all the way back to town with Mari-Louise to arrive at the tallest building in town: "Revenue House". Parking is something right out of a nightmare and I leave Mari-Louise to navigate the parking lot while I see the assistant commissioner.

1445: After determining that the assistant commissioner is not at the office and will only we back by Wednesday (today is Monday), I finally got seated in front of an official, lets call him Peter. Peter calmly tells me that John has provided me with false information and that a TIP would cost much more, therefore making the option rather mute. Peter then informs me that there is a claims process which I could follow. This would obviously imply that I first pay the money and then get it back from SA via the post using whatever paper work nightmare was required. It would also involve me getting the guys at the border to check that I am taking out the parts, a procedure which I sincerely doubt they are familiar with. So I change tack and go back to the $16 over $500 issue. “Surely somebody must have the authority to authorise this”, I say. Peter calmly informs me that only the assistant commissioner could do that and that he will be back on Wednesday. If I was to come back on Wed…… AHHHH!!!!

“Peter, help me help you, so that you do not have to steal my money!”, I say. Silence.

“Fine just give me the claim form then”, I say. Resigned to go back and pay the money and get the hell out of Lusaka.

“Sorry, the guy that deals with claims, is not here at the moment” comes the answer.

1545: Thoroughly dejected I find Mari-Louise in the parking lot looking more uneasy than I would have expected. Turns out with all the parking gymnastic that she had to perform that the accelerator pedal has completely come apart, rendering the thing unable to apply any force on the cable. I leave anyway using equally impressive foot gymnastics to will the, now flying pedal, to my will. I realise that I really need these parts desperately and so we go back to the airport and customs.

1615: Arrive back at airport and give my agents the go-ahead to process the paper work. First I had to visit Johan again to play on his feeling to push us up the queue. This, to his credit, he willingly did. With my part in this done I retreat to the car to let my agents earn their money.

1715: Finally we have our parts!. I immediately fix the pedal to the cable and leave for … Pioneer camp. Immediately it becomes obvious that that cable is not returning properly prompting me to not temp fate any further. I decide to find a mechanic to fit the new cable the next day.

[Please note no photographs for the past day. We have come to recognise this as a sure sign of a crap day.]

The next morning we leave bright and early to find the mechanic shop suggested by the Pioneer camp management. Hensons, initially looked pretty dodgy, but we were met by the manager who immediately made us feel at ease. The estimate was three hours, which suited us fine as we were walking distance from the 2nd best shopping centre in town.

Hensons’ also do 4X4 rentals. The vehicles have their registrations pop riveted into them to deter theft!

We spend most of the morning in a rather large, tourist trap, of a coffee shop. Mar-Louise found it by chance, which saved us from having coffee at the only other spot, which was exposed to the ever deteriorating weather. Perfect!

I find the bus at Hensons ready to go, so go we did.

This bumper bashing, due to a Taxi just taking off, did not even incite as much as a raised voice. Run of the mill, it seemed.

I realised that the whole accelerator assembly should have been changed long ago as now, for the first time, do I have proper accelerator control. I should have followed my gut on this back in Johannesburg, but I did not. A very expensive mistake. Maybe this can be the one big life lesson I return with. ALWAYS FOLLOW YOUR GUT, IT IS CHEAPER THAN THE ALTERNATIVE.

We leave for Kafue park on a perfect tar road and turn right into the camp onto the best 5km of gravel road I have ever driven. It is weird how two consecutive days can be so completely different. Another confirmation of the Zen of travel.

We are met by a cheerful crew at the Mayukuyuku camp on the banks of the Kafue river and quickly settle into a slothenly routine.

ciao, Carl-Hein

Trip Report #21 (16 - 18 July): Flat dogs, Gilbert and the Leopard

2009-07-27T09:26:00.001+02:00

We are informed on our arrival at Flat Dogs Camp that walking without a torch at night is prohibited and that night watchmen will accompany us everywhere. We are requested to be vigilant at all times and reminded repeatedly (reinforced by signage everywhere) that wild animals are dangerous.

I shrug it off as a marketing ploy for international guests having heard this before at other game reserves. Anyhow, having to walk around with a night watchman does not sit well with my restlessness and stubborn independence. I’ll try and remember to take a torch.

For my sins I am stormed by an elephant on morning #1 as I leave our tent to join Carl-Hein and our guide for an early morning game drive. I also get cornered the same morning for an hour and a half in the kitchen by a grumpy elephant bull.

The view from next to the refrigerator

With resignation I cut unnecessary walking about, do vigilance and stick with Joseph the night watchmen from here.

This time of the year the camp offers a range of pods and fruits whilst the rest of the woodlands are succumbing to winter. Three resident bulls, including Gilbert, a huge bull with no tail and perfectly even tusks, spend their winter break here annually with several more groups of elephant meandering through, stopping for a quick snack on route. With the camp located on the river bank, Hippo also graze through the camp every evening.

I realised to what extent I have been desensitized to the reality that these seemingly docile giants are far more than the friendly caricatures we see on tv and are in fact real and wild animals. And I recall stories of foreigners getting out of vehicles for close up photographs of Lions mating – with sudden insight I understand their ‘stupidity’ :-)

Crossing the Luangwa River into the reserve

South Luangwa is the first game reserve in Zambia opened to visitors by the local Chief Nsefu who collected the entry fees. This inventive and progressive operation of tribal lands as a modern day game reserve is attributed to the chiefs association with Norman Carr, a local ranger and legendary conservationist known throughout Africa.

It is said that as a result of this long exposure to game viewing, the animals here has grown tolerant and almost oblivious to game vehicles and therefore sightings are numerous and often up close and personal.

We do four game drives with Allan, our enigmatic, seemingly sullen, knowledgeable guide with an incredibly dry sense of humour. We see Leopard on three occasions literally next to the vehicle. We see lion twice, again next to the vehicle. We see a newly born bush buck still wet and gooey and faltering on his just-born legs trying to keep up with his mom. We see the very elusive Aardvark. We see gigantic crocodiles, overstuffed from dinner, sunning themselves in preparation of more hunting. We see giraffe and zebra unique to this area and clearly different from the South African versions :-). Baby elephant, baby hippo, baby baboon, hippo chomping away on Nile cabbage never budging from the convenience of their ponds to have to graze on land. We see a variety of birds including the very rare Pel’s Fishing Owl. And many more, far too numerous to list.

This is Africa at its absolute abundant wilderness best.

Flat Dogs have discontinued camping during the peak season in favour of the high end accommodation options they offer. So we are FORCED (tough life) to live in relative luxury in their tented camp. We spend roughly a quarter of our entire holiday budget here on game drives, park access fees, dining, accommodation and socialising with the wonderful team running the camp. Without any regret.

On Saturday we delay our departure with a last early morning game drive to look for wild dogs. We have never seen them in the wild before, have always wanted to and there has been sightings during the last few days. It requires a bit of dedicated driving to an area more suited to wild dogs, but this is not our lucky day. The highlight this morning is the rickety pontoon crossing that takes us on a faster route, outside of the Park and strict speed limits, back to Flat Dogs.

We leave the camp after a last yummy lunch at the restaurant and drive straight into winter.

The weather, which had been wonderfully balmy, even during night game drives, turns rapidly. I guess the cold front is heading to the camp also, but in my mind the change in weather really embeds the warm fussy feeling I have for this place. A special thanks to Jess, Adrian, Edward, Allan, Cathy, Paulo, Nelly, Sam and all the night watchmen :-) for making this such a memorable experience.

We only travel the short, shoddy gravel road trip to Chipata from where we can tackle the long stretch to Lusaka early the next day.

M-L

Trip Report #20 (12 - 15 July): Big in Japan

2009-07-21T08:24:00.001+02:00

While I am at it, I will draft an outline of the next few days. Won’t say too much as it is not too interesting, but sure Carl-Hein will flesh this out with the exact spare part numbers, spanner sizes etc for those interested in the mechanical details.

We make it to Lilongwe on grace. (CHM: It had nothing to do with grace and everything to do with me driving through mountain passes pulling at a very stiff choke cable by the tip of my fingers… not fun)

Lilongwe is pleasant enough. Only recently made capital of Malawi, it still has a small townish feel. Most charming is the ‘Old Town’, but still the three days we end up spending in town are two days too long.

A GP number plate in Lilongwe:-)

We do however locate the VW dealership, the Mamma Mia Pizzeria, Don Brioni’s Bistro and the Kiboko Town Hotel all within 0.5km from each other. Great news seeing that we will be on foot for our time here.

Mamma Mia. Fabulous authentic Italian fare in the most quaint setting in the ‘Old Town Mall’ and Carl-Hein can feed his ever growing pizza craving. We visit twice and feed our faces.

We unfortunately only get room for one night in the Kiboko Town Hotel, an oasis in a scruffy city centre, and have to relocate to Mufasa Lodge. Partly owned and run by South Africans, the converted top floor of a really dreary building on the main street is a wonderful surprise and cheaper than the Kiboko. A good thing for our dwindling budget, but unfortunate for our night rest as the nearby Diplomat Bar is not very diplomatic with its operating hours or noise levels.

	Kiboko Courtyard, Moroccan Bar, Kids Play Den and messenger bike

Don Brioni’s is adjacent to Kiboko in what turns out to be a little magic corner of Lilongwe. It serves THE best burgers ever made according to a recipe shared with the owner by his son – owner of the Grand Union pub group in the UK. It serves other good food also and almost every dish has a story the Gregarious Englishmen (Yip I meant to say ‘gregarious Englishmen’) owner will share with you.

Carl-Hein working methodically through the yellow pages, Spares shops hunting for suitable parts anywhere in Lilongwe or Blantyre

The reasons for our staying in Lilongwe so long? Well the primary reason is that VW is just not big in Japan. In Africa you drive a Toyota.

Of course the hijacking of the consignment from Blantyre VW to Lilongwe VW with the ONLY spare accelerator cable in the whole of Malawi contributed. Also the fact that the initial inspection of the Volla bus from the vantage point of a mechanics pit revealed that the rear drive shaft/CV joint connection was broken (we can only speculate for how long already). Add the need for a thorough service, a list compiled by Adri and Carl-Hein that needed checking, new tyre and battery neither of which are standard Toyota issues and you loose three days quite easily.

Oh and of course we find out, just as the accelerator cable is fixed, the petrol pedal is also broken after the last few days of abuse (we call in assistance of the local Trentyre where we have our tyres replaced for a temporary rubber hinge and arrange for an ever-growing consignment of parts to be shipped to Lusaka)

I must commend the local VW/Scania shared dealership and specifically Joffit, the senior VW mechanic. He used a LOT of initiative and creativity and went as far as convincing a local priest of some denomination to give us the accelerator cable from his 2.5 Caravelle. So the priest is left stranded waiting for a replacement cable while his one is cut to size and modified for us.

We eventually leave a day later than our worse case scenario. And get about 500m before the petrol pedal gives way again.

(CHM: For those of you reading this who do not know me. This is roughly where I had a complete sense of humour failure)

We arrive back at VW after lunch break had commenced, of course. But Joffit responds to a call and gets back during lunch to sort us out. A relatively minor glitch, and we are eventually really really on our way around 13:00 on Wednesday.

We make it without event to South Luangwa, Flat Dogs camp on Wednesday evening after 18:00. We pass giraffe at the reception. We have a good feeling about this place already.

Parking at our tent we are stormed by a male elephant. Not sure from the pitch of his trumpeting whether he considered the silver kombi a possible mate or rival. We give up trying to self cater and eat in the Flat Dogs restaurant. Good food, good people, good accommodation. We are pleased to be here indeed.

M-L

Trip Report #19 (11 July): Why we did not see Nkhata Bay

2009-07-21T08:02:00.001+02:00

Our route plan was taking us from the Cool Runnings lawns, which we were leaving regretfully, North along the lake and to Mzuzu. Mzuzu is the first large town when entering Malawi from the North and a key part of our ORIGINAL rough outline which had us crossing through Tanzania around the northern tip of the lake into Malawi and travelling south towards Lilongwe. But, now we were including Mzuzu in our route with the sole purpose of visiting the Chipeta residence and family.

Plan D.1a: Mzuzu, then back to the lake to stay at Nkhata Bay at a highly recommended camp spot before reversing most of our route on Sunday to be in Lilongwe promptly for the booked Syncro service the next day.

One of the things that increasingly fascinated us about every country we have travelled in so far is the police road blocks. At almost every ‘major’ road junction, mostly in a desolate and arbitrary location (in RSA this would equate to the crossing of the N6 and R516 far from any town, shop or infrastructure) a neat little building and sometimes a boom will be manned by a very professional looking policeman/woman or two. Where they live, how they get to work and how much they get paid to keep them at their post, mystifies me. It should be noted that the degree of friendliness varied slightly, but not in a single instance – not once – were we harassed at these road blocks (the only thing that raised a police eyebrow and comment was when Anita was driving Adri’s dokka with me as passenger. The policeman refused to even speak with us girls and went to have his discussion with Adri and C-H who were travelling in our bus)

I have not seen as many nor any as formal as the ones from Senga Bay to Mzuzu. At another one of these road blocks we ignored the turn off to Nkhata Bay and headed for Mzuzu with the directions Adams gave us for his house on a piece of paper. The Garmin spitefully refused to recognised any of the landmarks, streets or areas provided, so we were slightly worried. Even more so when we drove into Mzuzu and realised Adams was quite right when he said it was a fast growing and rather biggish town already. We pulled over to consider our options. And a Toyota Land Cruiser with police pulled in next to us offering to assist.

This way we landed a police escort all the way across town at a very leisurely pace incorporating a number of stops to pick up people, drop off people or ask for directions to our directions. Not sure what the neighbours think of the people visiting with the Chipeta’s in Mzuzu – either very VIP or very dodge!

By now we had called Adam’s to also ask for telephonic directions and when we arrived at his house we have family members and friends and neighbours pitching up from all directions to greet and welcome us. I will not elaborate on the short visit for fear that the meaning of the experience to us will be trivialised in words.

Martha Chipeta (Adam’s and Doreens’s daughter and youngest)

Carl-Hein with the family

I should however note that Adam’s and Doreen are in fact landlord’s :-) with more than one (incredibly neat) house and a small farming and tobacco growing operation very effectively integrated into their plot of land.

Chipeta grounds from across the valley.

Two houses currently form the main complex.

Taking the road back to Nkhata Bay for the night, we hardly made it 1km before our first major breakdown for the trip. The accelerator cable had snapped.

More importantly the concepts ‘tow truck’ and ‘telephone directory’ simply does not seem to exist in Mzuzu.

On a dirt road, not within walking distance of any commercial area, late on a Saturday afternoon (stupid every day schedules again), crowded by people and kids with very limited or no English, in (what we discovered later to be) one of the few really dodgy areas in Mzuzu/Malawi, with Carl-Hein’s phone unable to make local Malawian calls and not being able to receive calls from South Africa – we where royally stuck.

We are OK off course but by shear coincidence and luck resulting mainly from Adam’s orchestrating from South Africa.

1.) We gave Austin (English speaking security-guard-acting-as-our-interpreter who had been summoned by Adams to his home to facilitate interfacing with his family) a lift back to his work at the university

2.) Lorna calls us on Austin’s phone?! after she had called ‘home’ and was told we had left already with Austin

3.) She is surprised to hear about our breakdown, but tells us that Booysens, Adam’s brother who we know from Johannesburg, is in Malawi and in fact she just spoke with him at Adam’s house where he went in the hope to see us

4.) Austin calls and catches Booysens at Adam’s house. Now we have the great privilege of a trusted, familiar, extended family member, fluent in English and Chechewa at our rescue.

5.) A random passer by offers to assist and after passing the interview and screening by Booysens, is allowed to start fiddling on the car under strict supervision of Booysens. He miraculously, after hours of dedicated struggling with bits and pieces of roadside collected wires, devises some form of temporary solution that takes us, at 15km per hour, to the most reputable local repair shop in Mzuzu, which is of course CLOSED.

6.) But, and this tops it all, Carl-Hein remembers that the previous owner had hacked in a ‘cruise control’ connected to a ‘choke’ besides the steering wheel that had been disconnected in the engine. With a minor reconnection we have a hand operated ‘replacement’ petrol cable that should be able to take us with a bit of effort at a slightly faster pace to Lilongwe.

Adri, irrefutable proof we did not pack too much stuff :-) We cleared out the back and fitted all our belongings and three people into the centre of the bus. Note Booysens, our benefactor, right at the back

This day and the next are possibly best described by the severe lack of photographs :-) We clearly had a serious humour and photography failure.

We sleep that night in the exorbitant (but by now familiar and trusted) Sunbird operated Mzuzu hotel.

And therefore do not get to see Nkhata Bay.

regards, M-L

Trip B Report #7: Going Home (13 July 09)

2009-07-18T21:10:00.001+02:00

We all got up early, and were feeling sad as we were saying good-bye to Adri and Anita. They would be travelling via the Massingir dam and the Limpopo transfrontier park to enter the Kruger National Park at Giriyondo. As this route would be much longer, and I needed to get back to work, we travelled outh and entered at the Lebombo border post, close to Komatipoort. In order to savour the last bit of the trip, and also to avoid any roadblocks and having to drive 60km and hour nearly all the way trying to pass through outer Maputo, we took the dirt road inland. The road had good and bad patches, and we joined the toll road at Moambo. The border crossing was uneventful, and soon we were travelling on the good South African roads again. Glad to be home.

Trip B Report #6: Inhassoro to XaiXai (12 July 09)

2009-07-18T21:02:00.003+02:00

We all got up at six, which took some effort, and were ready to leave at 06h30. We reached Inhambane about lunch time and decided to do a quick detour to see what all the rave is about. We travelled on to Praia de Tofo. A beautiful beach, but very touristy.

Then we took the long slog to Xai-Xai. We were intoxicated by the good road surface, road marking and shoulder, but as always, this disappeared about 80km north of Xai-Xai. We leaned on intelligence obtained from Jean, and turned off about 20km before Xai-Xai to sleep at Paradise View Chalets. The chalets are in the dunes next to the ocean in a beautiful setting. This is the first time that we actually saw decent sized dunes on our trip. The stayed in a little log cabin, and concocted a pasta dish from all our left over food. We had the last of our wine, albeit white wine.

Trip B Report #5: Inhassoro (9-11 July)

2009-07-18T20:50:00.005+02:00

It was so beautiful and comfortable, we decided to stay. A good selling point was the hot clean showers! We all checked the maps, the distances, and decided we can do another long trek the last two days, and skip Inhambane, and thus afford to stay another day. We arranged with Jean, who is in charge of activities at BillFish (http://www.deepblueadventures.co.za/), to take us out to Paradise Island. We had a fantastic day! Jean first took a tour of the island, which still carries the ruins of early years when there was a large hotel and holiday apartments. Somewhere between the civil war and a large cyclone the buildings were damaged beyond repair, and the whole island was abandoned. There were even the remnants of an old church, with a few benches and coloured windows remaining.

Even during our approach to the island, we witnessed a large sea turtle from the boat. Snorkelling was brilliant. We were mesmerised various species of rockcod and angelfish and parrots, threadfin butterfly fish, blue petes, tamarins, anemones, parrots, etc. Too many to mention! There were also beautiful examples of hard and soft corral. Jean just knew where to drop us off, and we all had a lovely day.

Even though it was overcast, we all got a little sunburn and were dead-tired that evening. We had a lovely dinner of chicken barbeque, couscous and salad.

Trip B Report #4: 10 July 2009 (Inhassoro):

2009-07-18T20:30:00.006+02:00

Hennie and Adri enquired from official operators about a potential trip to a nearby island (Santa Carolina, otherwise known as Paradise Island), but were informed the trips leave earlier in the morning. We then decided to support locals that promised us a “big boat with an engine”. Two Spanish back-packers asked if they could join us, to bring the cost down. They were very friendly, and as the man was born in a region of Spain close to the border with Portugal, he spoke a dialect that assisted him in understanding and translating the discussions with the locals. This came in very helpful later!

On the beach we waited and waited, whilst the locals had discussions with a man that looked like an official. We were not briefed about the content of the discussions, but about 90 minutes later we learned that the boat does not have the necessary “papers” to take tourists to the island. We were stranded! This we found out with the assistance of our new Spanish friend. At this stage we decided to abandon the trip, as it was nearing lunch time, and we could not get our money’s worth, as the island is at least 1 hour away by boat. We proceeded to ask for our M1,000 deposit back, but since it was used to purchase fuel for the engine, it could not be returned. Things got interesting when Adri seized the engine and loaded it on the Dokka. We have in the mean time decided to treat ourselves to a chalet the next evening, and packed up camp.

Havoc broke out as they prevented us from leaving, and the poor Spanish guy tried to understand Portuguese and then translate it to English, in which he was also not fluent. In the end Adri settled to take the petrol and a small cash payment, but we would not have reached that point without the backpacker’s assistance. In the mean time Hennie and I went to BillFish Lodge (a recommendation by Mark), to secure a chalet for the evening.

It is a brilliant setting, run by two South African partners. We had a chalet that can sleep up to 10 people, with a nice veranda looking out over the sea. It has a bar area, restaurant and a pool deck. The chalets were very clean, and very well equipped, possible our best accommodation for the trip.

We had another superb restaurant dinner, with 3 of us eating the calamari, and Adri settling for the parrot fish – to Anita’s annoyance! And a nice bottle South African red wine, or two…

2009-07-18T20:15:00.002+02:00

After a quick drive through the park again we headed for Inhassoro, based on a recommendation by Mark. Hennie looked up possible fuel stops on the GPS and were advised that we could get fuel at Muxungue, which would basically take us to the limit on our tank. The road was reasonable good and we made good time. However, in Muxungue we were told that they do not have diesel, but we could get at Rio Save, another 110km away. We slowed down seriously to reduce drag and lower consumption, and prayed. About 50km from Rio Save the range on the trip computer read Zero kilometres. Just after we crossed the Save River, we pulled into a very desolate fuel station. No person in sight. Apparently there was no fuel available!

Anita went in search with a friendly smile, but no luck. Even asked the driver of a BP fuel truck if he could assist. Hennie and Adri scattered into different directions, but no one could assist. In the end they waited where the cars and trucks line up to cross the river, and found a truck driver willing to assist. He was carrying spare diesel in the back of his truck, at a reasonable price. That sorted us out to get to Inhassoro. From Rio Save to Inhassoro the road was severely pot-holed. We pulled into the Seta camp site, which was quite neat and had electrical power and flushing loos – a novelty.

That evening we spoiled ourselves again with a restaurant dinner.

Trip B Report #2: 7-8 July 2009 (Quelimane to Gorongosa Reserve)

2009-07-18T19:24:00.009+02:00

The next morning we woke early, and Mark gave us some very good pointers on the road ahead, as well as references of places to stay, and the name and number of another missionary further south, who basically does the same as Mark – helping people in need!

He also told us that we should not arrive any time later than 11h30 at the Ferry crossing over the Zambezi River, as the ferry staff go on lunch break from 12h00 t0 14h00, thus the last ferry before lunch departs around that time. Then it could take up to 15h00 in the afternoon to get the ferry again.

Adri had to try and sort out his oil leak, as we were concerned he may blow the engine. Adri and Hennie slid underneath the Dokka for repairs albeit Hennie’s role was more that of moral support. In a flash Adri fitted another part that fixed the problem. Anita then proceeded to try and clean the back of the Dokka, which was filthy from all the black oily smoke that spewed out of the car the previous day. I also did a thorough cleaning of the windscreen.

We left a little bit later than planned and arrived at 11h35. Needless to say, we only crossed the river around 14h45! The saddest part is that we had to get onto the ferry right next to the brand spanking new completed bridge, that could not be used, as it has not been officially opened as yet. That was scheduled to happen the following week!

Service at the fuel station at Caia was very slow, that set us back even further. We tried to push as fast as we dared. The road was good, with the occasional pothole to remind you that you cannot travel full speed. We desperately wanted to catch the entrance gate to the Gorongoza park before it closes at 18h00. As can be expected with our luc, we arrived at 18h10, and were not allowed to enter. We asked permission to pitch our tents in front of the gate, and the guards then told us to go to “Piet’s place”, approximately 3km back.

What a delightful surprise. Piet’s camp turned out to be a beautiful, well equipped camp site nestled in the bush. Sakkie, Piet’s eldest son, an entrepreneur in many ways, has just started with developing a camp site. Sakkie informed us that the overnight fee would be a mere donation, as he felt the campsite was not fully completed. What a lovely stay at this camp site, and recommended it to a few travellers we met on the way, and to anyone reading this blog.

Due to the fact that the only place that the green-headed oriole occurs are on the slopes of the Gorongoza mountain, Adri and Anita arranged with Sakkie to take them up the mountain before day break the following day, in an attempt to spot this rare bird.

Hennie and I slept in, packed up camp and headed for the Gorongoza Game Reserve. We decided to opt for a chalet as the ground was still wet from rain, and that a large overlander truck occupied most of the camp site. We took a leisurely drive through the park, and were quite surprised by the variety of vegetation. The park has more warthog and waterbuck than Impala! We were lucky to see lion, oribi, reedbuck, and many more.

We were getting worried when we enquired at reception at around 12h00 whether Adri and Anita have arrived and were informed that they were not yet there. Around 15h00 we enquired again, and of course many scenarios were played out in our heads as to what has befallen the Van der Veers! Just then the cell phone rang and Anita informed us that they encountered a bit of bad lack on the way down the mountain.

The rarely spotted green-headed oriole remained elusive, but they did spot a few other rare and interesting bird species. On their way back the land cruiser they were travelling in bumped into a rock that shifted the runnerboard to press against the tyre. Emergency repairs were carried out with primitive materials, as they did not have tools, to get the vehicle running again. This of course resulted in them being delayed and only arriving at the Gorongoza Game Reserve well after 17h00 soaking wet but with big smiles! We treated ourselves to the buffet dinner at the restaurant, with a few bottles of wine.

Trip B Report 1: 7 July (Ilha de Mozambique to Quelimane)

2009-07-18T18:50:00.005+02:00

(Trip B reports relate to the splintergroup of the Burgers and Van der Veers post Nampula)

We awoke with a heavy heart this morning, as we knew we had to say goodbye to Carl-Hein and Marie-Louise today. They were heading west, back to Malawi, then on to Zambia and eventually Namibia. The rest of us revised our trip to travel south through Mozambique to avoid crossing any borders with Zimbabwe, due to our previous problems.

When everyone was up we shared our stocks of available fruit and veggies, with the Burgers trying to convince Marie-Louise they would love canned fruit and chicken korma source, all in an attempt to lighten the Fortuner.

In order to delay the inevitable, and since everyone would be travelling through Nampula, we decided to delay the good-byes for our stop there to re-fuel. Marie-Louise offered our “guide” of the previous day a lift to Nampula, some 140km away. He was suffering from Malaria and wanted to go to the hospital to get medication. However, she estimated we will leave our “normal” time, and indicated that he must wait in the road around nine o’clock. Thus he was not there when we left for a change at 08h00 in the morning. They decided to wait about 5 minutes, whilst someone will go and find him whilst the rest of us continued on to Nampula.

Unfortunately for us, it did not work out that way. We never managed to catch up with them, as Nampula was decidedly bigger than anyone of us estimated. Also, we were let down by the cell phone network, as we could not reach Carl-Hein.

Adri also realised that the Doka was starting to use oil, and had to top up with oil in Nampula. With heavy hearts we left Nampula behind.

The road was quite bad getting out of Nampula, but soon improved. As soon as we crossed the border into the new province, the road got wider, had road markings and even a bit of a shoulder! Heaven! We made good progress and started to think we may even make Quelimane that evening!

Unfortunately our luck did not hold. The road got progressively worse, and about 100km north of Mocuba the road disappeared. And we though the road from Marrupa to Montepuez was bad. This was even worse. To add to this, the Doka was bellowing more and more smoke the further we travelled. We stopped for a comfort break, and Adri added some more oil. We were very down hearted and despondent, because it was getting dark, and we were still approximately 30km north of Mocuba.

A car stopped to ask if we need assistance, and we told them we are fine, but if they could tell us how much further to Mocuba, and if the road is that bad all the way. Our spirits were lifted when the man informed us that the road will improve in approximately 5km, and is good to Mocuba all they way through to Quelimane, and even Gorongoza. That is just what we needed, as we were all quite despondent at that stage. True to the driver’s word, the road improved in exactly 5 km and we decided to push through to Quelimane, even if that meant driving in the dark. I do not have enough fingers on my hands to count how many times we promised ourselves that we will not drive in the dark again!

Just after Nicuadala the road deteriorated again, and it was already after 19h00 in the evening and completely dark outside. We had no idea where we were going to sleep that night, as it has been raining throughout the day and we were not very keen on pitching a tent in the mud. We decided to first get something to eat, and our trusted GPS directed us to a “good restaurant, with fresh pizza”. But we nearly did not get there, as, and I know this does not sound possible; the road got the worst yet! Lots of people talk about potholes that cars can fit in, but these were big enough to fit a bus, filled with water. At some stage we contemplated driving onto the sidewalk, as we were not sure how deep the pool was we were about to enter. And the part of town we were entering looked decidedly shady. However, we eventually reached the restaurant, and it looked good. We just had to avoid a tree stump that we put into a very deep pothole to prevent a car from disappearing into a black hole.

At the restaurant we heard American accents, and we accosted them to ask if they know about possible camping sites or reasonable accommodation. Richard, an American working on Agro-projects, promptly took out his cell phone and called a missionary called Mark. Can Mark please put us up for the night? Even if we can just put up our tents in his back yard? Mark obliged and said we are welcome.

We decided all to have pizza, as we knew how much Carl-Hein craved pizza to whole trip, and we wanted to be reminded of them. We were given directions to Marks place, which was basically back to Nicuadala, over the same potholes.

Mark is Canadian, and has been doing missionary work for the past 7 years in Mozambique. He is also the general saving saint, and knows all about car repairs. If anything goes wrong to any visitor in about a 200km radius, Mark is called upon to come to the rescue. We were very relieved to arrive to his friendly greetings. He had a small guesthouse at the back of the house that sleeps four. However, after being informed about the snorers in our midst, he offered that Hennie and I could sleep in his daughters’ bedroom in the house with him! And he does not know us from Adam. He wife and kids have departed for Canada already, and he was leaving in approximately 10 days time. He was returning to Canada for 2 years, so that his kids can complete high school there, then he plans to return.

We had a very good night’s sleep, very happy not to be pitching our tents in the rain, and having hot showers!

Trip Report # 18 (8 - 10 July): Lazing along Lake Malawi

2009-07-17T20:18:00.001+02:00

One of the most absolutely fabulous things of this extended holiday is losing track of time, days and calendars. Initially I desperately tried to hang on to a sense of week days, but not caring whether it is Sunday or Monday or whether it is ‘time to get up’ or not probably really marked entering ‘Holiday Zen’ for me.

I only consciously recognised our transition into the Zen phase however, when we decided to book in the bus for a service (one or two niggly concerns to address before tackling the notorious National Park access roads in Zambia e.g. the broken and lost diff lock button) in Lilongwe. Our intended passing through Lilongwe (according to our vague outline) coincided with a Saturday and Sunday – not optimal for a vehicle service in the normal schedule of day-to-day life. We were forced to acknowledge the dreary timetable of normality and had to wait out time to Monday.

The two ‘additional’ days allowed us a leisurely pace travelling north along the lake AND the opportunity to make a round trip to Mzuzu to visit Adams and Doreen’s family.

We therefore booked the service for Monday 13 July, forewarned the VW service centre of parts and service requirements and set out chilling fastidiously along the lake.

This camp site was a treat. Nkopola Lodge Camp site is operated by and located adjacent to the Nkopola Lodge Hotel (part of the Sunbird group of hotels). This meant beautiful and rustic camp life, good camping facilities (meaning primarily toilets and hot showers) coupled with the amenities of high end accommodation (laundry, restaurant and bar facilities:-)) just a stone throw away.

Even more enchanting was being woken up in the mornings, not by the local roosters, but rather by the numerous Fish Eagles that nest along the lake and particularly in the koppie adjacent to the camp site.

The absolute highlight however is the daily feeding of the Fish Eagles by a hotel staff member.

A fisherman on the lake in his past life, he has over time built up an understanding with the birds by tossing them fish from his boat. He now feeds them twice a day from the lake shore in an entertaining, but not heavily advertised, display. Once again we found out by bush telegraph (South African missionaries we ran into) and had the privilege of this experience.

From Nkopola we took the scenic route via Mokopola Lodge for breakfast, through Monkey Bay and Cape Maclear to Senga Bay. Malawi most certainly is a paradise!

At Senga Bay we did a thorough inspection of all recommended camp sites - a foreign concept to us to be stumped for choice! We favoured the extremely charming Cool Runnings above the renowned and very impressive Steps Camp site (also a Sunbird operation) and the Lonely Planet pick, Wheelhouse Marina. And boy where we pleased.

The sheltered, grassy camping area was a perfect location against the prevailing wind and the food served at the little restaurant exclusive to residents, exquisite AND incredibly inexpensive!

Cool Runnings is frequented by an eclectic mix of backpackers, campers and ‘house guests’ from all over the world and this was our first experience of socialising with ‘others’ (i.e. really hanging with people not from our group, not from the establishment itself nor fellow South Africans intent on exchanging critical travel info)

This place is perfect to slow down another notch or two. We strolled to the local market, watched local fisherman mend fishing nets the size of soccer fields, lazed on wood and canvas loungers and read our books. bliss.

The only gripe I have with this place is that it practically begged me to hang my hammock in the Jamaican-like setting, but none of the numerous (and quaintly labelled) trees are properly spaced – how inconsiderate!

M-L

Trip Report # 17 (6 – 7 July): Leaving Mozambique

2009-07-17T14:59:00.001+02:00

After accepting that we have unceremoniously lost our compatriots at Nampula, we kept going west at Nampula only to be immediately treated to a gravel road where we were expecting a tarred road. mmmm

Soon afterwards it became obvious that this was going to be a long day.

The road was good in most parts, but intermittent huge potholes made the going tough and stressful.

The road was very beautiful though. Late in the afternoon we decided to stop for bread at a little town, where we found the most amazing fresh ciabatta.

As I climbed out of the bus, I heard what I hoped was an snake, but it turned out to be a rapidly deflating tyre. Yahh! Finally I could use my emergency tire repair kit. Apparently to the amusement of the local kids!

(Hannes, you were right, it is simple.)

Driving on I decided that we should overnight at the only indicated camp site on the whole route, as it was getting late. The campsite came and went, nothing. We had to drive on to Cuamba. I was not pleased.

The road conditions caused me to have both the front wheels airborne at 3 separate occasions. Not good. (Adri, never before was I as happy about upgrading the front suspension).

Very tired and stressed out we arrived in Cuamba at around 1900 in the dark. We had covered 529 km in 10 hour 50 min, average 49km an hour. Not fun.

Hello Hotel Vision 2000 is indeed a vision of sorts (at an exorbitant US$75 for a room). You can tell this by the way it is described in the Lonely Planet. Not so much by what they say, but rather by what they do not say. ;-) Anyway, starved for choice this was home for the night.

We had dinner in the local restaurant where I thought my luck was about to change when I found a bottle of Nerderburg Cab 2003 for a decent price. You often hear about this sort of thing in small towns where it is assumed that people do not have a clue of what wine is worth. Very excited, I ordered the bottle in a storm of hand waving, as my Portuguese at this point was worse than when we started. Needless to say the wine was BAD, due to lots of oxygenation. I drank it anyway, together with a rather good grilled chicken.

Attempting to shower brought another challenge. The hotel does not have geysers, they use these curious point of use heating shower heads, which nerve rackingly requires power right in the shower with you. Our shower kept tripping. mmmm

The picture does not show it properly but:

The connections are bare and the earth is not connected!

That means we were tripping on over-current, never mind earth leakage. Scary sh#$%^&t!

I suppose I should be glad the switch tripped at all.

We showered in another room. Sleep was easy to come by.

View of our bus from the hotel room.

View of the “eastern wing” of Hotel Vision 2000 from our balcony.

We wasted little time leaving Cuamba, quite certain that we will not be back soon…Cuamba is a junction town.

Happily the road from Cuamba north (once we crossed the Niassa province border as it is a primary artery into the Province whilst being only a ‘minor’ road for the Nampula district) is much, much better. We stopped for coffee and a snack for breakfast.

We arrived back at the same border crossing we used to get into Mozambique. It was the easiest crossing to date and things were looking up.

My view of the crossing while waiting for Mari-Louise to get the papers sorted.

We arrived at Nkopola Lodge, on the lower west Malawi lake, to be welcomed to a fantastic camp and view.

Me, blogging away.

Mari-Louise, taking the chance to rinse out clothes (an effort which abruptly stopped once we found out about the laundry service)

Lake view from our spot.

Mozambique roundup:

I include this overview map to bring things together somewhat. We effectively started in the south of the lake and entered Mozambique going north. We then headed east to Pemba, south to Ilha de Mozambique and west again ending up where we started. One BIG loop, clockwise.

Overall my memories are positive. Negatives include a large communication barrier and really bad roads. Positives include some truly beautiful scenes and 2M (the local beer!).

ciao, Carl-Hein

Trip Report #16 (5 – 6 July 2009): good bye and thanks for all the fish

2009-07-17T13:32:00.001+02:00

The next two days seemed larger than life to say the least. After weeks of hurrying through sights and venues we had just spent THREE consecutive nights in Pemba due to mechanical, but also practical considerations including the rugby test match and laundry facilities (yeah I suck at hand washing and labour is dirt cheap (10 Meticais = roughly R3 per piece of washing, including bed linen, washed and ironed?!!). For the first time, a feeling of ‘holiday’ was settling over us.

But, then it was time to move again to the point where our route was to split off from that of the larger contingent of our group: Ilha de Mozambique. A surreal experience of note.

The route from Pemba.

Blow up of island.

This tiny little eclectic island was for many years the capital of Mozambique and also the centre of slave trade with the globe. It is connected by a 3,5km bridge to the mainland, but may as well have been in the Mediterranean or outer space as it differed so greatly from anything Mozambiquan we had seen to date.

We arrived just after midday in grey clouds and howling wind at the mainland doorstep to the island. Here we were greeted by an exquisitely beautiful young Muslim boy (Abdul) in the queen’s English, offering us a tour of the island’s main attractions and assistance with accommodation negotiations for a fee “entirely at our discretion”.

As it turned out, he had oversold his command and understanding of the English language which we only really appreciated well after he had left us, when we had cold showers (where hot showers were supposedly confirmed) and had to pay the negotiated rate per PERSON as oppose to the understood per ROOM rate.

Abdul did however, in his baby blue tank top, white drawstring pants, gay flag back pack and tight bun bounce (pity!), take us on a whirlwind tour of the Island where he grey up and went to both primary and secondary school and were taught Portuguese, English, French and bits of German over and above his African home language.

	Typical facade
	Typical square
	Slave memorial. (Pit where slaves were kept prior to being sold)
	Fort (castle) on the northern most point of the island

Doing something like an organised tour with an (unofficial) tour guide was surreal to begin with at this stage of our journey. Seeing (and imagining) the Island and remnants of the opulence and splendour of a past reality and the lifestyle of past generations were surreal to say the least. Hearing from Abdul the rumoured influx of wealthy foreigners buying and renovating waterfront properties on this remote piece of land whilst everything inside the layer one street deep from the water practically lays in ruins, is bizarre. And topping the surreal (but proving the rumours of wealth I guess) is the spectacular and sophisticated dining experience and wide range of cosmopolitan options for eateries available. I would go back here.

Farwell dinner at the local bistro.

By late afternoon Abdul started shivering and looking pale and admitted to having chronic Malaria undeterred by the medicine he had received from the local hospital. We offered him a lift the next morning to Nampula where he could get better treatment and wished him a good nights rest.

The next morning started off with a flurry with sharing of provisions, splitting of shared goods and reallocation of critical recovery equipment. I parked the kombi in the soft sand – literally ‘parked’ – only to be dislodged with all belongings unloaded and towing assistance from the dokka (just short of all wheels being deflated). In spite of this, we were ready to depart almost an hour earlier than the intended 9am (the time we had indicated to Abdul to meet us for a lift to Nampula).

Our agreement was to split at Nampula, but having made the commitment to Abdul and driving the only vehicle with additional seating capacity, Carl-Hein and I waited whilst locals went in search of Abdul at his home and Adri, Anita, Hennie and Nerina slowly started towards Nampula. Abdul was reportedly nowhere to be found although several of the aspiring ‘guides’ recalled and recounted his intention to travel to Nampula for Malaria treatment. We were then overwhelmed with Alternates offering to travel with us to Nampula which we regretfully declined?!?#*&^?! and left well short of 9am. I can only hope and pray that Abdul found an alternate mode of transport, is recovered and happily soliciting tourists for a discretionary fee to see the magic of Ilha de Mozambique.

We failed to catch up with the rest of our group. Nampula is a large place – much bigger than I had anticipated. We had people volunteering that they had seen our counterparts marked with the unmistakable Syncro Odyssey stickers, but the last of them stopped us just as we took the road to Cuamba to tell us (for which information compensation was requested) that we were taking a wrong turn as two vehicles with same signage had taken the road to Quelimane. No wrong turn however and no compensation in it for the news bearer. I really, really hate goodbyes so I guess this worked out OK for me in the end.

M-L

Trip Report #15 (2 –4 July 2009): Pemba Dive and Bush Camp

2009-07-17T13:16:00.001+02:00

Arriving in Pemba, “fresh” from the bush, was a relief to say the least. The drive was long, very long indeed, and I handed over to Mari-Louise to drive the tar section between Montepuez and Pemba. We headed straight for Brenda’s Camp (as it is known between consulting overlanders and locals) or Nacole Jardim meaning something about a garden (as it was previously known and still called, to Brenda’s dismay, in the Lonely Planet). Brenda runs the newish “Pemba Dive and Bush Camp” . She is a larger than life, passionate conservationist who spends a not insignificant amount of her time (including drumming all night to sunrise) convincing the locals that she is a witch. The latter helps with her conservationist efforts.

We arrived late and decided to head out for food. For this we went to Russel’s Camp, another camp in Pemba which also has a welcoming restaurant known for it’s seafood. We were disappointed to find that no prawns were available, since we had been fantasising about prawns to wile away the endless hours spent on the rough, slow road this day (fantasies where shared via two way radio between vehicles, became grander as time passed and we were by now picturing piles of prawns surpassing even our collective appetite). The beer was cold however and we could have Pizza so my disappointment was short lived.

The next day Hennie and I went for a refresher SCUBA course with Calvin, the local Pemba Dive, dive master. Adri and Anita followed on their own and ended up with the competing dive master who managed not to scare them off when they innocently referred to “our friends who are also diving with you”.

Arriving back at camp everyone was performing chores to eventually settle down to a relaxing evening. I had been having problems with my power-steering on the VW. Adri found the obvious point of fluid departure. After establishing that it was too late to run to the spares shops, we decided to let it be for the Saturday.

It was here were I first found the internet and was able to upload trip reports 1 –> 10. This made me late for sundowners,

but I am committed to all 3 our devoted readers.

Anita and Nerina heading off for sundowners.

The view from where we sat.

Where we sat :-)

The Saturday morning early (06:30) Hennie and I left for a reef dive with Calvin. Adri and Anita did not make it… something about it being too early.

Pemba Dive operates from the beautiful Wimbi beach.

Pemba Dive Headquarters

View from Pemba Dive.

The sea was so calm, it was far more reminiscent of lake Malawi. The dive was my first reef dive in warm water and I was not disappointed. The absolute highlight of the dive appeared just as we descended. Out from the dark appeared a Sunfish. A small one by comparative standards, but at least 8 foot in length. This was something special. Getting back to land we were again treated to a warm fresh water bucket shower which ended it all off perfectly.

Calvin was nice enough to take me to the local spares shops where I found a rubber boot which looked like it may fit, if not perfectly, then with a bit of help :-).

With assistance and guidance from Adri, we managed to fit the boot which seemed to solve the leak and steering problem. This was not a fun job, but quite satisfying once completed.

Everyone reported to the main house (Brenda’s) where we all (excluding M-L) watched the 3rd test between the Boks and the Lions. Quite an experience meeting Brenda’s clan.

That evening the whole camp was transformed into a party venue for Rudi (Brenda’s husband) whose birthday was being celebrated. Everyone was invited!

ciao Carl-Hein (Die Hartseer Kwagga)

Trip Report # 13 (30 June – 1 July 2009) : Niassa Reserve and beyond

2009-07-10T19:07:00.001+02:00

The Niassa reserve borders Tanzania and supposedly has the largest wildlife population in Mozambique. After a 15 year independence struggle, the immediate and destructive withdrawal of the Portuguese followed by a civil war that raged for 17 years, it is no surprise that ‘the largest wildlife population’ is a very relative concept.

We camped, as a special favour, in the unofficial ‘Sunset Spot’ (of which we heard of from fellow South Africans we ran into on the way) near the reserve head quarters. Whilst it offered absolutely no facilities, not even a natural source of water, this still has to rate as one of the top camping sites where we had the privilege to pitch our tents with wonderful views over the vast Niassa wilderness and a sunset scene to be cherished.

Sadly, bird and animal life seemed almost entirely absent.

Nothing during the ‘game’ drive the next day changed this perspective. Reading material about the reserve recommend walking safari’s to see animals and rumour has it that a programme to reintroduce wild dogs is in progress, but we saw no evidence of either. In fact, the reserve seems exclusively geared to accommodate locally active vets, rangers and researchers and may take a while still before being a welcoming destination for general tourists. This perception may be partly due to the remoteness, limited access roads and partly the language barrier, but was reinforced when Hennie and Nerina got detained in Mecula (the centre of the reserve and a functioning town with school, market, church) and ushered into the Commissioners office for interrogation regarding the purpose of their presence?! Imagine the havoc and news headlines if this happened to foreign tourists in Skukuza for instance? They were only released after Anita finally located them, marched into the office, looking remarkably fierce for a small fairy girl, demanding their release.

Initially the intent was to spend the next night at the official reserve camp site at the main gate also on the Lugenda river, but after our spectacular experiences at Veronica’s camp and Sunset Spot, this mediocre camp site with limited facilities served only as a lunch spot in favour of covering at least some distance on the notorious stretch to Montepuez.

On the historic bridge crossing the Lugenda as you leave the reserve we ran into six young missionaries who had just come from Montepuez apparently in a single vehicle assuring us that it was indeed slow, but doable. This certainly gave us a false sense of comfort as by now we considered ourselves semi experienced off roaders whilst these kids looked like absolute novices enticed by the romance of the African experience, adorned in local beads, the beginning of cultivated dreadlocks and wrapped in colourfully printed material sold in every street market (suckers :-)). Surely we could do better.

The first 40 odd km did go rather uneventfully, but within 10 km of the really rough patch we promptly parked our bus solidly in the first mud pool and broke off and lost the knob to our front diff lock. Ouch! Sitting precariously balanced, but with a advantageous view in the passenger seat I can attest to the inventiveness of the locals who, with minimal understanding of our frantic Afrikaans, offered unsolicited assistance, pushed, pulled, collected twigs and branches to put under the wheels and larger wood stumps as levers to lift the heavy bus. It was however only with Hennie’s assistance and the power of his 3,0liter diesel Fortuner that we could be hauled out of the hole to dry ground under great applause from the bystanders. An honorary member of the Synchro Odyssey indeed :-)

Elated and grateful I dished out sweets, socks and pens to the kids that had offered assistance, but when the supply of gifts ran out things turned nasty. We packed up tools, equipment and ropes under constant badgering by an ever growing crowd of empty handed kids and left with perceived discriminated individuals flashing fingers and jeering vindictively.

We tried our utmost to put distance between us and the disgruntled crowd, bypassed at least two good roadside ‘camping spots’ (rare finds along the narrow single track swarming with bicycles and walkers). But travelling at less than 10km per hour on the poor road with the sun rapidly setting we eventually had to make camp that night only a short distance away right beside the road for lack of any other facilities.

Us on the 242 highway!

A restless night for most of us (well OK at least for me)with roadside jeers still ringing in our ears, close by drumming eating at our nerves and paranoia ruling high.

M-L

Trip Report # 12 (28 – 29 June 2009) : Veronica’s Camp

2009-07-10T18:04:00.001+02:00

The recommended road from Lichinga to the Niassa reserve main gate takes roughly 7 hours on relatively good roads – so quite a stretch. Alternatively from Lichinga you can enter the reserve on the western side along a shorter route with only about 40km of poor road conditions, but then getting across the reserve to the main gate will optimistically require 2 and a half days of slow 4WD and quite possibly bridge construction in one or two instances (an exciting prospect for the six adventurers and particularly the five engineers representing almost every possible discipline in the group ;-)).

Neville (again coming to our rescue) offered us petrol available from a forestry station at Chiconono on this alternative route making this option even more enticing. But no matter how we looked at the calendar and how we routed the looong return trip from Northern Mozambique (have you ever noticed the size of the Mozambiquan coastline?) for Adri, Anita, Nerina and Hennie who were due in South Africa again mid July, an extra 2 or 3 days spent building infrastructure in Mozambique was a luxury we simply could not afford.

Furthermore, having by now been warned from several sources that the road from Marrupa to Montepuez (on route to Pemba) is a extended nightmare best avoided, but knowing that we will in all likelihood have to make that crossing therefore satisfying the adventurers amongst us, we opted for the safer and quicker Plan A.

Plan A entailed Adri and Anita with the Dokka and its fixed second fuel tank to make a detour to Chiconono with all empty tanks, canisters, jerry cans and vessels we could spare to collect fuel whilst the rest of us, in the interest of saving petrol, would travel to a campsite on route (Mt Mosale) just developed and not yet commercially operational offered to us by Veronica (YES again!).

A leisurely drive for us [Bytheway, we did stop at the little rumoured-to have-fuel station on the way: dry]. A bit of a stretch for Adri and Anita who had to cover an extra 160km, locate the local forester and fill fuel tanks. But, at least this meant making progress towards Niassa and saving us a day of waiting for fuel in the black hole.

The tented camp is roughly 50km off the road on a beautiful section of the Lugenda river bank and exquisitely integrated and sensitive to the environment offering all the critical luxuries such as hot water showers, porcelain and flushing toilets and unbelievably friendly staff (Benson, Kaptein and their crew) who welcomed us like VIPs after their very brief initial surprise at our unexpected arrival.

Covering the 50km is best accomplished with closed windows, as we discovered. Tsetse flies infested our vehicle and proceeded to literally slip stream the vehicle in what was a very bizarre scene better suited to a Stephen King horror movie. At one time a particular fly was hovering outside the driver window at about 30km/h! Scary, to say the least. These things bite you through your clothes and generally are only killed by separating limbs, a skill we mastered on the way to the camp. Surprisingly almost completely absent from the camp itself – fortunately!

Adri and Anita would arrive only after dark. The entrance to the access trail (4WD necessary) leaving the main road is somewhat obscure and Adri unfamiliar with Hennie’s borrowed GPS (containing important indicative way points provided (again) by Neville).

So, in spite of our best efforts for sign posting, ‘Worry’ followed shortly after our arrival.

The lot of us suitably impressed with ourselves after erecting an authentic Odyssey sign post, using one of the left over stickers.

Probable timelines where calculated and recalculated, possible scenarios in a variety of permutations and combinations considered, but nothing prepared us for Adri and Anita walking into camp (only just having survived a tsetse fly bombardment) at 20:30 that evening.

The Dokka died (loaded to the brim with fuel) 7 km outside of camp and refused to restart in spite of Adri’s best efforts. It miraculously started when a rescue party was dispatched after dinner (rump steak, the last of our Danish feta and English cucumber in a huge salad, garlic bread and bottled red wine that had survived the trip with Hennie and Nerina). But it necessitated a thorough inspection and routine maintenance session the next day costing us another day, further abusing the generosity of our hostess, but affording us the privilege of another night in the spectacular bliss of Veronica’s camp amidst the grumbling of hippos mere meters away. A VAST improvement to spending a day waiting for fuel in Lichinga!

M-L

Trip Report #11 (27 June 2009): Cars run on fuel…

2009-07-10T17:26:00.001+02:00

While I have the opportunity and before we leave Cobue (pronounced Cob-Way according to the ‘Lonely Planet for amateur phoneticists and travellers’, but probably the best way to explain this awkward word to English speakers) I need to note that I had my first shower in one of Carl-Hein’s ‘gadgets’: solar-jerry-can shower with submersible pump and pop-up shower cubicle the evening before leaving. Please may I express my sincere gratitude in black and white for a hot replica of a normal shower after my longest stretch without running water – surprisingly Mozambique-ans living along Lake Niassa/Malawi equates the lake with ablutions?! I am officially appreciative for another of the gadgets we schlepped along on this journey :-).

Coffee break in Miombo forest between Cobue and Lichinga

We have jokingly said that Lichinga is like a black hole that, in spite of its severe lack of charm, makes it difficult to escape from. Can’t exactly recall why this was even discussed before, but with unease it is recalled and repeated this morning. We arrive in Lichinga on this Saturday morning with a tactical plan of distinction. Parallel details to the market, cell phone shop, Supermacado, bank to exchange currency and fuel station to procure petrol to rendezvous at exactly eleven o hundred for the first stretch to the extremely remote Niassa Reserve. Stumped by: No petrol in the whole of Lichinga and none expected until Monday if we understood the Portuguese correctly.

In desperation we called on Neville Slade – one of the network of contacts provided by Willem Olivier whom we hoped never to have to bother. With his assistance and Portuguese we got 80liters of fuel reserved for pre-paid customers from one fuel station. Awesome, but hardly making a dent towards the 300 litres required to take us through the Niassa and across Mozambique to Pemba. Hell, who can contemplate roads without shell ultra cities, Engen One Stops or even a dodgy small town lonely petrol pump (we would later understand however).

With the leave clock ticking we regrouped over surprisingly spectacular espresso machine coffee at a dingy petrol station to deliberate and deliberate AND deliberate options. Rumour had it that a tiny town on the way had bought some fuel on Friday from one of the fuel stations in Lichinga so with a high appetite for risk we headed in that direction choosing to move towards our destination and get out of Lichinga. But we quavered and when the road deteriorated and the sun started setting shortly after leaving town with no clear plan of where to spend the night and no certainty of whether we would get fuel, we turned with our tails between our legs and headed back to Lichinga to knock again on the door of Neville, Veronica and their son Lawrence for assistance. [And I thought fickleness was a feminine trait only?!]

We camped that evening close to their home (with Veronica acting as chief negotiator and interpreter with the relevant and eccentric (check the crashed plane he bought, disassembled, transported and reassembled which he displays on his plot) landlord) just outside (phew!) of Lichinga giving serious reconsideration to plans, routes, leave days and fuel constraints.

Neville and Veronica are both Kenyans working in the impoverished Niassa province of Mozambique to develop commercial and sustainable forestry and eco tourism respectively. They, along with their menagerie of pets briefly joined us for drinks and input into our planning session that evening. We blatantly picked their extensive knowledge of local road conditions (appalling at best), local contacts and sights worth seeing.

And still the generosity and kindness of these complete strangers were hardly exhausted. I will say this again in the next few posts, but can’t say it enough: Thank you from the bottom of our hearts to the Slade family!

M-L

Trip Report # 14 (2 July 2009) : The farce named Route 242

2009-07-09T18:38:00.000+02:00

We found on several occasions that Mozambiquan roads, boldly indicated in solid lines (tar) and numbered on every map/resource available to us, simply exist in the imagination of MapStudio et al. Some inside info. The mapped route between Marrupa and Montepuez in the North of Mozambique does not in fact exist. The erosion trench masquerading as a road between these two towns follows a completely different track and seems to change with every successive rain season. Indeed, fixing the apparent road is definitely more expensive than building a new one.

No worries about exceeding the National speed limit of 80km/h here (not surprisingly however no police stops as we have grown to expect on the most obscure roads) as we averaged around 22km/h negotiating ditches, trenches, sand, swamps and tree stump bridges.

Imagine therefore our astonishment when we found neat, stark white road markers indicating distances to nearby towns and villages along the ‘sidewalk’ as though this was actually considered a road by authorities?

It took us 7 hours to cover the stretch from our makeshift road side camp to Montepuez: roughly 160km (Av = 22km/h). I imagine a tourist brochure for the area reading like a property add: ‘An off road enthusiast’s (ala renovator’s) dream’.

We passed two Pietermaritzburg boys (South African clearly do not get the concept of REALY bad roads) doing the reverse of our route. We shared with them the secret of the ‘Sunset Spot’ and they shared with us information about Brenda’s Dive and Bush Camp in Pemba. The light at the end of the tunnel for this day :-)

M-L

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

2009-07-04T18:03:00.001+02:00

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!

2009-07-04T17:14:00.001+02:00

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

2009-07-03T21:37:00.001+02:00

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

2009-07-03T20:53:00.001+02:00

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

Trip Report #6 (20 July 2009): Cahorra Bassa and Ugezi Tiger Lodge

2009-07-03T20:07:00.001+02:00

We decided to stay two nights at the lodge. We were tired, the road up their was long, and the lodge was the perfect place to re-charge and get stuff in order.

We spent the night in in the lodge cabins surrounded by Baobab trees. We had our own outdoor kitchen and entertainment area with a view of the dam.

Adri and I spent the morning working on the vehicles, whilst the girls went for a run. I had to completely reconfigure my roof rack to make space for all my jerry cans. We found a great spot under the Baobabs and also took the opportunity to clean the Syncro’s.

We had arranged a cruise on the dam with Nicky the previous night, for which we duly came late. Mari-Louise decided not to go sighting “too many things to do”. I was not happy. Luckily neither was Nicky, so he proceeded, with my silent approval, to man handle Mari-Louise into the boat. Hehe, I really appreciated this.

And with that the suffering continued…

We could only go up the gorge, due to time constraints, but it is truly beautiful place which is a must see for anyone coming to the area. Nicky treated us like kings making sure that there is enough refreshment on board (liquid that is). Anita brought some snacks which Adri and I gulped down sighting the morning’s work as reason for our appetite.

Finally, on the way back we went pass the damn wall, which is of course where the hydro generation scheme is situated.

We finished of the day watching the 1st Lions vs. Boks test in the bar. Literally thousands of miles from home and we heard Afrikaans chirps around the bar the whole time. Quite surreal, but very enjoyable.

Dinner was fish and sleep was welcome.

ciao, Carl-Hein

Trip Report #5 (19 July 2009): On to Cahorra Bassa

2009-07-03T19:29:00.001+02:00

Leaving Troutbeck we prepared for a marathon stretch of over 400 km to Cahorra Bassa.

Not far in we had to stop to make an repair to the Dokka’s wiring which was acting up and causing the vehicle to stutter.

We proceeded north making one last attempt to return our beer bottles (which are worth R5 a pop), in vain.

We stuck to the eastern border of Zimbabwe using a gravel road which, at times, travelled 500m from the border with Mozambique.

We stopped at this bridge leading into Mashonoland East for lunch.

This is where I had the opportunity to try the Syncro’s 4X4 ability in getting into and out of our lunch spot.

We had lunch under a Sausage Tree, which is truly a weird thing. The name comes from the sausage like fruits which it carries. These are huge (up to 50 cm long) and are not edible. Apparently their is a process to make them edible, but this is only employed by the locals in times of famine and drought.

Border Nightmare:

Arriving at the Zimbabwe border presented us with our second major border crossing drama. Adri and Mari-Louise finished all the paperwork and were then told to submit our vehicles for inspection outside.

Outside sat three police men in civilian clothing under a make shift tent. They proceeded to ask us for a police clearance for our vehicles, after first checking the engine serials numbers against the registration certificates. We had never heard of such a requirement. Adri tried (in vain) to explain to them that if we can prove who we are (passport) and we can prove ownership (registration papers) that a police clearance is not required. In fact, in SA, they do not issue such certificates as it is all electronic.

It is at this point where it became abundantly clear that we were attempting to apply logic to a situation which was clearly crafted to extract a bribe. So started the negotiations…

We good cop bad copped them a little. Adri offered them beers but they would not bite. (Note on bad cop: This is simply me sitting down having a smoke and looking like I have all the time in the world). At some point our lead negotiator (Adri) lost his cool with the police men. Adri asked them for their credentials which they duly provided. He also asked what exact paperwork is needed from them in order for the border guards (50 paces down the road) to open the boom. “Word of mouth” came the answer from a now clearly irritated head cop (whom I am convinced is part of whatever subversive force Mugabe has in the police to maintain “order”).

Adri then decided the try his luck and started his bus and headed strait for the boom. This of course did not really do much for the authenticity of my “bad cop” interpretation. It is surprisingly difficult to look as if you have all the time in the world if your travelling partner (and now ex head negotiator) suddenly abandons you and drives of. I am pretty sure no one has ever had the audacity to try this and the mini chaos which ensued was really something to behold from my position on the pavement next to corruption central. The younger cop took some seconds to figure out what was going on and went scampering down the dirt stretch making funny hand signs to his border patrol colleagues.

Adri struggled not to look somewhat sheepish when summoned back by the head cop and asked the obvious question. Why did you…

It was at this point which I was inadvertently promoted to head negotiator due to an apparent breakdown in communications…

The opportunity for bribing was now over and the discussion became decidedly politically loaded. I decided to start recording the conversation, for reasons which are not yet clear to me. I failed in looking casual enough while doing this which prompted the younger of the two to become suspicious. I noticed this and tried to allay his suspicion by calling Mari-Louise over and handing her the phone with instructions to phone the consulate in Harare. The cops told us we needed to drive back to Harare (220 km) to get our “papers in order”.

I then proceeded to entertain the older police man’s political ranting which apparently centred on his outrage at us (white people from RSA) thinking that we can bribe him when “he is just doing his job”. Interwoven with this was side remarks at how Adri reacted. I took on a conciliatory strategy to try and appease the man somewhat. I was also loosing my cool a little so I decided to challenge his arguments with a sprinkling of logic whilst using all my mental will power to maintain a civil tone and apparent respect. A kind of anthropological experiment for my own amusement. This did not go down well and made the man more susceptible to entertain his colleagues, whom at this time was very excited about the whole recording theory. So the discussion turned in that direction. I was starting to feel decidedly worried.

Meanwhile, the rest of my backup team, was in consultation with the owner of the Ugezi Tiger Lodge by Cahorra Bassa, which was our end destination. She confirmed that this scam was an ongoing problem and that an investigation is pending against the police officials whom are implicated.

“Let me have another look at that fancy phone of yours” he said. My heart raced as I fetched it from Mari-Louise. Handing over the phone he accused my directly of recording our conversation which I of course vehemently denied. I duly promised that I had never used such a function and any knowledge of its existence. The police man proceeded to tell me that I am a liar at which point I started to panic.

The technological investigation by the Zimbabwe police department went on for another 5 minutes at which point I decided to demand back my passport and phone in order for us to drive back to Harare. I said this with some conviction and disgust sighting the fact that discussion have now become unproductive as they have now called the replacement negotiator a liar. Thus we had no choice but to retract to apparent civilization where we could comply with their demands.

This made them think a little and I really thought I was going to get away with it.

It was at this point in proceedings when my wife came walking along shouting at the top of her voice and waving a R100 note: “EXCUSE ME, BUT WILL THIS HELP?”.

“Dammit”. My heart sank as I saw the head cop’s thinking go back to the politically loaded indignance with which he perceived us. He asked the obvious question from Mari-Louise…”Are you trying to bribe us”. She quickly recovered by stating the it is normal for police clearance certificates to be attached to a fee. I do not really recall much more of this section of the proceedings because the knife in my back was making my eyes water and what ever else powers I had left was spent in trying to will my wife to “shut up and leave it to me”.

After ushering her off, the conversation turned back to the phone recording. Some time passed before (I think) they realised that they had backed themselves into a corner. Firstly they could not get a bribe from us, since they had declared themselves thoroughly honest and well meaning. Secondly, they could not let us go back to Harare. The thing is, they never could find the recording and if we really had one, they would obviously be in some discomfort with their superiors.

The head cop looked at me and grunted me towards the gate. I jumped up waved my hand in a circular motion to Adri and team, indicating that we should start the vehicles. All of this happened with just the right amount of theatrical nuance. I could claim victory as a negotiator and what's more, I could give my team mates grief about their apparent back stabbing, however well intended it was.

Having lost two hours we wasted no time to continue on to Cahorra Bass and Ugezi Tiger Lodge.

Arriving at the lodge, late evening, we were somewhat sceptical considering our day. We were greeted by the lodge manager, an Afrikaans speaking gentleman called “Nicky Grobelaar”. He offered us drinks in the bar while doing the required paperwork. He also confirmed that our border experience is in no way unique and is a problem which is affecting his clients.

We ended the day with a great meal at the lodge restaurant. The highlight was a large Bream, which was excellent with some Nederburg white wine. At this point the bar was also starting to get alive and the scene was far more reminiscent of a South African west coast fishing village bar.

Incredible considering where we were.

ciao, Carl-Hein

Trip Report #4 (18 July 2009) – The way to Troutbeck Inn

2009-07-03T18:55:00.001+02:00

Waking up at this fantastic campsite was a real pleasure. We camped on perfect lawns with awesome (I tried not to use this word but hey!) views.

We took an hour to visit the botanical garden itself. Whilst the lack of funds and active tourism was evident, the gardens was really pretty and reminiscent of earlier days.

The road north lead trough Mutare, where we had a very upsetting experience. Adri and Anita, spotted a dog which was lying bleeding on the road. We thought it was already dead, but they noticed it moving. They spun around and took it to the local vet. We had to make the decision to have the animal put down since he had no identification and his injuries were severe (cerebral bleeding). Anita took this especially hard as one of their cats was missing back home.

We stopped at the Rhodes Nyanga Hotel for a late lunch were our spirits were lifted, after a short tour of the historic tour of the building.

One of the local cats took a shine to us and really laid it on thick in the process. We originally were only going to have drinks so Anita gave it some milk. After his 3rd helping our milk was finished.

He played the game well and after flirting with everyone in purrrr-fectly equal parts we all stayed for lunch. Of course he finished all our plates.

This really was one of the most friendly and loving animals I have ever met and the timing of the meeting was could not have been better. He really made us all feel better after what was a very upsetting day in Mutare.

We pushed on to the Troutbeck In where, after establishing that there are no camping sites, we opted for one of the time share units. It was really cold so we were all happy at the option.

A bad day, with good bits, but mostly bad.

ciao, Carl-Hein

Trip Report 3: (17 July 2009): The way to Bvumba Botanical Gardens

2009-07-03T17:13:00.001+02:00

After two days of rest we left Chimanimani all set for what was to come. It was a day of first…

Here is Adri and Anita executing their first rinse cycle using their blue washing bin. The latter was acquired in South Africa straight of the back of a bakkie.

Here is me (some distance up the road) taking the opportunity to empty my first Jerry can into the bus.

From here we went on to Mutare, which was our first large town and with it the first large market. This almost naturally implies shopping… ;-) The first of many to come.

(I stayed and watched the vehicles, not wanting to rob the ladies of this joy. One has to make sacrifices on trips such as this one.)

We stopped for lunch on the way to the Leopard Rock Hotel. Here I finally got to use my Waffle Iron for the first time, which Andrita got me. (Andrita = Adrita and Abri)

Thanks guys it works fantastic and it is probably safe to say my new waffle iron will become a permanent part of my party bus. Note how overgrown the picnic area is. This is sad evidence of the decline of tourism in the area. Further evidence of this was the hotel itself, where the state of repair and availability of basic luxuries (hehe I know) bore sad witness.

Leavinf the hotel, finding the camping site at Bvumba Gardens (5 km down the road), was a huge mission, after following incorrect waypoints etc on the Garmin. We finally made it there, to the below view of neighbouring Mozambique.

A good day.

ciao Carl-Hein

Trip Report #2 (13-->16 July 2009): The way to the eastern Zimbabwe Highlands

2009-07-03T16:49:00.001+02:00

The route:

14 July 2009:

Leaving the Lion an Elephant park behind us was not a sad affair. We headed north for the Zimbabwe Ruins campsite and we were not disappointed.

The campsite was deserted, which although somewhat representative of the situation in Zimbabwe, suited us just fine. Here is Adri beating me to the punch in voicing his disappointment at the deserted camp site.

Arriving here was truly the start of our trip.

15 July 2009:

The next morning we spent visiting the Ruins itself. We took a guided tour which is advisable. Here is us getting briefed by our tour guide.

It is from this place which Zimbabwe took its name. Zimbabwe apparently means “Great house of stone”. I suspect I was supposed to know this already, but now I do!

The ruins are beautiful and offer fantastic opportunities for more “arty” photos.

After having lunch we headed dead east for the Chimanimani mountain range. We of course underestimated the distance and arrived there well after dark. According to out information the gates to the campsite would close at 1800, so Adri raced ahead in an attempt to catch the gate open. We encountered a very poor gravel road which finally took us to the camp. The last 50m or so required 4 wheel drive leading on to the banked camp site.

16 July 2009:

The next morning brought light and revealed a truly beautiful scene around us. We decided to spend the day here to allow us to regroup.

It was nice to be able to make breakfast leisurely. I got a chance to test out our whistling kettle. From the picture you should be able to deduce that Adri is not that mad about noisy kettles. Everyone left for a walk up the mountain and left me at camp in charge of the oxtail pot.

As is evident from the picture the view from the top was quite something.

For many reasons, leaving me in charge of the pot, turned out to be a bad idea. I did not quite manage to get Adri’s “Africa Stove” going in time. I took Adri’s advice literally about only needing 5 or so charcoal brcikets. Luckily Adri and Anita saved the day and the oxtail was fantastic.

What did I learn from all this…

… never take advice on cooking from convicts with an affinity for red wide. ;-)

Exhibit A:

Gallery:

Trip Report #1 (13-->14 July 2009): “Chaos in Motion”

2009-07-02T18:22:00.001+02:00

Yes, Yes, so you all knew we were going to flounder around like idiots on the first day (or week).

We started late, courtesy of having a multitude of little things that added up to an hour odd in time. The funnest (new word declaration) part of this was the mounting of the official trip logos onto out vehicles.

Anita adeptly busy polishing the logo onto the Doka.

The lot of us posing all innocently, ready to leave.

Next Stop….. Centurion Mall. (You can laugh now) Mari-Louise and I realised we forgot the following:

Fleesy blankets (Woolies)
Penlight re-chargeable batteries
Fancy Fan/Water gadget

Adri and Anita took the opportunity to visit Outdoor Warehouse and buy some last minute stuff.

Naboomspruit Detour:

Finally on the way, I realised that the alignment of the Syncro is out. I was fighting the road camber to the extent that my back was cramping. Her is us at the Naboomspruit HI-Q getting it sorted. (You may laugh some more now)

I was very happy about stopping to get this done. The difference was notable and the rest of the trip so much more enjoyable. The stop also gave Adri and Anita an opportunity to go shop for cushions (another forgotten artefact).

Beitbridge: Chaos Central

After confirming that their is NO camping in Messina, we decided to forge ahead to Beitbridge with no clue where we are going thereafter.

IIt took forever to get through and it was chaos.

My First Bribe: I knew at some point on this trip I would have to “grease” the wheels of bureaucracy, but honestly I did not think it be on day 1. On the way out of the border station, we accidently bypassed the Stop sign where the final checks are performed. Thinking back the function of the final stop seems to be for the purposes of extortion. And yes we were extorted. It took 30 min and packing out all our stuff before coming to a R100 “help me help you” fee. Those who know me will know that I do not care about the money, but the dancing was particularly painful. This guy actually took me to the stop sign and embarrassed me in front of his “colleagues”, by sarcastically explaining how Stop signs work.

Side Note: It is said that sarcasm is the worse form of humour. A statement I always found rather… unwarranted. What I will say is that: “bad sarcasm (< 100 IQ in operator) is the worse form of sarcasm”

Camping: We made it to the Lion and Elephant Hotel and Campsite. Here is us the next morning looking all sorted.

… the chaos has stopped.

Trip Details:

Note the elevation drop as we come of the Highveld into Zimbabwe.

The map below shows our first day. 620Km of it!

Too much probably, but it was worth getting out of the country.

ciao, Carl-Hein

We're on our way!

2009-06-21T16:35:00.003+02:00

The Burgers took the short notice change in plan seemingly in their stride, but it was accompanied by begging and bribing bosses to approve revised leave plans, rescheduling meetings and extending commitments. However, it finally sunk in that we will be embarking on this dream trip in a week's time. The past week flew past as a result of frantic packing and buying, and seeming to haemorrage money. Last night we wondered how on earth that much stuff can fit into the car, which had all seats removed, bar the driver and passenger seats. Last minute veto rights resulted in certain items being left behind, and with Hennie packing and re-packing had all the essential items fitted into the car. Late Sunday morning the "under-cover" syncro team, dressed up like a Fortuner, finally left the big city lights behind.

Our first spot of bother was when we were pulled off by traffic cops barely 30 minutes north of Pretoria - and believe me, we were not speeding. Not possible if a car is carrying what feels like more than one ton of cargo. Luckily, after a quick check of driver's license and registration we were waved off and bid a good journey by a friendly traffic cop.

The rest of the trip was uneventful. A well timed SMS from Anita advising against the Messina camping site, we checked ourselves in at Matombo Lodge and had a nice cold drink on the deck. We will try for an early night, to be at our best behaviour when attempting our first border crossing tomorrow morning. The plan is to put in as much distance as possible through Zimbabwe.

Ravuma crossing update

2009-06-12T13:36:00.002+02:00

I just chatted to a girl who did the exact same route some time ago (the ferry was just out of order at the time), did the crossing on fishing boats and planks and had their car fall into the river just as they were unloading on the opposite embankment.

Theirs was the only vehicle of four that ended up submerged. Cost them a fortune (in Dollars and years of their lives) to get a tractor form nearby, the vehicle exhumed :-) and transported to the nearest town and finding a place safe to stay for the night (apparently this is a local lion haunt).

But after extensive effort by a local mechanic, they left driving it!! LOL (nervously), not sure whether this is good news or bad!?

M-L

Midnight Packing and Virtual Bridges

2009-06-12T00:51:00.001+02:00

After a long night of trying to force a bridge across the Mozambique – Tanzania border (Rovuma River), using nothing but Google Earth and Garmap, I finally decided to try my hand at something more basic like … packing.

As you might imagine building virtual bridges strong enough to carry my Syncro (with the stuff Mari-Louise had me put in it) takes time. Add to that the usual underestimate with regards to packing and here is me at 12:30 Friday morning.

…taking break and about 1 hour away from sleeping.

(Note the purely accidental bear trail, courtesy of a over exposure on my camera)

Seriously though, it is amazing to think that along the 600 km (odd) border between Tanzania and Mozambique that there is only two places to cross the border. The first is a Ferry Crossing in the west, on the coast. Sadly this recently sank and lets just say that nobody seems to be in a hurry to fix the situation.

The second is virtually on the Malawi lake.

This really has thrown our route into flux and frankly we do not, at this point, know where we are going to be driving.

Earlier tonight, this somewhat upset me, but at this point I must honestly say that I am fine with it.

There is a change we will commission a ad-hoc ferry crossing using tied together fishing boats. COOL!

Ciao CHM

Car trouble…..and some more hick ups.

2009-06-11T15:33:00.001+02:00

Well, it is just one more day before we depart on our African Syncro Odyssey. The past week we had a few serious show stopping moments. It all started last Saturday when Adri was informed that our Syncro’s engine had a MAJOR problem (something about compression and a fourth cylinder, serious damage) and that there was no way that we could embark on this journey with the engine as is. We had two options: Either try to fix/rebuild the engine in time or have a plan B lined up. It turned out that fixing the engine was not an option so plan B had to kick in. There we once again had three options: (I dread the day when we run out of options!!). The first was to go in the Touareg but we agreed that it was one, too small and two, way too luxurious for an African trip and three, it would again mean a change to our logo as this was after all a Syncro Odyssey and with one Toyota already cross dressing as a Syncro we could not afford another…

Our second option was Mimi, she is a beautiful 1975 bay window VW combi and have travelled extensively in Africa but unfortunately she is not very capable when it comes to rough terrain and she is after all a collectors item. That left us with our third option: Adri’s Doka. For those of you that don’t know, a Doka is a Syncro Kombi double cab bakkie. It is very unique vehicle and this one is the only original Syncro Doka in SA. I however, like to refer to it as The Half-loaf. Will post pictures soon.

The next set-back came yesterday when Adri had to apply for the Carnè (again, but this time for the Doka) when he realised that the engine number of the Doka did not mach the engine number on the registration certificate. Now this could be a serious show stopper at a border post if a diligent customs official picks up the discrepancy. The problem is that the Doka is registered in the Freestate. The registration certificate had to re-issued in the Freestate and then original had to be back with us on Friday. It was a stressful exercise but Ladybrand is fortunately a small town and it helps to have connections in town and in the Vehicle Registration Office and to cut a long story short…we have just received the original, correct, registration certificate for The Half-loaf!

In the meantime I have started to investigate the border crossing from Mozambique into Tanzania and the outcome was not positive at all…Apparently, the ferry that carries motor vehicles over the Rovuma river has sunk last year November! When contacting the Tanzanian Consulate, I was informed that the ferry has not been replaced and that there is no other ‘official?’ options to cross the Rovuma river. So we might need to make a small change on our route planning but will keep you posted.

Anita

Fortuner Friends

2009-06-02T19:23:00.002+02:00

Further proof of..., well I guess a bit of a stretch to link this to people's growing confidence in our rapidly improving Odyssey skills and ever expanding kit...

But, maybe proof of the infectiousness of our excitement, is the addition of two more friends to the Odyssey crew. YAY! Hennie and Nerina's Toyota will unfortunately have to cross dress with African'Synchro'Odyssey branding, but I am sure we will all be caught out with strange underwear and mismatched socks during the trip, so what the heck! YAY again!

Trial camp and toffee patat

2009-06-02T09:00:00.008+02:00

A trial camp 13 sleeps before D day. We figured out we did not have a mirror in our vast inventory (obvious from the accompanying photo), our sheet was too small for the mattress (good thing we found that out before leaving Gauteng (where extra length fitted sheets are at least attainable at a fee) seeing that sleeping skin on plastic coated mattress is not my favourite thing in the world) nor one or two other essentials. And seeing that it was only for one night we did not try sharing our 6 minutes of warm water shower (fortunately that is not so obvious from the accompanying photo) and therefore avoided tapdancing half clean and cold in self created mud, avoided the 'who showered for more than their allocated 3 minutes' discussion and avoided having to find a suitably close, but sheltered/private location.

I must also admit (this trial is sounding less and less impressive) that we had the privilege of a porcelain toilet seat (flushed with water from the dam), catered scrumptious lamb potjiekos for dinner (no effort by ourselves) and by virtue of proximity: (1) access to kettle boiled water for (and only for) our first cup of coffee and (2) a dstv-projected-against-a-suspended-white-sheet super 12 final (ouch, there goes every last shred of credibility)

I CAN happily report that all the gadgets worked marvelously and the smell of freshly grounded coffee in the Bushveld first thing in the morning (no help from anywhere) convinced even me that the 'gadget slut' status may even be a compliment, something to aspire to :)

One good thing about this trail camp is that we can make believe that we have SOME idea of what we are doing. I am doubtful that we have convinced Adri and Anita of that quite yet, but patience is one of the many things they seem to have in abundance.

For all this tongue in the cheek bantering, I must admit that at this point my stomach feels like a wrenched dishcloth with nerves and anticipation.

On our way home, we presented ourselves, still short of a shower, to the most amazingly generous and dearest friends (and almost family although they may reconsider after Sunday (jammer sussie!)) for a shower, a birthday and oxtail. We left with a wealth of information, a recipe for fantabulous toffee patat, a floral scented softener-refill-turned-car-freshener (clearly our lack of personal hygiene did not go unnoticed), insistence from Carl-Hein that I replace my oxtail recipe with Rita's and contact names and numbers (forewarned of our imminent arrival) of contacts throughout all the countries we are visiting JUST in case we may need assistance (even if assistance means English-Portuguese translation in a difficult situation).

I think, just maybe, we will survive the Odyssey.

(Box) Wine Tasting

2009-05-24T15:16:00.007+02:00

We are getting to the point where we have to start packing (sensibly) for our African trip which is now less than a month away. But, as you well know, going anywhere WITH Carl-Hein and WITHOUT wine would be a howler (literally and figuratively I guess).

So, similar to the in-flight wine selection process for airlines, we held a blind wine tasting of (boxed) wine to select appropriate vintages and suppliers and colour and sized boxes to fit into the kombi towards the 1 ton weight allowance we have. And invited assistance from those of our friends we thought may be able to guide our box wine selection process ;-)

In the category "Red, Redish or Red-like" two wines outperformed the rest with an overwhelming vote. The winner: Woolworths Longmarket MERLOT (please note the Shiraz of the same came rock bottom last) and close Second: Versus Red in a convenient carry bag and 'low carbon footprint'

In the white watery bananary category not a single option could justify the fridge space required.

PS A special note to the calorie conscious: the Weighless approved Namaqualand lite red is not worth the reduced kilojoules by any stretch of the imagination i.e. even though you may be allowed to drink more thereof you would not want to.

Many, many thanks to everyone who bravely assisted. Your gout, headaches and morning after crap wine misery is greatly appreciated!

The Logo – Every trip must have one

2009-05-17T23:02:00.001+02:00

Sarita, my MacApple friend, has kindly created a logo for our trip. I really like it, although Adri has some technical issues with it. Something todo with the T3 Syncro having slightly wider …

Anyway, it looks great! The bus is obviously in a cartoon style and looks a bit more vintage than the T3.

Next step is to get some stickers made for the bus.

ciao CHM

The definitive road worthy guide.

2009-04-08T18:48:00.001+02:00

So I finally got round to taking my Syncro in for its roadworthy. The people at AA Midrand was very helpful, so I thought I would pay it forward by documenting the essential tips for getting through the test.

Here goes:

1) Do the test BEFORE you fit the rooftop tent otherwise you cannot get into the building.

2) Smile.

We (myself and Adri) eventually got through the back door. The bus fitted with 5mm to spare (no lies)

Coming out was even more fun and we had to pile in all the AA staff to weigh down the bus. It really was one of those moments where you need a video camera.

ciao ;-)

Our route – “The vague outline”

2009-04-06T01:01:00.001+02:00

Finally I have taken the time map our basic route into my computer. 9035 km without leaving the road.

ciao

Preparation is everything! Know your equipment!

2009-04-03T22:01:00.001+02:00

So, If you are going to go into Africa with a 20 year old vehicle it is imperative t0 know your vehicle inside and out.

Little things are important, like for instance the fuel gauge. The old analogue gauges are more “general indication” devices.

This is why I undertook a field fuel gauge trial this week. This is me and my buss on Kyalami Road Midrand. As you might notice she now has a brand new very expensive howling moon rooftop tent (sun roof included).

Hehe needless to say my wife came and saved me! The upside of this experience is that we finally go to use my fuel jerry cans which I bought last year to whether the energy storm by powering my generator.

The bus has now been fitted with a:

67 litre water reservoir in the back.
aluminium root rack from Frontrunner
Howling Moon Stargazer tent (with drop room)

Things are taking shape, I cannot wait.

ciao

Test Driving Carl-Hein’s Syncro in Matombe (Tuli Block, Botswana)

2009-03-28T18:21:00.001+02:00

With Mari-Louise and Anita’s birthday in March we all went to Matombe Camp in Botswana’s Tuli Block.

This was an excellent opportunity to test the bus, so we all piled in and put it through its paces.

Hennie and Nerina also joined us an we had a great weekend.

For me personally an memorable moment of the weekend was when we met a Servel Cat on the local game ranger’s (Bruce) farm.

This animal has been in the cage for about a year. He was part of a breeding program attempt which was struck by disaster when the person driving the program succumbed to Malaria. All the cats in the program was also killed by some mystery illness which is apparently breed specific. This one cat was left behind, apparently immune to the illness. Adri has been trying to get some money and sponsorship to get the program back on its feet. I have a vision to help out by getting a website up where the animals can be viewed and donations made.

The bus performed well but on the way back the clutch acted up. It turned out that the hydraulic system was full of gunk, which after a decent bleed, left the clutch in perfect condition.

The brakes all really were not great, but luckily Adri advised me to install larger ventilated disk brakes which were installed after the weekend. They are still new, but seem to be much better.

end post

Finding a Syncro bus for Carl-Hein

2009-01-11T19:32:00.003+02:00

Finally found a good looking Syncro bus for my trip. Its in Cape Town so I will have to travel there and ride it back to Johannessburg. 1500Km should tell me if I made a good buy!